Christ Episcopal Church: Recent Episodes
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
June 28, 2026: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Ahhh, the summer is here, and vacations are hopefully in full swing. We all need time to rest, renew, reflect, because when we are exhausted, we can start to loose our way. It would seem Abraham, in the story from Genesis, could have used a trip to the Jersey shore, or at least a long nap in a hammock, because this guy is hearing some strange voices in his head.
We are told that God tells Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac, the one he had been promised would be the beginning of many descendants, the son he and his wife Sarah had waited so very long to bring into being. Abraham doesn’t question what he is asked to do, but instead brings the unsuspecting Isaac up the mountain on a hike. Isaac, for his part, is saying “Hey Dad…I know you want to offer a sacrifice to God up there, I’ve got the wood for it, but like…where’s the sacrifice?” When his dad replied “Don’t worry, be happy, God will provide,” that’s about when we would hear sinister music playing in the background if this were some sort of movie.
Anyway, they get up there, and Abraham says “hop up on that pile of wood there Isaac,” and takes out his knife. Now given Abraham’s history of getting it wrong – a lot – I can imagine God sitting there in a big heavenly recliner, you know, flipping through the infinite channels of human existence, and all of a sudden going “What the hell is that idiot doing now!” So God sends an Angel – Stat! – who grabs Abraham’s arm, and stops him from doing something really stupid. Abraham then finds a ram caught in a thicket and sacrifices that instead, which isn’t really fair to the ram either. I am guessing Isaac had a falling out with dad and decided it was time to find another place to live.
Of course, taken literally – this is a very disturbing tale, which, as I have said before, I believe led to the invention of psychotherapy, given what it likely did to poor Isaac and his mom. It is often taught that this was some sort of test of Abraham’s faith because the text says that is what happened. I have to wonder if Abraham wrote that part himself – kidding, of course. Yet, if we read it with a discerning heart, we can come to understand one possible lesson the text can teach us today.
Sometimes the voice we hear isn’t from God.
How many times have we seen folks claim to be speaking on behalf of God, or doing the work of Jesus, while they hold up signs that say God hates gays, or stop women from leadership in the church, synagogue, or mosque, or says that God wants the US to be a white Chistian Nation, or God supports the institution of slavery because there were slaves in the bible?
So many children of God have been sacrificed in blind obedience to the God of our own hate and bigotry – the God we fashioned in our image, rather than the other way around – and we, the followers of Jesus, have been complicit, even downright responsible.
Specifically, on this LGBTQ+ Sunday, may we be reminded of the pain and suffering the church through the centuries has inflicted on those who love differently, or who see the world as more fluid and non-binary. Oh, the altars we, a people called to follow Jesus, have built listening to the voice of a God of our own making – with knives of doctrine and dogma the church provided to others to use against the vulnerable.
Just this past week, former Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttegieg and his husband Chasten were victims of this very type of hate. Someone anonymously reported that they were a danger to their two children. Child Protective Services were then forced to separate them from the two four year olds from their dads to interview them. To be clear, CPS was doing what they had to do – they don’t get to decide which reports they will respond to and which they will not. News reports focused on this false report as being a politically hateful act of partisanship. However, no one can be foolish enough to believe that if Pete and Chasten were Pete and Mary that the partisanship would have taken the form of calling CPS. This was rooted in bigotry, and faith traditions, particularly Christianity, have had the biggest influence on spreading this hate in the secular world.
Now some may argue that they stand against marriage equality, and other LGBTQ+ rights, it is a form of love because they were saving people who have “strayed” from the path of righteousness. Well, first of all – who the hell are they to judge, and secondly, our conduct as follower of Christ is a lot like the legal principal that was used to govern the voting rights act…until recently anyway. That principal held that the law doesn’t care about our intention. The law is concerned about how the act impacts others. Sadly, with this Supreme Court, that seems to have been tossed in the trash heap of history, but we answer to a higher calling, so we absolutely can not ignore the impact of our actions.
Now, to see this play out, take a look again at the case of Abraham. He may have thought God told him to do this, but if he had just thought about who God is, and the impact this would have on his son and his wife, he would know that was not possible. Oh sure, the bible tries to clean it up a bit for this patriarch, but we all know that God would not ask that of us.
And, not for nuthin’, Abraham had a track record of thinking he was doing the right thing by God and messing it up pretty badly. You would think he would have realized that by now having tried to pawn off his wife as his sister to save his hide, conscripted Hagar into sexual slavery because he didn’t think God was moving fast enough on the loads of descendants promise, and then, as we heard last Sunday, sending her and their young son out into a sure death to avoid annoying his wife. Thankfully, God interceded then too. Abraham sure kept God very busy.
So, what about us? How do we avoid the same mistake? How do we know if we are listening to God, or if we are listening to a God of our own making?
Well, one way is to read the gospel we heard today and ask ourselves a simple question – is what we think God is asking us to do like offering a cup of cold water to a child of God? Or is it more like drinking it ourselves, wastefully pouring it out, or throwing it in that child’s face?
The thing is, throughout his ministry, Jesus was very clear about what God wants from us. You must see and hear the voices of the oppressed – go to them, be a healing presence for them, and welcome them as you would him. And to make that point, he says in the passage we heard today, “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me…and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple– truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”
Think about that – Jesus uses the word welcome or receive 6 times! 6 times! Clearly this is important. Clearly Jesus wants us to welcome everyone as we would him. But there is more to his message that gets lost to us because we are not living in 1st century Judea or under the Roman Empire. Jesus chooses a cup of cold water to a little child as a way of describing what we should do. There are some important things to note about this.
First, water was (and still is) required for life. In those days, you couldn’t just turn on the tap or pop into a WaWa to grab a bottle of it. If you weren’t living by a body of water, you had work to do to get it – digging a well, and then hauling it up from the ground. Without it, you died – as we saw in the story last week as Hagar feared her son would, until God provided a fountain in the desert. That is why Jesus describes himself in the Gospel of John as the living water.
Secondly, in Jesus’ time, children were not showered with attention by the adults around them. Until they grew, they had the same status as slaves – which meant they were to be ignored for the most part.
So the setting here is important. Jesus is telling his disciples, telling us, that it is the “little ones” – the vulnerable of our world, the ones we have pushed to the margins – it is they that thirst the most for what is given so plentifully to others – respect, love, and welcome. Jesus calls all who follow him to be his water of life to those who are dying from thirst on the altar of our neglect, our hate, our selfishness, and our indifference.
And so, understanding what Jesus asks of us, perhaps the larger church would do well to reflect on its role in persecuting people who love and live differently, especially in this Pride month. We have come a long way, to be sure, but there is still much more work to do to atone for our sins against LGBTQ+ people, to ensure they are fully welcomed, and to stand beside them in their fight for full equality.
Yet even knowing this, we sometimes can be left wondering how we can possibly make a difference with so much injustice swirling all around us every single moment of every single day. It just seems like an impossible task. But Jesus didn’t suggest his disciples raise millions, or overturn the Roman empire. He uses this simple act – a cup of water – the very thing of life – as an act of welcoming him – an example of what we can do. In other words, the smallest acts of compassion, empathy, love, and grace matter and are enough, if it is all we are able to do.
We don’t have to wear capes and jump tall buildings.
We don’t have to lead lives that are pure and pious.
We just have to have eyes to see the vulnerable, hearts to hear where God is calling us, and a desire to welcome Jesus who thirsts. This we can do. This we have been doing here, to be sure. And yet there are times when even that seems too much for our weary soul.
I know many of you have been active in justice mission and ministry in Christ’s name for years. You know that it is the life we are called to, the direction that God’s voice will lead us if we listen. But in these insane days of our nation, this work has been non-stop, often overwhelming, and seemingly without end. It is no wonder that so many of us are exhausted and in need of rest.
When we are worn to the bone, or see the enormity of the injustice everywhere and all the time, we can become discouraged, despairing, and feel a bit lost ourselves. That type of exhaustion will always lead to a place where God’s voice will be hard for us to hear.
There is a story I shared with you’all several years ago and perhaps we need to hear it again: An explorer in Africa, anxious to press ahead with his journey, paid his porters for a series of forced marches. But almost within reach of their destination, they set down their bundles and refused to budge. No amount of extra payment would convince them otherwise. They said they had to wait for their souls to catch up.
They had to wait for their souls to catch up.
God needs you to listen, Jesus needs you for mission, and the Holy Spirit needs you to join her in the world…but we can’t do any of that until we let our souls catch up. So how do we find that rest we so often need, especially if we don’t get much vacation time?
Well, the first thing is to take what we do have and set boundaries to ensure it is truly kept. Now, this is not easy to do in our 7×24 work lives caused by the prevalence of devices that keep everyone connected all of the time. These days getting some downtime is as filled with as many dependencies and setbacks as any large scale project plan. Even if we have time off, our personal schedules can sometimes look like the battle plans for D-Day. But, if we really think about it, companies, families, community groups, even churches – they would all survive time without us if we got hit by a bus, right? They would figure it out. So, we can do this, but it will take diligence. We will need to set boundaries that guard our time off – weekends, vacations, personal days, whatever it may be, remembering that this isn’t selfishness. It’s like the instruction flight attendants give you about putting your oxygen mask on before helping others – You cannot serve others if you are depleted yourself.
And there is another way to allow your soul to catch up – come here. Come here to be nourished. You know, it is the one time when, because it is a religious practice, legally a business cannot stop you, which means that unless you are on-call for something or someone, you get two hours of respite.
Here you are welcomed with the living water of Christ.
Here you are nourished in community and in Him.
Here you are given time to listen, really listen – with phone, tablet, computer – all of it – off.
So, in the days ahead, with so many children of God in need of even the smallest cup of cold water to quench their thirst, allow time to see that child within yourself – and come to this table alongside your parish family to let your souls catch up. Because I can assure you that the lives you will change in the world, and you will, it all starts with the one that is changed here first.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/Sermon-June-28-2026-1.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
June 28, 2026
Fifth Sunday After Pentecost
1st Reading – Genesis 22:1-14
Psalm 13
2nd Reading – Romans 6:12-23
Gospel – Matthew 10:40-42
June 7, 2026: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Sometimes the life of a priest is about prayer, worship, pastoral care, and all the other things many people think about when they wonder what clergy do. Often it is also about boilers, budgets, broken pipes, roof leaks, personnel issues, or paperwork. But once in awhile, it offers a special little gift to this priest – the joy of children in our Nursery School on the day of graduation.
This past Friday, my dog Lexi and I participated again in our preschool graduation ceremony, bidding farewell this year to 11 children heading off to Kindergarten, including Sophia Reynolds. Professor Lexi, in her cap and gown, not only leads the procession, but offered up a few words of advice to the graduates: “do not be afraid to snag the treats and be sure to take time for belly rubs.” She then helped to clean up the floor of all the cake and icing that happened to fall. Thankfully, I stopped a child from sliding her a whole cookie.
So, while following the call of Christ into ordination isn’t always what one expects, it is always filled with far more joy than we could ever imagine. Call is like that – it begins with a willingness to enter into the unknown. And, these kids are leaving behind the teachers and friends they have come to know so well to begin a new adventure too. Based on the test scores our students achieve when they graduate, I know they are, as they sang in their song “Ready to go!”
Today we hear about some other call stories – the one of Abram and Sarai in Genesis, that of Matthew in the gospel, and perhaps some others that will emerge for us as we do a deeper dive. And today, I want to focus on the passage from the 9th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew.
In the first part of the text we just heard, Matthew is sitting in the tax booth when Jesus walks by and says “Follow me.” While the text doesn’t say it, tax collectors in those days were not the beleaguered public servants of our day. They were ones who collected the taxes due to the emperor– and then some – lining their own pockets. So, as you can imagine, they aren’t particularly well liked in the community. Was Matthew one of those crooked types who got rich off the backs of others? The text doesn’t say.
Yet when Jesus invites him, he leaves that booth and becomes a disciple. Apparently, so did a few other tax collectors, as the text tells us. What must that have been like for them? They would lose all their income. They did not really know what lay ahead for them – neither, for that matter, did any other follower of Jesus. I mean, imagine if Jesus just walked into some CEO’s office, said “follow me,” and they got up – leaving laptop and everything else behind, and walked out the door with him? That sounds crazy, right? Well, that is what Matthew did.
But there is more going on here, because people like Matthew were understandably considered traitors of the people. Imagine if that CEO had been in charge of a pharmaceutical company that profited off the opioid addiction and death of millions. Jesus, what are you thinking? Well, that is what Jesus did. But wait, there’s still more…
Matthew and others like him – tax collectors, other pharma CEO types, and the like, end up having dinner with Jesus too. And – here’s what we sometimes miss – this isn’t in some town far away where Jesus is traveling. This is in his hometown, in his own home. The opening of the chapter begins in this way: “…and after getting into a boat he crossed the sea and came to his own town.” This Matthew may have been the very guy who ripped off Jesus and his family through the years – who profited on the backs of his friends and relatives in town. It kinda puts the next part in perspective.
The local religious leaders were not happy about this and question Jesus about it (I have to wonder if there were more than just those Pharisees who thought that way too). And to them Jesus says “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”
Now, this is where it pays to actually read the text, not just hear it. When he says “Go and learn what this means,” he isn’t referring to what he just said – that bit about “Those who are well have no need of a physician…”. He is referring to what he is about to say: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.”
One thing I have to note here before I continue is that this is not Jesus condemning Judaism as a faith. In today’s context, he would say the same thing to many, many, Christian leaders, to be sure. That absurd antisemitic reading of the passage aside, a better translation might be this: “I desire mercy, not purity,” which makes the next part more understandable: “For I have come to call not the righteous, but sinners.” And folks, that’s a good thing for us all.
Because if Jesus didn’t eat with sinners, he’d be eating alone! The same is true for all of us. If folks are looking for perfect people, they better look elsewhere, because they sure as heck won’t find them in a church. And the truth is – they won’t find them anywhere else either.
God didn’t create perfect people, but God become incarnate to dwell among us that we might come to know that perfection isn’t what God desires of us. We aren’t meant to be perfect – we are meant to love – radically and unconditionally. And that leads us to the rest of the story, because that type of love is what Jesus was offering in that moment, and it opened doors even he did not expect.
As he walked along, a temple leader came begging him to revive his daughter who had just died. With the same words that were used for Matthew, Jesus got up and followed him. As he walked along, “a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak.” She did this because, as the text says, she believed that just by touching something that touched him, she would be made well. And – she was. But more than that, Jesus turned to her, looked at her, and affirmed her.
There is a lot packed into these twin stories, but one thing that needs to be understood is that these two people are different in more than just their gender and situation. The man had agency to come right up to Jesus, the woman did not. A woman in that time and culture who was bleeding was considered impure. She would have been kept out of the temple those 12 long years, and most likely pushed to the margins of society. It was a brave thing for her to do – going into a group of people on the chance of touching even just the fringe of Jesus’ cloak. Bravery born of desperation – for inclusion, for grace, for mercy, for love – but maybe she also heard about the radical welcome Jesus had given to Matthew and the others in his own home.
Perhaps we can hold these two stories – of Matthew and this woman – in our hearts and minds in these difficult days. Let’s give her a name though, she deserves one. Let’s call her Leah, a Hebrew name which can mean weary or grieved, for she was certainly that, not only from her physical ailments, but by the marginalization it brought her.
Matthew and Leah are two different call stories – both are the story of the church today. Matthew is all of us – flawed people, who have erred along the way, hurt others intentionally or not, and perhaps have been deeply hurt ourselves. Jesus called to us and we followed. Jesus welcomes us to this table, and we eat.
Leah is called to Jesus too, for healing and for love, but approaching him seemed dangerous – the doors of the church have not always felt like a welcome place for her. She is the trans teen, the gay man, the addicted executive, the immigrant or refugee, the homeless woman, the elderly WWII vet with PTSD, the child with autism who is louder than some think they should be, the lonely, the infirm, the lost, and the last of our society. They are in our hometown too, as Leah and Matthew were in Jesus’, yet sometimes it is hardest to see clearly what is too familiar to us; or, even more likely, they have been pushed into the shadows so we don’t see them at all.
As for their call and ours, Matthew certainly was not worthy of the call of Jesus – none of us are. That’s when we need to remember this quote by the late and great Bishop Barbara Harris: “God doesn’t call those who are worthy. God makes worthy those whom God has called.”
And like Leah, our healing by Christ, here at this table, will give us all that we need to lead the life he calls us into when we leave these doors.
Which is a good thing, because Jesus is saying to each of us today the very thing he said to Matthew: “Follow me.” He is turning to affirm our desire for grace and love as he did with Leah that we may be healed and live into our lives as his followers.
And, when Jesus calls us – it isn’t into a life of safety, but of dangerously prophetic witness.
When Jesus calls us – it isn’t into a life of ease, but of discomfort with injustice.
When Jesus calls us – it isn’t into a life of purity, but of unconditional love born of redemptive grace.
When we answer the call of Jesus to follow him, it means we leave from here – from this table – to seek him out in the world. In this very gospel, he told us where he could be found – and it was in all those society and the church has for so long cast aside. We must, as Jesus did, search to find the Matthews yearning for a new path. We must turn toward the marginalized who seek healing and affirm them with love as he did with Leah.
Today that means we hear the cries of those in concentration camps like Delaney Hall, and call for their immediate release. It also means we see the Matthew there too. I remember standing just about 15’ from the federal agents outside of that horrific facility and looking directly at each one of them. This was in the hours before that close contact was cut off. I prayed for a turning of their hearts, and for a change in the nation toward compassion and mercy. Perhaps these agents believed in what they were doing. Perhaps they were in need of the signing bonuses our government was offering to enlist them. Just like with Matthew, we will never know. Just like with Matthew, I will pray that they hear the call of Christ toward a change in life.
And inside the cells we will find Jesus, from where we will hear him call to us to follow him. For it is Christ himself who is given rotted and infested food. It is Christ himself who is, like Leah, in need of medical care and suffering for so long. He is reaching out from those cells in the hope that we will see him and hear his call to offer love and grace to the suffering inside. And we will answer that call and stand in solidarity with them, their families, and against our nation’s hateful and oppressive acts.
We will stand too with LGBTQ+ people in this Pride Month, that they may know deep within that we see them, we affirm them, we love them, and we welcome them.
We will stand with people of color across our nation whose voice is being eradicated by new Jim Crow voting maps. This after fighting and dying through decades upon decades for the rights our nation’s highest court has now stripped away from them, and whose history of oppression our nation’s leaders want to eradicate. We will not allow them to be pushed aside so that white people can feel more comfortable. We will not stand by while they are stripped of their voice.
We will stand with women and listen to them as much as we have listened to powerful men. We will hear their stories of being victimized, assaulted, abused. We will not allow convenience or political expediency to privilege men’s voices over theirs. We will turn to them, affirm them, and offer grace to them.
And when others, particularly the ones who seek to align Jesus and our country with power and wealth and whiteness – the so-called Christian Nationalists – come to us denouncing what we are doing, we will say:
“Go and learn what this means,
‘Jesus desires mercy, not sacrifice.’ For Jesus wants us to welcome the immigrant, love the oppressed, and heal the brokenhearted. What part of that did you not understand?
We will say, “Go and learn what this means…
For Jesus came to call not the righteous but sinners,” and you, my brother or sister, might want to consider which of those two categories you find yourselves in right now, as we pray deeply for you.
We will say, this is what it means to follow Jesus!
This is our faith, our baptism, our call, our life!
And we are ready to go!
Come and follow him with us – it is not too late. It never is.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/Sermon-June-7-2026-1.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
June 7, 2026
The Second Sunday After Pentecost – Year A/Track 1
1st Reading – Genesis 12:1-9
Psalm 33:1-12
2nd Reading – Romans 4:13-25
Gospel – Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
May 31, 2026 – Trinity Sunday – May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Good morning, and welcome to Trinity Sunday, when priests usually pass off the sermon to unsuspecting seminarians or assisting clergy. Kidding. Sort of. This is one of the Church’s principal feast days, and the only one that celebrates a doctrine, rather than an event or a person. The doctrine itself is the work of the earliest Christian theologians, who were trying to find a way to understand the nature of God, Christ, and Holy Spirit. Each being part of our scriptures, but their relationship to one another was not in our sacred texts. The Trinity, as a construct, came later. And this mystery of 3 in 1 and 1 in 3 can often end up leading even well intentioned people of faith down a theological rabbit hole.
So, that’s why I am not going to preach about it, other than to say this: The doctrine of the Trinity is not a complete description of God, because that is impossible. The doctrine of the Trinity is a way of describing relationship – the relationship of God, Christ, and Holy Spirit – yes. But, it is also a way to understand ourselves – the ones made in God’s image. “The Trinity is a statement of how God relates, not how God is. Or perhaps how anyone relates is indeed how one is.”[1] And when it comes to God, the relationship – God, Christ, Spirit, and us, is an eternal and unconditional dance of love.
And if there is one thing we all need now is an eternal and unconditional relationship of love – God’s love for us, our love for God, and loving our neighbor. So, with all that in mind, let’s look at the passage from Genesis that we heard today, because there is a lot there that will feed us as we move along in these difficult days.
Now, there are two creation stories in the bible – three if one were to count the Revelation to John as a creation story of sorts. Many, if asked how humanity was created, would say Adam from clay and Eve from Adam’s rib. But that is found in the second chapter of Genesis, not the story we get here – the one given primacy in the scriptures.
Why two? Well, why four gospels? On Genesis, scholars believe they came from two different cultural traditions and were kept together so as not to lose either. The differences are more than just the introduction of humanity, and a full description of them is really too much to get into today, but suffice it to say that Genesis 1 offers a cosmic God, and Genesis 2 a personal one. Genesis 1 moves from dark chaos to order to sabbath. Genesis 2 from dry land to water everywhere. Which is right? A rabbi of these Jewish texts would say “they both are.” Which is why these are not meant to be read literally, but faithfully.
The story we hear in those first 35 verses of our bible begins this way (using the NRSVU translation): “When God began to create the heavens and the earth, the earth was complete chaos, and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness [God]called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.”
It goes on like this, each day God creating something – heavens & earth, sun, moon, and stars, coffee and fast food, etc. And then there was the 6th day when God created all the animals of the air, the sea, and those that dwell on the earth, and also humans! Yup, that’s right, we were created on the same day as all the other animals. That was a very long 6th day to be sure for God. Oh, and the text also says that both humans and animals were meant to be vegetarians. Missed that part? Well, it’s right here: “God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. And to every beast of the earth and to every bird of the air and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” I suspect nobody asked the plant life how it felt about all that.
I once pointed that out to a friend from Texas who loves her BBQ and she was like “WHAAAATTTT???? NO!” Don’t worry though, that all went by the scriptural wayside later.
Anyway, then God declared all that was made on that 6th day good. God didn’t say “Love those animals we created, but the humans – well, they are just awesome!” Nope. Just the same divine thumbs up at the end of a long day for all of it. That outta humble us a bit.
And, as we point out in the diocesan Anti-Sexism training, God said “Let us make humankind in our image – male and female.” Of course – there is that bit about God saying “Let us” and “our,” making it clear that God is the ultimate non-binary being. But something the church and the world so frequently ignores is that the image of God is equally in women as in men.
So – lots to consider in this one creation story. Of course, as noted earlier, we should read this passage, and our entire bible, not literally, but with a focus on the context in which it was written, and draw from all of it the meaning God has for us – the truth found within and between the lines of text. With that in mind, let’s think about what it is telling us today. Why do we need to hear it now?
You know, with all the cold and rain we have had coming into the past week, it has sort of felt like we might never know the warmth of sunlight again. Some of you feel, or know people who do, this type of darkness from the grief, pain, or fear you face personally. And of course, for all of us, there is also the darkness of the world that we feel and see and hear all around us.
We all know about the violence of war in Iran and Ukraine and other places. We know too about the violence in our schools, places of worship, and in the streets. We know the violence of government agents against citizens and non-citizens alike, and those who protest on their behalf. But most of us will never know what it is like to be tossed into one of these concentration camps our government runs.
Specifically, reports out of Delaney Hall in Newark, just a few miles from this parish, describe what these inmates are living through there – rotted or infested food, unsanitary conditions, pregnancy, cancer, and other medical conditions left untreated, and physical beatings. In some prisons across our country with similar conditions, suicides are on the rise. In a recent study, it was found that 73% of those imprisoned by ICE and CBP have committed no crime, and even if they did, we believe in this country that people should be treated humanely. And,100% of those picked up by ICE & CBP have not received due process of law that is owed to every single person – citizen or not – within the borders of our country by the 5th and 14th amendments of our Constitution.
The horrible conditions have led some in Delaney Hall to go on a hunger strike. Protestors, including faith leaders, have been supporting their families outside and speaking on their behalf. Government leaders have tried to gain their rightful access to the facility to inspect it and speak to the prisoners, and they most were not only denied, but in some cases they have been pushed, pepper sprayed, or arrested.
What is happening in our country now has created a chaos as dark as an abyss. And so, as I stood in protest with other faith leaders at Delaney Hall this past Friday, looking into the eyes of Federal agents, or gazing up at the prison windows, I thought about this text – and there I found hope.
Remember – darkness and chaos covered the earth, the Holy Spirit – the breath of God – moved over the waters. And into this, God decided to first create light. Was it to see everything better as God continued to create? I doubt that. The thing is, scientists know that light plays an important role in sustaining life. And we all know, that light, even the hope of it, can sustain us in times of deep darkness – the thought of it can keep us going, even when we are unable to see it.
We hear that in the iconic poem found scratched into the wall of a cellar where Jews were hidden in Cologne, Germany, which read:
“I believe in the sun even when it is not shining.
I believe in love even when I do not feel it.
I believe in God even when God is silent.”
Imagine the darkness that surrounded the person who etched that into the stone – fear, violence, hatred of others, war, loss of loved ones. The sun was not shining into that cellar, but its promise was a lifeline of hope in a time when love could not be felt. And it was that knowledge, deep within whomever wrote it, that is a sign that God was not silent at all, but present in that very place in that very moment, with one who felt so alone, so afraid, so unloved.
This is why God chose to make light the first act of creation – because God knew that without light, with darkness ever present, life would quickly wither into nothingness.
So, if all of that is true, why then did God not make everything full of light? I mean, even with the understanding that these stories were not meant to be taken literally, this version does beg the question – why did God keep the darkness alongside the light, and called it all good!
Maybe part of the answer is found in what God did on the 4th day – creating the stuff in the sky we see at night – the stars and the moon. A reminder that darkness is never fully in control.
Perhaps it is also so that we can better understand the nature of light itself, and what that gives to us. If you light a candle, or flip on a switch, in a dark room, the light enters, and the darkness instantly vanishes. They cannot coexist in the same space; light always wins by displacement. In a one to one matchup – light always overcomes darkness. Every.Single.Time.
But maybe the biggest reason of all is because God is at work in the darkness too. Remember, God wasn’t absent in the void before the light – God’s breathe – the Holy Spirit – moved across the deep. Think about a photographer’s darkroom. For the photos to be properly developed, only a safe light – not visible to the film – can be present. The darkroom isn’t a place of destruction or absence of the good. It is a place of creativity and development. The newly created work will emerge into the light when it is ready.
In the same way, God is not absent in the darkness of our lives. God is at work then too, doing perhaps the deepest development work in our lives at that very time when we feel so lost, alone, afraid, or abandoned.
And like the way we feel when we gaze upon the stars and the moon on a clear night, or a campfire in the evening, the mixture of light and dark can inspire and even entrance us. Just last night many of us experienced a transcendent moment in this very church as we sat in darkness, surrounded by hundreds of candles while a string trio beautifully played the music of Coldplay. It was amazing and inspiring..
The thing is – God knew that the chaos that existed before would always be – would always linger. The humanity God would create would encounter darkness – some of its own making, some of the world. That is why God didn’t eliminate the darkness, because God was at work there too. God then created light, that we would know that darkness doesn’t have the last word – the dawn always comes, the sun shines after the storm, and darkness is unable to exist in the presence of light.
That is also why the light of God – Christ – came into the world.
To breathe life into our very souls that we may transcend the chaos swirling around us.
To show us that even hate and violence wrought down by the powerful like the Roman Empire cannot defeat God’s love.
To show us the power of light – his light – to overcome even the most insidious darkness.
And as followers of Christ, we are the children of light.
We are a part of that never ending act of creation whenever we love and serve in his name.
Whenever we speak for the voiceless.
Whenever we stand against injustice.
Whenever we love unconditionally those others have cast aside.
We bring light into the shadows, and the darkness will never overcome us, for it can never withstand light – the light of God’s love and grace most of all.
And at the end of our own six days of creative action in the world in partnership with God, we will also take our sabbath rest – right here at this table, and in this community. Here we will receive respite from our labors, and strength to meet the journey ahead in the nourishment of Christ’s great love.
And finally, at the end of all our days, at the end of our witness of light in the abyss of humanity’s evil, we will take our final sabbath rest in the communion of Saints.
And God will look at all that we have done, and declare it very good.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/Sermon-May-31-2026.m4a[1] Bob Eldan. http://preachingtip.com/archives-year-b/pentecost-year-b/trinity-sunday-year-b/
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
May 31, 2026
Trinity Sunday
1st Reading – Genesis 1:1-2:4a
Psalm 8
2nd Reading – 2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Gospel – Matthew 28:16-20
May 10, 2026: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Happy Mother’s Day, and many good wishes to those celebrating. It is a joyous occasion for most – offering a time to appreciate the love of their moms with maybe flowers, a visit or a call, or some other way to thank them. For others, this is also a difficult day, or one that brings about mixed feelings at least. For they are those whose mother’s have died, or those whose mothers are absent – in whatever way that may mean – or those mothers who have lost a child, or those women who could not have one. For these people Mother’s Day can be troubling, awkward, or even painful. And if that is you, know that we, your parish family, are holding you in prayer.
And so, as I say each year, that is that is why I like to think of today as less about Mothers specifically, and more about women – mothers, sisters, daughters, wives, nieces, aunts, and friends. Women who have been a part of our lives – nurturing, mentoring, loving, caring. That is what we really celebrate today – the journey of women – us, if we are women, and those women who have been a part of our lives.
And there was a woman listening to St. Paul in the passage we heard today from the Acts of the Apostles, but you wouldn’t know it based on the reading for this morning. As the story we heard goes, St. Paul was speaking before the Areopagus. What we didn’t hear was why.
See, while he was waiting for his preaching buds Silas and Tim to arrive in Athens (why is a whole other story), Paul had been walking around town seeing among the bustling city lots of monuments to various Gods, even an altar that, as he would later note, was inscribed with this: “to an unknown God.”
As Paul does, he taught people in the synagogues and the streets about Jesus. Now, this is where the previous verses get funny, and why I think they should be included. It goes like this: “…some Epicurean and Stoic philosophers debated with him. Some said, “What does this pretentious babbler want to say?” Others said, “He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign divinities.” … So they took him and brought him to the Areopagus and asked him, “May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? It sounds rather strange to us, so we would like to know what it means.” Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new.” That is part of what is missing from the story. The part we did hear was this…
St. Paul then speaks before the council, mentions the bit about the “unknown God,” and in classic Paul style, uses their own poetry to counter the notion of such a thing. He quotes Aratus (a Cilician poet) in the phrase “For we also are his offspring,” and likely refers to Epimenides of Crete with the phrase “For in him we live and move and have our being” to counter the idea that any God would be unknown to their own creation. Socrates would have been proud of his use of their own words, and given that Paul was university educated, with excellence in rhetoric and debate which we see in his writings, it also isn’t surprising.
Then Paul told them about Jesus – about his life, death, and resurrection. For reasons that confound me, that is where the lectionary stops this reading.
But on this day, when we celebrate the women in our lives, we need to hear, as the late Paul Harvey would say, “the rest of the story.” The text continues with this: “When they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some scoffed, but others said, “We will hear you again about this.” At that point Paul left them. But some of them joined him and became believers, including Dionysius the Areopagite and a woman named Damaris and others with them.”
Now, there are are a few things to note about Damaris, especially on a day when we celebrate women. First, that she is mentioned at all by the author. In his book Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony, New Testament scholar Richard Bauckham argues that named individuals in the Gospels and Acts are not random, but rather were known to the early Christian communities as key witnesses, leaders, or teachers. This would be especially true of any women named.
Second, some try to link Damaris by marriage to Dionysius, the other convert mentioned in this story. Nowhere does it say that, and the author of Luke-Acts, being a stickler as he was, would have done so if it had been the case.
And third, is that she is standing there listening to St. Paul speak before the Areopagus in the first place. The Areopagus was a place for centuries where the learned, the most respected in that region, the most powerful, would listen to and debate ideas, pronounce judgements over serious criminal matters, and wrestle with larger questions of science, philosophy, & religion. Damaris would have had to have been wealthy, intellectually gifted, powerful, or all of the above.
So, there is a lot for us in this larger story about St. Paul, a bunch of Greek philosophers and judges, and Dionysius and Damaris. And we need to hear it too, especially amidst all that is happening in the world today. For starters, there the inscription on the altar that Paul saw and spoke about.
One wonders who constructed it, and why? As I was thinking about that, I was struck by this one part of the Psalm we heard today. The Psalmist speaks of God as one, “Who holds our souls in life.” Think of that for a moment. What does it mean that God is one that “holds your soul in life?” There is such a sense of care, of nurturing, of love in that imagery – and most of all – of knowing. That God knows us.
The thing is, we hear this not only in that Psalm, but throughout the scriptures of our faith. We hear that same message, or something like it – over and over and over again in many different ways. From Genesis 1 to the final chapter of the Revelation to John, our scriptures remind us that, as those Greek poets Paul quoted made clear – God created us, and in God we have our very being – God holds our soul in life with great love. This is why at the Easter Vigil and in Lessons & Carols we get texts that span the entire bible – to tell the story of God’s relationship with us through time as a reminder that our God didn’t begin loving us when Jesus was born, but he was born to us because God has loved us from the beginning of time. That God does indeed hold our souls in life…or really, in love. And that type of relationship, the one God has with all of creation, rooted in unconditional love – means that God knows us – knows us deeply – even if God is unknown to us.
All of which brings me back to whoever built that altar. The thing is – it wasn’t built because they thought God doesn’t exist. Why bother? No, it was built because they could sense God’s presence – could sense that there was something larger than themselves – they just didn’t know how to name what they were feeling. This was a seeker – something we all have been, and hopefully still are, or we wouldn’t be here right now.
We don’t stop seeking just because we walk in the doors of a church and sit in the pew. Or I sure hope not. It is practically in the DNA of the Episcopal Church to seek, to question, to wrestle with what we think we know. And seeking is as much about what is sought as it is about the one who is searching. The spiritual seeker wants to understand the Creative force they can sense in the world, but learns as much about themselves when they do. Understanding is about knowing – about seeing and being seen. And the truth is that we not only seek God that we may know God, but also that we may feel seen and known ourselves.
So many people in the world today yearn to be seen – not looked past, ignored, or pushed aside. They want to be listened to, not because they think they have all the answers, but because in listening, we see them a bit more.
That is why it is so important to lift up Damaris in this story. So many women in scripture get ignored or go unnamed – and even our lectionary cuts them out. But the patriarchy rooted in sexism isn’t just a part of faith traditions like ours. Women all across time have been left out of our history books – their inventions, courageous acts, writings, or leadership unacknowledged – their names unknown.
If we are to ever know God the way God yearns to be known, we cannot ignore or abuse what God creates, especially those made in God’s image – the women as well as the men. For when we do, when we ignore and abuse the very soul God holds in life – we willingly do the same to God.
Which brings me back to Damaris. She was noted by the author of Luke-Acts, and we should not make the mistake so many do and take no notice of her. We will remember Damaris today. We will say her name and tell her story.
But there is something else going on in this story – something missing from our world today (not to mention the lectionary). Paul was doing as evangelists are meant to do – all of us really – he was talking about his faith. That’s a good thing! Yet, the lesson we most need now though does not come from Paul. It comes from the Athenians, and begins in the part left out from the passage, which I mentioned earlier.
Sure, some thought he was a “pretentious babbler,” which, if you read a lot of Paul’s writings you might agree with them. And yet, they didn’t throw stuff at him, push him aside, or arrest him for saying things they didn’t like or understand (as we know happened to Paul in other places). What did they do?
Well, this is why this earlier part is so important, and why I cannot figure out why it was left out – I mean, how can you understand the full scripture of you don’t hear it? Just a reminder, this is how they responded: They said to Paul “May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? It sounds rather strange to us, so we would like to know what it means.” The text goes on to describe all of the people in that region, saying “Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new.”
And when they listened more to Paul in his speech before the Areopagus, they didn’t throw him over a cliff for speaking about something they hadn’t heard before – nor did most of them immediately accept what he said. In the final part of this story, again left out of the lectionary for today, they said instead “We will hear you again about this.”
We should not be surprised by their response. Anyone who had to read Plato in school knows Socratic dialog, which originated in Ancient Greece long before Paul or Jesus were born. For that matter, anyone who reads some of the epistles of St. Paul see in them this method of question and answer to get to truth. Some scholars have pointed to striking similarities between Socrates in Athens and Paul in Athens – something the learned author of Luke-Acts may have been trying to bring to mind.
But while interesting, especially if you enjoy trips down the philosophical rabbit hole, the most important part is in the invitation to dialog in the first place offered by the Athenians in the face of something they either did not know, or did not believe to be true. If only we today would do as these Athenians and the others in Athens at the time of Paul’s travels are doing in this story.
Instead, most people would just change the channel, walk away, yell and scream, or Gerry-mander them into silence. If you are in our government, you would arrest and indict them, or push to have them taken off the air. What would the world, or really – let’s narrow that down…what might our country be like if we were to listen more to what we don’t understand, invite those who offer different opinions to speak to us, or at the end of a contentious town hall say “We will hear you again about this.”
If we think about it – listening is one of the ways we see others, one of the ways we say to them that they are known to us. One of the ways we become known to them too. And seeing someone, getting to know them a bit, is the first step toward loving them as we are called to do. It is also the first step toward knowing God.
So as we leave here and head out into our own public squares – divided as they are – let us question as the Athenians what we hear from others, not to shut down, but so that we can better understand, see, and know – them, the truth, and the God who created it all.
And let us hear of the resurrection of Christ and have our hearts moved in such a way as we become like Damaris – leaving this place to proclaim the good news in such a way that we cannot be pushed aside and be forgotten or ignored. For there are far too many yet for whom God is still unknown, who yearn to be known themselves, who dream of being seen and loved by One who would hold their soul in life.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/Sermon-May-10-2026-1.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
May 10, 2026
The Sixth Sunday of Easter
1st Reading – Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:7-18
2nd Reading – 1 Peter 3:13-22
Gospel – John 14:15-21
Maximino Cerezo Barredo (Spanish, 1932–), “Emmaus” (triptych), 2014. Carvalhos, Portugal.
April 19, 2024: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Happy Easter everyone! Yes – it’s still Easter. In fact, while we celebrate Eastertide for 50 days, in reality we are always a resurrection people.
Now, the New York Times had a headline this week about the Vice President that read “Vance Says The Pope Should Be More Careful When Talking About Theology.” Does anyone else feel like the real news these days sounds more like something the parody news outlet, The Onion, would put out?
Seriously though, the Vice President said about the Pope, I kid you not: “If you’re going to opine on matters of theology, you’ve got to be careful, you’ve got to be sure it’s anchored in the truth and that’s one of the things that I try to do and that’s certainly something I would expect from the clergy…” Says the guy who converted only 7 years ago about the man who has been a priest for 3 decades and is now the Vicar of Christ?
Well, Mr. Vice President, I am not the Pope, just a priest in Christ’s one holy catholic and apostolic church, but I do intend to speak on matters of theology, and I suggest you stay in your lane of – well, whatever it is you do. If you have a problem with that – bring it on. I would be happy to have a theological dialog with you, because Lordy, you seemed to have skipped some of your RCIA classes when you were prepping for your conversion.
Now, if you think that was the most outrageous thing that happened this past few weeks, you may get the same head scratching stares Jesus got on the road to Emmaus when he asked Cleopas and the other disciple “What news?”
So, let’s talk about this beloved Easter story.
It begins with Cleopas and his companion walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus, comforting one another in their deep grief over the death of their teacher and friend, Jesus. Now, before we go any further, I want to remind everyone about the identities of these two folks.
So many just assume that these are two men walking on this road, but as most of you who have been here awhile know by now, that assumption is a reflection of our society, not the scriptures.
The text says “Now on that same day two of Jesus’ disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened.” Nowhere does it say these were two men! The Greek is gender neutral. Given that the bible is rife with examples of women going unnamed, and given that the bible authors have no problem usually telling you the names of every single man in any story, it is far more likely that it is a woman with Cleopas, not a man. This is not just my own opinion, of course, but that of many scholars who argue as much.
So, there you have it – Cleopas was walking the road to Emmaus with his wife, girlfriend, sister, female best bud, wing woman, or whatever. Now that we have that cleared up, let’s give her a name…how about Zoe, from the Greek word for life. Now, back to the story.
Remember, Cleo and Zoe were leaving Jerusalem – leaving the place where the disciples were cowered in fear, where Jesus had been crucified, where those associated with him were in danger. Tensions were high. People, including these two, were grieving and fearful. And as they talked among themselves about the situation and all that had happened to them, Jesus came near and went alongside them.
Now, they didn’t recognize him. This was a stranger on this road, and not only that, but that same stranger basically says “Heyt, what’s up?” First, let’s look at the word choice of the author here to describe Jesus. It is the Greek word πάροικος (paroikos) which means migrant, or a resident foreigner. It often refers to a temporary resident lacking citizenship in a particular place.
And they tell this stranger, this foreigner, everything – who they thought Jesus was, what had happened to him, and who was responsible for it. That they had hoped he was the one to “redeem Israel,” which may not mean much in our context, but then was the same as saying overthrow the Empire and free the oppressed. They told him things that could get them crucified if he happened to be someone connected to power. It was risky.
And knowing that risk makes the next part even more astounding – they invited this stranger to stay with them. Welcoming the stranger was the law of God, and one that was a matter of life or death in that time. There were not Wawas on every corner to grab food, and roads at night were prime places for robbers to lay in wait. They did not know Jesus, but they knew their God and what God expected of them. They invited him in, this man on the road. They took another risk.
Today Jesus, the paroikos, the migrant, the resident foreigner, needs us to take a risk. To risk having the conversations that may put us in danger with those in power, to risk welcoming him as we would if we could have the veils lifted from our eyes and saw the Christ walking alongside us. And that is exactly what Pope Leo the XIV was doing that prompted responses from both the Vice President and the President.
First, let’s step back a bit to get the full scope of all that has happened just since Easter Sunday. On that most sacred and holy of days for Christians, the President posted on his social media this heartwarming message: “Tuesday will be Power Plant Day, and Bridge Day, all wrapped up in one, in Iran. There will be nothing like it!! Open the F’in’ [he used the full word – I will not)…anyway] Open the F’in’ Strait you crazy [a b word I also will not repeat], or you’ll be living in Hell.” And then, in all caps (for reasons known only to him) he continued “JUST WATCH!” Praise be to Allah. President Donald J. Trump”
This was the President’s Easter message – a pledge to commit war crimes against the Iranian people, and mocking their faith. But wait, there’s more… The Secretary of Defense called this a holy war, and this week, in a worship service at the Pentagon, he prayed for “overwhelming violence of action against those who deserve no mercy.” I should note, this same “Christian,” also asked everyone to pray while he quoted a passage of scripture – except what he read was from the movie “Pulp Fiction,” and not the bible. This was on top of his declaring that journalists were like the Pharisees who opposed Jesus…implying that the President was Christ himself.
The President seemed to think so, as he re-posted on social media a blasphemous meme of him depicted as Jesus, healing a sick man, as avenging beings fly in the skies above, and a bunch of white people hold their hands in prayer around him. And – he claimed that Leo owes his election as Pope to him. Yup – you can’t make this stuff up.
But let me make one thing perfectly clear – while some of this is farcical, this is no laughing matter. This is what Christian Nationalism does. It perverts the gospel of the Prince of Peace into a bludgeon for war, hate, violence, and oppression. Christian Nationalism is a heresy and it must be stopped whenever and wherever it rises up.
Now, back in “Sane-ville” – the Pope made it clear that “God does not listen to the prayers of those who wage war.” While traveling to Cameroon, actually to a city I spent time in years ago – Bamenda – Pope Leo said even more. Now, he was speaking about the long and violent civil war that had wracked this beautiful nation, but of course a certain President and Vice-President didn’t see it that way. The Pope said, “The masters of war pretend not to know that it takes only a moment to destroy, yet often a lifetime is not enough to rebuild…” And quoting actual scripture, not the Gospel of Quentin Tarantino, he said “Blessed are the peacemakers!” which we know was a part of the sermon on the mount. Then Pope Leo added “But woe to those who manipulate religion and the very name of God for their own military, economic and political gain, dragging that which is sacred into darkness and filth.”
Why am I telling you all this?
Because Pope Leo is having a risky conversation, in a risky place. The Pope is exhibiting moral courage at a desperate time in the lives of so many around the world. Don’t mess with a guy from the South Side of Chicago. Seriously.
And supporting him in this is our own Archbishop of Canterbury, Sarah Mullaly, who said “I stand with my brother in Christ, His Holiness Pope Leo XIV, in his courageous call for a kingdom of peace. As innocent people are killed and displaced, families torn apart, and futures destroyed, the human cost of war is incalculable. It is the calling of every Christian – and of all people of faith and goodwill – to work and pray for peace. We must also urge all those entrusted with political authority to pursue every possible peaceful and just means of resolving conflict. As I prepare to visit Rome later this month to meet and pray with Pope Leo, I am mindful of his call to keep our eyes open to the suffering of the world, and our gaze fixed on our crucified and risen Lord Jesus Christ – the image of the invisible God, in whose image and likeness every human being is made.”
Let the people say “Amen.”
Folks, the Road To Emmaus is what we are walking now.
People are fleeing empire today and we, the followers of Jesus, sometimes may feel like those first converts in the passage of Acts we heard this morning, who asked of Peter “what should we do?”
The story of Cleo and Zoe provide the answer.
We should have the risky conversations – proclaim the gospel even when it may be dangerous to do so. Proclaim it in what you say and in what you do. Proclaim it in places others might not go.
We should welcome the foreigner – not bomb them, not shoot them, not unjustly imprison them, not rip their children from them. We should invite them in, for they are made in the image of God, and they are the crucified one in our midst.
We should come here to experience Jesus in the breaking of the bread – to hear the scriptures (again – real ones not from a movie) – to have our hearts burn within us.
That is what we should do – have the risky conversations, welcome Jesus in the stranger in our midst, experience him in the breaking of the bread – for that is our faith! That is our Easter life.
Cardinal Tobin, who I have had the pleasure of working with here in New Jersey, said in an interview in response to what Pope Leo is doing “I’ve had the privilege of working closely with four popes, very different people in a lot of ways. But each one in some way was the right one for that moment in time. I believe that — Pope Leo is the right man at this time.”
Now, I am not a Cardinal, but I can assure you this: Pope Leo is the right one for this time…and so are each of you. All of you are in this moment – this road to Emmaus moment – because you are the right person for this time.
There will be people, sometimes powerful people, telling you to stay in your lane, perverting the gospel, trying to crucify Jesus. But you must continue on that Emmaus journey.
You must recognize Jesus in the stranger, who yearns to draw near to you.
Welcome him, share your pain with him, listen to him, experience him in the breaking of the bread, and then proclaim the gospel – even when it’s risky.
For that will always be a risk worth taking.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/Sermon-April-19-2026-1.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 19, 2026
The Third Sunday of Easter – Year A
1st Reading – Acts 2:14a,36-41
Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17
2nd Reading – 1 Peter 1:17-23
Gospel – Luke 24:13-35
April 5, 2026 – Easter Sunday: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Well, I had hoped it would be a bit more Springy today. Still, even if the weather isn’t sunny and bright, Spring truly is here – flowers are blooming, birds are singing, everyone is sneezing, and move aside basketball on TV – baseball is back!
And Lordy, do we need all of that now, don’t we?
It’s been a tough winter, and an exhausting year.
Weather wise, this winter has chilled us to the bone, and drenched our spirits in the snow and icy rain. And the gloomy clouds matched a lot of our spirits with all that we were experiencing in the world around us.
On Good Friday, we remembered when empire crucified Jesus. And this year, it seems we have been in a perpetual Good Friday. Day after day after day, we see Jesus being crucified. For we know, as this Gospel of Matthew tells us, Jesus taught his disciples where to find him. As I noted at the beginning of this Holy Week on Palm Sunday, and again on Good Friday, Jesus, using the setting of a final judgement, said about those who will be declared righteous, “…for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger (immigrant in today’s terms) and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” When perplexed as to how they had done that, the answer came, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”
So, the part of the story of Holy Week, the shallow praise of the people as he entered Jerusalem, his prayer of grief in the garden of Gethsemane, and his execution on the cross by the Roman Empire – it feels very familiar now. It is a darkness that we have been experiencing for so very long as we watch our own empire grab people of color out of their homes, places of work, or even children in school and disappear them. As we see empire shoot and sometimes kill people outright in the streets. We feel betrayed.
We grieve as we hear of the oppression of already marginalized people, our nation bombing a school for girls, and service men and women returning home in flag draped coffins.
Our country has been in a very, very, long Holy Week.
It seems that might has shoved right into a tomb and rolled over the stone. It sure must have felt that way to the first followers of Jesus too.
And yet, that isn’t the end of the story.
Mary Magdalene and the other Mary… Honestly, can we just stop right there…what is up with that? I mean couldn’t the author of Matthew give that other Mary a surname too? It’s a little like on that old Bob Newhart Show – My brother Darryl, and my other brother Darryl. I know – showing my age here. But, really?
Anyway, those two Marys went to the tomb expecting to care for the body of Jesus, their friend and their rabbi. Instead, their world was turned upside down – literally. There was a great earthquake – just like what happened according to this gospel account when he died on the cross, and the same effect was felt too as he entered the city of Jerusalem. God sure knows how to get our attention. And the only thing the women found that was dead were the soldiers – or at least they “became like dead men” according to the text. That was because just as they arrived, a messenger of God appears looking like lightening, who rolled away the stone and sat on it, you know – like you do if you are a messenger of God, I guess.
Then the women were told that the tomb was empty, Jesus had been raised from the dead, and they were to go tell all the other disciples. They did, but before they could get very far, Jesus appears before them on the road. And if that wasn’t crazy, it gets even stranger – he says “Greetings!”
Seriously? It’s like he’s messin’ with them. There they were, having experienced an earthquake, a lightening bolt angel, nearly dead soldiers, and a missing Rabbi, whom they were told has somehow been brought back from the dead… I mean – that’s already a LOT to deal with, right? And then Jesus drops down on them and says “Hey you’all!! What up?” I don’t know about you, but you could hardly blame her if Mary Magdalene said “It’s five o’clock somewhere, I need a drink.”
Instead, she and Mary the sequel grabbed his feet and kissed them. Note that they didn’t need anything more, as the ones in Galilee would ask for – just him being in front of them was all that was needed. And, not for nothing, but as is needed to be pointed out every year – Jesus came to see the women disciples before Peter, James, John, or any of the other men. Jesus, in every gospel account, always appears to Mary Magdalene first (and any other woman who happens to be with her in the synoptics of Matthew, Mark, and Luke – in John, she comes alone). She, and if there are other women with her, are sent to tell the rest of the disciples. The women were the apostles to the apostles. The first ones sent to proclaim the good news.
And what was that good news?
That the cross, erected by empire to destroy love, to extinguish hope – it wasn’t the last word.
Or, to put it another way, since it is the early days of baseball season, in the immortal words of the great Yogi Berra, – “It ain’t over ’til it’s over.” Now, Yogi said that about the 1973 pennant race when the former Yankee was the manager of my hapless Mets. They were 13 games back, in other words, a usual season. The manager wrote a 1998 astutely named book: The Yogi Book: I Really Didn’t Say Everything I Said. In it he said, “That was my answer to a reporter when I was managing the New York Mets in July 1973.”
Of course, he also said other, what some call Yogi-isms: There’s “It’s like déjà vu all over again.” And of course, this classic: “Always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise they won’t go to yours.” But, “It’s not over till it’s over,” still has a way of inspiring us. It sure did the Mets. They went on the win the pennant and got into the World Series! In true Mets fashion though, they lost.
Well, here’s the thing. Easter is when God offers the same message, “It ain’t over till it’s over,” but adds this note of hope: “And I am telling you – it ain’t over.”2
It ain’t over.
Nope – God isn’t dead or defeated, so neither are we.
That is the first lesson of Easter – hope.
But another is this. That is in these Good Friday moments, when the tomb looms large and empire seems to have their boots on our neck, God will always meet us there, in our darkest hour – when it seems that all hope has been lost. God will meet us on that difficult road and instill new life into us to send us on our mission in the world. God will do that, because God loves us – just as we are, unconditionally, and for all time.
That is the second lesson of Easter – Love.
God.Loves.Us.
God.Loves.You!
For Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, for the rest of the disciples in Galilee, and for each of you – God meets us where we are and calls us to new life, because of that great love.
And God is with us now!
That, my friends, is good news for us all!
But sometimes we don’t see it. Sometimes we don’t lift our eyes to see Jesus on the road, we don’t go to the tomb to encounter an angel waiting for us.
When life throws so much at us in these difficult times of our lives, one of the things that can happen is that we, intentionally or not, turn away from the pain and chaos around us. We dismiss the pain in our body out of fear of a difficult diagnosis. We turn off the TV so we don’t have to see people being hurt or killed by federal agents. We keep our heads down looking at our social media feeds of cat videos. We watch Hallmark movies (or, maybe that’s just me). We turn to the things that comfort us, even sometimes self-medicate to ease the anxiety and the pain.
Now, don’t get me wrong – comfort is important. We all need it. We all need rest from what wears us down emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. That is a healthy thing to do. But there is a difference between seeking temporary respite, and deliberately putting ourselves in the tomb and rolling over the stone.
I am reminded of something I read once about lost sheep. “When someone asked a wise old shepherd how sheep manage to get lost and separate themselves from the flock, the shepherd said, “Sheep don’t just get lost. They nibble themselves lost.” The sheep, in other words, never look up to see where they’re going, or how far they’ve wandered from the flock. All they can see is the next succulent patch of grass: and the next, and the next. The grass is a good thing, and essential to life: but they follow it so single-mindedly, it leads them ultimately in the direction of death.”[1]
A good patch of comfort to nibble on for a time is a good thing, but we must keep our eyes focused on what will really sustain us, so that we never get ourselves lost – so that we see God sending a messenger to give us hope, so that we see Jesus standing in front of us to offer us new life.
Even in Holy Week, if we focus only on the betrayal, denial, anguish in the garden, the arrest, and the crucifixion, we will miss something else. There was also his great love in washing the feet of his disciples – even the ones who would deny and betray him. There are always the helpers, the ones who offer great love in all of the darkest moments of humanity’s history. We just need to watch for them.
And, if we really think about it, in these dark times we face, the comfort we truly need isn’t to be found in self-medicating, isolating, or ignoring the world anyway. We shouldn’t throw the blanket over our head on Sundays and attend the church of the Holy Comforter. No, it is here, at this table, where we are brought back from the dead by him whose resurrection restores our souls and reminds us that there is nothing in the world to be afraid of when we stay close to Christ Jesus.
For by his death and resurrection we know that life is stronger than death, light overcomes darkness in the end, and love will always defeat hate. Every single time.
By his death and resurrection, we know that the powers of this world are weak, and there is nothing to fear.
By his death and resurrection, we know that the earthly powers of this world do not have the last say – God does. It was true of Rome so long ago, and it is true today.
So, let us rise up from our despair, grief, and isolation.
Let us step away from the tombs in which the powerful of the world have tried to bury the love of Christ.
Let us lift our heads from the comfortable, to return to the true comfort of our shepherd – here at this table.
Because make no mistake about it – God is telling us: “It ain’t over till I say it is over, and folks, I am telling you it ain’t over!
It ain’t over because Christ Is Risen!
He Is Risen Indeed!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
And that, my friends, changes everything.
Happy Easter Everyone!
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/Easter-Sunday-Sermon-2026-1.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 12, 2020
Easter Sunday – In A Time of Separation
1st Reading – Acts 10:34-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
2nd Reading – Colossians 3:1-4
Gospel – Matthew 28:1-10
[1] Homileticsonline.com
[2] Various sources on Yogi Berra’s statement
Good Friday – 2026: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Tonight we continue our three day service. We really began two nights ago – at our healing Eucharist – when we remembered the betrayal of Jesus. But the three part service that makes up what we call the Paschal Triduum started last night, when we remembered the final meal Jesus shared with his disciples. There he washed their feet, an example of servant ministry, and commanded all who follow him to love one another as he loved us. And after praying in the garden of Gethsemane, he was arrested.
And, so we are now here on Good Friday to stand at the foot of the cross, to experience the pain of grief and loss, to bear witness to the cruelty of empire, to feel the darkness of the tomb.
Why would we willingly choose to do this?
Because we know that if we do not, Easter is rendered meaningless. There can be no victory over death without the death itself. And so here we are, gathered together, on this most holy night.
One particular moment of the Passion struck me this Good Friday. It was in the sixth reading tonight, and is something that happens in all four gospel accounts – Jesus is offered sour wine or vinegar (the poor man’s wine the soldiers would drink). Sometimes it is noted that it is mixed with gall, a narcotic mixture offered to those being crucified to ease their suffering. In the gospel of John, read this evening, this offering of sour wine is in response to Jesus saying, “I thirst.”
“I thirst.”
We can hear in these words the anguish of Jesus.
Crucifixion was a horrendous way to suffer before death – your lungs collapsing from your own weight, your body exposed to the full heat of the sun for hours, even days. And so one can only imagine the thirst anyone would have hanging on a cross.
“I thirst.”
He likely did, but perhaps there is a deeper meaning to his words in this gospel account.
Some say it is a reference to a number of Psalms Jesus would have known so well – Psalm 69 in particular. Perhaps. But earlier in this gospel, I think we get a better understanding of why he said it, and why it matters to us.
In one of the first chapters of this gospel, John 4, which we read just a few weeks ago, Jesus enters into a dialog with a Samaritan woman at a well. When this woman wonders why he has come to the well without something in which to draw the water out, Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”
And yet, as he nears death, Jesus says in his anguish, “I thirst.”
The living water thirsts.
How can this be?
One of the themes I keep being drawn back to this Holy Week, perhaps because of all that is happening in the world, is from another of our canonical Gospels – the Gospel of Matthew. In that gospel, Jesus tells us where he may be found in the world – in the poor, the immigrant, the imprisoned, the sick, the naked, the hungry, and those who thirst.
Tonight, Jesus, the living water thirsts.
Indeed, he truly does now. For he is in all who suffer in this world today. And he thirsts for righteousness, justice, love, healing, and grace.
Mother Theresa had a sign above the entrance to the chapel in all her missions around the word. It read, “I thirst, I quench.” Whenever we, the body of Christ, who is the living water, tend to those who thirst – physically, spiritually, mentally, or emotionally – we quench the thirst of Jesus himself.
That was Jesus’ final message to us all – he thirsts.
After all he had tried to do in the world, there was then, and now, more to do – Jesus thirsts, and so we too thirst, for alleviation of suffering for all of God’s children, for an end to the abuse of all of God’s creation.
In his final moments, Jesus reminds us of the work we are called to do. He implores us not to forget him.
“I thirst.”
So, as we go out into the night of the tomb, let us not forget him in the world, let us thirst too.
Let us hear his cry “I thirst,” and let it be our cry as the body of Christ.
Let us offer spiritual gall – not to dope the mind with narcotic, but to ease the pain of our sisters and brothers who suffer.
Let us be the water of life, quenching the thirst of others with his love, grace, and light.
Jesus thirsts.
May we go out into the world to meet him at the cross, and offer him the living water of our lives.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/Goid-Friday-Homily-2026-1.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 3, 2026
Good Friday
Psalm 22
Gospel – John 18:1-19:42
Palm Sunday – March 29, 2026 – May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Now, if you’ve been coming here awhile, than you already know that this should just be Palm Sunday, with the passion being our Holy Week journey. Still, we do include it because Easter without the passion is an empty experience, and some will not be able to attend on Maundy Thursday & Good Friday.
And as in past years, the Dzieci Theatre company will push our imaginations, engage our senses, and challenge our assumptions in the second half of our service as they envelope us in the experience of Christ’s passion. But, let’s not go there yet. Let’s give the reading from Matthew, about the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, its due.
It’s a rather odd telling of this moment. There are cloaks and branches, not palms. Which was also almost our experience too, as these palms we have today got sidetracked by FedEx. And, unlike in the other gospels, Jesus doesn’t mount one animal, but two. I mean, you can almost imagine it looking like one of those rodeo tricks – the cowgirl on with a foot on each animal? How the heck is he doing that, and even more to the point – why on earth is he doing that?
Well, the short answer is that it ties Jesus directly to messianic prophesy – found not only in Zechariah, as quoted here (and as we heard earlier in the service before the procession), but also in Genesis 49. The author Matthew is making it clear that Jesus is the Messiah whose reign would not end until he drew all people to himself.
But this author is also telling us that the people who greet him with praise, did not understand who he is, and the moment they were in. When some asked “Who is this?” Others answered that Jesus was a prophet from Galilee. This sets the stage for what will happen to Jesus.
But there is another part to this gospel, something we will see if we read Matthew through the crucifixion to the resurrection. The text says “the whole city was in turmoil asking about him.” Yet the word turmoil is not exactly describing it. The Greek word here is σεισμός, which means earthquake, shaking, big commotion. It occurs again just after his death on the cross, and again as the women get to the tomb. Things aren’t just a bit puzzling, everything was moving chaotically. That’ll get your attention, just like it did the guards at the cross and the women at the tomb.
Does it get ours?
Because even while the people in Jerusalem didn’t quite get it, the question they ask is one being asked today – of each one of us.
The church is being asked to declare who we are as the body of Christ in this earthquake moment in which we together live, where empire crushes the vulnerable. What will be the crowds response if asked about us? Will we show them who we are, as Jesus did, even if they don’t understand, even if they turn against us?
These are questions for us today on this Palm Sunday, as much as they were for those there in Jerusalem so long ago.
Jesus knew this would happen to him – he entered into this city, at this tense moment, opposite the powerful Roman military – and he knew that, while the people in the crowds may not fully understand, his disciples needed to.
So, after he enters into the city, Jesus teaches his disciples a number of things, both in word and in deed. First, Jesus goes to the temple, overturns some tables, and heals the sick. Then, he offers them perhaps the most important lesson they, or we, will receive. It was about who he is. Maybe he heard the crowds, or maybe he thought his disciples still didn’t understand, so he answered the crowd’s question.
Using the setting of a final judgement, he said about those who will be declared righteous, “…for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” When perplexed as to how they had done that, the answer came, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”
And finally, Jesus takes it a step further, washing the feet of his disciples as a model of servant ministry, a symbol of his commandment to love one another as he loved us.
“Who is this?” the crowd asked.
“Who is Jesus?” we need to understand the answer to, and it is this: Jesus is the stranger, the imprisoned, the hungry, the sick – the one who overturns the tables of injustice – who heals the broken ones – the loving servant – the crucified one.
Why then would he be crucified – how could a government do that to another human being., or how could the people allow it to happen?
It is questions like these that make this Passion we will experience here today by Dzieci is so powerful, because it is set – not in the ancient near east – but in the Warsaw ghetto of our 20th century. A Nazi created neighborhood prison, where the death toll among the Jewish inhabitants of is estimated to have been at least 400,000. This setting is a reminder to us of what can happen when we fail to understand who Jesus is as his followers. This is what can happen when we turn our backs on the crosses being erected outside our city walls. When we look at another as being “them” rather than “Him.” When we think – “that’ll never happen here – not in the US, not in my neighborhood.”
But, the passion sadly isn’t something that just happened over 2,000 years ago. The passion is a story happening through the centuries up to this very moment, because Jesus is being crucified all over the world, not only by governments, but by our own greed, hatred, and neglect. The crucifixion of Jesus, is happening today, because today – Jesus is Alex Pretti, Renee Good, Liam Ramos, Lumos Campos, Ruben Ray Martinez, and all the other people killed, injured, unlawfully deported or detained. Jesus is the 150 Iranian girls and other civilians, killed by our bombs, and the US Servicemen and women killed in our unjustified war with Iran. Jesus is the farmer struggling to make ends meet, the mother with no food for her children, and the homeless veteran. Jesus is the LGBTQ+ person rejected by others. Jesus is the Epstein victim and all other women or girls trafficked. Jesus is the person of color afraid to grocery shop or go to school in our country for fear of being disappeared by masked Federal Agents. Jesus is the prisoner, the hungry poor, the neglected, and the oppressed.
But on this Palm Sunday, Jesus is also the one who enters into the public sphere with authority and overturns tables, even as empire threatens all around, even as he can see the cross looming ahead for him. What can we learn from all of this?
During Lent, a few of us have been reading together a book, “For Such A Time As This: An Emergency Devotional,” by Hanna Reichel. In it, the author writes this: “As a scholar, I have closely studied this nation. It prided itself in its influence in the world, its intellectual leadership, its technological innovation, its economic prowess. But as global orders shifted, its social and political system, built for simpler times, crumbled… Polarization increased and made coalition building ever less feasible. Widening gaps led to social unrest economic instability and even violence in the streets. The nation was overwhelmed and disoriented… Special leaders claiming for themselves special powers rode waves of public disgruntlement against immigrants, intellectuals, and those visibly “other.” Democratic processes were manipulated, checks and balances hollowed out. Executive overreach became the order of the day.
The nation I am talking about is Germany; the time is roughly a century ago. But maybe my description sounded familiar to you today. Maybe, like me, you find yourself thinking: we have been here before…We’ve been here before. You won’t like what happens next.” Reichel then asks: “What should the church’s response be?”
Or, as Matthew might put it: “Who are you?”
There were many in the church who complied with the Nazi’s, even siding with them. In the decades since, many in Christendom have had to atone for this sinful inhumanity and shameful lack of courage. But there were others – those in what was called the Confessing Church – some of whom came late to it, others who resisted from the start. Deitrich Bonhoeffer is one of the more famous examples, but there were far more. But something Bonhoeffer was very clear about, “…the church is not a building, but is also not a people. It is the body of Christ.”[1]
And as the body of Christ in the world, we too need to enter our proverbial Jerusalem – not on military horses with weapons, but as Jesus did – with a message of hope, healing, grace, and love – and some righteous anger to topple the tables of injustice too.
And that is what many of us were a part of yesterday in the latest “No Kings” march – the largest single day of protest in the history of the United States – with 8 million people and rising in every state, and nearly every single county across our country. Joining with others of different faiths, or none at all, we were proclaiming that might does not make right – that we will not bend the knee to any President. In signs and voice, we said we will not turn our backs on our neighbors – immigrants, people of color, LGBTQ+, women, children, the poor. We will not allow them to be crucified. We will protect them, love them, and stand by their side. Because in them, we see Jesus, and we are called to love and serve him – not any imagined earthly “King.”
And for me and many other parts of the body of Christ, we also proclaimed emphatically that Christian Nationalism is a heresy. Jesus did not enter Jerusalem to cooperate with Rome, or align himself with Pilate – and neither will we allow him to be used as a tool of the powerful to oppress the vulnerable.
We didn’t create the σεισμός – we WERE the earthquake!
Did we do this weapons or violence? No. We did this the same way Jesus did and for the same reason too. Mercy and love is what shakes the city to its core, not abusive power. Think of how our own empire today wanted protestors to become violent – doing all they could to provoke them so the Insurrection Act could be brought out., and the people subdued by violence. But, Portland Oregon showed us the way – they came in inflatable frog costumes.
Why? Maybe for the same reason Jesus enters Jerusalem on two animals. Not because this isn’t a serious moment. No. Instead to meet the moment – to meet violence and hostility with love and joy. In protests since Portland, violence and power have been met with shouts of kindness, songs, and peaceful opposition. And you know what? That is the scariest thing any dictator could ever see.
Jesus knew that too.
And so, as the body of Christ today, many of us met that moment yesterday, and have been for many, many years. And we will keep doing it too. We must, because if we do not, then we are as clueless as those in Jerusalem so long ago as to who Jesus is, and who we are as his followers.
Reichel in that same book ,when talking about what we do here on Sundays, said “There is no gathering without sending. The miracle of real community is a special blessing that strengthens us for everyday existence…The cross is a part of Christian life. Where we try to avoid it, we just end up putting others on it…The Christian belongs out in the world. Blessing turns into temptation when we use community to escape the world…”
Or, as I have said for years – going to church on Sunday is not the destination, it is where we get strength for the journey – the journey to Jerusalem.
And so we have a question to ask ourselves this Palm Sunday – the same one asked about Jesus. Who are we as the body of Christ?
In this time of empire and oppression, when Christ is being crucified will we head to Jerusalem to overturn the tables of injustice?
In this time of σεισμός, where it seems the world we knew is falling apart, will we move into the danger with grace and humility, love and righteous anger?
Because make no mistake about it – The cross IS a part of the Christian life. The Christian belongs out in the world – and each and every one of you – every follower of Jesus – was made for such a time as this.
Amen.
[1] “For Such A Time,” Reichel.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/Sermon-March-29-2026-1.m4aRev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
March 29, 2026
Palm Sunday
1st Reading – Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 31:9-16
2nd Reading – Philippians 2:5-11
Gospel – Matthew 21:1-11
February 8, 226: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
You know, when I left Minneapolis and the -35 windchill weather, I did NOT remember packing that cold air to bring back to New Jersey. Lordy! I had hoped to leave that behind, but it is smacking us in the face now, isn’t it? I am glad to be inside this time, rather than out in it for hours marching down the street. I am also grateful to those of you who ventured out into this insane cold to be here this morning. Perhaps we all have a better appreciation for the people of Minneapolis and all they do in weather colder than this.
So, given all the ice that is around these days, on the sidewalks and armed in the street of our cities, I was glad to hear the texts for today. In the gospel we are hearing part of the sermon on the mount. After the familiar “Blessed are those…” statements we call the beatitudes, Jesus then says “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house.”
“You are the salt of the earth.”
“You are the light of the world.”
Well, that’s good news – considering both will melt ice (come to think of it – maybe that is an appropriate acronym then for that armed band of hate enforcers – it shows just how vulnerable they really are).
But here’s the thing about this proclamation of Jesus…he isn’tinviting us to those things. He is telling us that we already ARE those things. This isn’t a choice folks. We are salt. We are light.
Then he offers absurd comments about salt losing its saltiness and hiding a light under a bushel basket. Jesus did have a sense of humor, and clearly his sarcasm is showing here, because salt cannot lose its saltiness, and no one would put a basket over an open flame, which is what a light would be in those days. Both scenarios are ridiculous, but then again, Jesus wasn’t trying to offer a science or fire safety lesson. He is preaching and being a bit cheeky to make a point, as he sometimes does.
So, what was Jesus trying to tell his followers – then and now?
I am reminded of two sayings by the Buddha: “Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.” And, “There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting.”
Some have suggested that Jesus studied Buddhist principles in India during his early adult life, but whether he did or he didn’t, he is certainly preaching them here. He wants humanity to understand a fundamental truth – our very essence – in the hope that we will honor that truth within ourselves, allowing God to shine in us and through us. We can turn away, we can forget, we can get lost…but the truth of who we are cannot be hidden – not to God anyway. And, as the Buddha says, the path to understanding that truth is only impossible if we don’t try, or we stop trying.
But still, what does it mean for us to live this truth – what does that look like in our lives? Well, maybe we need to think about what salt and light do, particularly for those in the time of Jesus, to understand how important it is for us to be what we were born to be.
The thing is, we are so far removed from what these things would have meant to the people in the Ancient Near East, that the meaning of Christ’s metaphor may be lost to us. We have refrigeration and electricity. But they did not.
Salt was a way to preserve the life of meat and fish, and to enhance its flavor, and it was used in health regimens. It was so important to them that Roman soldiers were sometimes paid with salt – hence the word we use today – salary – sal being the Latin for salt.
And light – well, in these dark days of winter, even with our electricity, we can understand the value of that, but imagine living where there is no electric light. It is hard for us now, but if you think about it – in the long history of the world, there has been less than 150 years of light bulbs. In the time of Jesus, and up until 1880, there was the sun, and then there were oil lamps, candles, fires, moonlight, and torches for the night. Light then and now makes it possible to see dangers in the night, to keep warm, and to thrive, and without the light of the sun, life would be impossible.
Jesus is telling us that we can enhance and preserve life and overcome darkness for the world. But note – not for ourselves alone. Salt’s very purpose is to enhance or preserve life. The purpose of light isn’t to shine for itself, but to illuminate other things, to dispel the darkness.
If we are the salt of the earth, and the light of the world – and we are – then what does that mean in practical terms for us now? We get that answer in the passage from Isaiah we heard earlier.
First, we need to understand the setting: The powerful elite who benefited from the oppression of others believes its pious rituals of fasting will please God. But God tells them that there is only one fast that is righteous – the one that comes from a place of empathy and compassion, not haughtiness and privilege. In words we will hear again on Ash Wednesday, God makes it clear that only a fast from oppression by loosening the bonds of injustice, and freeing the captives, is what we are to offer. Only a fast from abundance by caring and feeding the poor and the hungry, will be acceptable to God. Notice then, that the acts God wants from us are not ones that draw attention to ourselves, or are miraculous feats, but are ones that serve others.
The truth that Jesus is asking us to see is that we are the salt that will give life to those who have been pushed to the brink of death. We are the light that will overcome the darkness of hate and division. We live this truth when we offer the fasts God chooses – compassion, mercy, grace, and love in whatever small way we can. Or, as our own Anglican archbishop, the late Most Rev. Desmond Tutu, put it “Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”
And so that brings me to the Olympics. How many of you watched the Opening Ceremony of the Winter Games Friday? It was wonderful. But there was a message there too that we need to consider today.
The theme of this Olympiad is Armonia, meaning Harmony, and of course – the parade of athletes is always one of the best parts. But this Olympiad’s opening ceremonies had a message for the world too.
Sure, like all them, it celebrated the beauty and gift of the host country’s culture, in this case, Italy, but far more was going on this time. It was essentially a colorful display of diversity, and the hope for harmony in a world filled with conflict and division.
From red, yellow, and blue paint seemingly pouring down onto the platform from enormous suspended paint tubes, to multi-colored swirls of people dancing across the platform, the message of harmony amid difference was hard to miss. But it was the speech of Kirsty Coventry, a seven-time Olympic swimming medalist, and the 10th President of the International Olympic Committee, given just before the lighting of the Olympic flame, that I think offered the world a good definition of what it means to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world, even if that was not her intent.
Speaking first to the athletes, Ms. Coventry said “Over the next two weeks, you’re going to give us something truly special. You’ll show us what it means to be human. To dream. To overcome. To respect one another. To care for each other. You’ll show us that strength isn’t just about winning – it’s about courage, empathy and heart. You will not only make incredible memories. You will reach your Olympic dreams – and you will show the world how to live.
This is why we all love the Olympic Games. Because through you, we see the very best of ourselves. You remind us that we can be brave. That we can be kind. And that we can get back up, no matter how hard we fall.”
Then she addressed everyone, saying “And to everyone watching, here in Italy and around the world – thank you for joining this moment. Thank you for believing in the magic of the Olympic Games.
When we see an athlete stumble and find the strength to rise, we are reminded that we can do the same. When we see rivals embrace at the end of a finish line, we are reminded that we can choose respect. When we see grace, courage and friendship – we remember the kind of people we all want to be. The spirit of the Olympic Games is about so much more than sport. It is about us – and what makes us human.
In Africa, where I’m from, we have a word: ubuntu. It means: I am because we are. That we can only rise by lifting others. That our strength comes from caring for each other. No matter where you come from, we all know this spirit – it lives and breathes in every community.
I see this spirit most clearly at the Olympic Games. Here, athletes from every corner of our world compete fiercely – but also respect, support and inspire one another. They remind us that we are all connected, that our strength comes from how we treat each other, and that the best of humanity is found in courage, compassion and kindness.”
Coventry was telling everyone that the very things the athletes embody at the games are examples for all of us. Jesus might call their example being salt and light. God might say “Yup – do that!” I just want her to come preach here some Sunday.
Now, in the audience that night was the US Vice-President, and watching were millions across our nation. I can only hope that her message, and that of these games, sinks deep into their hearts, because clearly the scriptures they claim to believe in have not. But, whether or not that happens, she is right, we all can take a lesson from those athletes, especially followers of Jesus, because it is a model for our lives in Christ.
Of courses, when we watch these games, and see the competitors fly through the air, twisting and turning, speeding down icy tracks, or spinning effortlessly on ice, we should remember – that isn’t what God is asking of you. Remember the passage from Isaiah – it isn’t the great feats, but the compassion, kindness, and respect they share that we are to model. Each of us will be salt and light in the way God has gifted us to be, so long as we model that.
Remember too that every athlete at those games started as a small child of God with a calling. To be where they are today, they had to make a small start. The skier had to put on a pair of skis and be willing to go down the bunny slope for the first time. The skater had to strap on skates and put their feet on the ice. And, to get where they are today, they had to train constantly, get up after they fell or failed, and get back out there to live their truth. It is as the Buddha said: “There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting.” We have to start, and then we have to keep going, even if we fall.
And there is more to what we can learn from these athletes to help us in our own quest to do what we are called to do. One of the sponsors of the Olympics is a mattress company. And in the ads, the athletes remind viewers that rest isn’t a break from training – it is a part of their training. Without it, they would break and never make it. The same is true for us who are salt and light. We too need rest from our training, our continued work in the world. And we get that renewal here at this table, and among the fellowship we find here in Christ.
So, today we rest.
Tomorrow we do what those athletes do – show the world what is possible when we are strong enough for empathy and courageous enough for love.
You are the salt of the earth.
You are the light of the world.
There is no one who can keep you from that truth but yourself, and there is no time that truth is needed more than now.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/02/Sermon-February-8-2026-1.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Episcopal Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
February 8, 2026
Fifth Sunday After The Epiphany – Year A
First Reading – Isaiah 58:1-9a, (9b-12)
Psalm 112:1-9, (10)
Second Reading – 1 Corinthians 2:1-12, (13-16)
Gospel – Matthew 5:13-20
February 1, 2026: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Tomorrow there’s this pesky groundhog that is supposed to tell us how much winter we have left, and I swear, if that rodent sees his shadow I’m gonna go have a word with him, and it won’t be pretty. This has been a rough winter – bitter cold, lots of snow, and darkness that is cutting us to the core.
But the groundhog isn’t the only thing that happens tomorrow. February 2nd is primarily, for catholics, Roman or Anglican anyway, the Feast of the Presentation, which is the final day of Christmas – for real this time – despite the stores telling you that Valentine’s Day goes from December 26th– February 14th.
Now, you may have noted that our gospel today is from Luke Chapter 2, and we are clearly still in the birth narrative, as Jesus is all of 40 days old. He isn’t even out of onesies or eating solid food yet. It’s a bit of whiplash, since he was just walking around as a 30 something calling his disciples in the gospel we heard the last time we were able to be here on January 18th. But as it is such an important moment in his life, the church marks it as a special feast day on February 2nd..
Now, the church expects us to only celebrate this feast on the actual day. But, because so many do not attend special weekday services, this day, like other feasts – of the Magi, for example – will get ignored if we do not celebrate them on a Sunday. So, as we did last year, today we will celebrate the Feast of the Presentation today. It is also a day on which candles are blessed for use at home and the church, so it is called Candlemas.
The scriptures of this moment feature so much in our daily lives for those of us who pray what is known in our church as the Daily Office. It also is part of our parish’s history, with two prominent stained glass windows associated with it – the center window of the Tiffany triptych in St. Mary’s chapel, and this one up there in the main tower. The chapel window shows the scene, and the tower windows have the words of Simeon, which we heard in the gospel reading. Now, let’s get to this story, because it is offers something important for us in the context in which we live now.
In the verse just before what we heard today, we find that Jesus is going to a bris, and unfortunately for him, he isn’t the one bringing a gift. Joseph and Mary have him circumcised and he is named. Then we get to this story today, where 40 days after his birth, they bring Jesus to the temple to be presented to God in accordance with the law for her purification and his redemption that we get in that fabulous book that everyone loves – Leviticus. All this to say that Jesus is raised in the knowledge and adherence to Jewish scripture and law. There’s a lot going on in these verses, but I want to focus on two people – Simeon and Anna.
Now first we need to set the scene. The temple isn’t like the size of our churches today. This place is huge – many times larger than our largest cathedrals. So, you’d think no one would really pay any attention to this little family walking in. And yet, against all odds, two people did notice them – Simeon and Anna.
Simeon was, according to the text, a righteous and devout man who had been told by God that he would not die until he had seen the Messiah. He is guided by the Holy Spirit to come to the temple that day, and he listens and goes. There he sees the child Jesus, and takes him in his arms and says what is known in the church as the Nunc Dimmitis, Latin for the first words “now depart.”
I will use the version we say in Evening Prayer, which differs slightly from the wording we heard today: “Lord, you now have set your servant free to go in peace as you have promised; For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see: A Light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people Israel.” He then foretells to Mary the destiny that awaits this child, and that it will pierce her heart.
Then Anna, a prophet, sees the baby Jesus, and also proclaims the destiny that awaits him and what it will mean for the people of Israel. Of course, Simeon gets the focus in our prayer book, and Anna is essentially forgotten – what else is new, right?
So, what does all this have to say to us?
Well, let’s go back to our righteous guy Simeon. He says “…these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see: A Light to enlighten the nations…”
To be sure, this is about far more than bringing light into the darkness – which, of course, is a powerfully important thing to do. But this is also about that light casting aside ignorance and bringing knowledge to the people – specifically, the knowledge of God.
Jesus would do both.
His presence among the people was the light that overcame the shadows of darkness, and he taught his followers what it meant to be part of the kingdom of God, rather than of humanity. He did this, not by sitting back in Galilee preaching in the synagogue, but by being out in the world healing the sick, advocating for the vulnerable, and spreading the good news of God’s love.
We are called to be like Jesus – a light to enlighten the nations. – in what we proclaim, and by our actions in the world.
And if there was ever a time to live out our lives in Christ, it is now, because darkness has spread across our country. People are being snatched out of their homes without a warrant, pushed to the ground and beaten, children are grabbed and sent to prison, protestors exercising their first amendment rights are sprayed intentionally up close with chemical irritants or bombed with tear gas, and others are brutally killed. This is a time when all the world hopes for a light to enlighten our nation! And folks, there are a LOT of followers of Jesus being exactly that right here in our country.
Clergy and laity are in the streets loving their neighbor, welcoming the stranger, protecting the vulnerable, and crying out for justice for the oppressed. Two days ago, 150 Episcopal bishops signed a letter that put a simple question before us: “Whose dignity matters?” They called “on Americans to trust their moral compass” – “to question rhetoric that trades in fear rather than truth.” Noting that “As Episcopalians, our moral compass is rooted firmly in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.” Indeed. And I take heart, as I hope you do, that our leadership in the church is witnessing to that gospel of all inclusive love.
We must join with them, and so many others, as a witness to the gospel – as lights to enlighten this nation. We must do this both by what we proclaim and by our actions in the world. What that looks like will depend on your own situation. As I said last time we were together, if you are caring for others, are aged or infirm, or are vulnerable yourself – you will need to protect yourself first, and proclaim the gospel in ways that do not put yourselves at risk. The rest of us – we need to be out in the streets. And as your priest, I cannot ask of you what I will not do myself. I am called to set an example in word and deed, even to the cross if necessary.
Now, I shared much of what I am about to tell you in an article I wrote for the Diocese of Newark, but I also want to share it with you now, in case some have not read it.
When I got home from church two weeks ago, after preaching on the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Sunday, a call went out from clergy in Minneapolis to clergy across the country. Echoing King’s call to clergy to come to Selma, they asked us to come to Minneapolis to stand, march, and pray with them on January 23rd for what was being called A Day of Truth & Freedom. Like many others, I knew in my heart that I had to answer that call.
Yes, we were being asked to enter a dangerous situation. Yes, it would be winter in Minnesota, with temperatures predicted to be 30 below with the windchill. Yes, we are exhausted, like so many of you, having shown up again and again for vigils, marches, and protests. And yet, as King’s words resounded from our pulpits on the day we celebrated him, I was reminded of something he said that I had just included in my sermon on that very Sunday: that there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but must do it because conscience demands it.
How could I preach it, and not live it?
And so, on Thursday night, January 22nd, I found myself in Minneapolis during an extreme cold warning. The morning of the march, I woke to a temperature of -21 degrees and layered myself accordingly. I headed to Gethsemane Episcopal Church, a closed parish of the Diocese of Minnesota just a few blocks from The Commons, where the march was to begin. The streets were empty, the shops and schools closed – all part of this act of resistance.
When I arrived, clergy and laity were already gathered to pray before joining the thousands who had come to stand against the brutality, cruelty, and lawlessness of the federal occupation of this once-peaceful city. While there, I received a text warning that federal agents might use water cannons on protesters – which, of course, in that type of cold, would be deadly. I put my phone away, donned my make-shift tear-gas mask, and joined my colleagues as we headed out the door.
Singing “This Little Light of Mine,” we left the church and merged with thousands entering from every direction. The crowd was so massive that it took nearly an hour for those of us gathered at the starting point to fully enter the march. We moved slowly, navigating ice-covered streets before surging forward into the march itself.
Despite the bitter cold, which with windchill was about -35, nothing could dampen the fervor of the protesters or quiet our voices. We called for ICE to leave Minnesota. We spoke aloud the name of Renee Good, killed by an ICE agent. We named Liam Ramos, a five-year-old child used as bait by ICE to lure out his family before being sent with his father to a prison in Texas. We demanded justice, accountability, and an end to the occupation.
It is impossible to describe the joy I felt seeing so many people there – 50,000, we were told. For most, this was not a single day of action. They were living this resistance daily: patrolling neighborhoods to warn of federal agents, distributing food to those unable to leave their homes, and caring for one another. Clergy tended their people, preaching the gospel in both word and deed. I was surrounded by prophets – exhausted, unwavering, and deeply inspiring.
When I could no longer feel my feet with a quarter mile left to go, their courage carried me forward. People passed out hand warmers and tissues. Two marchers ahead of me wore backpacks reading, “If you are hungry, tap my shoulder,” and “If you need hand warmers, tap my shoulder.”
Even in anger and pain, Minnesotans chose to meet hate and violence with compassion, grace, and love.
At the rally, which thankfully had been moved inside, faith leaders proclaimed that God’s love is greater than any hate this government can unleash. And, indigenous leaders reminded us that no one is illegal on stolen land.
Walking back through deserted streets, I passed the statue of Mary Tyler Moore tossing her hat into the air in an iconic moment of liberation. It is from a TV show that some of a certain age remember well. The theme song’s title came to my mind: “Love Is All Around,” and I thought – it sure was that day. I went back to my hotel believing, as the song says, that we’re “gonna make it after all.”
I flew out the next morning, later learning that as I traveled above the city, below Alex Pretti was being beaten and killed by Federal agents. Does that mean it was all for nothing? Not at all. It means the struggle continues, and those of us who are able must keep answering the call of Christ – to be the light that enlightens the nations – our nation – even to the cross. To bring the knowledge of the gospel to those who need it most. The ones who govern – that they may turn from their evil acts against our neighbors, and live the law of God – to love one another, and to care for the least of these. And the ones being oppressed – that they may know that they are loved, and they are not alone or forgotten – not by God, and not by any of us.
That is our faith and it will change the world, but it will not be easy, and it will pierce our own hearts too. It was reported yesterday that an ICE agent told a protestor “If you raise your voice, I will erase your voice.” I kid you not.
But let me be perfectly clear – they can try to erase our voice – but we will only grow louder, because no ICE agent, or anyone else, can ever erase the voice of Jesus. Lord knows, and he does, the Romans tried that long ago in the most brutal way. It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now.
Christ showed the world that God’s love is stronger than human hate, and Christ’s light will always overcome the darkest of humanity in the end. So, in the days ahead, we will with our voices and our actions show the world that God’s love is all around, and I promise you, that if we do that – we will make it after all.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/02/Sermon-February-1-2026-1.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
February 1, 2026
Feast of the Presentation (trans.)
1st Reading – Malachi 3:1-4
Psalm 84
2nd Reading – Hebrews 2:14-18
Gospel – Luke 2:22-40
November 23, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
For some, this is a day called Christ the King Sunday, but as I say every year, that is not a title he would have ever claimed. As we heard in the Gospel, it was a title given to him by the oppressors who crucified him. No, Jesus would not be happy with this King business I believe, Jesus is Lord is enough, and was for centuries for his followers, as Christ the King wasn’t even a thing until 1925. So, not Christ the King…but it is Advent.
And we have practiced the original seven week Advent here at Christ Church since 2016, and as then, it seems so appropriate now, because Advent is about a people walking in darkness, but not a people without hope.
The people are in crisis. Many live in fear. The country is divided against itself. People don’t know which way to turn, how to take the next step, what to do, because the leaders have failed them. Certainly, this sounds like it is a time of darkness, and even very familiar – but I am not talking about the events in this country, at least not yet. I am talking about the passage in Jeremiah we heard this morning.
If you were in doubt about whether Advent, from a lectionary point of view, is seven weeks long, just look again at our reading today from Jeremiah and the Canticle. Jeremiah begins with a stern warning from God for those in power that because they have abused their people, because they have not care for their flock, they will meet with God’s wrath. Jeremiah had been speaking about the failure of leaders in the time of the fall of Jerusalem to the Babylonians in 587 bce. And the passage ends with a very Advent-y verse “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch…”
God clearly was not happy with the shepherds who failed their sheep. One of the things that our faith, our scriptures, make abundantly clear, is the importance of shepherds. And being a shepherd is about never forgetting that the focus of your work must always be on the welfare of the sheep. This is true, not only for those who watch over flocks, but for all kinds of leadership positions – from President to parent, from CEOs to church leaders.
We don’t have to have lived in the Ancient Near East to understand what can happen when shepherds fail in their work. We have borne witness to this in our lifetimes. Today, we can certainly understand what it must have felt like back in the days of Jeremiah to be a people divided, scattered, fearful of our leaders, and not sure what tomorrow will bring.
Our own nation’s leaders have not only failed to be good shepherds, it is far worse than that. They have actually turned on the sheep. Our country – once a beacon of freedom and democracy to the world – has entered into the dark shadows of oligarchy and systemic oppression.
The President has put masked troops in the street shooting tear gas and pepper balls into crowds of citizens, and callously throwing people, including clergy, onto the pavement – arresting them for the crime of free speech. He is responsible for the execution of over 80 people without due process of law through drone strikes on boats in international waters. He has had thousands detained, including zip tying children (let that sink in), again without due process of law, and even deported many of them to foreign prisons notorious for their human rights abuses. He has dismissed the concern of over a thousand female victims of a child sex predator to protect his own hide, calling their abuse a hoax. And his government has stolen affordable access to healthcare for the poor to give money in tax breaks to the rich and powerful.
And while some may feel this is less important – it goes to his misogyny and eroding of the freedom of the press – the silencing of those who courageously try to protect the flock from predators. He told one woman reporter who dared ask him a question, “Quiet Piggy!” Then he held a meeting at the White House with Mohammed bin Salman of Saudi Arabia, known for his brutality, including the 2018 killing of journalist Jamal Khashoggi, a US citizen, by having him chopped up while still alive. When the President was asked about meeting with him by another reporter (also a woman) he called her “insubordinate.” Insubordinate – as though he is a king who cannot be questioned. And to another who asked directly about the murder of Khashoggi, he said “A lot of people didn’t like that gentleman that you’re talking about. Whether you like him or didn’t like him, things happen.” Things happen? Sure, a guy walks into a bathroom and things like a bone saw just kinda happen to him.
Seriously. You can’t make this stuff up.
These are dark days we find ourselves walking in, to be sure.
And it could make anyone feel like just pulling the covers over their heads and praying that things will change. That perhaps new leaders will emerge and make everything better in some distant future. But, that would be like reading only parts of this passage from Jeremiah – the beginning condemnation of the current leaders in the first two verses, and the promise of a new leader in the final verses, when what we need most to pay attention to today is everything in between. Because if we focus only on the current predicament, and the hope of new leadership, we miss what God intends for us, and it is something so very needed now.
After condemning the current leaders, God then says “I myself will gather the remnant of my flock, and…I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer, or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing.”
God declares “I will raise up shepherds…”
Well, guess where God gets those new shepherds?
From right within the flock! God intends to call from among the sheep new shepherds.
As one commentator noted, “While [Jeremiah] opens with judgment and closes with a promise of a future leader who will save and protect the people, the larger book of Jeremiah does not let us — the people — off the hook as we wait.”
So, both sheep and shepherds have responsibilities to the full flock. Everyone has a role to play, especially when we talk about our lives in Christ. Some are called to a dedicated shepherd role. Bishops are the shepherds for a diocese and Deacons assist in that work. Priests are the shepherds for a parish or other type of faith community. But what about the laity, the sheep?
Well, that’s what we hear about in the Song of Zachariah, the canticle, or for Latin nerds, the Benedictus, chanted so beautifully this morning by our choir. Zachariah, after the miraculous birth of his son John by his wife Elizabeth, had a lot to say. Now, you can understand why when we remember what the angel Gabriel did to him before this.
See, back about nine months earlier, Zach was a priest, and it was his turn to serve in the temple. This was not an every week thing. There were a lot of them, and so maybe this was his one shot a year. So, he’s back there doing his priestly work, burning some incense, as you do, when the angel Gabe pops in to tell him “Hey Zach! You and Liz are gonna have a baby! You will call him John, and he will be a great prophet, who will proclaim the coming of the Lord.”
Now, Zach was a bit skeptical, after all, he and Liz were getting on in years. So, he says “Seriously? How is that gonna happen? My wife and I are already on Medicare for crying out loud.” Gabe was not pleased. “I am Gabriel – the best messenger God has! I came all this way to give you this awesome news and you doubt me?” Knowing priests love to talk, he made Zach mute until the baby was born. Which tells you that if an angel appears, even in flames like the movie Dogma, keep your doubts to yourself.
So, as we know now, Liz did get pregnant. Her cousin Mary, the mother of Jesus, came to visit her, etc. Fast forward to today’s passage, and that baby was just born. Zach’s mouth was opened, and he wasn’t holding back. He told all that had gathered to celebrate this birth what this miracle child would do. He told them that salvation was coming for all of them, and that John would be called a prophet, and prepare the way for the coming of Christ. That’s a lot right there for this newborn. But there’s more. John’s prophetic witness would shine light “…on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
This prophet John, through his witness in the world, would give light where there is darkness, and guide others toward peace. John would be a great prophet of God in a time of deep darkness. He was also an example to us all, most especially now.
John, a sheep of God’s flock, was made for such a time as he lived.
And you know what? So are you. So is every single one of you.
It is in times such as when John was born, such as what we are experiencing now, that light is needed most within the shadows of despair, longing, fear, and hate. And that is when God raises up prophets to carry the light of hope and love into a world of darkness and discord.
While it is true that some will do this in particular calls to ordained life – all of us are called to be John – to be the prophets that guide others to the way of peace. And if you think about it, there is a shepherding quality to prophet work, right?
If you are guiding others, you are a shepherd. And in the church, as all are part of the priesthood of all believers, so each of you is called to be both sheep and shepherd. That is our life as a part of the flock of God, most especially when the flock – the people of God, and the creation in which we dwell – are in danger, are being hurt, are living in fear.
Folks, is it clear that we are in Advent – both in the church and in the world. And God is looking for prophets, for shepherds, to listen, to lead, and to love.
Forget looking to someone else to do it – look in the mirror instead. Because God is calling you – here, now.
In Advent most of all, we know that in the darkest of times, the light will always come. But it is up to each of us, following where the Holy Spirit leads, to be that light too – to be Christ’s light shining in the world.
And one way we do that is by what we will do here today. Later in this service, each of you will bring forward food for the those in need and your pledge cards – a commitment to stewardship of this place, out of which we bring the gospel message of hope to a world in need, and in which we are given restoration for our souls as we do this prophetic work of being shepherds in the world.
The food, for both humans and animals, is our commitment to caring for the folk of God.
The pledges are a commitment to be the prophet our Creator needs today, and proclaim from the highest hills, and the lowest valleys, that God loves everyone – no exceptions.
They are a pledge to be the shepherd of a people who are lost, alone, or living in fear.
They are a step in the longer journey of our life, and in the long history of shepherds and prophets of God.
Long ago, God, through the prophet Jeremiah, lamented those called to be shepherds who failed their flock, who failed in God’s mission and call for them, and declared that other shepherds would be raised up instead. And they were to the hope of all creation.
Long ago, John was born with a call to prepare the way for the One who would bring light into the world.
Today, we are the ones that God has raised up – born in baptism – not to prepare the way, but to be the way – to guide others, by the light of Christ shining in us and through us, into the path of peace. To be both the sheep of God’s pasture, and the shepherd of others.
These are dark and dangerous times, and this will not be easy work. And, so I want to leave you with these words of a 13th century woman who heard her own call to be a shepherd. She cast aside all she knew and left the wealthy life of her noble birth to follow Christ. She was Clare of Assisi, who started the monastic order known as the Poor Clares.
On her deathbed, St. Clare offered this blessing – words that still ring out through the centuries, serving as a reminder that we never do this work alone. Christ is always our partner in our call. And so I offer them now to you to take into your heart as you leave here today to be the shepherds, the prophets, who light the way and guide others into the path of peace, the ones God calls for the sake of the world:
“Live without fear:
your Creator has made you whole,
always walks with you,
and loves you as a mother.
So, follow the good road in peace,
and may God’s blessing remain with you always.”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/11/Rec-001-Sermon-November_23_2025.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
November 23, 2025
Advent 2 (7 Week Advent) – Year C Texts
1st Reading – Jeremiah 23:1-6
Canticle 16
2nd Reading – Colossians 1:11-20
Gospel – Luke 23:33-43
The post “Live Without Fear” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
The Feast of All Saints – November 2, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Today we celebrate the Feast of All Saints, when we remember those who have gone before us. Some may think that sainthood is for a select few, or just for those in what we call the Saints Triumphant, who live in eternal glory. But the fact is, any time the Christian scriptures mentions saints, they do so in the context of it being all you’all in the church – every single person, not just those we commemorate on special days.
Now when we hear that word, saint, we sometimes think it also means perfect. Lordy, no. While there are some the church holds up as models of faith, even they were not perfect, nor would they ever claim to have been. And of those we have had the privilege to love here on earth, and remember today, it is doubtful that any of us would say they were perfect people, even if they were perfect for us in their way. We loved them, and they us, but perfection isn’t really possible for humans. So, it’s a good thing that God doesn’t expect that of us.
As I remind everyone each year, All Saints isn’t about perfect people who have died, it is about recognizing that God asks ordinary people do extraordinary things. And given the context in which we all live, that’s a message we need to hear.
We are a deeply troubled and divided nation. It is a time when we can long for the Matthew version of the beatitudes, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.’ But that is not what we hear today in our gospel. In fact, we don’t even hear about saints either.
In the gospel, Jesus spoke of four blessings – the poor will have the kingdom of God, the hungry will be filled, the grieving will laugh, and those who are hated will be given a great reward in heaven. Then comes the woes, something not found in the Gospel of Matthew. Woes to those who are rich because that will be all there is, those who are full will go hungry, and laughter will turn to tears. And then he tells them to love their enemies, reciprocate with goodness the evil done to you, and ends with what folks call the Golden Rule – “Do to others as you would have them do to you.”
Now, imagine hearing this for the first time. Even today, this is radical stuff. Especially that last part. I mean, we can all get behind the overturning of fortunes for the poor and rich alike, but that other bit about doing good to those who persecute you? It is a complete overturning of how the world seems to work. You can tell that Jesus grew up in his mother Mary’s household, because this is the Magnificat made present tense.
In the Magnificat, which is only in this gospel, Mary, in recognition of the promise of this child in her womb, echoes the words of Hannah, the mother of Samuel, and proclaims “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” Mary saw what this child Jesus would bring about. So, as we all know by now – yes, dang it, Mary knew, in answer to that ridiculous Christmas song.
Now, before we go further, just a very brief review about what is going on here. This is not the Sermon on the Mount we get in Matthew. This is the Lukan Jesus – who is visited by shepherds, not Kings, begins his ministry saying he has come to bring good news to the poor and set the captive free, and in this telling, he is most definitely not up on the side of a hill speaking to people below. This is the Sermon on the Plain and he isn’t talking about some other people either, as we hear in Matthew when he says “blessed are they…”. No, he is standing amidst the folks who need to hear this the most, and he is saying blessed are you, woe to you!
In the setup to what we heard today in the beatitudes, the text sets the scene: “He came down with them and stood on a level place with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases, and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And everyone in the crowd was trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them. Then he looked up at his disciples and said…”
Jesus was among the people, a large crowd of those who were in desperate need, and he is calling for the overturning of the tables of injustice, and laying it out how to do it for his disciples. Yup – he’s Mary’s boy alright.
But what does all that have to do with us today? Everything.
For like it or not, we are standing in the midst of people who are hungry and oppressed – some of you may even be among them. These past few months have been horrific for this nation and the world, but most especially for the vulnerable – the hungry and the poor, the immigrant and the oppressed. The government months ago stopped the assistance for those in need worldwide by demolishing USAID. As of yesterday, SNAP benefits for the hungry poor in our own country has been stopped pending a court battle. And the budget passed months ago, which gave tax breaks to the rich and big corporations, also increased the cost of healthcare for the rest of us, reducing many to going without it.
SNAP helps struggling families, 1 of every 8 in our country. They live in predominantly rural areas, and SNAP helps them to make ends meet so that they will not go hungry. USAID’s work is just as impactful – stemming the rise of disease and famine, which if left unchecked, would have dire consequences worldwide, including us in the US. And Lord knows, everyone not only needs healthcare, but it should be their right to have it.
Blessed are you poor, but woe to you who are rich. Blessed are the hungry, but woe to you who are filled.
But there is more. We the people are the ones who weep as we watch the sickening images of militarized ICE units and National Guard troops sent by this President only to Democratic led cities. We have endured months of seeing tear gas and pepper balls being shot at protestors, who are exercising their constitutionally guaranteed right to stand up to this abuse of power. Clergy or members of Congress are not immune to this horrific use of weapons against citizens.
There are also more reports of boats, reportedly from Venezuela, being hit by drone strikes and blown up. Our government says, without offering any proof, that these are boats that carry drugs. These are extrajudicial killings – murders without due process – that are not only unconstitutional and criminal, they are inhumane and evil. Reportedly, some in congress actually find it all amusing.
Blessed are you who weep, but woe to you who laugh.
All of this appalling behavior by our nation’s leaders can send us to a dark place – filled with rage and a desire for revenge. That is when this gospel needs to be read over and over again.
Jesus, standing amidst so many who are in need, so many who have been oppressed, felt compassion. He looked up and tells his disciples “But I say to you that listen, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”
To be clear, Jesus isn’t telling anyone that we should allow ourselves to be abused – not at all. He is saying that we should not allow that abuse to be continued by holding tightly to our anger and desire for revenge, because that only condemns us to that deep and dark place out of which evil is given the power to destroy.
Not only that, it is also a radical response that flips the script and defeats the oppressor. It was true then, as it is for us today. We see it whenever cameras capture peaceful protestors or immigrants being violently shoved to ground or beaten. Scenes like that, just as on that Bloody Sunday back in Selma in 1965, or the photos from Kent State in 1970, can change everything, igniting the flame that will destroy the darkness of oppression.
Just look at how the people of Portland fought back – in inflatable frog, unicorn, and t-rex costumes. Why? Did they not understand the seriousness of what was happening? You bet they did. Yet this was done in part to combat the false rhetoric about the city the President was spewing. And, it made the imagery even more stark – armed militias standing against dancing unicorns, frogs, and dinosaurs. We know who looked ridiculous in that scenario, and it wasn’t the ones in costume. It also took a dangerous situation and deescalated it. Something normally left for our nation’s leaders to do, but had to instead be a lesson the people provided.
So, Jesus wasn’t telling his disciples or us to just take abuse. He was saying that the way to change the world isn’t by fighting fire with fire. That evil will always exist, but we cannot defeat it with evil. Or, as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said – “Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” The Rev. Dr. King knew this sermon of Jesus well.
And so, this is the perfect sermon of Jesus for us to hear today, as we celebrate the saints – we who live now, and those who have gone before us. Because living as Jesus calls us to do in the Sermon on the Plain is saint work. It is not easy, to be sure, but perhaps we can take heart from the stories of some of those saints the church lifts up.
Now usually we think these saints are all old, grey bearded, men – or monastic women who lived a life of purity and austerity. Well, some are, but there are others – young and old, of many nations, and some even from ages not so long ago. Some of them are pictured on the cover of our bulletin today, but there are others too.
There is Jonathon Myrick Daniels, who, while attending an Episcopal seminary, heard the call of Dr. King to fight for the rights of people of color in the deep South. After being freed from jail, he took a shotgun blast meant for a young black girl, Ruby Sales. He was only 26 years old.
Then there are the Chaplains of the USS Dorchester, who when their ship was torpedoed during the Second World War, gave up their own life vests when the supply ran out that others might be saved, and stood on the deck of the ship, locked arm in arm, singing hymns and praying as it sank.
Frances Perkins, an Episcopalian, is another one – the first woman to serve in any Presidential cabinet. After hearing about the tragic Triangle Waist Shirt fire, where laborers were locked in their work area unable to escape, she became the primary author of the New Deal that brought about social security and worker protections.
Harriet Beecher Stowe and Frederick Douglas dedicated their lives to the abolition of slavery and the lifting up of the oppressed through their writing and witness.
There are the so-called Righteous Gentiles who risked their lives to save Jews from the Nazis.
And also Constance and Her Companions, a group of Episcopal nuns and priests who died ministering to yellow fever victims in Memphis.
From these, and so many other modern saints, we can take courage. They faced Nazis and torpedoes, the evil of slavery and the horror of labor conditions, extreme poverty, disease, and the brutality of dictators. Yet their faith led them to do what they likely never thought they would be capable of doing. Things that, believe it or not, you are capable of doing too.
So, as we do in Stewardship season, you will be given a gift blessed at the altar to remind you that you too are a saint of the church. That you have all that you need to do the work you are called to do in the name of Christ. These are little journal books with this on the cover: “You are brave. You are loved. You are kind. You are smart. You are amazing. You are strong. You are enough. You are unique.”
Take one of these, and when you get home, write this on the first page “You are a saint!” And in the rest of the pages, take a moment each day to note a response rooted in Christ’s love that you have done, or will do, in response to what you see around you. Take a look at some of the lives of the saints, or look up the people on the cover of this bulletin, and write something about them that inspires and calls you into your life in Christ.
Folks, now is not a time to turn a blind eye to what is happening, but to stand like Jesus amidst the poor and the oppressed.
Now is the time to rise up, ye saints of God, as the hymn says and fight the darkness of the evil we see with the light of Christ shining brightly within us.
Now is the time to join with other disciples and protest peacefully, bringing down hate with love.
Now is the time to be clear about what it means to follow Jesus – it isn’t a call to nationalism and earthly power, but to humble service of the poor, the outcast, and the forgotten.
And that, my friends, is saint work.
We have work to do, and you are the saints Christ needs today. You are brave. You are loved. You are kind. You are smart. You are amazing. You are strong. You are enough. You are unique.
And most of all – you are a saint!
The very saint Christ needs today.
May God, who guided the saints who walked before you, give you grace to do what you are now called to do.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/11/Rec-001-Sermon-All_Saints-2025.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
November 2, 2025
Pentecost Last – Year C – All Saints Sunday
1st Reading – Daniel 7:1-3,15-18
Psalm 149
2nd Reading – Ephesians 1:11-23
Gospel – Luke 6:20-31
The post “Frogs, Unicorns, T-Rexs, & Saints” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
October 26, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Today is our last Sunday of the Creation Season. While we include a prayer for creation every Sunday, over the past month, we have been creation centered – focusing all our intercessions on behalf of the earth, the animals, and the people suffering from environmental destruction. We have also changed the confession – naming our neglect of creation, our failure to care for the earth, and asking for forgiveness and a chance to amend our ways.
This was our first year joining the larger church – Episcopal/Anglican, Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and a host of protestant denominations, in this intentional reminder of what God has entrusted to our care, our failure to live into that call, and our renewed commitment to change for the sake of all creation. And today, on this final Sunday of this Creation Season, I cannot think of a better scripture for us to hear than something from the prophet Joel.
Now, I don’t know if you remember what you heard in the first reading, but when it was being read, it likely…or perhaps I hope…sounded familiar to you. For those who attend one of the High Holy Days of the church, the Feast of Pentecost, part of what you heard today comes out of the mouth of St. Peter, which is written in the Acts of the Apostles, where we get the story of Pentecost.
But the book of the prophet Joel tells a greater story in its short 3 chapters, and we got a bit more of it this morning. The part we get today is the response of God to verses earlier in this prophet’s work. The land had been ravaged by locusts, and all of creation was suffering. Joel called the people to true repentance – not showy piety, but a rendering of the heart. God then felt compassion for them, and pours down rain to produce abundant harvests from this locust plagued land, so that all will eat and be filled. And then the bit we hear on Pentecost: God said “I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions. Even on the male and female slaves, in those days, I will pour out my spirit.” Note that prophesy bit – women included in the preaching of the word of God. Somehow the church forgot all about this for a very long time.
Anyway, the problem with taking scripture literally and out of context, which those who use the bible to promote sexism, to deny LGBTQ+ people their rights, or even at one time, to support the existence of slavery, often do, is that you can miss the truth that God wants us to hear. This is true for this passage from Joel.
On its surface, the text we heard today is very human centric. But, in the verses just prior to this, God first promises deliverance to the soil and the animals. Yup. Before having compassion on humanity, God says “Do not fear, O soil; be glad and rejoice, for the LORD has done great things! Do not fear, you animals of the field, for the pastures of the wilderness are green; the tree bears fruit, the fig tree and vine give their full yield.” So, God provides restoration to the first things God created and loved – the earth and all its non-human inhabitants. THEN God restores humanity. It is a mirroring of the creation story itself.
As we tend to do, we place ourselves in the center of God’s beloved community – as the focus of God’s love – as the be all end all of God’s universe. God, on the other hand, does not. What does that say to us about what we have done to the earth and to the animals that dwell here with us?
It is a question we must ask ourselves, because humanity throughout history have been the proverbial locusts who have ravaged the earth – killing vegetation, animals, and people along the way. We have polluted the sea, the sky, and the earth. We have destroyed animal habitats and pushed many species out of existence. We have prioritized our greed and insatiable desire for instant gratification at a low cost over our responsibility to God and to all of creation. And even when efforts are made to repent an do something about it, we whine and complain about the inconvenience of things like reuseable grocery bags and having to recycle.
And that is why we need to hear from the book of Joel, because this prophet offers a gift to us in these troubling times – a way forward in our repentance from what we have done, or failed to do, to care for creation.
First, Joel calls humanity to true repentance of our sins against God in our acts against God’s creation. This is why Creation Season is a good start, but cannot be all that we do. Yes, we must pray and ask God to forgive us. But take a moment now and pull out that prayer book in the pews. Open it to page 447. There you will find the liturgy for the confession, which is called Reconciliation of a Penitent – meaning of one who confesses. Reconciliation requires not only an admission of what we have done, but a promise to restore the damage we have caused. So while we lament the damage, and confess our complicity in it, we have work yet to do. Because as the prophet makes clear in the verses that follow what we heard today, God does not do this restoration alone – but calls upon the people to do their part. And so we are given an opportunity to partner with God in the restoration of creation.
So, we must move from this time of focus on creation toward mission in the world. What will that look like here at Christ Church? How can we, together with Christ, work to renew creation within our community? I ask you to consider if God is calling you to lead this parish in an intentional act of reconciliation – of ecological renewal – as part of your stewardship in the church. And if so, seek out one of our leadership, or me, to talk about this call.
We must also ask what our reconciliation will look like in the world? For while we here in the US, since the 1990s, had been a part of a global effort to reduce the impact of humanity on climate, the current leadership in Washington has pulled us out of those initiatives, and far worse. This administration has rolled back environmental protections that will result in sickness and death for people near coal mines and power plants, called for the increase in the production of fossil fuels while removing incentives for green energy use, and is opening national parks and nature preserves for destructive drilling and mining. The reason – to increase profits of businesses – prioritizing greed over the health, safety, and viability of God’s creation – human, earth, and animal.
Lordy! The locusts have nothing on these guys.
So there is much reconciliation work to be done, and it can seem overwhelming – which is probably what the people were feeling in the book of Joel. But the prophet reminds us that, while we have failed God, all is not lost. Hope is rooted in our willingness to truly return our hearts to God and ask for forgiveness and a chance to change.
Hope is found in the ability to envision what may be – to dream dreams.
Hope is made manifest in our willingness to take those dreams and prophesy about them – to preach it in word and in deed.
And because we have not yet gotten to a place of total desolation, hope is seen in the green of the trees and the grass that return every spring, it is heard in the birds that sing and in the sound of water running along the riverbank, and it is felt in the freshness of the new fallen snow and an ocean breeze. All of which is a reminder to us of the goodness of God, and our call to be good stewards of God’s creation.
And stewardship itself is an act of hope.
Stewardship is an act of hope – because you do not care for something if you see no future for it, or use of it. Stewardship, by its very purpose, is an investment in the dream, a step toward the vision, a promise of today on behalf of tomorrow.
And there was one woman who understood this more than most. Her name was Wangari Maathai. Her life work would take a long time to tell you, but I will try to give you at least a glimpse into the life of this remarkable woman.
Wangari Maathai was born in the rural central highlands of Kenya. In 1960, she was among 300 young Kenyans selected to participate in the “Kennedy Airlift,” a scholarship program that provided promising African students with an education in the United States, where she earned her PhD in veterinary anatomy.
The willingness of our country to be good stewards of all God’s children, not just those within our borders, was a seed we planted in the life of Wangari Maathai. But it was her dream, her vision, that propelled her to prophesy in word and in acts to change what was to what could be. She saw in her Roman Catholic faith and the traditional spiritual beliefs of her Kikuyu ancestors, the sacredness of nature and the need to treat it with respect as stewards of creation.
After returning to Kenya, Maathai recognized a dual need in her country – to do something about the deforestation that was devastating the land and in doing so, lift up women who were suffering the effects from it. After the non-profit she founded, Envirocare, was gifted 6,000 tree seeds, Maathai went to work. She formed the Greenbelt Movement, and worked to distribute seeds to women to plant, teaching them how to nurture the seedling.
From that small start, she sought to ensure that those trees would generate income for the women who planted them, giving them ownership of them and the products that came from them. This was transformative, as women were not traditionally given ownership of the land they farmed. But she didn’t just hand them a seed and leave. She made sure the women knew how to care for the seeds, and how to market what grew from them. She taught professional forestry techniques, which resulted in job opportunities as educators, tree nursery managers, and rangers.
It wasn’t all easy for her, to be sure. After leaving her university position (and the housing that came with it) to run for parliament, she lost the election. Homeless and jobless, she did not give up the dreams and visions she had for a greener world. She continued her activism on behalf of the environment, women, and others who are oppressed, once having to hide for fear of her life, and on another occasion being hit in the head with a canister of tear gas that knocked her unconscious. She was not deterred. Among the many recognitions of her life work, Wangari Maathai was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004, the first African woman to be recognized with this honor.
From this one woman, with her faith and some seeds, an entire movement was born, and the lives of so many were changed for the good. This is how stewardship quite literally takes root – with one small seed of hope, which when planted will change the world, and no amount of proverbial locusts can do anything to stop it.
That is the transformative power of hope.
That is the transformative power of stewardship.
With that in mind, while this is Creation Season, it is also Stewardship Season, when we consider how we will plant seeds of hope for the betterment of the world in the name of Christ. And something Maathai said about her beloved trees reminds me of our parish. She said, “A tree has roots in the soil yet reaches to the sky. It tells us that in order to aspire we need to be grounded and that no matter how high we go it is from our roots that we draw sustenance.” Christ Church is our tree – a place where we can feel grounded in community, rooted in the knowledge of the love of Jesus for us, and given sustenance for the work we are called to do in his name.
So, as we do here, you will be given a gift, blessed at the altar. Today it is a small wooden leaf – the perfect size to put into your pocket or hold in your hand as you pray. As you look at it in the days and weeks ahead, let it remind you of our call to care for creation.
Let it remind you of this place, your spiritual tree, where you are able to reconcile your relationship with God, and from here, live a more intentional and hope filled life of purpose.
Let it remind you of the abundance in your life, no matter how small it may seem compared to others, and the way that even the smallest seeds – given to others, as Wangari Maathai did for so many – can spread hope far and wide.
And after the service, grab a few more of those leaves and give them out to others. Invite them into a conversation about environmental stewardship. Share with them your dreams and visions for a better world rooted in your faith, and listen to theirs.
The prophet Joel calls us into true repentance for what we have done. God’s response is compassion and overwhelming grace, a rain of hope from which we are able to dream of what is possible.
So let us consider what vision for God’s creation dwell in our hearts, and how we, as stewards of creation, will sow the seed of hope to live into them, bringing all the world one step closer to the dream of God – that beloved community of peace, wholeness, mercy, and love – where not only humanity will thrive, but all of creation that God loves so very much.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/Rec-001-Sermon-October_26_2025-1.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
October 26, 2025
Pentecost 23 – Year C
1st Reading – Joel 2:23-32
Psalm 65
2nd Reading – 2 Timothy 4:6-8,16-18
Gospel – Luke 18:9-14
The post “Stewardship Is Hope” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
October 5, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Before I get to the sermon, let us just take a moment to celebrate the momentous news our church, which is part of the worldwide Anglican Communion, got yesterday. The new Archbishop of Canterbury was announced. Now, before we go further, for those not versed in all things Episcopal Church, we are part of the global Anglican Communion, which began as the Church of England. The Archbishop of Canterbury, or ABC for short, is the spiritual head of the Church of England and the Anglican Communion. The ABC is the “first among equals” of the Archbishops (or Presiding Bishop in our Episcopal Church) across the whole church, and represents us globally – meeting with the Pope, the Eastern Orthodox Patriarchs, and other ecumenical and interfaith partners. The ABC can be seen in important events in the life of the British Commonwealth, including overseeing the coronations of monarchs, the weddings and funerals of the royal family, and more.
And for the first time in 1,428 years, the Archbishop of Canterbury will be a woman!
Glory, Glory Hallelujah!
It was announced that His Majesty The King has approved the nomination of The Rt Revd and Rt Hon Dame Sarah Mullally for appointment as the 106th Archbishop of Canterbury.
Of course, not all parts of our Anglican Communion are thrilled. The ultra-orthodox GAFCON – mostly in Africa and South America, still believe only men should be ordained to any role, much less the episcopacy – and to be clear – they mean straight men only. And I even saw someone ask on Facebook if this was a DEI hire. Seriously – you can’t make this stuff up. You know, maybe we need to follow the same principle that a friend taught me a long time ago – assume everyone is gay until they come out as straight and ask if it was a DEI hire any time a job is given to a straight white guy. Folks, DEI just means the playing field has been leveled so white straight guys have to compete fairly with everyone else. If they can’t handle that, then they need to get off the field. But, while we will pray for the hardened hearts of these people, we will not allow their unwillingness to embrace all of God’s children equally to divert our attention from the joy of this announcement.
Our church is moving forward into new life!
Let the people say “Amen!”
And now, to the gospel today.
Jesus uses that famous mustard seed example to answer his followers request to “Increase our faith!” He says “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, `Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” And then he tells them this unsettling bit about a slave returning home after working in the fields. Jesus says that the master wouldn’t invite them to dinner, but expect to be served first, then the slave would eat.
What in the world does a mustard seed have to do with faith, and what is up with that other part about the slave? Well, just to clear up the last part – Jesus is NOT advocating for slavery. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, slavery was a pervasive part of the Greco-Roman world in which Jesus walked. Slavery was not a racial construct, but a societal one of economic status. Jesus himself acted as a slave to his disciples when he kneeled before them and washed their feet. So, this is not advocating for a slavery system, but leveraging the system in place at the time to make a point. Jesus is using this familiar construct to tell his disciples that each of us have a role to play, all of them of value in the household of God.
You know, the thing about this gospel today is how the disciples are asking for what they think they need– this incredible faith that would be without doubt, without question – a sort of super-sized, cape wearing super-hero kind of faith – completely perfect and without flaw. Jesus tells them tells them they don’t need that. In other words – your faith doesn’t have to be super sized to do amazing things in the name of God. Just a little can uproot bushes and send them to the sea.
Seriously Jesus – who cares about doing that? That is, unless it is the pesky NJ invasive Russian Olive bush…I’d sure like to throw a bunch of them into the sea. But maybe that wouldn’t be what we would be asking for today anyway, and it certainly isn’t what Jesus wanted them or us to do. Jesus is just using this example to make a point. Because it isn’t mulberry bushes followers of Jesus should be trying to uproot. No, we don’t want to move bushes to the sea, but to bring peace to the world, to end hatred and bigotry, to eliminate hunger and poverty, and to reverse the abuse of God’s creation.
And it is that last one, Creation Care, that we are celebrating today, and every Sunday in October. “The Season of Creation,… is celebrated by Christians around the world as a time for renewing, repairing and restoring our relationship to God, one another, and all of creation. The Episcopal Church joins this international effort for prayer and action for climate justice and an end to environmental racism and ecological destruction. The 2025 theme is Peace with Creation. In celebrating the Season, we are invited to consider anew our ecological, economic, and political ways of living.”
And so the Jesus’ metaphor in the gospel today, of the mustard seed, the mulberry bush, and the sea, are timely symbols as we launch our creation season focus here at Christ Church. Today people and animals are suffering from the effects of our abuse of God’s creation – the earth, the seas, and the air. The greatest effect is on the poorest populations all around the world, who suffer from chronic illness under toxic living conditions, and also on the animals that are pushed to near extinction as their natural habitats are destroyed. We were charged by God at the beginning of humanity with the stewardship of all of God’s creation, and we have failed miserably. We must live into that call for the sake of the world.
And one person who truly did that was someone we lost this week – Jane Goodall. “Dr. Jane Goodall was known around the world for her 65-year study of wild chimpanzees in Gombe, Tanzania. However, in the latter part of her life she expanded her focus and became a global advocate for human rights, animal welfare, species and environmental protection, and many other crucial issues.” “…She was a remarkable example of courage and conviction, working tirelessly throughout her life to raise awareness about threats to wildlife, promote conservation, and inspire a more harmonious, sustainable relationship between people, animals and the natural world.”[1]
As I thought about the life of this amazing woman, I was struck by the way Dr. Goodall often referred to herself. She would say she was a “messenger of hope.” If we think about it, those of us who follow Jesus are “messengers of hope” too – or at least, that is what we are supposed to be. And so today, perhaps we would ask Jesus, not to increase our faith, but just for faith itself. Faith not just in God, but in ourselves, or perhaps more to the point, that God will strengthen us, guide us, and love us as we work to be the messengers of hope we are meant to be.
Faith that what we do matters.
Faith that we have an important role to play in the larger scheme of history.
Faith that we truly loved unconditionally just as we are, even when we fail from time to time to live our faith as we should.
And maybe, maybe that was what the disciples really wanted too. Not an increase really, just some restoration in Christ Jesus that they were up to the challenges they would face as they lived their lives in Christ as messengers of hope.
And that desire they had is why we come here, to Christ Church, because we need to be restored and renewed in our faith too. We need to be given strength for the journey ahead, as so many before us have done right here in this place.
Which is why this is also a special day for our parish. It is the Fall Founder’s Fest, when we celebrate the anniversary of the founding of Christ Church on October 4, 1858. Today we celebrate the 167th birthday of this place we call our parish home. And in doing that, we remind ourselves of all those who came before us – offering of their life and labor – that we might still be able to worship here 167 years later.
And we have continued to work in partnership with God these many years later, nurturing our mustard seed of faith into harvests beyond our imagination through our very ordinary acts, and by God’s grace, we are growing in faith, serving our neighbors, and creating community, in the name of Jesus Christ. And Christ is calling us forward into new life in the years ahead, new ministry, new ways of living out the gospel in this place, in our lives, and in our communities.
Which brings us to the other thing we launch today – our stewardship season, where we consider the importance of this spiritual home we call Christ Church in our lives, and how we will each do our part to support the mission and ministry of this church in our offering of our treasure and our time. And so, as we do here, each week you will be given a gift blessed at the altar during our Eucharist. Today it is a package of wildflower seeds. Each packet grows a pollinator wildflower garden that provides food and shelter to bees, butterflies, birds, and other winged creatures, promoting biodiversity.
As you work them into the soil, think of the gospel today, and know that you are enough, your faith is enough to do amazing things.
As you envision the wildflowers blooming, let that serve as a reminder of our call to be a messenger of hope, found in the unconditional love of Christ Jesus.
And as you think about the bees and butterflies who will be nourished by these wildflowers, think too of the way this place nourishes you. What would it be like if it were not here? How much more would it mean to you to know that you had a role in moving it forward into the future, so others could feel that same welcome and love?
So, think on those things, and when we have our ingathering of pledges on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, bring yours forward to plant the seed of hope in support of this parish, that by God’s grace, Christ Church will continue through the ages to proclaim the good news that all people are made in God’s image – all are beloved of God – and all are welcome in this place.
Today we have a lot to celebrate – a woman as Archbishop of Canterbury – the leader of our global church, Creation Season – a time to remember our role as stewards of God’s earth and all its inhabitants, the founding of our church so long ago by people who planted the seed of what became Christ Church, and the start of our Stewardship season – when we are able to give back to God, who has given us so much. It’s kind of everything, everywhere, all at once – but all of it a reminder of what is possible when we have a little bit of faith, and use that faith to do the work God calls us to in the world.
And so, when we hear Jesus telling his disciples that they could do amazing things, so long as they had faith the size of a mustard seed, let it remind us that even those with very little can do so very much. In a way, Jane Goodall preached this very point.
She would often say to audiences that came to hear her “You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”
Note that she didn’t say they needed a particular education, or lots of money, or fame, or some sort of unique gift – just that each will have an impact nearly every single day – and to consider what you want that impact to be – for building up or for tearing down.
For followers of Jesus – the choice is clear.
We will, with the small seed of faith in our hearts uproot the structures that hold back any child of God, and plant in their place seeds of love, humility, grace, and joy.
We will, with the small seed of faith in our hearts, uproot the systemic abuse of God’s creation, and plant seeds of renewal and restoration for all the creatures of the earth.
For we are, and always will be, Christ’s messengers of hope, the ones who will change the world.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/Rec-001-Sermon-October_5_2025.m4a[1] Jane Goodall Institue. https://janegoodall.org
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
October 5, 2025
Pentecost 17 – Year C
1st Reading – Lamentations 1:1-6
Psalm 137
2nd Reading – 2 Timothy 1:1-14
Gospel – Luke 17:5-10
The post “Messengers of Hope” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
September 28, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Lordy – what a gospel for our time. It practically preaches itself – but don’t get too excited… you are not that lucky.
Now, you may have thought when the gospel first opened that you were getting a repeat of last week, because Jesus starts this parable the same way “There was a rich man…” But, as we will see, this is a completely different message Jesus is giving us here, so let’s take a look.
The rich man in this parable is never named, but the poor man is called Lazarus (not to be confused with Mary and Martha’s brother whom Jesus brought back from the dead). Anyway, the rich man…okay – you know I need to give this guy a name (because, if we don’t, I am likely to break out in song with “If I were a rich man, Ya ba dibba dibba…). So, assuming no one wants to hear that, let’s call him Edmund, or Eddie, from the Old English word for protector of wealth! Anyway, Eddie had fine clothes and lots of food, but Lazarus, whom Jesus points out was right outside his door (or gate), lay hungry, thirsty, and in pain from sores that were left untreated, except by the dogs who licked them. All Lazarus wanted in the world were just the scraps that might fall from Eddie’s table, but they never did.
Before we continue, my dog Lexi would like to point out the following: “Exegetically speaking,” my dog says, “the dogs in this parable are offering comfort and healing, as dogs
Prof. Lexi Wilcox, the three-legged Wonder Dog
do. They are not trying bother the sores of the poor human, Lazarus. As we dogs know, our saliva has good stuff in it for healing wounds. Human saliva does too, but humans don’t have as good a tongue as us dogs. So, the dog was demonstrating for the humans how to be – which, is not surprising. After all, our name spelled backwards is God.”
Thank you Prof. Lexi. Now, back to the humans and this gospel.
Lazarus died, and…because wealth does not buy you immortality, so too does Eddie. They end up in very different places in the eternal afterlife – one in heaven, the other in hell. The long and short of the rest of it is that Eddie finally sees he has erred, and begs Abraham to send Lazarus to warn his five brothers so that they might change their ways and avoid his fate. Abraham refuses saying `If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”
Leaving the drop mic moment that this must have been for the disciples when they encounter the risen Jesus, and remember this parable he told, let’s go back to what Jesus is saying here.
First, let’s be clear about one thing: Jesus is not condemning those who have money.
That said, let’s go back then to look at what happens a little more closely. Eddie wants to warn his brothers that they may avoid his peril. And THAT is the crux of the parable.
Eddie wants to warn his brothers, but here’s the thing that he missed in his life on earth…
Lazarus is his brother too! And no, this isn’t a Darth Vader “I am your father, Luke” moment. Lazarus is not Eddie’s biological brother.
No, what Eddie missed in life is his connection to Lazarus, and he doesn’t even see it when it is laid out for him visually. I mean, he calls Abraham father, but who is Abraham at that moment caring for like his own child? Lazarus! So, if Lazarus is Abraham’s child, and Abraham is father to Eddie, then…Lazarus is Eddie’s brother. If A+1=B and A+1=C, then…B=C. And you thought algebra was a waste of time.
Anyway, Eddie never thought about Lazarus as his brother, and certainly never treated him like one. Instead, Eddie over consumed on his wealth, while his brother Lazarus lay outside Eddie’s gate dying for lack of food and proper care.
Now, whenever I preach on this text, I always like to include a bit of another sermon on it given by a far more gifted preacher – the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.. One, because so many people who rightly admire Dr. King for his civil rights work, while denouncing religion, forget that he was first and foremost, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. His faith was the foundation for his work. And, in this particular sermon, King cuts right to the core of the message of Jesus in a way no one else can.
In King’s sermon, we first need to know two words that will sound different than what we heard in the text today. The was a time that the rich man was known as Dives, because the Latin Vulgate translation of the Bible used the word “dives,” meaning “rich,” to refer to him. This tradition began in the Middle Ages, when readers of the Latin text began to use Dives as the rich man’s name, even though the text itself does not name him. And in the King James Version prominently used in Dr. King’s time, the chasm was called a gulf.
So, let’s get to that excerpt of King’s sermon, which some of you may remember from the last time I preached on this text.
It was given at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church on October 2, 1955, and he said “…There is a gulf that originates in the accident of circumstance. Circumstances make it possible for some people to get an education, while other people are denied the opportunity. Circumstances make some people rich, social prestige, while others are left gnawing on the crumbs of obscurity…So in the parable Lazarus was poor, not because he wanted to be, but because tragic circumstances had made him so. On the other hand, Dives was rich because fortunate circumstances had made him so. There is a circumstantial gulf between Lazarus and Dives.
Now Dives’ sin was not that he made this gulf between him and Lazarus; this gulf had come into being through the accidents of circumstance. The sin of Dives was that he felt that the gulf which existed between him and Lazarus was a proper condition of life. Dives felt that this was the way things were to be. He took the “isness” of circumstantial accidents and transformed them into the “oughtness” of a universal structure. He adjusted himself to the patent inequalities of circumstance.[…]
Dives sin was not that he was cruel to Lazarus, but that he refused to bridge the gap of misfortune that existed between them. Dives sin was not his wealth; his wealth was his opportunity. His sin was his refusal to use his wealth to bridge the gulf between the extremes of superfluous, inordinate wealth and abject, deadening poverty.”
“He adjusted himself to the patent inequalities of circumstance… Dives sin was not his wealth; his wealth was his opportunity.”
Eddie took the blessings he had received in life as what ought to be, rather than what is, and he never leveraged the blessings he accumulated in his wealth to bridge the divide between him and his brother Lazarus.
Today, we see so much of this going on, do we not? I mean, I have to wonder if any of those powerful folks today, who own 99% of the world’s wealth, have ever heard this parable. And it sure is a timely one for what is happening in our country now. To be clear, the chasms in our day are about more than wealth – it is about power, and like wealth, power could be used to close the chasm of circumstance, but that is not what we see power doing now, is it? Instead, power is being used in this country to oppress, to instill fear, to destroy.
Our President and the Congress recently passed a bill that they called “big and beautiful.” Yet it lines the pockets of those with the most wealth, and to pay for it, the bill strips healthcare from millions of the poorest people in our country. There is nothing beautiful about it.
Today the media we consume, and thereby a primary (and perhaps only source of news) is controlled by a handful of white wealthy men, and is often used to prop up this system of economic inequality, rather than to expose the abject poverty of our sisters and brothers.
Those in power are trying to also use their faith – their Christian faith of all things – not to love and serve the least of these, but to oppress – aligning not with Jesus, but with white supremacists in the quest to instill Christian Nationalism – a heretical movement that propagates a false gospel.
The President is also using his position, not to reduce the widening gap between rich and poor, but to buildup more wealth with his own cryptocurrency launched to provide an avenue for gifts by anonymous international sources, along with other marketing gimmicks.
And instead of tending to the sick that lay outside the proverbial gates of nation and the world, he pulled funding for USAID that provided lifesaving aid to the most desperate populations around the world, eliminated research funding for cancer and other diseases, and propagated conspiracy theories about vaccines and Tylenol. That last one is yet another attempt to blame women for their child’s autism (a part of the sad sexist history of our country), and to stigmatize those on the spectrum.
And rather than seeking to unite us across our differences, and use the wealth of our nation to do this, he and the Congress added billions to the efforts of ICE to detain and deport immigrants, is sending troops into cities (but only those led by the other party), and is trying to lock up his enemies through selective and malicious prosecution, all while stripping away funding for programs that aid the least of these.
Did he even read the gospel he hawks for profit?
Now to be clear, this President does this hoping we will fear him, hoping that we will become numb to his crimes against our sisters and brothers, hoping we will choose the path of Eddie, as we step over the Lazarus in our midst.
Well, let me perfectly clear, Mr. President –
WE WILL NOT!
We, the followers of Jesus, hear the cries of Lazarus now – in our lifetime – and we will not turn our backs or close our hearts. We will go to him and care for his wounds – the festering sores of bigotry and hate, poverty and oppression.
We, the followers of Jesus, will not stand by while our brown and black sisters and brothers are unlawfully arrested, detained, and deported without due process of law, and treated with disrespect. We will fight for their rights, be a voice for them in the streets, and be the light that exposes the darkness of our nation’s heart.
We, the followers of Jesus will not align with any attempt to further demean women and girls – denying them equal opportunity, and attempting to instill a sense of inferiority within them. We will proclaim to all that God created us in Her image – male and female – and we all reflect that image just as we are.
And perhaps most especially during times of authoritarian power grabs, we, the followers of Jesus, will never fear bullies. They are but weak cowards seeking to hurt others as they must have been hurt themselves. We will pray for the healing of their heart, as we stand steadfastly in their way. For we know that bullies always back down when confronted.
We will do all this, because as followers of Jesus, we are the repairers of the breach, the ones called to bridge the chasm between God’s children – not in the afterlife, but here – now.
That is our life – that is our call!
You know, there is a meme that was floating around Facebook this week that speaks to this pivotal time in our nation and in our lives in Christ. It read: “There’s something deep happening beneath the surface of the world right now. You can sense it in your soul. This isn’t just about countries or politics. It’s energy. Light and darkness are battling. And, if you’re reading this, you’re likely one of the souls who came to help. Keep shining. Keep praying. The world needs light more than ever.”
There is indeed a battle of darkness and light happening right now – in this country – and we have a choice to make. It is the same choice people in Germany made decades ago. We can choose to be silent, to fear, to turn our backs and hope it will all go away, or that “someone else” will come to rescue us. Or, we can realize that we are children of God, and if children of God, children of Light, and Christ’s light shines in every single one of us.
There is nothing that can defeat the light of Christ – not the Romans and their cross, and certainly not the likes of an octogenarian dictator wannabe bully or his minions.
God’s love is more powerful than his hate.
Christ’s light is far brighter than the darkness he tries to instill.
And the strength of the Holy Spirit in us will overcome the fear he hopes will topple us.
So yes – keep shining, keep praying.
Because the world does need light more than ever.
And you are the light of the world.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/Rec-001-Sermon-September_28_2025.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
September 28, 2025
Pentecost 16 – Year C – Proper 21 – Track 1
1st Reading – Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15
Psalm 91:1-6, 14-16
2nd Reading – 1 Timothy 6:6-19
Gospel -Luke 16:19-31
The post “Keep On Shining” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
September 21, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
This week, while noodling the texts for today in my head and preparing to write my sermon, I saw something on Facebook Marketplace that I had been looking for, and at a great price too. When I got to the woman’s house, I started to pay what I thought I owed her, but she said, “Oh, no – I lowered the price by half.” I paid her the new amount, and as I drove home, even happier with my purchase, I thought about this gospel today. And what a crazy one it seems to be.
Now, before we dive in more – this is one of those times when the advice to eliminate those pesky passage titles is so spot on. This particular story has a variety of titles in those types of bibles – like, “The parable of the dishonest manager,” or “The parable of the shrewd manager.” Well, which is it then? And… is it about the manager at all? So, let’s first hear it again.
The story starts with “”There was a rich man who had a manager.” If that sounds familiar, then you know other parables of Jesus in this gospel. One starts with “There was a man who had two sons, and another, which we will hear next week, starts with, “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen.”
Anyway, Jesus then says that the man told the manager that there were accusations that he had squandered the man’s property. Now, let’s give these guys names to make it easier. Let’s call the rich man Bert and the manager Ernie. So, Ernie has this internal monologue where he imagines what will become of him when Bert sends him packing. So, he tries to make things right by significantly reducing what others owe – in a way like the person in my Facebook purchase. When Bert hears about this, he commends Ernie’s actions.
Then the text has that bit about Children of Light, which was likely an early add on to the original text, so let’s skip that and head right to Jesus’ summary of the parable. He says “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much, etc.…and then sums it up with: You cannot serve God and wealth.”
So, it leaves us with a puzzle – especially if you are inclined to believe that the characters of parables are always ascribed to God, humanity, etc. Sometimes they are not, so be careful about doing that, especially using our 21st century lens on ancient texts. In this case though, let’s return to the opening. “There was a rich man who had a manager.”
Remember the prodigal son – he squandered the inheritance he had demanded of his father and faced a life of poverty and hardship? The father welcomed him back when he returned home and asked for his father’s forgiveness? And the one next week – the rich man did not help those in need in his life, and loses the opportunity to do good in the world with his money after he dies.
So, here we have this man, Ernie, facing a similar fate as the prodigal son, does something too, only what does it mean and why do we even care?
Well, first – we need to understand a few things…
The passage says that Bert had heard that Ernie had squandered his property. Yet, the Greek word translated for the accusation means slander, lies. Ernie hadn’t necessarily done anything wrong. So why doesn’t Ernie protest this unjust accusation? We can’t really be sure, but perhaps it might have seemed to Ernie that nothing he could say would change what Bernie thought of him, or maybe – deep inside – he knew he could have done better by those who owed his boss.
So, he acts to fix the situation. And this is where it is helpful to know the context. It was perfectly okay for people then, as now, to charge interest on debts – except if you were Jewish, and the debtor was also a Jew. Then you could not charge any interest. As this gospel was likely written by a gentile for a gentile audience, it is unlikely that the characters are Jewish, or that Jesus is referring to Jewish law. So, back to Ernie.
As a manager, Ernie was justified in adding on a commission on the debt that gave him a profit on the loan. This was allowed. However, while it may be allowed by the rules of the Roman empire, by forgiving the interest, he helped himself in the eyes of Bert, the rich man, by making it easier for the debtors to reconcile their debts with Bert, not to mention helping his neighbor, the debtors. Sure, Ernie didn’t get much money off the deal, but he did save himself. That is shrewd indeed! Some say that Ernie wasn’t hired back, but in the context of other parables, I think his relationship with Bert was restored, like the son and the father in the other parable, and he went on serving Bert.
This story provides a good context for Jesus’ final statement – you cannot serve God and wealth. What is just by the laws of the state is not always just in the eyes of God. Ernie did nothing wrong by law, but he needed to do more than abide by earthly rules to be in right relationship with God and neighbor.
And Lord knows, we have seen this play out in our own nation since colonialists first landed here – justifying our lawful behavior, no matter the injustice of that behavior on others.
Slavery was legal by law – but unjust according to God’s kingdom.
Oppression of women was legal by law – but unjust according to God’s kingdom.
Incarcerating LGBTQ+ people was legal by law – but unjust according to God’s kingdom.
That was our past, but sadly even today we know that this disparity between what humanity has deemed legal, and what God finds as just, is huge.
Arresting undocumented people is legal – but denying them due process is not – even by our own laws – and denying them dignity and respect is unjust in God’s kingdom.
And keeping with the parable, charging interest on a loan is legal by our laws – but even in our laws and in the kingdom of God, it is illegal to charge an exorbitant rate, called usury or loan sharking.
In other words – we can do things legally here on earth, but that is not how we should order our life. Or, as the old Hebrew National Hot Dog commercial used to say, “It is legal to add fillers to hot dogs, but we are held to a higher standard.” That higher standard is not to build up wealth here, but to build up our wealth with God – and that is done by relationship with one another and with God.
Sadly today, we keep trying to do this, even while we see so much horror going on in the world around us. We try to follow be in right relationship with God and our neighbor, but day after day after day, we see more of the horrific ways humanity can harm others, including ourselves. It can really wear any person down, no matter how faithful to God they may be.
Today, many of us can resonate with the lament in the passage from Jeremiah we heard this morning. This is one of this prophet’s many laments, as he tries to live out his life in service to God, and the words really hit home in these troubling times:
“My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick. Hark, the cry of my poor people from far and wide in the land: “Is the Lord not in Zion?” …For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt, I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me. Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has the health of my poor people not been restored?”
If that last part sounds familiar, it is because you know that beloved hymn “There is a balm in Gilead.” Hold that thought, if you have that tune now running in your brain.
So, here we are – trying to live justly according to our God, trying to be good stewards like our guy Ernie. Yet some lie, others cheat, violence grows, and injustice abounds, and we are worn to the core. We might rightly cry out too “Is there no balm – no healing – no justice?” What can we do?
Well, the thing is – there is a balm – there is healing – in Gilead and elsewhere. And you know how to find it?
Be Ernie.
He was faced with an unjust accusation, and the loss of everything, yet he did even more to be righteous, forgiving those who owed him, just as God forgives. Was it self-serving? Sure. It saved him from a horrible fate. But perhaps he knew that more than his life could be saved in that moment.
And when we feel like Jeremiah – when we feel worn down by all that we see in the world, when our ministry seems to be overwhelming, then we need to remember the lyrics of that beloved hymn:
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole,
there is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul. Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain, but then the Holy Spirit
revives my soul again.
In other words…Keep on keepin’ on – living and serving Christ no matter what life throws at you, but breathe – come here for rest, allow the Holy Spirit to revive you, and keep doing what you are doing, because it does make a difference.
When injustice abounds against ourselves or others, and so many are crying far and wide in the land –be the balm of healing – showing in word and in deed God’s unconditional love.
When people claim to follow Jesus but offer the heresy of nationalist religion tinged with racism, sexism, and heterosexism – proclaim even louder the true gospel of Jesus – the Christ who healed others, who freed the oppressed, who commanded us to love as he loved, and who chose not the vestiges of power, but the humility of service.
When we feel that our joy is gone, that grief is upon us, that our hearts are sick – come here. Come here to be given that balm of healing for your own heart and soul – found in the body and blood of Christ and in his real presence with us as we gather.
We have choices to make in these difficult days.
We can rail against the injustice of it all – hanging our heads in despair, and crying out. Or, we can let the Holy Spirit revive our souls again, and continue our work of love and service in the name of Jesus.
But sometimes, we can wonder about that work. We may feel inadequate to the huge task we face in the world today. I mean, not everyone may be able to preach, or protest, or any of the other ways many others are living out the gospel. So how should we do as we are all called to do, even when healed by the Holy Spirit of our own pain?
Well, listen to the final verse of the hymn:
If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul,
you can tell the love of Jesus and say, “He died for all.”
Look – it takes no special talent to live justly in the face of injustice, to love in the face of hate, to offer hope in the face of despair. It just takes an open heart willing to breathe in the gift of the Holy Spirit and to speak openly and honestly about the love of Jesus.
Now, if that last part scares you because it sounds like that “Hey, have you found Jesus” sort of evangelism common among the fundamentalists (and really – I didn’t even know Jesus was lost?), well, don’t let that stop you! Because where those folks get it wrong is that telling the story of the love of Jesus isn’t about conversion of others. It’s about saving ourselves.
When we tell others about the love of Jesus, we remind ourselves that Jesus loved us for who we are – not for what others want us to be – and we feel the peace of God’s love for us.
When we tell others about the love of Jesus, we remind ourselves that Jesus told us he could be found in the prisoner and the poor, the sick and the immigrant stranger – and we see him there where we may have missed it before.
When we tell others about the love of Jesus, we remind ourselves that Jesus washed the feet of Judas who betrayed him, and of Peter who denied him, we find it possible to forgive others, and perhaps most especially, forgive ourselves.
Folks, we don’t tell people about the love of Jesus so they can come to church on Sunday. We tell them because we know this type of unconditional love will be the balm of healing that will change the world.
So be Ernie and don’t let the (insert b-word here) grind you down – go out and show the world that you know who is truly in charge and you know what you are called to do.
For then by your life, you will have preached far greater than Paul could have ever dreamed, and the audit of your life will be found to be just, true, and in service to God, and God alone.
And you will not only be healed by the Holy Spirit in your times of despair, you, as you tell of the love of Jesus, will be a balm for the healing of this broken world.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/Rec-001-Sermon-September_21_2025.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
September 21, 2025
Pentecost 15 – Proper 20 – Year C
1st Reading – Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Psalm 79:1-9
2nd Reading – 1 Timothy 2:1-7
Gospel – Luke 16:1-13
The post “Be Ernie” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
September 14, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
This has been a most difficult week, and not because there is no joy in Metville – as Mets fans watch our team self-destruct. If only that was the most difficult news this week. Sadly, it is not.
Once again, violence has struck at a school – this time, Evergreen High School in Colorado, by Desmond Holly, a 16 year old white supremacist who was a student there.
That news was overshadowed by the assassination of political activist and far right podcaster, Charlie Kirk. The motive of the young man who appears to have committed this heinous act remains unclear, but Lordy the entire internet want to tell you why he did it before they even identified him as a suspect. He is just the latest in a string of attacks on political figures, including the murder of Minnesota Democratic State Senator Hortman and her husband, along with the shooting of Minnesota US Senator Hoffman and his wife, Pennsylvania Democratic Gov. Shapiro’s home set on fire, multiple attempts on the Republican President, another against Supreme Court Justice Kavanaugh, and the brutal beating of Democratic Speaker Pelosi’s husband. All of this in the last two years alone.
But sadly, this latest apparent political violence and school shooting wasn’t the only news this week.
Our President ordered a missile strike against a boat from Venezuela, killing all eleven on board alleging it was a drug smuggling craft headed for US shores. Yet, this is also not normal, as we usually arrest and prosecute these types of individuals, not kill them out right. Add to that, it has come to light that the boat was actually turning around. The nautical equivalent of shooting someone in the back.
South Korean engineers, who were in Georgia to set up the new US based EV battery plant, were arrested and detained by our government. While later released, this has caused an international quagmire with one of our strategic allies – all in the name of ridding our country of non-white immigrants.
Israel & Russia continue to kill thousands of civilians, including little children, every day.
And if that were not enough, we remembered those who were killed on 9/11- an act of horrific violence, and those who later died from exposure to carcinogens associated with the debris.
I mean – seriously – all of this in this past week alone!
And, there was likely more that went unnoticed, or unmentioned in the news. That’s the way of things today in our country. In fact, when we hear news like this, it doesn’t shock us anymore. We are saddened, we grieve, but we are no longer surprised.
Lordy, what a time in which we live in where death – violent death – has become a regular part of our daily lives. Where empathy for those who are suffering is based not on our common humanity, but on whether we agree with them, like them, look like them, or love our guns more. I mean, even Mr. Kirk once said, “I think it’s worth it to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the second amendment to protect our other God-given rights. That is a prudent deal. It is rational.” Rational? God-given rights to weapons? Seriously? And this man claimed to follow Jesus? Lord help us.
We are pained by the words of some of those in the public sphere, we are brokenhearted by the death of innocent children, we mourn the mounting loss of life all around us, we are horrified by the cruelty against those whom God called us to welcome – strangers in our land, and we are saturated with the vitriol that overshadows all of it.
Perhaps we can understand the words of the psalmist this morning, who wrote “The fool has said in his heart, “There is no God.” All are corrupt and commit abominable acts; there is none who does any good. The Lord looks down from heaven upon us all, to see if there is any who is wise, if there is one who seeks after God.” Or to put it another way, God is doing a face palm right now and wondering if maybe this human experiment is beyond repair.
As for the rest of us, the violence, the outright cruelty, and the lack of equitable compassion by some who seem to care only when the victims are people they like or agree with, all of it, well – it can make you feel swirling and lost.
And that’s why the gospel today is so timely.
In the gospel, Jesus tells us that a shepherd, having lost one of his 100 sheep, leaves the 99 in search of the lost, and rejoices once the sheep is found. Jesus then continues and tells the story of the woman with 10 coins, who realizing one is lost, searches the house until she finds it, and then rejoices with her friends over finding it. Jesus is giving us another analogy for the how the kin-dom of God works. Now, generally, who do we think Jesus was talking about as the shepherd? God, right? So, as I like to note each time this comes up – if the shepherd is God (or Jesus)… then the woman is…?
This twin set of shepherd and woman searching for something lost is both a masculine and a feminine image for God. Kinda cool when you think about it, and makes sense, given that we are all created in God’s image. But while that isn’t the underlying message I want to focus on today, I will always point it out, because of our continued patriarchy in the church, as a reminder that God is not a boy’s name.
And here’s the thing we should not miss in these two parables too – the sheep who was lost didn’t go looking for the shepherd. That coin didn’t pop out of the sofa cushions and say “look, here I am!’ If only that would happen when we are trying to find the remote, right? And, neither sheep nor coin did anything to merit, nor help, God to find them.
These parables are a reminder to us, especially in these difficult times, that we are so very precious to God – every single one of us. When we feel we are lost, when we cannot seem to find our way home, God will search us out and bring us joyfully into her loving arms. In that moment – all of heaven rejoices. This is what God is doing right now in these times too – seeking us out – hoping we will feel that sense of belonging to something that will give us life, grace, love, and hope. And this should tell us something – something about God, yes, but also about ourselves, and about everyone else too. Something the people Jesus is addressing had forgotten.
The thing is, Jesus isn’t telling this parable to his disciples. He is responding to the grumbling of the Pharisees and scribes who didn’t like the company Jesus was keeping. They saw him eating with tax collectors and sinners, and said “This guy welcomes THOSE people. Heck, he even eats with them!” That is when Jesus offers these twin parables.
Now, sadly – Christians in the past have sometimes used this to say “don’t worry all you sinners out there…we will welcome you too,” as though somehow the sinners were always people outside of the church, or were “gasp” not Christian at all so therefore lost! The thing is, does that sound like Jesus to you? The Jesus who told us to love one another as he loved us, while washing the feet of Judas, who he knew would betray him, and Peter who he knew would deny him at his most difficult hour, not once, but three times? The same Jesus who is dines with those others would reject, which prompted the whole back and forth with the temple leaders in the first place?
The lost are not always outside the walls of the church, to be sure.
I am reminded of something the late monastic and theologian Thomas Merton once wrote. And a reminder that Merton was an international figure in his day, whose views on the Vietnam war and social justice rankled many in government, so much so that his death, said to be by accidental electrocution while in Bankok, has been a source of alternate theories of political assassination, which, whether true or not, certainly is timely today. Merton wrote, “It is my belief, that we should not be too sure of having found Christ in ourselves until we have found him also in that part of humanity that is most remote from our own.”
“…we should not be too sure of having found Christ in ourselves until we have found him also in that part of humanity that is most remote from our own.”
Today, our nation and the world are all faced with the choice those Pharisees and scribes had – to grumble at people being included in the love and grace of God – people that do not vote, or love, or speak, or act, or look like us – the so called “those people.” We can choose not to see Jesus in them.
Or we can rejoice that there is such unconditional love as found in the embrace of God – not because anyone deserves it, or because anyone is more holy than another, or for any other reason, but that they exist.
In other words, we can grumble that God’s love is unconditional or we can model it, rejoicing as we find those who feel lost, are pushed aside, are oppressed – and love them as Christ loved us.
Yet, do we not see what a false choice this is? Do we not know what can happen when people choose to grumble? When those who may feel lost themselves encounter even more rejection? When people push others to a place of darkness, bitterness, despair, and hopelessness? It is a breeding ground for violence – both by the ones rejecting, and the ones rejected. No good can come of that. But love, grace, and hope? That is the door to peace, wholeness, and joy for everyone.
We must all choose a different path – one that leads to a life of joy rather than bitterness, love rather than hate, life rather than death – not just for ourselves or those we like, but for all people.
For followers of Jesus, we have no choice at all – we must welcome in those others cast aside. We must try to see the Jesus in them as much as we find him in our hearts and in the Eucharist.
And if you think about it, what is better for anyone or for society – to sit around getting angry about how some people are being included, or to act, to do something positive, to go out and celebrate a world where no one feels left out. One zaps us of our own joy, strength, and life. The other is life giving to us and to all we serve in Christ’s name.
Still, we know this isn’t easy. Lord knows, one only needs to read the words of Charlie Kirk to understand how much it takes for some, who have been so deeply wounded by his hateful rhetoric, to express empathy for him and his family. Yet I saw so many do this, and that is the path to healing – for themselves, and for the world.
So when we find it difficult to include, to welcome, to seek, or to be found, we need to come here. Come here to abide with one another, and with Christ Jesus. Our liturgy and worship space provides a transcendent experience, moving us beyond the confines of the day to day, and reaching to places deep within us that we didn’t even know needed healing. And one of the ways this does this for my soul, and for many of you as well I suspect, is through music. Think about it – that’s what is meant by whistling in the dark – music strengthens us in times of fear and despair.
Today, we celebrate the choir and their hard work to bring that music to us each time we gather. The Anglican Choral tradition is truly awe inspiring, and our choir, under Ryan’s direction, is a gift of grace to our parish. When I hear them sing, it feels like heaven is rejoicing indeed, just as that woman with the coin invited everyone to celebrate. We are truly blessed.
And if we let it, if we allow the music we sing and hear each Sunday to enter deep within, it will resonate in our souls when we leave to serve Jesus in the least, the last, the lonely, and the lost. It will be the melody of our acts of love and grace, that will bring healing and joy to this pained world.
And so I leave you with this from our opening hymn today from the hymn written by the Rev. F. Pratt Green, as it speaks directly to the way the music of our faith can be a source of strength for our mission and ministry in difficult times:
“When in our music God is glorified, And adoration leaves no room for pride, It is as though the whole creation cried: Alleluia!
How often, making music, we have found, A new dimension in the world of sound, As worship moved us to a more profound Alleluia!
So has the Church, in liturgy and song, In faith and love, through centuries of wrong, Borne witness to the truth in every tongue: Alleluia!
And did not Jesus sing a Psalm that night, when utmost evil strove against the light? Then let us sing, for whom he won the fight: Alleluia!
Let every instrument be tuned for praise!
Let all rejoice who have a voice to raise!
And may God give us faith to sing always:
Alleluia!
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/Rec-001-Sermon-September_14_2025.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
September 14, 2025
Pentecost 14 – Year C
1st Reading – Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28
Psalm 14
2nd Reading – 1 Timothy 1:12-17
Gospel – Luke 15:1-10
The post “Whistling In The Dark” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
September 7, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
It is so good to be back here with all of you. I loved being on vacation, but this is wonderful to return to.
One part of my vacation had me in Maine for a day or two. I had the chance to go over to the Portland Head Light at Cape Elizabeth. There is a beautiful lighthouse on the rocky coast, with walking paths that seem to go on for miles. I spent hours there – walking, sitting, reflecting, and renewing, and oh how that was needed.
PHOTO: The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
As individuals, we take vacations, sabbaticals, days off to give ourselves a chance to rest and renew. Church does this for us too – it is our sabbath practice. Here we are restored for another week. That is why it is important to come here, because it is here, particularly in-person, where we step aside from the world, and truly focus on allowing God to work in us and re-work us for our lives.
I was thinking about all of that when I read the passage from Jeremiah for today. Now, to be clear, this passage is about reforming entire nations, not individuals. Still, it is something God does do with us too, though not the whole smashing on a potter’s wheel bit – yikes. If you don’t know what I mean, listen to the first part of it again:
“The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Come, go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. The vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as seemed good to him. Then the word of the Lord came to me: Can I not do with you, O house of Israel, just as this potter has done? says the Lord. Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.”
Of course, God certainly doesn’t work with us by first destroying us to be re-created, though in a very real sense, that is what baptism does. In baptism, we die to all that holds us back from our lives in Christ, and are resurrected for new life in him. That aside, the larger working of God – with nations – is important too. And, as we see from the prophets, including Jeremiah, God works this renewal of nations through those prophetic witnesses God chooses for mission and ministry. One of those chosen was Jeremiah, of course, but another was St. Paul, and we heard from him in the letter to Philemon this morning.
Now, this letter is well known to many, but not for a good reason. It was used, particularly in this country, to justify slavery. But had those folks actually bothered to really reflect on what St. Paul was saying here, they would have understood that their use of this letter as a means of supporting the forced labor of any child of God was absurd. So, let’s take a deeper look…
First, here are the players: St. Paul – who is writing from prison. Onesimus, a slave who has runaway from the house of Philemon, and has ended up with Paul. Philemon, Apphia, and Archippus – leaders of the church established by St. Paul in Colossae, and likely meeting in the house of Philemon.
As for the historical context, slavery was a pervasive part of the Greco-Roman world. Slavery was not a racial construct, but a societal one of economic status. People of any race could be a slave. Scholars estimate anywhere from 10-20% of the Roman Empire’s population were enslaved.[1]
And now, the letter itself. Paul sends Onesimus with this letter to deliver to Philemon, Apphia, and Archippus. That he sends the letter to all three, and not just to Philemon, is important. The fact that he is sending Onesimus with it is dangerous to this runaway slave, as his former master could kill him. It is also why misguided people used this as a way to justify slavery. They said that Paul was sending the slave back to his master, therefore Paul was saying that slavery is just.
But that would be like looking at that meme of a cow on it’s back in a meadow, legs up in the air, with the words “Really, I’m fine!” and saying “See, everything is okey-dokey.” St. Paul is doing something radical and unexpected here, and those who took the actions apart from the words to justify their own evil in enslaving others missed the point entirely. The words matter here, so let’s take a look at them.
First, he commends Philemon on his ministry in the name of Jesus Christ, referring to him as a brother. Next, he says that he could command Philemon to do something, but he is appealing to him brother to brother (meaning – as brothers in Christ). The rest, you should hear directly from St. Paul, and listen carefully to what he is doing in his words:
“I am appealing to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I have become during my imprisonment. Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me. I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you. I wanted to keep him with me, so that he might be of service to me in your place during my imprisonment for the gospel; but I preferred to do nothing without your consent, in order that your good deed might be voluntary and not something forced. Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother– especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.
So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it. I say nothing about your owing me even your own self. Yes, brother, let me have this benefit from you in the Lord! Refresh my heart in Christ. Confident of your obedience, I am writing to you, knowing that you will do even more than I say.”
Basically St. Paul is putting Philemon in a corner by claiming family relationship in Christ to Onesimus, and doing so in his own hand, so there can be no charge that this was written by anyone else. As he notes, he could have told Philemon to do it, but he chose to invite him to the act of grace on his own. St. Paul understood what we all know too – that it is better to get someone to do the right thing themselves through invitation toward the right path. Anyone who ever had a parent say to us “Well, it is your choice,” knows that is parent speak for “If you want to be an idiot, go right ahead, but know that I will be deeply disappointed in you.” Way more effective than a command.
If that were not enough – He equates the role that Onesimus would play if he stayed with St. Paul to that of the role Philemon played when he worked alongside him in the spreading of the gospel. And finally, St. Paul copies two others in the letter – Apphia, and Archippus, so everybody will be watching to see what Philemon does here.
This is no ordinary letter. This is a challenge to Philemon, and to us. It calls us to discern what is right as followers of Jesus vs. what is normative for society. This is not really an easy thing for us because it requires us to let go of how we do things – to not only do good deeds for others, but to transform the relationships we have with them. St. Paul is asking Philemon to reject what he understands to be his privilege and right – to own Onesimus.
For us today, it would require us to overturn unjust systems, even when we ourselves benefit from them. More than that, it pushes us to embrace as family those who we keep at a distance, because St. Paul reminds us that we are all children of God, siblings with one another, and bound in that common web of life. It means we must cross boundaries we may, consciously or not, actually prefer remain – between us and those who look, think, act, love, speak, or vote differently. That is not an easy thing.
This is a call to radical transformation that can reshape nations, like God’s potter and his wheel, one small act at a time. And in this moment in our own nation, we must not waste any opportunity to get our hands dirty in the clay – working ceaselessly to destroy that which enslaves any child of God, and build relationships of love, grace, hope, and peace in its place.
We may not feel up to the task. Lord knows, things are difficult for us these days. We have more time challenges than we know how to manage anymore.
We are wearied by the constant drumbeat of cruelty by our nation’s leaders against the least of these.
We are fearful that this democratic dream we call the United State may soon turn into an autocratic nightmare.
We mourn the senseless loss of lives to gun violence in our schools, houses of worship, theatres, grocery stores – everywhere.
And we see people perverting the gospel in the rise of Christian Nationalism that is often aligned with racist White Supremacy.
No, with all that is going on, if we are smart, we probably don’t feel up to the task, and the truth is – on our own – we aren’t! And – we don’t need to be. I mean, look at St. Paul. The guy was sitting in a prison cell for crying out loud. Yet, just with words on parchment, he changed countless lives in the course of a single letter. That is the power of the transformation possible by Christ in our lives.
I remember during the pandemic, the diocesan clergy were gifted with several presentations and talks to help us serve in those trying days, when we felt so weary and so inadequate to the task. One that really struck me was by the former bishop of Maine, the Rt. Rev. Chilton Knudsen. She spoke to us about an Orthodox understanding of Christification – a growth in holiness through the power of the Spirit.
She told us that Christ, through the Spirit, is changing us – God willing for the better. Yes – we will have troubles, but we are being transformed. Like potter and clay – the potter throws the clay around, and she knows where to find all of our clay. Referring to the disappointments, challenges, hardships in our lives, the potter folds those sharp corners into the new creation – little bits of us becoming more Christ like.
In other words, even in the most difficult of times, each of us are being continually reshaped by God for the work we are called to do. We don’t need to have anything other than an open heart, and a willingness to pause our busyness and allow the Spirit to renew us.
Remember that St. Paul was an early persecutor of the followers of Christ. Then he was literally thrown off his horse by Jesus, like a potter smashes down clay on a wheel, and he was re-shaped to be a leader in the spread of the gospel.
Even Jeremiah was called when he was only a boy – yet God was able to shape him for prophetic witness.
Each of you are also being worked by God to be agents of radical transformation in a world so desperately in need of it. Or as God would put it “Can I not do with you what I have done with so many more before you?” Well, of course God can.
As the late bishop, the Rt. Rev. Barbara Harris, once said “God doesn’t call those who are worthy. God makes worthy those whom God would call.”
So, as we head into this new program year in the church, let us hear again these words of St. Paul from the close of his letter, and think of them as being addressed to each and every one of us – the saints of the church today – the ones called to be prophets, the ones called to break the chains of oppression in our time:
St. Paul writes, “When I remember you in my prayers, I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith toward the Lord Jesus. I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ.”
Indeed there is much good we can, and need to do, for Christ today in our own communities.
May we open ourselves to be reshaped by God in our time and in our context, becoming more Christ-like each and every day, that we may be transformative agents of change through grace and love, relationship building and invitation – freeing ourselves as we free others – reworking our world into God’s dream of peace and wholeness for all.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/Rec-001-Sermon-September_7_2025.m4a[1] British Museum.
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
September 7, 2025
Pentecost 13 – Year C – Proper 18 – Track 1
1st Reading – Jeremiah 18:1-11
Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17
2nd Reading – Philemon 1-21
Gospel – Luke 14:25-33
The post “The Potter, Philemon, & You” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
August 10, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.We are in vacation season – yea!!! And I will be heading out on mine tomorrow. I will miss you, but these seasons of rest and renewal are important for all of us to take, and I hope each of you has been getting some time off to recharge.
The church also has seasons – and no, we do not close the church for vacation. Really, our church has several seasons throughout the year. However, our lectionary, the readings we do from week to week alongside most denominations, really has two “seasons” and both of them together tell a full story.
From Advent through to the Ascension (A to A if you will) we answer the question: “Who is Jesus?” In the season of Pentecost, we answer a different question – “What does it mean to follow Jesus?” Well today’s readings are most definitely a sign that we are indeed in the season of Pentecost. Specifically, the text from Isaiah tells us what we are to do, and the gospel tells us how to do it.
The passage from Isaiah starts this way: “Hear the word of the Lord, you rulers of Sodom! Listen to the teaching of our God,
you people of Gomorrah! What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices? says the Lord; I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams and the fat of fed beasts…”
Well, alrighty then. God does NOT seem very happy at the moment, and definitely despises the religious practices of these folks.
Now, before we go any further, because those famous twin cities are named, and I mean Sodom & Gomorrah, not Minneapolis & St. Paul, I need to remind everyone that, despite what some fundamentalists will tell you, the sins of the peoples of those two cities had absolutely nothing to do with homosexuality. In fact, I could give you my full explanation of what their real sin was, but I don’t have to this time, because the passage makes it very clear.
After God angrily disses the religious piety of these people, the prophet continues to relate to us what God wants:
“…cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.” And then adds: “Come now, let us argue it out, says the Lord.”
I love that last bit…like – sure, you don’t agree with what I am asking you to do? Well then…I’m listening…go on…. You can just see God standing there like Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry saying “Go ahead. Make my day.” I mean, would you take up that challenge? Yeah…not.
But setting that aside for a moment, let’s turn to the Gospel. Jesus is telling his disciples to give of what we have to those in need, to “Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” And he adds, “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet….” Or, as I saw on a t-shirt “Jesus is coming – look busy!”
Both texts are answering the question: “What does it mean to follow Jesus?” God tells us by the prophet that we are to love and serve the vulnerable – seek justice for all children of God, and free all of creation from the shackles of oppression.
Jesus tells us though, that the work we are called to do requires that we have a purse that is always full, and that we are prepared at all times for the ministry we are called to live out. That whole always full purse bit naturally makes me think of Hermine Granger’s bag in Harry Potter’s The Deathly Hallows, or Mary Poppin’s bottomless bag. Sounds fun, except that is not really what Jesus is talking about.
Consider what Jesus wanted for them – to be able to continue the work he started. What kind of purse could he be talking about when he also adds the part about selling possessions and giving alms – there’d be nothing in it, so what would be the point? I mean, I hope he doesn’t mean a real one anyway ‘cause you will rarely, if ever, find me with a purse.
No, we are the purses – our bodies, our minds, our spirits. He is telling us that we need to prepare ourselves to live the life we are meant to live.
And one of the most important ways we do this is to come here – to worship. For here we are nurtured in the Eucharist, and in one another. We are renewed and strengthened, such that our treasure and our heart are one and the same. Our purses are made strong, and from here we can live the life we were meant to live in the time we have.
But, you might be thinking – didn’t God say through the prophet Isaiah that religious offerings like worship are bad? Nope. What God is saying is that worship, without living your faith in the world, is an empty and hypocritical act – and that really ticks off God a lot. God wants us to live out the faith we profess in worship – to “…cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.”
You might wonder why there is always this focus in the bible on widows and orphans. Well, it is because they were, in that time, vulnerable people. Without the aid of others, they could die.
Today, the orphan we are to defend are the poor, whose healthcare and food are being literally stolen by our government.
Today, the widow we are to plead for are the immigrants, and even citizens, swept off our streets by masked government agents and thrown into prisons near and far.
Today, the oppressed we are to rescue are people of color, LGBTQ+ people, women, and children, who are abused, trafficked, or denied their humanity.
Today, we must reject the evil spewed from the mouths of our nations leaders and seek justice for all of God’s creation – for every human no matter where they live, every creature that dwells on land or sea or air, and even the earth itself – are God’s handiwork. And God calls us to care for all of it.
This is what worship should strengthen us for – this is what it means to follow Jesus. And folks, it will not be easy. It will sometimes feel like we aren’t accomplishing anything. That is when the epistle to the Hebrews that we heard this morning can be helpful to us.
It is a very familiar passage, and speaks to the enduring work of the faithful from generation to generation. The author writes “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” And after giving an example of the faith of Abraham and Sarah, the author says “All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country…”
The assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. The better country we walk toward…that is what following Jesus is all about, that is what worship should lead us to, that is what we must prepare ourselves to live out.
Listen to this from the late prophet, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who on the night before his assassination, said “We’ve got some difficult days ahead, but it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop … I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land.”
King was seeking that homeland he could see in the distance that kingdom of God Jesus tells us in the gospel today that is ours – that promised land. But King wasn’t talking about heaven. He was speaking about his faith in something not yet seen – an end to racism. He saw a vision of things hoped for – a world where all people – no matter the color of their skin – will live in freedom, with dignity and respect.
His purse did not wear out because his life and his witness was strengthened in Christ Jesus. His calling rooted in scripture such as all we heard this morning. He did not see the promised land, but his ministry in the world made us all take giant leaps toward it.
We, like the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., have a calling – one that God gives to us in the passage from Isaiah, one Jesus tells us to prepare for in the gospel.
So, let us come here to church, to keep our purses filled with unconditional grace.
Let us leave here to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.
Let us always be dressed for action and have our lamps lit with the knowledge and love of Christ Jesus to do the work we are meant to do.
Then we too will be walking toward a vision of things hoped for – one God implores us to work toward – one Jesus calls us to bring about with every ounce of our being – one that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. worked for and saw from a distance – that beloved kingdom of God – where peace, hope, love, and wholeness are abundant, and where hate, fear, and oppression are no more.
We most certainly will have some difficult days ahead ourselves, yet we know we will, by God’s grace, by living as we are called to live in Jesus, bring us all closer to the promised land.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/08/Rec-001-Sermon-August_10_2025.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
August 10, 2025
Pentecost 9 – Year C – Track 1
1st Reading – Isaiah 1:1, 10-20
Psalm 50:1-8, 23-24
2nd Reading – Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16
Gospel – Luke 12:32-40
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July 27, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
One of the things I often say about some passages of scripture is that they are so familiar to us, we have lost all of its meaning. We have stopped really listening or reading it, but immediately jump to what we “know” about it. This is especially true with some of the parables, like the one we heard two weeks ago about the “Good Samaritan.”
Today the gospel reading from Luke is one of those passages. And while not a parable, it includes something we say every single Sunday – what we call The Lord’s Prayer. Now before we get to it, just a bit about this gospel that is important to remember.
The Gospel of Luke mentions Jesus praying more than any other gospel. It is mentioned 9 times, and only 2 of those times are mentioned in any other gospel. Jesus prays a LOT. Which maybe why the disciples finally asked him about what he was doing and how to do as he does.
And when they do, he says: “…to them, “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.”” It more closely aligns with our alternative Lord’s Prayer form often chosen for use in the Daily Office.
If you don’t know what I mean, take out the BCP in your pew and turn to page 97, for example. Go on…I’ll wait…. See there the two versions. Read the one on the right.
This is why when you are in a service of worship, you should not join in the prayer until you know which one the Officiant is asking everyone to use. I remember our liturgical professor at The General Theological Seminary stopping the entire class mid-prayer. You see, in seminary, every class is opened with prayer, and in his class, it was the Lord’s prayer. Well, we eager beaver seminarians jumped in at the Our Father, and he slammed us. “Which prayer was I going to use? How do you know?” Chastened, we learned to listen, before we speak. So, if you find yourself in a service where the liturgy is not printed out, and the prayer book is being used, wait until you hear the Officiant say “in heaven” or “who art in heaven,” before joining in. Once you hear that, then you know which form is being used.
All this to say that we are so familiar with this one particular prayer, most especially in one particular form, that we can begin to lose sight of what it means for us, or alternative ways of praying it. As Francois Bovon, the Swiss biblical scholar and historian of early Christianity, who taught at Havard Divinity School, once remarked, “The Lord’s Prayer belongs to us and yet escapes us.”[1]
“The Lord’s Prayer belongs to us and yet escapes us.”
Bovon has a point here, and we will come to see that a bit better if we take a step away from the words we know by heart, and see how it was perhaps heard by this first audience of this author. Just a reminder, this is one of two references to this scene with Jesus, and this one differs a bit from the one we get in the Gospel of Matthew. And the thing is, it would, because the author of Luke & Acts, and the author of Matthew, are speaking to two different audiences.
Matthew is written by and for Jewish followers of Jesus. Luke-Acts is written by and for Gentiles (non-Jewish, or non-religious) people of the Greco-Roman world. Those two gospels were also originally written in different languages. Luke-Acts was written in Greek – and a high level Greek too.
Sometimes when we translate something from an original language to another, we lose some of its meaning. And if we were to go back and look at the transliteration of the Greek, we would find that we have lost a bit of the poetry of the prayer. It may have sounded something like this:
“Father in the heavens
Let it be holy, the name of you
Let it be coming, the kingdom of you
Let it be coming, the will of you
As in heaven, and on the land
The bread of us, on being
Be giving to us
According to the day
Forgive us our sins
And ourselves we are forgiving those owing us
And do not bring us into trial,
But rescue us from the evil one.
I love that poetry at the beginning “Let it be holy, the name of you. Let it be coming, the kingdom of you. Let it be coming, the will of you. As in heaven, and on the land.” There is an emphasis on expectancy – “Let it be coming.”
Now, remember what Bovon said, “The Lord’s Prayer belongs to us and yet escapes us.”
I would argue that is true about prayer in general, because setting aside this prayer in particular, we likely will see that the way we pray has moved from expectancy and our responsibilities toward one another to a wishing list we hand over to God.
We have turned prayer into a vending machine, perhaps partly because of what Jesus says right after he teaches them this prayer. Jesus says, “…Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”
Well, alrighty then. If we pray, we will get the healing of our loved one, that new job we want, or the parking space in mid-town Manhattan, right? I mean, we ask, knock, search… BAM! What we want will appear – because Jesus said so!
Well, here’s the thing… Jesus didn’t say that you will get what you asked for when you pray to God. Jesus said you will get what you need. Let’s go back to that bit about the disciples asking Jesus how to pray. He didn’t respond with: “Give us our daily bread, and anything else we ask for.”
The prayer he told them to pray isn’t asking God for anything more than what will sustain us in body and spirit – bread for the body, forgiveness of others and freedom from sin for our spirit. God will always answer that prayer.
But there is more to it than that. God does give us something whenever we ask, something we don’t usually ask for directly, and Jesus makes that clear at the end of this passage. After the knock, seek, ask, bit, he adds “Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”
Yes, God always answers prayer. God always gives the Holy Spirit to those who ask – and that will be what sustains us in body, mind, and spirit. That is what makes prayer such a powerful thing for us in these turbulent times.
Now, it would be understandable to say, “But God, I really need my loved one to be made well.” Or, “I really need that job to sustain my family.” We will, of course, forgo the whole parking spot prayer. These are true and deeply felt needs, and God does hear us when we pray about them. So why then does it feel a bit like God hands us a snake when we don’t get the job, or a scorpion when someone we love dies? Because – it is painful and awful when these things happen to us.
But to be sure, God did not bring those things about. God answered our prayer in the only way God answers all prayers – with the gift of the Holy Spirit. In times when joy abounds, it allows us to manifest that joy in ways that will heal the world. In times of sorrow, the Spirit equips us to heal our own brokenness. And sometimes, especially when that gift of the Spirit is multiplied by many praying together, miracles can and do happen, because the Holy Spirit is a powerful thing.
So where is God’s will and kingdom in those times when what we hope for does not come to be? It is not in the outcome, to be sure, but in that gift of the Holy Spirit which sustains us in our sorrow, and which God gives to all who seek, who ask, who knock, through prayer. Truth is, that gift is always there for us, whether we pray or not. But prayer opens our hearts to receiving it.
That is why this passage is so powerful for us today, because prayer itself is a powerful thing. Yet Jesus knew that this prayer in particular is the one we would need most, because it is a promise to allow God to be at work in us, and for us to be Christ like in our relationship with others. And if there was ever a time we need to make this prayer not only belong to us, but not escape us, it is now.
For we are facing a lot of what the author of Colossians, (and I say author any time the actual writer is unknown), is warning about in the part of that letter we heard this morning, and we are going to need to not only pray and allow God to work in us, but to receive the Spirit that God will gift to us.
In Colossians the author writes “See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the universe, and not according to Christ.” The author is warning his readers about those who offer quick fixes to your problems, or worse – human traditions in place of living Christ like. That last one is very important. So much so that even Jesus rebuked those who “teach human precepts as doctrine.”
Today, the rise of Christian Nationalism is doing just that. It is using the name of Jesus and the cross of Christianity as foundational building blocks of human power and oppression. The author of Colossians tells the reader instead to “abound in thanksgiving” and to live “according to Christ.”
And as we know, living according to Christ is never about hate, but about love.
Living according to Christ is never about darkness, but about light.
Living according to Christ is never about power over others, but about lifting all of God’s children up.
And when we live according to Christ, we will not ever be captive to empty deceit, but will abound in thanksgiving without even trying.
Folks, we have much work to do in the world as followers of Jesus, and if there was ever a time to pray the Lord’s prayer, it is now. Because we need our daily bread of Christ if we are to be Christ like in the world, modeling our lives on him.
We need to embrace the will of God – that dream of peace, wholeness, love, mercy, and grace for all of creation.
We need God’s gift of the Holy Spirit to give us the strength to save us and everyone else from this time of trial.
The Lord’s Prayer does indeed belong to us.
May we never allow its power to escape us.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/Rec-001-Sermon-July_27_2025.m4a[1] François Bovon, Luke 2: A Commentary on the Gospel of Luke 9:51–19:27, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2013), 81. As quoted in WorkingPreacher commentary.
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
July 27, 2025
Seventh Sunday After Pentecost – Year C – Proper 12 – Track 1
1st Reading – Hosea 1:2-10
Psalm 85
2nd Reading – Colossians 2:6-15, (16-19)
Gospel – Luke 11:1-13
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July 20, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Any Brady Bunch fans feel like saying “Martha, Martha, Martha?” Yeah…okay – that reference is really to Marsha, but still.
Now, this gospel, for a lot of folks, has been on the top 10 list of annoying scripture readings – right next to that pesky one about divorce, and the other about doing good to those who persecute you – not to mention that ridiculous one about women keeping silent. And this feeling is particularly true for women, because for far too long the church used this text through the centuries to hold women back – to define, really limit, women’s roles in the church.
But that isn’t what is really being said here. If the two people in the story were Peter and James, we wouldn’t assume that the narrative should describe men’s roles, so let’s stop with that already, instead get to the heart of what is going on here.
As we heard, Martha welcomes Jesus and his band of followers into her home, and begins to do as anyone would, to make things comfortable for her guests. We know from other texts, particularly in the Gospel of John, that there is more going on here. Mary, Martha, and their brother Lazarus, are friends of Jesus. So, Jesus hung out there with them from time to time, you know – watching the ball game and catching up on all the latest Jerusalem gossip, as you do.
Now, back to the scene…Inviting someone into your home, even if they were friends, meant preparing food, setting out water to wash with, or other things one might do for travelers who have walked a long way on dusty roads. And Martha, as the hostess with the mostest, intends to do what her faith (and ours) requires, and extend the best hospitality possible to those who enter her home.
But her sister Mary takes the place of a disciple at the feet of Jesus, listening intently to him. Martha is NOT amused, and wants Jesus to tell Mary to get up and get to work. But Jesus says to her, “Martha, don’t tell me, tell Mary. You know triangulation is bad for group dynamics.” Something maybe that would have been very helpful to the church down the line, but not really what he said. Instead, Jesus says “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”
Dang it Jesus, what exactly do you mean by “the better” part?
I mean, hospitality is important, or so other stories with Jesus would tell us. Remember the Good Samaritan last week, or the sending of the 70 the week before that? No, it is clear from everything Jesus talked about, from the laws of hospitality found throughout the Hebrew scriptures, that Jesus, being a Jew, would never have rebuked someone for being a good host. In fact, he rebuked people for NOT being good hosts. So, if that isn’t it, what is going on here, and why does it matter to us now?
Well, first, it might help to hear a different story about these two women, one we don’t get in scripture. “There is a famous legend told about Martha of Bethany that was popular in the Middle Ages. In this story, which takes place after the resurrection of Jesus, she becomes a traveling preacher and ends up in a small town in France that, unfortunately, has a chronic dragon problem. She manages to slay the dragon and, in doing so, wins the whole town over to Christianity. In that same story, her sister Mary, on that same trip, ends up starting a monastery in the wilderness, meaning they both live out the roles assigned to them in Christian history: Martha acts and Mary studies. Martha represents an active faith, while Mary represents a contemplative faith.”[1]
Here’s the thing this legend teaches us: Mary chose the better part, because it was the better part for her at that time. Is Mary’s choice one that would work for Martha? We don’t know, and Jesus isn’t suggesting that here. If he were, he would have told Martha to do likewise – he does not. Still, given the story, it would seem she would be more inclined to feel antsy sitting quietly listening in that moment.
I know people like that, heck… sometimes I am Mary, to be sure, but often I am a lot like Martha – and I know that does NOT come as a surprise to any of you.
Some of you may be instantly drawn to one or the other. In some ways, given that the world today seems to always align with and respond to extroverts, it would be understandable for introverts to say “Rejoice! We are finally getting our due! Go Mary!” But really, it is a gospel for all of us – Marys & Marthas – and all the in-betweens of our nature.
The same is true for the church as a whole. Some want us to be a place of comfort, of learning, of spiritual renewal – and we are and should be. Others want us to live as Jesus calls us to live in the world – doing as he did – healing the wounded and broken, seeking those in the margins, freeing the oppressed, serving the poor and forgotten, and we are and should be.
But we need to set aside our natural tendency to polarize – to set as good one thing, and its opposite as bad, especially when it comes to this particular gospel story. The parts that Mary and Martha have chosen are not about pitting women’s roles vs. men’s roles, of housework vs. study, or action vs. passivity. It is about balance, not equal at all times, but balance. Mary and Martha are not opposites, but two sides of the same coin – and so is the church – and so are all of you. And these days, we need to balance both within ourselves, and as a church in response to the world in which we live, because there is so much turmoil brewing seemingly everywhere.
Just this week a church was bombed in Gaza, adding on to the continued brutality of response to the attack by Hamas on Israel two years ago. While we in the US can certainly not point fingers about using an attack to engage in unjust war, that doesn’t make what Israel is doing just when children in hospitals, priests in churches, volunteers in NGOs, and many more innocents are slaughtered every day by the thousands. This is intentional genocide against children of God.
This week also saw the continued brutality of our own government – grabbing up people from farms and Home Depots based on the color of their skin or their accent, including a US veteran and countless citizens. Every single human being is made in the image of God by God. That means everything that is done to any brown and black person, any Asian person, any tribal or first nation person, and yes, even any person of European descent, anything done to them is done to the very image of God. And, these actions by our government are not only reprehensible for that reason, but they violate the laws of our faith and our country.
The commandments of our faith call us to welcome the stranger. The laws of our nation require that every person receive due process – all of them, not just citizens.
And sadly there is much more, as the rich are getting richer while the poor are getting poorer here in the US. The earth groans under our long abuse and all of creation suffers from the catastrophic weather and loss of human and animal life that results. More people are pushed to the margins because of who they love, what gender they claim, or what faith they profess.
So, with all that is happening to God’s creation, to the children of God all over the world, if there is ever a time we need to understand this story, it is now.
Because folks, we need to be Martha. Martha who provides for those wearied by the journey of life, who labors to care for others, who welcomes the Jesus that is in the stranger; the economic and spiritually poor; the sick; the physically, emotionally, or spiritually imprisoned. Part of being Martha today is to also be a visible and vocal presence in the world – protesting against that which would seek to harm any part of God’s creation, advocating for the dignity and freedom of every child of God, fighting boldly for peace and justice, and spreading the good news of God’s unconditional love and grace.
Yet, being Martha in the world, doing the work of Jesus, while an important and a vital part of who we are, is unsustainable on its own. It is impossible to feed others, when you are not being fed yourself. It’s kind of like the speech you get from the flight attendants before every take off – “In the unlikely event that the cabin loses pressure, oxygen masks will drop from the ceiling. Place the mask over your face, and tighten with the straps on either side. Please place the mask on yourself first, before assisting others.” They tell you that last bit, because it will be difficult to help anyone if you are gasping for air.
As I have said many times, so many – you likely know what’s coming – church is not the destination, it is where we are given strength for the journey. The church is where we can work out our faith. And, the church is also where we are given the life sustaining oxygen of the Word, the Word of scripture, and the Word of Christ in the Eucharist. Without the renewal we get here, we will find the journey ahead, the one we are called to do as the body of Christ in the world, our Martha work, to be impossible to sustain. And by God, we need to do this work, now more than ever.
So, we also need to be Mary – to come here, to take a rest, to listen to the Word, to be nourished by Christ. I need it, you need it, we all need it. Church is where we can find what we need. Is it any wonder that in times of crisis folks flock to churches? It is because for all the turmoil, we are tired and worn. We need to sit at the feet of Jesus and be restored.
And even coming to church itself there is a bit of both Mary and Martha going on, right? From worship roles like Lector or Usher or Choir, to bringing food for coffee hour or setting the table for the rest of us as part of the altar guild, to monitoring the livestream for those who could not be here in person – the way some get nourishment in Christ is in setting the table for the rest of us. For others, the nourishment is found in contemplative prayer in our pews, coming early for quiet time in the church, or walking the labyrinth. But even so, all become Mary in hearing the Word proclaimed, and in taking in Christ in the Eucharistic Feast.
And when we allow that Mary nature to take hold, we will come to truly understand that right here with us is Jesus. Jesus is in the house – this house! That was true for Mary and Martha, and it is true for us here today. And, Jesus is in the world too – in the eyes of those in need of love, in need of someone to speak for them, in need of peace, in need of wholeness, in need of a welcoming place. And, Jesus is in us too, as the body of Christ.
So, let us be the Mary & Marthas we are meant to be, each choosing the better part – that work that is our particular calling in a particular time and place. The work of sitting at the feet of Christ here to be nourished by him at this altar. And the work of being voices for justice and peace for those who have been pushed to the margins, of spreading restorative love and kindness where others have sewn hate and violence, of being the light of Christ in a world of darkness.
The dragons we slay will free the oppressed.
The monasteries we establish will be a world in peace.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/Rec-001-Sermon-July_20_2025.m4a[1] Workingpreacher.com commentary
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
July 20, 2025
Pentecost 6 – Year C – Proper 11
1st Reading – Amos 8:1-12
Psalm 52
2nd Reading – Colossians 1:15-28
Gospel – Luke 10:38-42
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July 6, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.I don’t know about you, but I found it an odd juxtaposition we faced on Friday, July 4th. On the very day that we celebrate courage in the face of tyranny, the President signed an act of Congress so inhumane, harmful to God’s creation, and fiscally irresponsible it can only be thought of as immoral and corrupt. He called it his big, beautiful, bill, but it is truly a sign of the ugliness of depravity that has seeped into the hearts of our nation’s leaders.
What was in this bill?
It extends the tax cuts for the wealthy originally passed in the President’s first term, approves hundreds of billions of dollars in new spending on the military and on carrying out mass deportations. And it partly pays for all that with steep cuts to healthcare and food aid benefits for the poor, as well as clean energy funding. The cuts to healthcare are an estimated $930 billion, which, according to the independent Congressional Budget Office will result in over 11 million people losing their health insurance.
So, let’s just summarize it: To give money to the rich and terrorize immigrants, the President and the majority in Congress, robbed from the poor, increased our dependence on fossil fuels that pollute the environment, and will raise the national debt by over $3 trillion.
But wait, there’s more that happened the week we celebrated Independence from a King who wielded power unjustly…. This same President smiled and laughed while taking promo photos at a new facility for immigrant detainees in Florida, dubbed Alligator Alcatraz, because it is in an area of the Everglades with alligators and pythons. The Everglades is an environmentally sensitive area, not meant for this type of structure, which is more concentration camp than detention facility.
This is how we now welcome the stranger in our midst – by putting them in concentration camps either here or abroad.
This is how we treat children of God – by taking food and healthcare for the poor to line the pockets of the rich.
And we call this country the land of the free and the home of the brave?
Freedom seems not to be for anyone that isn’t white, straight, male, or Christian. And bravery can not be found among the majority in Congress, or in the White House. There we find only cruelty, immorality, and shameful disdain for the least of these. In fact, the President himself said, on July 4th no less, that he hates those that don’t support him. The President of the United States says he hates more than 50% of Americans. The same guy who sells bibles hates the people he is called to serve. Let that sink in. As I have said before – he might want to actually READ the bible he sells.
So, on July 4th, as flags were raised, and fireworks were lighting the skies, I was thinking about all of the horror happening in our country, and the despair so many feel. Despair that seems warranted amidst this daily onslaught of cruelty. Still, while this 4th was deeply troubling, I found inspiration in the reason we celebrate it.
The revolutionary war was fought when the odds were heavily against the colonists. They were up against the world’s greatest army at that time, with a scrappy bunch of folks, many not military trained. Still, they prevailed. And when I think of them, I often think of John Paul Jones during the Battle of Flamborough Head in 1779 on his ship, the Bonhomme Richard. When asked if he would surrender, he defiantly replied “I have not yet begun to fight.”
And then there is the speech of another patriot, Patrick Henry. Patrick Henry delivered an address to the Second Virginia Convention in 1775, who was debating whether to join the other colonies in the fight. And while it was a call to rise up in armed conflict against the British, a courageous act, his words can also serve to inspire those who now resist peacefully the tyranny of our own country.
Part of what he said was this: “They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? […] We are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. […] Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!”
If you really think about what he was asking, about what took place in the years of that conflict, it reminds us that a few untrained colonists dared to take up arms against the mighty armies of the British empire – it’s crazy and seemingly impossible! And yet, with courage, conviction, and hope – that is exactly what they did. Yes, they had allies – the Prussians and the French, but much needed help came later.
All of which reminds me of the text we just heard in the gospel reading from Luke. Jesus sends his scrappy bunch of disciples out in pairs to go where he intended to go. He sent them with nothing, saying, “I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road.” Why? Why would Jesus do that?
Well, Jesus knew that not only did they already have everything they needed, going with just the clothes on their back would enable their work. Perhaps we can understand when we look at the Revolutionary War. The colonial army, such as it was, carried no arrogance about their ability to win any particular battle. Initially, they were usually outnumbered, outgunned, hungry, and worn. They were the underdog, and that led them, one might imagine, to view the world differently – to break the mold of the expected. In fact, the British army was decidedly unprepared for the unconventional fighting methods of these colonists. Sure, sometimes they lined up army to army and aim at the other side in an orchestrated neat battle, as was tradition. But they also hid behind rocks and trees, wore out of necessity at first, civilian clothing, which provided a bit of camouflage, rather than the bright red coats of the British army. And, they had something else too. Something more powerful than any of that. They had hope, courage, and tenacity.
And so when we think about this gospel, when those disciples set out, they also carried with them all that they needed, though it may not have felt like that at first. It says that Jesus sent them in pairs where he intended to go, and that wherever they went, whether welcomed or not, they were to tell the people that the kingdom of God has come near them.
Let’s take that last one first. Jesus wasn’t walking along all of them, so how could the kingdom of God have come near?
The kingdom of God isn’t a place or a person – it is the divine spark within us – for followers of Jesus – it is Christ in our hearts. Wherever we go, we go with him.
Not only that, but they carried the peace of Christ within them too. Remember he said to them, “Whatever house you enter, first say, `Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you.”
Lastly, Jesus didn’t send them out alone – they were sent in pairs. They had another disciple to walk with them as they did the work they were called to do.
Those earliest disciples didn’t need riches or extra clothing to take with them. The peace of Christ rested on them, and the kingdom of God was within them, and they had one another to lean on. And with that, they carried all they needed – most especially the hope, grace, and love that is the kingdom of God. And those are the most powerful things we humans can ever have in this world.
For hope is more powerful than any weapon.
Grace can heal the deepest wounds.
And love conquers hate every single time.
As we leave here today, exhausted by what we see our nation’s leaders doing to God’s children and all of creation, we too can sometimes feel like lambs being sent into the midst of wolves. Yet as Patrick Henry said, “…we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power.”
Which is why the statement issued last week by our Presiding Bishop, the Most Rev. Sean Rowe, matters – because it is calling us to make proper use of those means which God has given us. He wrote “It is shaping up to be a complicated Independence Day for The Episcopal Church. We were once the church of the Founding Fathers and presidents—34 of the 56 signers of the Declaration of Independence were members of what became our church after the Revolution, and 11 presidents, including George Washington, have professed our faith. Today, however, we are known less for the powerful people in our pews than for our resistance to the rising tide of authoritarianism and Christian nationalism emanating from Washington, D.C.
When religious institutions like ours enjoy easy coexistence with earthly power, our traditions and inherited systems can become useless for interpreting what is happening around us. But our recent reckoning with the federal government has allowed us to see clearly the ease with which the Protestant tradition of patriotism can lead Christians to regard our faith more as a tool of dominion than a promise of liberation.”
After giving an overview of Christian witness, and failure to do so, in pivotal moments in history, he then closed with this:
[…] “We did not seek this predicament, but God calls us to place the most vulnerable and marginalized at the center of our common life, and we must follow that command regardless of the dictates of any political party or earthly power. We are now being faced with a series of choices between the demands of the federal government and the teachings of Jesus, and that is no choice at all. This is not the same kind of patriotism that has guided our church since its founding in 1785, but this July Fourth, it may be the most faithful service we can render — both to the country we love and the God we serve.”
It is exactly the most faithful service we can render to God and country. And like those colonists, like those disciples, we do not do this work alone, and we have all that we need.
We have a long fight ahead folks – a righteous one to be a voice for the marginalized, to break the chains of oppression, and to bear witness to the gospel of God’s all inclusive love.
Yes, we are tired, and we are worn, and we have a long road ahead of us, but one thing is for certain – and Mr. President, take note – “We have not yet begun to fight!”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/07/Rec-001-Sermon-July_6_2025.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
July 6, 2025
Pentecost 4 – Year C – Track 1
1st Reading – 2 Kings 5:1-14
Psalm 30
2nd Reading – Galatians 6:(1-6)7-16
Gospel – Luke 10:1-11, 16-20
The post “We Have Not Yet Begun To Fight!” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
June 29, 2025: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
“Almighty God, you have built your Church upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone: Grant us so to be joined together in unity of spirit by their teaching, that we may be made a holy temple acceptable to you…”
This prayer, what we call a collect in the church, opened our service today. An appropriate one for the scriptures, of course, because that is what a collect does – collects the themes of the lessons into a short prayer for us to reflect on as we hear them read. But, as this is also LGBTQ+ Sunday, it serves as a reminder to us of our role as followers of Jesus today. For there are prophets and apostles among us – those who dream dreams, and have visions of what is possible, and those who are sent by Christ to proclaim the good news of God’s all inclusive love. They have always been, and will always be – offering us an opportunity to grow into the fullness of all that God hopes for us…if we listen.
Two of those prophets were those we heard about in the reading from 2 Kings this morning – Elijah and his protégé, Elisha. Just a brief recap: The prophet Elijah knew his time on this earthly plane was nearing an end. As he walked with his protégé Elisha, he would stop every so often to offer his disciple an off-ramp – a way to avoid having to follow in Elijah’s footsteps.
Elijah knew that this prophetic work was difficult, and perhaps out of great love, he sought to provide a different path for Elisha. Yet at ever turn, Elisha refuses to separate from Elijah, or from his own call. Finally, after they had crossed the Jordan, Elijah says to his younger charge, “Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you.” Elisha said, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.”
Now, I always like to point this part out because it can get overlooked. I mean – Elisha could have asked for something practical, like, I don’t know, a rule book, or a compass for all those crazy desert crossings, or a maybe a top 10 list of things no wandering prophet should ever do, right? I mean, what would you ask for? But instead, he tells Elijah “Make mine a double!,” and in this very request, he is showing that he has learned something very important about this prophet work.
You see – prophets do not do the work themselves. Elisha knew that if he were to carry this work on, he needed to have the spirit that Elijah had, even doubly so (showing his humility in the presence of his mentor). Elisha asked for the spirit that would enable him to live into his call.
And then, when Elijah was taken up to God in what can only be described as the most fabulously Hollywood dramatic display of fire in almost a space-age version of the chariot race from Ben Hur, Elisha saw that Elijah’s mantle, his cloak of sorts, was left behind. He picked it up and the transition was complete. The journey was now Elisha’s.
Several years ago, the renowned theologian and Hebrew Testament scholar, Walter Bruggeman, spoke in our diocese on the subject of “Becoming Disciples.” I told you about this years ago, but as this wonderful scholar died just a few weeks ago, on June 5th, I want to remind you of it again.
Bruggeman talked about these two big Es of our scripture – Elijah & Elisha. Now, I’ll try my best to do say this as he did, because it was fabulously Bruggeman, but here is what he said, and I want you to imagine he is saying it to you:
“…when Elijah found Elisha, he didn’t say anything to him, he threw his cape over him, he threw his mantle over him. And that defined his existence. So, the question that I want you to think about is:
Who threw the mantle over you?
And what did they expect of you?
And…how’re you doing?”
There was a lot of laughter at all of this, and perhaps it is because for anyone who has crossed the proverbial Jordan into a new part of their life journey, we know that the transition across that river is rarely easy, and what we find on the other side is usually not the straight, smooth, and flat path we had hoped, but filled with all sorts of twists and turns. And we, the Elisha’s of the world, realize that we cannot do it alone, and if we are going to succeed, we need a heaping portion of help along the way.
But we also come to know that there are Elijah’s in this world too – the ones who are groundbreaking prophets, the ones who lead others, often without intending to be anything more than true to themselves. And they can offer that help to us.
As this is LGBTQ+ Sunday in the Episcopal Church, I want to share with you the story of one of those people, one who has been nominated to be on our calendar of saints, and with good reason. And this person wasn’t from a long time ago. You may have even seen a depiction of her[1] in the movie about another prophet of our time – RBG – Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. For she was Elijah to Justice Ginsburg’s Elisha – a person who influenced Ginsburg’s legal work. Her “influence on Ginsburg was so profound that in 1971, Ginsburg’s first brief to the Supreme Court in Reed v. Reed listed [her] and her ACLU colleague Dorothy Kenyon, though neither had directly participated in its writing. “We owed them so much, for they kept the idea—and the hope—alive,” Ginsburg later said. She won, the first time the Supreme Court ever struck down a classification based on gender, and laying the groundwork for successive wins at the highest court that transformed American law and life.”[2]
Who was this modern day Elijah?
It was Pauli Murray.
If I were to tell you her whole incredible life story, we would be here until next Sunday and beyond. But briefly, Pauli was born Anna Pauline Murray in Baltimore, Maryland on November 20, 1910. Her mother died when she was still very young, and her father, who suffered from depression exacerbated by the long-term effects of typhoid fever, was eventually confined to Crownsville State Hospital, where he was later murdered by a white guard in 1923. So Pauli, orphaned at a young age, was raised mostly by her relatives in Durham, North Carolina.
And yet, despite this difficult beginning, this child grew to become a twentieth-century human rights activist, legal scholar, author, labor organizer, poet, Episcopal priest, multiracial Black, LGBTQ+ person who lived one of the most remarkable lives of the 20th century. Murray was the first Black person to earn a JSD (Doctor of the Science of Law) degree from Yale Law School, was a founder of the National Organization for Women, and was the first Black woman to be ordained an Episcopal priest.
And Pauli was she/he/they/them.
Yes, Pauli Murray was also trans at a time when just being a woman, a person of color, or in her case – both – came with enough discrimination on its own, and trans was not even in the vocabulary of the world. I have been using the feminine pronouns, but all would apply equally to Pauli.
And on this Sunday, when we take a moment to see the face of Christ in LGBTQ+ people, perhaps we can pause as well to ask for a double share of what Pauli had, because if we even had half – just the smallest of her prophetic gift, her grace, her courage, her faith…we could move mountains, to be sure. For there were many walls put up to stop her, many paths closed to her, and many doors shut in her face. Yet she did not waiver, nor did she turn from her calling. Murray instead just picked up a hammer to blast that wall down, blazed a new path, and broke down the door.
And in this world today, when LGBTQ+ people are still being persecuted, still being killed, still being denied dignity and respect, we must have a double share of Pauli’s spirit. As St. Paul reminds us in the passage from his epistle to the Galatians we heard this morning, “Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.”
St. Paul is telling us this, because the effect, and even the purpose, of oppression is to break the spirit – to bring us all to a place where we feel unable to see beyond our current condition, too exhausted to speak, too despairing to rise up. And so, we must not submit to that yoke, but carrying Christ in our hearts, and guided by the example of people like Pauli Murray, we must rise up and change what is to what may be. And that yoke, as St. Paul makes clear, is broken by the gifts of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” Oh, self-control…if only our nation’s leaders would hear this and absorb its meaning in their lives.
Let us remember that charge of St. Paul on July 1st. For that is the day when all in The Episcopal Church will reflect on the life of Pauli Murray, because in 2012, the General Convention of the Episcopal Church voted to honor Murray as one of our saints, to be commemorated on July 1, the anniversary of her death. It is the same day we remember another great saint, the author, Harriet Beecher Stowe. The collect for that day is a prayer for our time and for her example to guide us. It begins like this:
“Liberating God, we thank you for the steadfast courage of your servant Pauli Murray, who fought long and well: Unshackle us from the chains of prejudice and fear, that we may show forth the reconciling love and true freedom which you revealed in your Son our Savior Jesus Christ…”
So, let us take on the mantel of our modern day prophet Pauli Murray with humility and the grace of God, and continue her work for the rights of all children to be free, to live without fear, and to know God’s all inclusive love.
Because we know that our freedom in the knowledge of Christ’s love calls us to be the light of hope that defeats the darkness of hate we see everywhere. And folks, there is power in hope – it is the hammer that breaks that yoke of oppression. Pauli Murray knew that when she wrote one of her most celebrated poems, Dark Testament Verse 8, which I would like to share with you now:
Hope is a crushed stalk
Between clenched fingers
Hope is a bird’s wing
Broken by a stone.
Hope is a word in a tuneless ditty —
A word whispered with the wind,
A dream of forty acres and a mule,
A cabin of one’s own and a moment to rest,
A name and place for one’s children
And children’s children at last . . .
Hope is a song in a weary throat.
Give me a song of hope
And a world where I can sing it.
Give me a song of faith
And a people to believe in it.
Give me a song of kindliness
And a country where I can live it.
Give me a song of hope and love
And a brown girl’s heart to hear it.
I know we are all worn to the bone by the onslaught of hate and violence that seem to be our daily life here in the US now. Yet, as long as we have Christ in our hearts, we will be given the strength we need to sing a powerful song of hope, even if our throats seem incapable of offering the smallest of sounds.
So let us, in the footsteps of Pauli Murray, sing from our weary throats, that the world can hear it.
Let us sing a song of faith, as a people who believe in it – believe in the power of God’s all inclusive love.
Let us sing a song of kindliness, that our country can begin to live into its promise.
Let us sing a song of hope and love, that the hearts of children everywhere will hear it, and their yoke of oppression will be broken forever.
Amen.
For a documentary about The Rev. Dr. Pauli Murray, here is a link: https://www.amazon.com/My-Name-Pauli-Murray/dp/B09DMPMWCP
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/06/Rec-001-Sermon-June_29_2025.m4a[1] Pauli went by several pronouns – she, he, they/them. For simplicity, I am using she at this point in the sermon.
[2] https://savingplaces.org/stories/how-pauli-murray-helped-shape-notorious-rbg
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
June 29, 2025
Third Sunday After Pentecost – Year C – Proper 8 – Track 1
1st Reading – 2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14
Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20
2nd Reading – Galatians 5:1,13-25
Gospel – Luke 9:51-62
The post “Hope Is A Song In A Weary Throat” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
September 29, 2024: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
In our first reading, from the book of Esther, we got to hear a small part of this incredible woman’s story. For the life of me, I cannot understand why our lectionary, the readings chosen for each week, and used by nearly all denominations, only gives us this little bit of this fantastic story. This is it – just this reading. Sure, we can have five weeks on a single chapter of the gospel of John every August in Year B (the year of the lectionary we are in at the moment), but we can’t give this story more than a single Sunday? Not only that, we don’t give you the full story, so it is hard to understand what is really going on here. So…let’s correct that error and give Esther her due.
Now, I am going to have to leave some things out, but here is the story: There are still Jews are living in the Persian Empire following the Babylonian diaspora. Hadassah, called Esther for the remainder of the story, was an orphan in the care of her cousin, Mordecai. They lived under the realm of King Ahasuerus, or King Xerxes I, depending on the translation. The King was in search of a new Queen after the current one, Vashti, refused to obey a stupid royal order to put herself on display before lots of people at a banquet of the King.
So, a royal beauty pageant of sorts was to take place to find this new Queen. Mordecai encourages Esther, who is young and beautiful, to enter this contest – but not to reveal that she is a Jew. She does, she wins, she enters into the harem of the King, and after a year of preparation, she is presented to him, and the king chooses her as his Queen. Mordecai keeps watch over her from the gate of the palace.
Next we hear that Mordecai discovers a plot to assassinate the king. He tells Esther, who tells the king – plot averted.
The king’s right hand guy, Haman, is a treacherous sort. Everyone bows and shows allegiance to Haman, but Mordecai refuses. This really ticks off Haman, so having been told that Mordecai was a Jew (but not knowing that Esther was his cousin), Haman tells King Ahasuerus that all throughout his kingdom are a people who don’t obey the laws of the king, and that they should be destroyed. The King authorizes Haman to do what he will with them. Haman issues a decree read far and wide that the Jews were to be destroyed and all of their goods to be taken.
All the Jews, including Mordecai, were distressed and mourning what was to come. Mordecai sends a message to Esther, warning about the plot of Haman against the Jews, and imploring her to use her influence to stop the King from allowing this to happen.
Esther reminds Mordecai that anyone who approaches the King without his invitation is killed, and the King has basically ghosted her – she hasn’t received an invite in over a month. Then Mordecai tells her that she herself will not be spared just because she is Queen. And he says, to her “Who knows? Perhaps you ended up where you are for just such a time as this.” Esther then tells Mordecai to have all the Jews in town fast and pray for three days on her behalf, and at great risk to her life, she goes in to the King without an invitation.
Esther finds favor with the King, he asks her what she wants, and she tells him she would like to prepare a banquet for him and for Haman. Haman for his turn, is delighted and is also looking forward to killing his nemesis, so he has a gallows built to hang Mordecai.
Meanwhile, back at the Palace, the King is having trouble sleeping, so he had the annals of the court read to him – well, that outta cure your insomnia, right? But instead, the King is reminded that a fellow named Mordecai saved his life. He summons Haman, and asks him, “What should be done for one the King wants to honor?” Haman thinks the king means him, so he says “Give him a royal robe, a horse to ride, and have him led through the city to be celebrated!” And here is the best part…so far anyway: The king then says “Great idea Haman…go do that for Mordecai!”
This, as you might guess, did not make Haman happy. But we aren’t done yet. After he does all that, he now goes to the banquet that Esther has prepared for him and for the King.
During the feast, the King asks Esther to name anything she might want, and it would be granted. And here is where it really gets fun: Esther begs for her life, and the life of her people, saying an evil man is plotting to kill them all. The King is furious, demands to know who it is that has done such a thing. And just like in a TV courtroom scene, Esther points to Haman and says “That guy!” And one of the Eunuchs tells the king that Haman even has gallows ready to hang Mordecai, the one who saved the king’s life!
Haman is executed on the gallows he built for Mordecai. Mordecai is elevated to the position Haman had. The Jewish people were saved. And everyone celebrated in a new Feast day – Purim – and still do to this day. The end.
Now is that a great story or what?
Apparently, playwrights, screenwriters, and authors through the years thought so too, as you can find movies, plays, books, poems, and more that tell it in their own unique ways. And there is also this little interesting twist, that in the original Hebrew text, the book of Esther is only one of two in all the bible (the other being the Song of Songs) that does not explicitly mention God by name anywhere in the story. The Greek versions changed that a bit.
Cool. But what does all this mean for us?
The thing is, this story is sadly happening now. Each of these characters exist today – even in our own country.
King Ahasuerus is the very model of power without bounds, and the effects of that on vulnerable people. All over the world, there is a rise of authoritarianism – rooted in fascist or Nazi ideology, which itself has racist, antisemitic, and misogynist foundations. And we have seen throughout history what can happen when these dictators take power – genocide, enslavement, mass deportations, and wholesale violence against a people.
Haman’s also exist – especially within the inner circle of wanna be dictators. They guide the actions of weak leaders to their own benefit – and the people suffer.
Yet there are also Mordecai’s – those who work behind the scenes to subvert the plots of evil doers.
And lastly, there are Esthers and Vashtis – the ones who refuse to follow along, who stand up for their own dignity, and who risk their lives for others. Women like Malala Yousafzai, Harriet Tubman, Elizabeth Cady Stanton & Lucrecia Mott, Anna May Wong, Wangaari Maathai, Sherin Ebadi, and more. These were those who were meant for a time such as the one in which they lived – meant for our time now.
There are also many men of course, but their names and stories are told far more readily, so I won’t mention them here, with one exception – Nelson Mandela. Imprisoned for 27 years for fighting against the unjust apartheid of his country of South Africa, he later rose to lead his people as President. This was something most in his country thought impossible in the time of the oppressive apartheid. Yet Mandela once said “It always seems impossible until it’s done.”
“It always seems impossible until it’s done.”
Now, that may seem only like we are asked to push through seemingly insurmountable obstacles until we achieve our goals, but think about that for a moment. Who has determined that the goal is impossible in the first place? The answer to that is the subject of a lot of philosophical and psychiatric work. It is the difference between objective and subjective reality, but more simply put – we are the ones who determine what we believe to be possible or impossible.
We assume we make this determination based on experience and rational thought, but sometimes there is more to it. Sometimes it is based on fear. Esther thought it was impossible to appeal to the King. It wasn’t. Haman thought his power and favor of the King would protect him – it didn’t. The South African government thought they could quell the voice of Mandela and others – they could not. Many suffering under apartheid thought it would never end – it did. And in the church, many have proclaimed for decades its destruction – we are still here.
“It always seems impossible until it’s done.”
The story of Esther is a story for our time. For we can feel overwhelmed by the dangers we see swelling up around us. As we witness the rise of swastikas and confederate flags, the blatant disregard for the dignity and welfare of others, we fear for the vulnerable – the poor, people of color, LGBTQ+ people, people of other faiths, women, and more. Perhaps we are among the vulnerable ourselves. This story reminds us that authoritarians, like the King, like dictators all around the world, and those that wanna be them, are dangerous because they use their power arbitrarily, and without regard for the consequences to anyone but themselves.
Yet one thing is clear from what we heard today about Esther and King Ahasuerus – those with absolute power are not invulnerable, nor are the vulnerable without hope. In other words – their current situation is not destined to be their future one.
And most especially we know, that despite the Hebrew version’s explicit omission, God most definitely is at work in those who become the change makers. They are those who, by God’s grace, are able to see beyond the boundaries of what many deem impossible, to do what they are called to do. They too had been brought into whatever situation they were facing for just such a moment.
And today, as we stand amidst the turmoil of our time in this nation and around the world, a voice is saying to each of us: “Do not think that those in power will not eventually turn on you – you too are in danger. Yet, who knows? Perhaps you have come to this place, in this moment, for just such a time as this.”
Indeed we have.
We, the Episcopal branch of the Jesus movement, are here for just such a time as this.
And now more than ever, we must not hide who we are and what we believe from those who wield power.
We must stand up to protect the vulnerable and speak for those without a voice.
We must break the bonds of injustice to free the oppressed.
We must proclaim to all the world the good news of Jesus Christ that all are children of God – loved just as they are – deeply and for all time.
We must protect God’s creation from the ravages of human greed, arrogance, and abuse.
We must do this even when we feel it may cost us everything.
Even when we and others think it is impossible.
For we, the followers of Christ Jesus, who gave his life for the sake of the world – we are meant for a time such as this.
Like Esther, we are where we are now, in this moment, that we might also save our people and our planet from the effects of unchecked power.
“It always seems impossible until it’s done.”
But one day we will look back – and because we did not remain silent, because we did not turn our backs in fear, because we believed in ourselves and the transformative power of Christ’s love working in us – we will be able to rest from our labors knowing that it wasn’t impossible at all. Not when we believe in ourselves and in the God who loves us.
And we will be able to say, “It is done.”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Rec-001-Sermon-September_29_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
September 29, 2024
Pentecost 18 – Year B – Track 1
1st Reading – Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
Psalm 124
2nd Reading – James 5:13-20
Gospel – Mark 9:38-50
The post “For Just Such A Time As This” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Gosh it is so good to be back here with all of you! While I really enjoyed my vacation, and needed it so very much, I missed you’all! I missed the choir too! And it is so awesome to be returning on Choir Appreciation Sunday. What an amazing sound they raise up to God every week! And, I am so happy to finally be able to truly welcome our new Director of Music, Ryan Bridge!
Now, one of the things I had hoped to do while I was away was to get to Citi Field to watch my Mets play. I didn’t, but I did get a chance to enjoy watching them on TV. And if, like me, you are a baseball fan, you probably heard about a big event this past week – and no, not the three game stretch of the Mets scoring 10 or more runs, with every single 10th run being the result of a particular rookie in the lineup. While that WAS a big deal, something even more amazing happened, and sadly, it had nothing to do with the Mets.
Shohei Ohtani, a player for the Los Angeles Dodgers, has done something that had never been done before in Major League Baseball. He hit 50 home runs and snagged 50 stolen bases! Prior to this feat, which he did while also going 6 for 6, with 3 homeruns and 10 RBIs (runs batted in), the big challenge for baseball players every season was to cross the 40/40 mark – 40 homers and 40 stolen bases. I mean, there has never been anyone to ever make it to 50/50. Did I mention he also pitches (though not this season)? It’s an insane level of playing that has everyone in baseball calling Mr. Ohtani the GOAT – Greatest Of All Time.
The thing is, while there are arguments for or against the GOAT title for Ohtani, and many argue that the title is still in the hands of greats like Babe Ruth and Willie Mays, we sure do have a fascination with it lately. We see the GOAT label attached to all sorts of things – even an Optimum TV commercial (with another baseball legend – Derek Jeter). And it would seem that this desire to throw this label around is as old as humanity. Just take a look at our gospel today.
Before we get to what we heard a moment ago, let’s look at what preceded it. Just before this passage we heard today, the disciples had tried to cast out a demon from a man’s son but failed. Why? Well, Jesus, after taking care of it himself, tells them that this strong a demon requires prayer to cast out. Now, that might seem like he was saying it wasn’t their fault, but when combined with what happens next, we see that isn’t the case at all.
Just after this, the part we heard today, as they were going through Galilee on the way to Capernaum, Jesus was telling them again about his impending death and resurrection. They didn’t understand what Jesus was saying, but was too afraid to ask him to explain it. I suppose you could understand that, given the “Get behind me Satan!” response Jesus had to Peter the last time this subject came up. Still, they were unwilling to look like they didn’t know something, so remained quiet – at least about that anyway. Instead, they began to argue among themselves.
When Jesus asks them what the argument was about, they wouldn’t answer because they were, if you can believe it, fighting over who was the greatest. Of course, this is a rhetorical question Jesus is asking. He knows the answer in the same way that parents often know what is actually going on when they ask the same thing of their children. I mean, at this point, you wouldn’t blame Jesus for just ditching them, and exchanging them for all the women and other outcasts who actually pay attention and understand who Jesus is. But, he doesn’t.
Instead, Jesus sits them down and tells them bluntly – “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” But more than that, he brings a child among them and tells them that this child is to be welcomed in his name – and those who do – welcome not only Jesus, but God.
Now, it is hard to imagine how this came across to the disciples given that we have a different view of children today, in our society at least. In the ancient Near East however, at the time of Jesus, children were akin to slaves in worth (and it is quite likely that given the hour, this might have been the child of a slave – the lowest of the low). They were not images of innocence and playfulness as we see them now, but of poverty and powerlessness. And, Jesus sits down – at eye level – with the child – modeling for his disciples the way of life he expects of them.
Jesus is breaking down the assumptions of the disciples about who they are, and what it means to be his followers. Assumptions that were blocking them from being able to live fully into their calling. The disciples thought that being a follower of the Messiah meant that they had privileges – the ability to heal, a special pass into heaven, the best seats at the table. They began to believe that following Christ was a path to privilege and power, rather than a journey of service and humility.
Jesus was trying to show them what is required of them. For their master was at eye level in that moment with the lowest of the low in society, telling them that is where they needed to be too. That is where they will meet and welcome him. Why does Jesus do this?
The lure to be powerful is an evil that lingers throughout all of history – in nearly all cultures and eras. It is a snare that can entrap even those who start out with the best of intentions. And once caught, corrupts absolutely. Which is why the seeds of humility must be planted early, so that the roots can grow deep and strong, before fame and money can begin to try to weaken the plant of a human soul.
Perhaps that is why Shohei Ohtani’s first coach at Hanamaki Higashi, the High School he attended in Japan, had a rather unique approach to mentoring his charges. As reported in the Los Angeles Times back in 2017, “Higashi’s players live on campus, returning home for only six days a year. [Hiroshi Sasaki, the coach of the team,] assigns them chores. The pitchers clean toilets.
Sasaki had a reason this particular assignment never changed. “The mound is the most elevated place on the field,” he explained. “It’s a stage. If you’re on that stage, you receive the most attention. You get interviewed and written about the most.” The coach wanted to teach his pitchers humility. “It might be a little different than what you do in the United States,” he added.1
Ha, you think?
For Ohtani, it seems to have prepared him well for what was to come, as he is reported to be quiet, humble, and gracious. For those that are not baseball fans, I promise you, this is my last mention of it, sort of, but it does make the point. The closer we get to power, the more the power corrupts, and the greater our need to be rooted in the humility that will save us.
For followers of Jesus, this is especially important. To understand why, we need to return to the moment before this one – where the disciples failed to help someone in need of healing. Jesus told them that this type of healing could only be done through prayer. What he is telling them was that it is one thing to say you are my follower and do the easy things, but to really make a difference, to really be my disciple, you are going to need to difficult work, which you cannot do on your own.
Jesus is telling them that it is only through prayer that they will be able to truly heal in his name. Or to put it another way – they have to first recognize that they are not the be all end all. They must have the humility to see that only through God’s grace can real healing be done in the world.
And folks, we need to understand this lesson we are hearing today as much as those earlier disciples, because we have some big healing work to do ourselves. For today there are those who claim to follow Jesus, but ignore his teaching in the pursuit of power – even to the point of wanting to create a Christian state in the US. And make no mistake about it – this Christian Nationalism is a demon that has infected part of the body of Christ in this country, and it is one that will require prayer and humility to exorcise.
To be clear about these “Christians” (their description of themselves, not one I would use) – their “gospel” isn’t that of Jesus – the Beloved Community of God in which all are welcome, all are included, all are made in God’s image. Instead, it is good news only to those who are – white, straight, citizens of the US, and English speaking. For they have forged a cross of their own making, corrupting the teachings of Christ for their own well being, for their own power, and crucifying him in the process. The sad thing is, like those disciples arguing on the road, they actually believe they are doing what Jesus would want them to do.
Yet, they have not only failed to welcome the lowly – the child of Jesus’ teaching – they have been the ones to push that child into vulnerability through neglect, abuse, oppression, and hate. They seek to place upon all in this country the tenets of their faith – or more to the point – their warped interpretation of it. They want the Ten Commandments put up schools, but do not abide by them. They want prayer in schools, but hold fast to their right to have assault rifles, even as children are slaughtered in the classrooms. Some of them wave Confederate battle flags – a symbol of racist violence – while wearing the cross of Christ on their necks, or tattooing scripture on their arms. Some even lift up a man convicted of fraud and sexual assault, and call him the chosen one.
Lest we think they are harmless, there are people dying because of it – children in schools, Jews at worship in Synagogues, people of color, and pregnant women. Just this past week we began to hear the first stories of the effects of the repeal of Roe V. Wade by the Supreme Court. Amber Thurman and Candi Miller died after complications from traveling out of state to get medically induced abortions. Both have other children and both deaths were deemed preventable had the laws not been in place preventing proper medical attention. These happened in the early days after the Dobbs Supreme Court decision and subsequent state legislation back in 2022. They are not the last – we will be hearing about more women’s deaths as cases are made public. Those who passed these horrific laws restricting women’s reproductive healthcare, and those who refuse to pass other laws preventing common sense gun legislation, I guarantee you, they also go to churches on Sunday. They claim to be followers of Jesus.
Yet Jesus says, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” The way in which we treat the most vulnerable among us is the way in which we welcome Jesus, the way in which we welcome God. Children are not being welcomed in our country, they are being killed in school, orphaned by our laws, and ignored if they are poor, homeless, undocumented, LGBTQ+, female, or non-white.
The demons that have infected the hearts of those who see Christianity as being endowed with rights, rather than being a life of humility with serious responsibilities, will not be easy to exorcise. Our only hope is through the humble act of prayer – for them, and for the strength to challenge them. And to remember the lessons of Jesus today:
That the least of these is Christ – how we treat them is the measure of how we treat him.
That the grace to heal comes not from personal power, but from prayerful humility.
That to be first, is to be last and servant of all.
As we walk along the road with Jesus, let us not be arguing with one another, or hoping for recognition, but instead:
Seek the vulnerable children in our midst and welcome them.
See the need for something to be done, and be the first to clean the toilet, or do whatever other task others will not do.
For there are innings yet for us to play out in our lives, and we have much work to do before we retire our jersey and meet the one and true GOAT.
May we be truly ready for that moment, knowing we had left it all on the field, our uniforms covered in dirt, sweat, and grass stains, when that day comes for us.
Amen.
1 https://www.latimes.com/sports/la-sp-shohei-ohtani-20170930-htmlstory.html
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/Rec-001-Sermon-September_22_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
September 22, 2024
Pentecost 18 – Year B – Track 2 (this week only)
1st Reading – Isaiah 35:4-7a
Psalm 54
2nd Reading – James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Gospel – Mark 9:30-37
The post “The GOAT” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
August 18, 2024: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
One phrase we often hear, particularly in political punditry or business consulting, is that of “splitting the baby.” Have you’all heard that? Now, why on earth would anyone talk about doing such a gruesome thing? Well, glad you asked… because it was something that marked the early part of the reign of a long ago king. The very one we heard about in today’s reading from, appropriately, Kings. Specifically 1 Kings 2 & 3.
This was a moment of transition. King David was dying, and Solomon, one of his sons, was made the next King. Sounds simple enough – if you just take the verses we get today. However, as I have often said, notice when there are gaps in the verses. Well, we get a boatload of them today.
The short version of what is missing is how it was that Solomon came to be named the next King rather than his older brother Adonijah. It’s an interesting story of a bit of intrigue, deception, and murder. Not to mention Solomon marries the daughter of the Egyptian Pharoah and sacrifices at altars around town. It is then that we get to what we heard today – God appears in a dream to Solomon (according to Solomon anyway) and like some blue Genie out of Disney’s Aladdin, asks “What can I give to you – just ask?”
Now, how many of you would love that to happen?
And if it did, what would you ask for – money (for the church, right? – of course), or perhaps you might be thinking on a more selfless plane, and ask for world peace? I think I would want to be able to know all the languages of the world, including the language of music and animals. But the new King Solomon did not ask for any of that, but instead replies that, being a young new monarch, he wanted God to grant him wisdom to be able to serve well.
As you might guess, God was very pleased with this, and grants it (even though in the asking, Solomon is showing he has what he has asked for already). Then God throws in a whole lot more – riches, long life, the whole nine yards. Geez! Solomon sort of got the trifecta (just to mix our sports metaphors)!
If only earthly leaders of governments would follow Solomon’s lead and seek to have wisdom that they might serve their people well. In fairness, some have been very wise, and here is a short little story about one of them – President Abraham Lincoln. During the Civil War, he once got caught up in a situation where he wanted to please a politician, so he issued a command to transfer certain regiments. When the secretary of war, Edwin Stanton, received the order, he refused to carry it out. He said that the President was a fool. Lincoln was told what Stanton had said, and he replied, “If Stanton said I’m a fool, then I must be, for he is nearly always right. I’ll see for myself.” Lincoln then met with Stanton, and as the two men talked, the President quickly realized that his decision was a serious mistake, and without hesitation he withdrew it.”
Now, I don’t know if this story about Lincoln is true, though it does fit with the overall way of our 16th President. The thing about what President Lincoln did was not about the change in his decision itself. No, the thing was that he was willing to listen to others to discern what was the right course of action – he didn’t think he knew everything.
This fall, we will elect our 47th President along with others to serve in roles from Senator to Board of Education member. We certainly hope that those who win will be like Solomon – to know their need for God’s grace and guidance, and seek first to be wise and good leaders in service to their people. We know too that sadly, there will be those who are the opposite of all of these characteristics, and many will pay the price on account of their arrogance, selfishness, and ignorance.
Solomon, for his part, was a bit of both – the wise and the unwise. Oh, don’t get me wrong – he started out really well. In fact, that’s when we get that whole baby splitting bit, right after he receives this gift of God. The story goes that two women came to him arguing over who was the true mother of a baby. Both had given birth at the same time and in the same house. One baby died during the night, and that mother swapped her dead baby for the other one. The two women argue back and forth before King Solomon, who then sends a servant to fetch his sword that he might split the baby into two halves, to be given to the women. Just then, one of the women says “No! Do not harm him. Give him to her and let him live.” The other woman, for her part, said “If I can’t have him, neither should she, so go ahead and split him.” Solomon gave the child – the whole child mind you – to the one who was willing to give the baby up for the sake of its life, saying that it was she who was the true mother.
This little story is the nugget we are all told about in the church as proof of Solomon’s wisdom. It’s a great story too. I remember the artwork in my family’s bible that depicted the scene. Did any of you have one of those?
Solomon, like his father David before him, wanted to do what was right by God, but sadly, also like his dad, he was deeply flawed and it showed in some of what he did during his reign – like using forced labor for his numerous building projects, over taxing his people, and building up extravagant wealth.
The thing is though, it is the lack of perfection in these larger than life figures of our faith that can make them accessible to us, that can make their lives instructive to us today. And one of those lessons is that Solomon, as flawed as he was, initially had the insight to know that he needed help – that he was young and in over his head in this new role.
In psychological circles, they say the first step toward health is recognizing you need help, right? Well…apparently Solomon knew it. However, he didn’t understand this wasn’t a one and done type of thing. He lost sight of what it was that made him make that request in the first place. He stopped using the first gift God gave him. And to be clear, it wasn’t really wisdom.
You see, the Hebrew is a little more subtle than that – it says that he asked God to “Give your servant therefore an understanding heart to judge your people, that I may discern between good and evil; for who is able to judge this your great people?’” Solomon asked for an understanding heart, that he might have the ability to discern what was right as a servant of God’s people.
Think about that – he wanted an understanding heart, the ability to discern what was right, and all to be a good servant to others. Now that is true wisdom.
For wisdom isn’t about knowing facts or having a high IQ. Wisdom is really the recognition that we do not yet understand all things, and the desire to learn – not for ourselves alone, but that we might better serve others. And what is foundational to it, what is needed to be truly wise, is humility.
As I have said before, humility isn’t about beating oneself up – that’s just crazy, not humble. Humility isn’t about letting someone else beat up on you either – that’s just abuse and it is wrong. No. Humility is rooted in truth – the desire to understand, to recognize that we do not know everything, to seek knowledge, to learn from all of God’s creation, to ask for forgiveness when we fail, as we inevitiably will do from time to time – and all that we might be better stewards of those we serve.
This is an important attribute often lacking in today’s political leaders to be sure, but it is not meant only for them. While they, like King Solomon, are earthly appointed leaders that are meant to serve their constituents, we are divinely annointed leaders called to serve all of God’s creation. We, the body of Christ, annointed and sealed at baptism, are called to serve God’s people.
And if we are to be successful, and Lordy, this is a time when we need to be successful, we have to have a little dream interaction with God ourselves – just like Solomon. Now, we may not actually have a dream like that, but that’s okay – God is waiting to listen in all sorts of ways if only we paid attention, if only we will have the humility to ask – to ask for discerning hearts.
And once we ask, once we listen, we need to do it over and over again. This isn’t some magic formula like that genie from Alladin: Poof! Where God says “Okey doke – go forth and be your wise self there girl…you got this.” And off we go riding into the proverbial sunset, doing everything right all the time. That certainly didn’t happen for Solomon, and it ain’t likely to happen to you or me either just because we asked for it.
Our lives in service to God’s people, as followers of Jesus, guided by the Holy Spirit, is a never ending cycle of listening, responding, and listening again. We do get better at it with age, if we practice this cycle of discernent, and not because we clocked in a certain number of years.
Which reminds me of something journalist and humorist H.L. Mencken once said, “The older I grow, the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom.”
Ain’t, that the truth. While age does provide experience which can build wisdom, there are a lot of wise young folks like Solomon out there as much as there are older people who haven’t a clue. And it is very much the case that those experiences that teach us the most are the ones that are the most difficult. It is wisdom born of graduating from what my grandpa called the school of hard knocks.
Yet we all know people who have come out on the other side of those difficulties with hard hearts, rather than discerning ones. Lest we judge them, we need to remember that judgement comes not from humility, but from arrogance. The discerning heart will seek to understand, to forgive, to listen, to love.
So, no – this openness to asking God to help us, this desire to have discerning hearts not hard ones, to listen more than to speak, to understand more than to be understood – it isn’t a thing of age, or a one and done act of grace in a moment of prayer. This is a continual cycle for those who seek to serve God – really of those who seek to have a life of any sort of meaning.
Solomon forgot that. He started off well, but eventually he got off track. As the Hebrew scholar, Walter Brueggemann once wrote: “The wisdom that Solomon does not learn is attentiveness to those for whom God has special attentiveness. There are all kinds of dreams — of power and money and prestige and control. But the dream of justice for widows, orphans, and immigrants is the deep wisdom of Torah obedience.” Solomon left that dream of God behind, and began to dream of other things – large temples, luxurious banquets, and riches, rather than just and understanding service to those most in need.
We can learn a lot from King Solomon – from all of who he was, not just the things that we like to hear. He wasn’t perfect. He wanted to do the right thing, and sometimes he succeeded, and sometimes he failed. He loved God, and sometimes failed the very God he loved. And most of all – that all through his life, no matter what he did or did not do – one thing never changed – God loved him.[1]
And the good news today?
God is hoping you will be open to meeting in your own dream – asking for what you need. God is hoping that what we will ask will come from a place of humility and a desire to do what is good and right in service to others, not for ourselves. God hopes this because God has dreams too. God dreams always for a just and good world for all people and for all of creation, and desires so very much to partner with us in bringing about this dream.
And even though we will inevitably stumble, even though we will sometimes forget God’s dream and substitute our own, we are no less to God than King Solomon and no more than the lowliest of God’s creatures. God’s love is infinite, unconditional, and for you – yes you!
That is the power of God’s great love!
Let it send us to our knees in thanksgiving, and out from these doors in humble service.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/Rec-001-Sermon-August_18_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
August 18, 2024
Pentecost 13 – Year B – Track 1 – Proper 15
1st Reading – 1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14
Psalm – Psalm 111
2nd Reading – Ephesians 5:15-20
Gospel – John 6:51-58
[1] Grateful for the work of Debi Thomas on this text: https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/324-a-king-s-tale
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August 11, 2024: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Somehow I wish we were hearing more about Jesus calming the storm rather than being bread, given the weather lately. Lordy. We offer our prayers to all those who have been affected by Hurricane Debby and all the other crazy storms that have occurred.
But, that is not the gospel today, and given the storm of another sort that will be our lives here in this country during election season, we need to continue our look at the Epistle to the people in Ephesus.
In the letter to the Ephesians read this morning, we continue to hear about how to live as followers of Christ. The author writes: “Putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another… Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear… Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us…”
“…be kind to one another…be imitators of God…live in love as Christ loved us”
Now, a smart preacher would leave it there – what else needs to be said, right? But, never let it be said that I am a smart preacher.
The truth the author of Ephesians would want us to speak today is that there is a great deal of unkindness around the world. Just look at what happens during elections. People posting things on Facebook or tweeting or emailing the most horrific comments about those running for office – the same folks who on Sunday come to church and claim an identity as Christians. Now, I know that sometimes, most times, politicians say things that for the life of me makes me question the idea that humans are the smartest of God’s creation. But that isn’t what is sinful here.
Where we go wrong is not when we disagree, but when that disagreement becomes personal. When the anger over what someone says or does becomes vitriol launched at that person. Then we have crossed a line. Then we have sinned. And just as a reminder, sin is turning away from God, coming out of relationship with God and one another. Redemption is turning back – it is reconciliation.
Now, you might ask, what about speaking truth to power, as we learned we need to do from last week’s scripture? Are we not to stand up boldly and stand against what is wrong – be like Nathan, to be like Jesus? Yes, of course. But speaking truth isn’t without its own slippery slope too. We all know of folks who hide behind “speaking the truth,” when what they are really doing is being hurtful. The truth about truth is that sometimes it is not meant to be said at all.
I have said it before, about the playground chant of “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” – that whoever first uttered those words was probably crying to himself in some dark closet at the time – “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can break my spirit,” is more like it.
The thing is, our words can be a potent instrument of love, and peace, and justice…and also of hate, and abuse, and oppression. It is an unfortunate thing that in this age of techonology, what we say can often happen without filter in a moment of reaction, and often we feel empowered to say it even more from the anonymous bully pulpit of the internet. And yet, far too often we end up wishing we could undo the moment we hit send on a tirade filled email or tweet… So many would like to remove the shoe that invariably fills our mouths from time to time.
It is most especially now, when things happen so quickly, that we need to remember the old adage: “Before you speak, stop and think -Is it necessary? Is it true? Is it kind? Will it hurt anyone? Will it improve on the silence?” And, if you still answer that it is okay to attack a person, rather than their words or actions, go back to step one and think again. Or, perhaps do this – insert the name of a person you truly like and admire into your words – does it still sound right to you? Remember too the letter to the Ephesians – the author tells us to “Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear…” Ask yourself – does what I am about to say build this person up or try to tear them down?
Now, to be clear, we sure as hell need to speak truth, and be angry at injustice, but we also need to understand our role as healers in a broken world to ensure we speak and act in a way that allows us to live as we should. We are called to a higher standard, but we so often find it hard to live into. No one said being a follower of Jesus was a walk in the park. But does that mean we are destined to fail always at this imitators of God stuff? Not at all.
You know, as I have been working on the sermons on Ephesians these past two weeks, I have also been joining in with folks from all around the world watching the Olympics in Paris. Have you’all been watching them? So exciting – seriously. You can learn a lot by watching them too.
Watching the Judo matches, I am reminded of when I competed in Judo all over the East Coast as a kid (God bless my parents – nothing is more boring than a Judo match). The key to Judo is to yield, to use the other person’s aggressiveness against them. They will inevitably be off balance, and that is to your advantage.
In many ways, Judo has been a good life teacher. It is not about being the biggest or the strongest, but about knowing when to yield and when to move forward, when to be patient and when to be assertive, and most of all – how to take a hard fall, get up, and go back into the next round.
There are other lessons to be found in these Olympic games. As we watch the gymnastics and diving, for instance… – I mean – WOW! Aren’t they amazing to watch? Those divers just flow through the air and cut into the surface of the water without making a spash. How on earth do they do that? And the gymnasts – I cannot imagine how much strength it takes to hold yourself in what is known as the Iron Cross position on the rings – both arms straight out on your sides. Then there is the way they fly through the air off the vault or across the mat.
These divers and gymnasts make it all look so easy. Yet we know that for Stephen Nedoroscik and Simon Biles, and all the other gymnasts it isn’t easy at all. It only looks that way because they practice, practice, practice, workout, and then practice some more. And, they provide nourishment for their bodies, so that they can be as fit as possible. The same is true for those divers too.
Each athlete is looking to achieve as close to perfection as possible for their sport. The truth is, we need to do the same as followers of Jesus.
Unlike athletes in the Olympics though, practice for a follower of Jesus isn’t about achieving a high score, or beating out a competitor (though the church can sometimes seem act like it is). No, it isn’t a competition. It is instead about being authentic to what we believe by our practicing to be as Christ like as possible.
The theologian Martin Luther once said, “This life, therefore, is not godliness but the process of becoming godly, not health but getting well, not being but becoming, not rest but exercise. We are not now what we shall be, but we are on the way. The process is not yet finished, but it is actively going on. This is not the goal, but it is the right road.”
Our lives as Christians are a continual quest to be imitators of Jesus, or as the author of Ephesians put it “imitators of God.” Imitators are never the real thing, but strive always to appear to others as the one they are imitating. What if we were to try every day to have others see and experience Jesus when they encounter us? What would our lives look like?
Jesus tells us in the gospel readings these past two weeks that he is the bread of life. His very life is life giving to others. We are the body of Christ alive today, and we must ask ourselves – are we life giving to others, or do we leave people feeling hungry in our wake?
But whether we are being good imitators of Christ, or we are falling short, we all have to be like those Olympic athletes. We know that they practiced over and over again, and took care of their bodies to get to their goal. Do we think that those who win gold medals stop practicing because they have achieved their goal? Do they stop caring for their bodies? No, not unless they are retiring.
As followers of Jesus, we don’t retire until we are gone from this earthly plain – so how then do we practice like those Olympians? How then do we achieve our goal of being, as the author of the epistle says “imitators of God, as beloved children…?” Well, you are doing part of it right now.
For us to live as imitators of God, we must engage in a continual practice of prayer, worship, and service. Prayer allows us to know God’s intention for us in our lives, worship nourishes us – it feeds our souls, and service is how we live out our lives in Christ – how we become imitators of God. This isn’t a routine for us only on Sundays – this is something we need to do every single day of our lives. This continual practice we do is how we will be the bread of life for others, as we ourselves are nourished in Christ here, and by serving him in the world.
If we think of it that way – if we consider that our practice, our daily quest to imitate God, can feed others who hunger for love, mercy, and justice, but will also feed our own souls…then maybe practicing won’t seem such a big thing. And maybe, just maybe, as each day goes by, as we become better imitators of God, we just might get as good at being a follower of Jesus as Simone Biles is at Gymnastics.
We won’t receive a gold medal, and we don’t really want one – not if we are truly being Christ like humble servants, not if we are imitators of God.
No, there won’t be a gold medal, but there will be something far more important – we will be the ones to help heal a broken world. And that – that is worth more than gold!
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/Rec-001-Sermon-August_11_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
August 11, 2024
Pentecost 12 – Year B – Track 1 – Proper 14
1st Reading – 2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33
Psalm 130
2nd Reading – Ephesians 4:25-5:2
Gospel – John 6:35, 41-51
The post “Going For The Gold” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
July 21, 2024: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”
This is what we just heard Jesus say in our gospel reading from Mark.
“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”
Now, Sabbath rest is important – so much so that God decreed it one of those top ten things were are to do. But what if I were to tell you that there is more to what Jesus is saying here than a relaxing trip to the Jersey shore?
So, let’s dig a little deeper, because this is a passage for our time, to be sure.
Before we get to that, this is the last time we will hear from the Gospel of Mark until September. Unfortunately, in this preacher’s view, Year B of our lectionary moves to the Gospel of John and the bread of life discourse of Jesus for an entire month. I think this is also why so many priests go on vacation in the month of August. And, I know this is about the time that some big fans of that gospel think the rest of us are crazy.
Not only that, but we don’t even get the whole gospel text from Mark. Once again, just like with the narrative from 2 Samuel last week, there are verses missing in this passage from Mark.
Between the beginning where Jesus tends to the crowd, and the last bit about the beach landing at Gennesaret, there are the stories of the feeding of the five thousand and Jesus walking on water. We don’t get to hear Mark’s version of those events in Year B (the year we hear from this gospel). Instead we spend 5 entire weeks on John 6? It makes absolutely no sense to me. But, we aren’t there yet, so let’s give the gospel of Mark more attention than our lectionary people do, and get back to the narrative for today.
His disciples had just returned from their first mission to teach and offer God’s healing grace and love in his name – and from all accounts, it would seem they were successful. That type of work, Jesus knows, while spiritually and emotionally fulfilling, is also physically exhausting. He bids them to come away to a deserted place and rest for a time.
Now, a vacation always sounds good, right? We are one overworked world, at least 98-99% of us anyway. These are sweet words for anyone to hear. But – this is Jesus, and while he is one to heal, to nourish, to restore and renew us – this isn’t just a way for him to care for his disciples, and now for us. This is far more subversive and revolutionary.
First, let us do some pushback on the lectionary, and consider the fullness of this gospel text. The disciples return from being out in the world spreading the good news, healing, and casting out demons. This message of Jesus is going far beyond wherever he happens to be physically present. They come back, and they try to retreat for rest. The crowd follows, and when it is late, Jesus engages the disciples to feed them – more than five thousand in all (I note more than five thousand, because the text only counted the men). After that, Jesus again sends his disciples on to the other side of the lake, presumably to get that long desired rest. For his part, Jesus went up the mountain to pray.
As Jesus comes down the mountain, he crosses the lake – on his own two feet, you know, as you do when you are the savior of the world. His disciples see him and think he is a ghost. Now, Jesus wasn’t going to join them in the boat, but seeing them fight against the current, he got into the boat, and the sea calmed.
As they reach the shore in hopes of that long desired rest – there rushing toward them were crowds who recognized Jesus, and many were brought to him for healing.
Think about all of that scene.
The ministry that Jesus has launched in the world – first to the disciples, then to others directly or through them – it is spreading like wildfire. The crowds are growing in number, and it seems now there is no where to hide, no way to stop the flow.
And that is a dangerous thing.
If we step back a moment and think about how various political systems work through history, we find that there are often two driving forces at work: Hope or Fear. In democratic societies, there is often ambiguity – this is a part of everyone participating in something – the outcome can vary and sometimes even take a bit longer to come into being. Yet this type of uncertainty brings with it the possibility of changing what is into what may be. It is the stuff of dreams, and it is rooted in hope.
In autocratic societies, fear is central to the existence of the state. With that there is more certainty, faster outcomes (though not necessarily desired ones for the people, as that plays no part in it except the desire of the one ruler). The certainty in this system is born of fear, which inhibits any diversion from what is prescribed by the one in power. It is a prison, fear is the key that locks the cell door.
I am reminded of a story about Nien Cheng, a woman who was imprisoned in 1966 during Mao Tse-Tung’s so called “Cultural Revolution” in which he was attempting to reassert centralized control in China. In her book, Life and Death in Shanghai, Nien Cheng writes of her experiences in prison, [describing] the brutality of her captors as they attempted to break her will and force from her a confession of conspiracy against the government of the People’s Republic of China. But she would not break, and she constantly affirmed her innocence.
At a key moment in her incarceration, Ms. Cheng writes, that she saw a tiny spider, a “creature was no bigger than a good sized pea,” crawling up the side of the cell window. When it had climbed to the top, it began the intricate process of spinning a web: She noted that “It swung out and descended on a thin, silken thread spun from one end of its body. With a leap and a swing, it secured the end of the thread to another bar.” This process, Ms. Cheng recalled, happened over and over again, until there was a frame upon which to build a web: “There was no hesitation, no mistake and no haste. It knew its job and was carrying it out with confidence.” When the spider’s task was complete, it “went to its center and settled there.” Of this moment, Nien Cheng wrote:
“I had just watched an architectural feat by an extremely skilled artist, and my mind was full of questions. Who had taught the spider how to make a web? Could it really have acquired the skill through evolution, or did God create the spider and endow it with the ability to make a web so that it could catch food and perpetuate its species?” And then she concludes: “For the moment, I knew I had just witnessed something that was extraordinarily beautiful and uplifting. Whether God had made the spider or not, I thanked God for what I had just seen. A miracle of life had been shown to me. It helped me to see that God was in control. Mao and his revolutionaries seemed much less menacing. I felt a renewal of hope and confidence.”[1]
This is the power of hope.
This Jesus knew.
He knew that healing people wasn’t about eliminating illness from the world. People still died – yes, even those he and his disciples healed would eventually die.
Healing people was about hope – and hope is a radical thing – a life changing thing – a dangerous thing if you are part of an autocratic system like the Roman Empire, or benefiting from it. Hope is the key that unlocks the prison of fear, and fear is needed to retain control over an oppressed people.
Jesus also knew that while hope was a powerful thing, sabbath rest was foundational to nourishing it.
This is why God insists upon it – upon sabbath rest.
Look, we all know what can happen to us when we are burned down to the core. Sleep deprivation leads to disease, yes, but also to despair, paranoia, irritability, and anxiety. All of which are the antithesis of hope. They are the roots of our self-imprisonment. Is it any wonder then why oppressive regimes use it as a weapon against political prisoners?
Jesus knew this.
He also understood that healing people changes things in unexpected ways – it allows them to function and participate in work and in society. This not only creates economic mobility and freedom, it transforms the places these healed people go. They become a living example that life can change, even when you are sick, or blind, or lame. That type of hope is infectious, and over time will erode fear because it is far more powerful.
Just consider the story of Ms. Cheng. Over the course of her 61/2 years in solitary confinement, it was reported that she was so “tightly handcuffed that she feared losing her hands and [was] confined in a frigid cell too small for her to lie down in[. She] lost her teeth, caught pneumonia and had hemorrhages.” Yet that moment in her cell, with that spider and her miraculous web weaving, was more powerful than all the Red Army could dish out against her. The hope she experienced in the knowledge of God, enabled her to retain awareness that oppression would not have the last word.
What Jesus was doing here – in healing, in feeding thousands, in stilling the rough waters for his disciples, in offering sabbath rest to himself and to his followers – it wasn’t about making all the ills of the world disappear. Jesus was bringing something far more transformational into the world – Jesus was bringing hope.
Hope that for all of time has toppled empires and broken the chains of their oppression.
Hope that heals the wounded soul.
Hope born of the knowledge of God’s great love for us.
So let us get our Sabbath rest here, and then in Christ’s name feed the hungry, heal the wounded and broken, soothe the troubled waters of discord and violence with peace, care for creation, and proclaim to all that they are loved – deeply and unconditionally – by God – just as they are.
That’s gonna scare some folks. They will shout at us – telling the world that we and those we serve are the problem and the cause of all their troubles. They will try to stop us – to imprison us in their cells of fear. But they will not prevail.
For we know that even a creature as small as a pea, as small as that little spider, can overcome entire armies when it serves as a living reminder of God’s presence in our lives.
So let us go out into the world and spin threads of hope into the corners of despair. The webs we weave will change us, and transform the world.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/Rec-001-Sermon-July_21_2024.m4a[1] From obituaries of her death and from Gordon MacDonald in Christ Followers in the Real World (Nashville: Oliver Nelson, 1989), 102-3.
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
July 21, 2024
Pentecost 9 – Year B – Track 1
1st Reading – 2 Samuel 7:1-14a
Psalm 89:20-37
2nd Reading – Ephesians 2:11-22
Gospel – Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
The post “The Webs We Weave” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
July 14, 2024: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
I don’t know how many of you got a chance to watch the movie Barbie when it was out, or streamed it online, but if you did, then you know it wasn’t about a doll – not really. It was a fabulous critique of patriarchy, misogyny, and sexism – all in the hilarious context of Barbieland and Kendom.
Today we are getting a view into some biblical Kendom, that land of blatant patriarchy, in our story from 2 Samuel and in the Gospel. No, not really in the text itself, but in the way we have interpreted it through the centuries. So, before we can address what good news is being offered to us in either text, we should first understand a few things about what these scriptures and their interpretation have done.
First, the stories themselves. Just briefly – in the gospel, we find a classic Mark thing – a story in bookends. The beheading of John the Baptizer sits between the sending out of the disciples by Jesus (which we heard last week), and their return (which we will hear next Sunday). The story is kinda gross – King Herod has a daughter Salome (but in Mark she is Herodias, which is kinda confusing as that is also Herod’s wife’s name, so we will use Salome, to be more clear). Anyway, she does a dance to entertain her dad’s guests on his birthday. They are all enthralled by the performance. He promises to grant her anything she wishes. She goes to mom to check on what she should ask for and is told “the head of John the Baptizer.” This is because John, who is in the King’s prison, had been telling the King that his marriage to his brother’s former wife isn’t moral. That could annoy people. Anyway, Salome obeys and adds her own unique twist – that she wants his head served up on a platter. Apparently, she has watched way too many horror movies for a girl her age. The king, being a total jack…, well, you know, doesn’t have the courage to tell his daughter she is out of line, and does what she asks. Good grief – I mean who’s the parent here? This is a nightmare of a story if ever there was one.
And, in 2nd Samuel, David goes to retrieve the Ark of God. Now, as I have said many times, take note when there are verses missing and…there is a big whopper of a tale cut from the passage we heard. We read that David goes to retrieve the Ark (newsflash – because he hears it brings the current holder of it, Abinadab, much good fortune). He is dancing before it playing instruments along the way – that is one happy and talented guy!
Then we skip a bunch of verses, and we hear that he is now taking it out of the house of Obed-edom, still dancing mind you, but this time wearing the priestly garb of an Ephod, sacrificing animals along the way (an ugly detail, but in context, that is how folks gave their thanksgiving to God in those days – kinda makes giving by check or Venmo a whole lot nicer, right?). Then the story takes a weird turn, and shows his wife, Saul’s daughter, Michal (Me-hal), despising David for his behavior dancing in the Ephod before the Ark as he came into town.
What that heck is THAT all about?
Well, first, what did they cut out? Why was the ark first in one guy’s house then in another guy’s house? Well, here is what is missing. David didn’t bother, apparently, to read up on how to properly transport the ark. There’s lots of scriptures about it, but instead, he just puts it on a cart and rolls it along. When Uzzah, a son of Abinadab and one of those charged with transporting it, tries to secure it because it had been jostled by the oxen bearing it, well…you know what happened right? You know, that is, if you ever watched Raiders of the Lost Ark. Goodbye Uzzah.
Fact is, David is really at fault here, because unlike the instructions for assembling a piece of Ikea furniture, God did provide very clear directions on how to build and transport the Ark. There was practically a Tik Tok channel dedicated to it (see Numbers, Exodus, Raiders of the Lost Ark…). First of all, only Kohathites from the priestly tribe of Levi were to transport it. Had they been there, no one would have touched it. For that matter, it never would have been placed on an ox pulled cart in the first place. God was clear about that too – the Levites would bear the ark on their shoulders using poles inserted into rings on either side – see, very detailed instructions – RTFM David.
David saw what happened to Uzzah and said “Oh no… hey – you take it” as he laid it like a bomb at the house of Obed-edom the Gittite. Nice, right? But guess what? Good things came to Obed-edom when his home was filled with the presence of God. So, you see where this is going, right? And that brings us to where our passage we read this morning picks up again. David goes and gets it from Obed-edom, but this time with maybe a little more reverence – he is vested as a priest. The narrative doesn’t say if he thought to have priests carry the ark on their shoulders, but I am guessing he ditched the whole ark on a cart thing.
Then you get that weird bit about Michal (Mi-hal). Yet, again – we are not told the whole story. Here is the Cliff Notes version: Michal was given to David by Saul, because that’s the way things worked then for women (to be clear, THAT’s a story in itself, but let’s not go there). Saul tried to have David killed, and Michal saves his life. For that she is married off to someone else while David builds himself up in power. After Saul’s death, he negotiates to get Michal back. After their tiff today, she doesn’t have any children by him.
So, we are all caught up.
There is a lot to learn about both texts, but first let’s address what the church through the years has done to Salome and to Michal – to David and to Herod – because it matters. No where does it say that Salome danced in any sort of sexual manner, yet that is often the rather salacious take that preachers since the beginning have taken. Let’s be clear – this type of interpretation says more about the pastor than it does about the actual story – and it isn’t a good look. With Michal, she has been treated with derision, and the assumption is that she had no more children by David because God had contempt for her. No where in scripture does it say that either – only that she and David had a tiff. Given what we later find out about David’s rather despicable acts, not to mention that he removed her from the home she had with her other husband – we begin to see how our own sexism is laid into the text as we condemn one without cause, while lifting up the other as a patriarch of the faith.
Haven’t you ever noticed how women in the bible are either saint or sinner, perfect or the devil incarnate. Men, well they can commit adultry and rape like David, deal with their wives and concubines in terrible ways like Abraham, deny Jesus three times like Peter, persecute followers of Jesus like Paul and what do we do – they become the heros of the faith? Meanwhile, we call Bathsheeba a whore, push Hagar out of the picture, and totally ignore the women followers who funded Jesus’ ministry like Mary Magdalene. We call Salome a temptress and Michal a woman punished by God for annoying David.
It reminds me of the monologue from the Barbie movie offered by the fabulous America Ferrara. Speaking to some of the women who had been duped into accepting the patriarchy of the new Kendom, her character says: “It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don’t think you’re good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong.
You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas. You’re supposed to love being a mother, but don’t talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman but also always be looking out for other people.
You have to answer for men’s bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you’re accused of complaining. You’re supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re supposed to be a part of the sisterhood. Always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that, but also… always be grateful.
You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line.
It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault. I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us.” (a link to this moment in the movie is at the end of this sermon)
Michal, Salome, and for that matter – Mary Magdalene, Mary the Mother of Jesus, the woman at the well, and every dang woman since the dawn of time – says AMEN!
Folks, we continue to perpetuate our real world Kendom – a world of patriarchy – every time we look at scriptures in this way. Every time we lift up the men, but condemn the women, or create unrealistic expectations of them. This must end now. Enough is enough is enough!
[pause]
That said –what then can we get from these texts, once we strip them of their patriarchy. Well, it’s simple really.
First, we are reminded that transporting the presence of God is risky business, if done without reverence for the divinity we bear! And second, as we carry that presence with us, we must have the courage and integity that our faith teaches us to do what is right, even when it may be hard to do.
As Jesus makes clear, before and after the story of the beheading of John, we are sent by him to heal, to love, to cast off demons. We who are baptized into him, quite literally carry with us the presence of Christ within us. His light shining, not through our perfection, but through our own brokenness. Knowing this, we should walk with great reverence and humility for the presence of God that is all around us, and in us.
And while we tend to be enthralled by royalty and the trappings of power, we find in the gospel that with great power should come great responsibility – sadly, it often is lacking. But we do see that courage that Herod lacked, and it is found in the disciples of John who bravely came for his body after learning of his execution. That was a dangerous thing to do, but they knew it was right and respectful of the dignity of this servant of God.
All over the world we see this play out over and over again – those who may not have earthly power, but have reverence for God’s creation and the courage to do what is right, rather than what is expedient. They are the ones we need to model.
We see it the mourners who came to the church and the cemetary in the outskirts of Moscow in defiance of Putin to mourn the death of Navalny, the man killed because he fought for freedom in Russia.[1] We see it in those who stood against the torch bearing racists in Charlottesville. We see it in the people who serve Christ in Palestinian territory, including Layan Nasir, an Anglican laywoman, who has been detained by Israel without charge since April. We saw it in the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Archbishops Tutu and Romero, the Nuns on the Bus and the Sisters of Memphis, and so many more throughout time.
Here’s the thing folks… God’s presence isn’t contained in any human made box, but is in everything – how we treat one another, and all of creation – that is how we act toward God. It has the power to heal, to build up, to create, to restore. And, our lack of reverence for it will kill us and those around us.
Now to be sure, those whose faith leads them to be a voice for the voiceless, to stand against injustice – people like John the Baptizer and Jesus, and many people of God before them and since – well, it can lead to their death. Yet, as one commentator noted, “Opposition to the reign of God takes a toll and has lasting consequences, but it never has the last word….We don’t always have the power to rein in the destructive potential of self-obsessed rulers, toxic values, and an unwillingness to listen to truth. But innocent people will suffer when we don’t use the power available to us.”[2]
Indeed. We certainly see in our news from last night of the destructive potential of violence when we do not do what is right. Innocent people do “suffer when we don’t [wisely and courageously] use the power available to us.”
So, let us be the ones – the ones to say we will no longer allow our sacred texts to be used to justify patriarchy, sexism, and misogyny. Instead – we will lift up the voices of women, respect them, and learn from them. For women are made in God’s image, and our behavior toward them is a reflection of our reverance for God.
We will not cower for fear of how we may look if we do the right thing in a difficult circumstance – we will do what is right even to the cross.
We will dance with joy, sing with gusto, and pray with all our heart because we are grateful – not for things, but for the very breath of life, the beauty of God’s creation, the love we experience in Christ Jesus.
Because as followers of Jesus, as ones who revere the holy presence of God all around us – there is no other way – to do otherwise is to die rather than truly live.
Let us choose life.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/Sermon-July-14-2024.mp3[1] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-15-2/commentary-on-mark-614-29-6
[2] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-15-2/commentary-on-mark-614-29-6
Barbie monologue clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBqlDWHkdHk
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
July 14, 2024
Pentecost 8 – Year B
1st Reading – 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19
Psalm 24
2nd Reading – Ephesians 1:3-14
Gospel – Mark 6:14-29
The post “Transporting The Ark Out Of Kendom” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
July 7, 2024: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Well, it is really good to be back from General Convention and here in this pulpit again. I missed you’all!
Gee – did I miss anything? Did anything happen these past few weeks– you know, in the country, in our church? Maybe just a few things, right?
But before we go there, I want to just remind folks about something we heard earlier in the second letter of St. Paul to the church in Corinth (and no, that isn’t called “Two Corinthians” – anyone who ever went to church knows that).
In the epistle, St. Paul reflects on having been given a thorn in the flesh…by Satan no less…which he continues to bear with great pain. He then writes “Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”
“Power is made perfect in weakness.”
Now, I want to make it very clear that St. Paul is NOT saying that anyone who is oppressed, or abused, should just put up with it in the name of Jesus. What on earth could folks be thinking about when they say such a thing (and they do)? The Jesus I know, the Jesus in my heart, would never ever want any child of God to suffer.
No, that isn’t what is going on here. However, we can better understand what St. Paul is telling us by going to the gospel passage from Mark we also heard today.
After being rejected by his hometown, Jesus sends his followers out in pairs, and telling them not to take anything with them – no money, or extra provisions. They are to go from village to village, and stay with whomever welcomes them, as they proclaim the good news.
Now, why on earth would Jesus do that? Why would he send them out without even a credit card or a backpack with a change of clothes?
Well, for one thing, traveling this way makes them vulnerable. They must rely upon the kindness and compassion of strangers. If they are to have a place to rest their head or get a meal, they must also enter into the life setting of others. Then, and only then, are they able to really share the good news.
If only Christians would understand this today.
There have been things going on these past few weeks in our country and in the church. Across this nation a few days ago, we celebrated our Independence Day. A few weeks ago we celebrated Juneteenth, another day of Independence. The previous weekend was the conclusion of Pride month. All of these are moments of liberation, of freedom for the oppressed who suffered under the yoke of the tyranny of the powerful.
These past few weeks also brought news of Louisiana legislating the display of Hebrew scriptures – specifically the so called “Ten Commandments,” in the classrooms of school children. I am not sure which version of this covenant between the Jewish people and God they are referring to, the one from Exodus or the one from Deuteronomy – and I bet they couldn’t answer that either. And, not only is it to be displayed, but it must be in large type on something the size of a poster. Hopefully it is also in the original language of Hebrew, but something tells me that these errant so-called Christians think this came down with Moses from Mount Sinai written in English, preferably that of the era of King James I (or the VI, if you are Scottish).
And we certainly cannot forget what the Supreme Court has done – for one thing: creating a monarchy – a King or Queen with immunity for things done during their term of office as President. The founders of our democratic republic must be turning over in their graves. As we know from history, absolute power of this kind always brings with it tyranny over the most vulnerable among us.
And what is ironic, and truly horrifying, is that these folks, the people on the Supreme Court who made this decision, and the people in Louisiana, self-identify as Christians – as followers of Jesus!
Folks, we have work to do. We have so much work to do.
Because sadly these headline grabbing folks who claim to be followers of Jesus have lost their way.
We know from just this gospel passage that we are not meant as followers of Jesus to seek power, or to instill power in others so that they may thwart justice.
And most especially, we are not meant to force the good news on others – demanding that they listen.
These folks in Louisiana, in an attempt to return to their proverbial hometown, the comfort zone of Christian majorities and filled churches on Sunday, have become the very ones who reject the Christ in their midst.
Jesus in this passage from Mark is very clear – we are sent by him into the world, NOT to dominate, not to nationalize, not to change people to be just like us. We are sent to go to where others are, to seek them out, to live in their context, to know them and let them know us.
Some might say – didn’t Jesus tell his disciples to condemn anyone who rejected the gospel? That isn’t what Jesus was saying at all. He sends his followers out to be the guests of others, and that is a place of vulnerability. For anyone to not welcome the stranger was to reject the law of God. That was the sin of Sodom, as the Matthew version of this story suggests. So Jesus told them to condemn their lack of hospitality to them, and move on.
You know, maybe these folks need to read the entire bible, not just their favorite parts, because there were other commands of God, some from those same books of Exodus and Deuteronomy. In fact, over a hundred of them make it clear that God demands that we welcome the stranger. And who is the stranger? Those who are not like us, those who are vulnerable, those who need us to help them. Today those strangers would be the immigrant or refugee, the homeless, the addicted, the poor, the marginalized and oppressed.
Jesus knew these laws to welcome the stranger, as did his disciples. So no, Jesus was not telling them to condemn their unwillingness to be a follower of Jesus, but their unwillingness to take in the vulnerable, the stranger in their midst.
So, to the folks in Louisiana as well as those who made the Supreme Court decision – we must make it absolutely clear, that as followers of Jesus, we aren’t meant to have power, but have authority.
Authority to speak truth to those with power.
Authority to heal by the grace of God.
Authority to cast out the demons of hate.
And, like Jesus, we aren’t meant to return to our hometowns either.
No, I don’t mean you can’t go visit family or attend a school reunion. But the church needs to guard against its own propensity to look backward to where we came from, not forward to where Jesus is sending us now. We are not meant to yearn for days gone by – for the comfort food of home – the home of yesterday – when pews were filled and budgets were ample.
No. Jesus, in his trip back to his old stompin’ grounds, realized that you can never go back. So he sends his followers out into the world – to places unknown – not as conquerors, but as servants – his servants. If only we had heeded this gospel in days past when our missionary work was misguided and colonialist.
But while we can’t change our past, we can change our future.
We are here today, and Jesus is sending us out too!
He sends us to be an example of what the church should be: Not a people who tell others what to believe, but as those who listen and, rooted in Christ’s love, share the good news by our lives.
Jesus sends us out not condemn, but to shake the dust of hate, bitterness, and division from our feet and proclaim that being unwilling to welcome the stranger, to care for the vulnerable among us, that goes against the law of God.
And that is what your church is doing, and why there was much Good News coming out of General Convention. One event I helped put together was on the work of the committee on which I serve – the Executive Council Committee on Corporate Social Responsibility. At Convention, we celebrated 50+ years of putting our treasure where our heart is by our ethical investing and advocacy through proxy resolutions at shareholder meetings. This might not sound like much, except that it had a direct impact on apartheid in South Africa, on human rights around the world, on the use of fossil fuels, the use of weapons of mass destruction, and more. (For a video on this work, see this link: https://www.episcopalchurch.org/video/the-ccsr-story/ )
At General Convention, we elected our next Presiding Bishop and others to positions of church leadership. We once again made our prayer book marriage rights more inclusive. We condemned both Hamas and the destruction of the Palestinian people. We marched in the streets against gun violence and listened to the voices of young people who suffer under the shadow of it. We lamented our role in the tragedies that took place at Indigenous boarding schools, and so much more. We also “reexamined [our] clergy disciplinary canons while agreeing to consider how lay leaders might be disciplined for wrongdoing, and supported changes in the structures of seven of [our] dioceses,”[1]as we seek to meet the needs of today, rather than of days gone by.
There were other decisions coming out of General Convention that I think were shrouded in the sense of being forward thinking, but I believe were misguided. Things like what happened years ago when the structure of the church was reduced to be more fleet and flexible, when what it did, unintentionally I believe, was limit the number of participants in church governance.
One of those concerns the consecration of our new Presiding Bishop, the Rt. Rev. Sean Rowe, who decided to scale the service down to a small one in the chapel at the Church Center in New York, rather than having it at our cathedral, Washington National Cathedral, in DC. This will eliminate a great many who could normally attend in-person. Yes, either place could livestream it, and it will be, but we are a church born from the incarnational presence of God – the Word made flesh. Physical presence matters. God knew that, why do we struggle to understand it? Participation by livestreaming is not the same thing. Not to mention the evangelism opportunity lost by not having the larger service in such a public sphere. Again, a decision that, on the surface, looks cool, new, and forward thinking, but I believe is retreating into oneself for comfort, or to make a statement, rather than stepping boldly forward into the future Christ is calling the church.
All this to say that while we strive to follow Jesus, we will sometimes make mistakes – because we are not him, we are fully human, and we are vulnerable, and hopefully that will keep us humble for the work we need to do.
Still, on the whole, we are a church on the move – not trying to go back to what once was – but yearning to go where Jesus needs us now.
And so folks, this is an exciting time to be an Episcopalian – a part of this branch of the Jesus movement!
Because we are NOT trying to turn schools for children into church recruitment centers – we are lifting up the voice of children to help build and guide the future of the church!
We are NOT using our baptismal authority to force others to be just like us – we are opening our doors to welcome in the stranger and going out from those same doors in humility to offer nothing less than our service to others and our listening hearts.
We are NOT saying God hates whomever we want to hate – but instead we choose love – because as our Presiding Bishop said at the revival early on in the Convention, in front of more than 2,000 people – “choose love because love can save us.”
Love can save us.
God’s love.
It is the only thing that ever has.
It is the only thing that can.
So don’t look back – look forward!
Don’t hope for what once was – rejoice in what is about to be!
Jesus is sending us – sending you – out into the world.
Grab your staff, put on your sandals and follow the Holy Spirit wherever she leads you.
Because you will cast out demons of hate – by the unconditional love of Jesus.
You will heal people – by the grace of God.
And by your work, the church, you, the entire world, will be saved.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/Rec-001-Sermon-July_7_2024.m4a[1] https://episcopalnewsservice.org/2024/06/28/81st-general-convention-wraps-up-in-louisville/
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
July 7, 2024
The Seventh Sunday After Pentecost
Proper 9 – Track 1
1st Reading – 2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10
Psalm 48
2nd Reading – 2 Corinthians 12:2-10
Gospel – Mark 6:1-13
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June 16, 2024 – LGBTQ+ Sunday: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
For the past three weeks, I have been trying to live into our State nickname – you know, The Garden State. As you know, I live up in Sussex County, where there are farms, cows, sheep, and horses. So, I figured I better do my part. However, the area is filled with Martinsburg Formation, the slate/shale that is all over New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and other parts of the Appalachian Valley (or in my neck of the woods – Kittatinny Valley). So, to plant anything, you need to use a pick axe to dig, and it takes a lot of muscle and time.
Which is why I decided to give the no-dig garden a try. It is where you put cardboard and/or newspaper over the area you want to garden. You water that, and then put a layer of soil/compost. Water that too. Then – you are done! You put in your plants, and BAM! Instant garden. Except, mine is on a slope, so I have lots of that shale to find, load into a wheelbarrow, and add to a dry stone wall I am building to prevent soil run-off. This, folks, is gonna take awhile.
So, I say all this because I laughed so hard when I heard the gospel today. I mean, Jesus tells his followers a parable about a farmer who puts seeds into the ground, goes to bed, gets up, day after day after day, and TA-DA! The earth just produces everything all by itself! The plants just come right up without the farmer having any idea how. Clearly Jesus never saw me try to garden.
Now, this first of two parables we hear is only in the gospel of Mark – the second one is also in Matthew and Luke, but with some changes. Several of you participated in the book club study of the Gospel of Mark as story. And in Mark, the first of the canonical gospels to be written, nothing is put in there without significance. This author was not interested in lots of detail, but rather had a sense of urgency throughout the gospel narrative. So for Mark to pair this unique story about the farmer who does not know how the seed that he planted ends up growing from the earth, with the other one about the mustard seed, there must be some reason.
I was thinking about that and these parables as we approached this LGBTQ+ Sunday in this Pride Month. Earlier this month, a news agencies reported that a political party in Colorado sent out an email that “referred to LGBTQ+ people as “barbaric,” “creeps,” “degenerates,” “godless,” “groomers,” “predators,” “radicals,” and “reprobates.” The message also linked to a sermon from Pastor Mark Driscoll, which proclaimed in the video thumbnail “God hates flags,” wordplay on a popular conservative slogan that uses a derogatory slur.”[1]
That type of vitriolic and sinful hate is sadly not new, nor is the fact of that sort of speech coming from so-called Christians. Hate, bigotry, violence – it has been a part of humanity since the dawn of time. However, when it comes from the mouths of those who were baptized into Christ, it is a stark reminder of just how little some people actually understand the Savior they claim to follow, and what that means for them.
Worse, they act as if the bible told them to hate. Nothing could be further from the truth. It makes me wonder if any of them ever really read it. Take the story we are beginning to hear this morning about the young handsome boy with beautiful eyes God chooses to make King over Israel, David. Something tells me that folks never read anything more about David, especially about his rather intimate love relationship with Jonathan, King Saul’s son. Now that’ll rock the world of those gay bashing folks, well, it would, except they would need to actually read it and not ignore what they read, or try to twist it into something that fits their narrative – you know, like David and Jonathan were like really, really, great pals.
King Saul didn’t think they were just buddies, because he exploded on his son at dinner once saying “‘You son of a perverse, rebellious woman! Do I not know that you have chosen the son of Jesse to your own shame, and to the shame of your mother’s nakedness?” Not sure why he had to bring up his mother’s nakedness, talk about being a bit perverse (but that is also putting my 21st century lens on it, and we shouldn’t do that). But to put those words of Saul into today’s parlance – “You are no son of ours for choosing David as your soul mate. Your mother and I are really upset.” Many gay folks can relate to that story, to be sure.
See – the bible really is filled with cool stuff for everyone. Want more – try the Song of Solomon. That will read like one of those many, many, many sex scenes in Bridgerton. Honestly, can’t those screenwriters come up with dialog?
Now, back to our parables today, because in this world where people get all crazy about what they do not know or understand – we need to really listen to what Jesus is saying.
Here’s one way to think of it – Every day of our lives are like a seed God planted into soil. We don’t always know how things are going to go. You know – that soil I used over the cardboard – it was dark – I can’t see what’s going on in there. And…it’s full of compost, which means it is basically organic waste. I suppose you could say that when God plants us, we can’t really know how things are going to go – the future is dark to us, and a boatload of crap is going to be a part of our growing process. And through it all, the sun will rise and set as the years go by and we grow into all God hoped for us, unless, of course, someone dumps a whole lot of toxic stuff on us.
But, for followers of Jesus, there is more to it, which is why these two parables may have been joined together by this gospel author. We are seeds, but we are also the farmer too. And you know what is really awesome about these two parables being side by side? Sometimes, as we follow Jesus into the world, we will plant mustard seeds too. In fact, we must.
As you already know, most of you, from past sermons, the humble mustard plant was to Jesus’ audience as the pesky Russian Olive shrub is to NJ homeowners. No one would ever plant it. Those mustard shrubs were invasive – they exploded everywhere and got into everything. So, to the folks Jesus was speaking to, this was a riddle – a joke – like Jesus telling you to plant dandelions in your yard. Crazy, right? Well…not so really – dandelions feed our much needed pollinators – the bees.
Back to Jesus – why would he say that? Why would he give his disciples this riddle of sorts?
Well because like any invasive weed, the mustard plant, will spread incessantly once it takes root. Weeds are like that, as any gardener will attest – especially me. For instance, a single dandelion will cast off loads of seeds, which make it difficult to control. So, Jesus is telling us that the kingdom of God like a humble weed that will not be stopped, cannot be controlled, and will spread far and wide to nourish others, to the annoyance of some. Yet this is only possible, if a single seed is dropped.
So, what has this gospel to do with what is happening here in this country of ours? Everything.
Look, it can be hard for people to really understand what it feels like to be LGBTQ+ if you are not. So, let me tell you my story. I won’t go through the whole growing up bit – we’d be here all day. I can tell you though that as an adult, a woman working in the male dominated tech corporate world, things were tough already. I had to be three times better than the men to get noticed. Worse though, was that I couldn’t be myself. I was gay, and when I would have a wonderful weekend with someone I was dating, I couldn’t share it over lunch with colleagues on Monday.
Many knew, or suspected, but it wasn’t like I could put photos up on my desk. This was especially hard once I met (in church no less) my wife, Brenda. After dating for a year, we became engaged, and then had the wedding and honeymoon of dreams (and o fmany, many dollars). People still talk about it to this day – in fact, just yesterday, someone told me that a mutual friend who attended was just saying the other day that she hadn’t danced that much before or since.
And while the most important day of my life, it would be some time before I would dare to put a photo of our wedding day on my work desk. But things did change, and started to get better for the LGBTQ+ community in those years.
Domestic partnerships, in NJ at least, was passed. It protected us legally, though marriage equality was years away. And when Brenda was diagnosed with metastatic breast, even the large insurance company I worked for gave me the time off I needed to be with her and care for her. So…perhaps things would be fine for us and for all LGBTQ+ people, right?
Well, about that marriage equality – it was not yet a thing in 2006 when eventually, Brenda succumbed to the cancer, and entered the communion of saints in heaven. So, because we were not married in the eyes of the government, I ended up with a huge tax bill, because the government declared her life insurance to be income. It was a devastating financial blow on top of all the grief I was drowning in at the time.
But my church, and the Community of St. John Baptist – the sisters of our Episcopal Convent in Mendham – they were there for the both of us while she was ill, and for me in the years afterward. By God’s grace, they nurtured me back into new life.
They were the mustard plant – feeding me in my time of need, offering shelter in my darkest hours.
And so here we are today – and marriage equality, while a reality now, is under threat.
LGBTQ+ people are still being targeted.
So called “Christians” are not loving their neighbor and welcoming the stranger, but are hating other children of God. Worse – they are creating God in their image – telling people that God just so happens to hate the very things and people they do – talk about idolatry! And, they threaten to harm those very people.
Just this past week, the wife of Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito said this to an undercover operative ““You know what I want? …I want a Sacred Heart of Jesus flag because I have to look across the lagoon at the Pride flag for the next month.” …Ms. Alito said that after sharing this idea with her husband he said, “Oh, please, don’t put up a flag.” Seriously? A flag that is about love and inclusion is that offensive to someone who follows Jesus? Sadly, there is more…
She added that after her husband was “free of this nonsense” (Nonsense? The work of the highest court in our land? I don’t even have time to deal with that one). Anyway, she said she would be putting up flags, including one that would read in Italian, Vergogona, or “Shame.” But she didn’t stop there, she added ““Look at me, look at me. “I’m German, from Germany. My heritage is German. You come after me, I’m going to give it back to you.”
Lordy, that is some crazy, well, keeping it clean – compost – coming out of her mouth and heart. Well, Ms. Alito, I can assure you that while you may be making not so veiled references to a painful time in German history, I know them to be good people, And, surprise! Germany is ranked one of the highest countries for the rights of…wait for it…LGBTQ+ people!
Truth be told though, it is truly sad. Sad that someone has such bitterness in their hearts. What kind of life is that? “Vergogna” is right, but not in the way she intended it to be. If she hung that flag outside of her home, it would indeed be a good fit – but not about her neighbors.
All of this is a reminder that when we have people like her and that pastor in Colorado out there saying crap like that, saying that people like me, like my wife Brenda, like many of you here today, are not worthy of love, of respect, of the ability to feel pride in being children of God, we need to get to work.
We have some planting to do, my friends, and we need to do it with abundance.
The seeds we plant will be mustard seeds – humble seeds of unconditional love and grace that will nourish those in need, and be an invasive annoyance to those who would choke off the life of children of God.
We will plant these seeds abundantly, and like the farmer, we won’t always know how things come about, but be sure that it will. It will by God’s grace.
Then, day by day, seed by seed, humble mustard shrub by mustard shrub, we will build that beloved community – that world of peace God dreams for us all.
Then, we will truly know that love is love is love.
God’s love most of all.
Happy Pride Everyone!
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Rec-001-Sermon-June_16_2024-LGBTQ_Sunday_.m4a[1] Ryan Adamczeski, Yahoo News
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
June 16, 2024
4th Sunday After Pentecost – LGBTQ+ Sunday
Proper 6 – Track 1
1st Reading – 1 Samuel 15:34-16:13
Psalm 20
2nd Reading – 2 Corinthians 5:6-10, 14-17
Gospel – Mark 4:26-34
The post “Vergogna & Compost” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
June 9, 2024: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
I love our Mass on the Grass…With Brass! Of course this year, we are missing “the grass.” Still, we do this each year, not only because we can be surrounded by the beauty of God’s creation, but because when we move outside our doors into our community – together – to offer our thanksgiving to God, we are literally surrounded by the gifts of God – the sounds and sights of creation, and the many people we serve in Christ’s name. And by that, we are reminded that going to church isn’t about a specific place, but about getting strength for the journey of being the church in the world.
But, to the sermon now…
Homiletic professors will rightly tell you not to try to preach on all the text of the day – just too much unless you want to go on for an hour and we know that no one, in the Episcopal Church at least, wants a sermon longer than 20 minutes. So, buckle your seatbelts, because this might get a bit bumpy.
In the Hebrew text, our boy Samuel is now really old. I mean, just last week we heard the story of his call as a young boy serving in the temple, and now suddenly he’s an old guy? Dang…you can’t even go grab some popcorn with this narrative.
Truth is, there were some chapters between (all about the Philistines, the stolen Ark, and a crazy story about a God named Dagon – cool stuff, but nothing about our prophet Sam). We next here about him in the verses just prior to this that tell us that Sam has been the judge of Israel for many years.
Now to today’s episode, Samuel listens to the people saying “You know what, we want to be like everyone else – we want a King to rule over us!” Sam isn’t happy and tells God about it. God says., “Look Sam, they didn’t reject you, they rejected me. Go warn them to be careful what they ask for.” So Sam tells the people everything a King or any autocrat will do: You know, like take your stuff, take your children, enslave the people, tax the hell out of you, and utterly oppress everyone…. And you know what the people said “Hell Yea! That’s just what we want!”
Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up.
Now, let’s pause there and head over to St. Paul’s second letter to the church in Corinth. This is part of a longer passage that is one of the most beautiful in our scriptures. It is a favorite choice for funerals, and with good reason. St. Paul writes “So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal. For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”
“…what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.” Park that for a minute…
And then you have the gospel of Mark, where Jesus is casting out demons. Jesus’ own blood relatives were trying to scurry him away from the crowds for fear of all that crazy stuff he was saying and doing, because to most folks, it seemed impossible to cast out demons unless he was possessed. The scribes said he had to be filled with the spirit of the devil himself. It’s like they were all the Church Lady of Saturday Night Live pointing at Jesus and saying “Can you say Satan?”
Now, I am sure Jesus’ relatives are not the first or the last to think someone in their family was just about “two fries short of a happy meal.” I suspect there are several of you here today that have relatives that leave you wondering if they are possessed, …or perhaps vice versa.
But, rather than answering his critics, both family and scribe, with a Billy Joel like “You may be right, I may be crazy, but it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for…” Jesus responded with righteous indignation, asking How can evil cast out evil? He tells them, “…if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand.” And yeah…Abraham Lincoln (and everybody else) was quoting Jesus you’all, despite all the social media memes that tell you otherwise.
Now what on earth or heaven could these three texts have to do with one another and why do we care?
Good questions. Here’s the thing…
Many houses these days are divided – across the country and around the world – leaving lots of people thinking their family members are crazy – and…perhaps they are! Seriously though, especially here in this country, the divides are deep and destructive – across political lines, race, gender, ways of being and loving, age, physical ability and more. This is what drives people to a level of despair and fear that destroys not only them, but anyone around them.
The downward spiral starts simply enough – people feel threatened, they despair the world around them, they fear change or what is not known to them – as crazy as that sounds, this is what is happening right now. Talk about temporary insanity!
The thing is democracy, like faith, can sometimes feel too dang hard for some folks, because it asks people to live within the tension of difficult choices, of not knowing what may be, of being open to things, to people, to ideas that feel foreign to them. It means be willing to stand shoulder to shoulder with those who disagree with you and love them anyway (or at least listen to them).
So when some folks can’t take all of that, they start to think life would be easier if some kind of control could be imposed, and to be clear – control over OTHER people, not them, of course. Insert whomever one considers to be other in this scenario. It is then that, like the people of Israel in the story of Samuel, there will always be those who scream for a king (or in today’s parlance – an autocrat, a dictator, or a president without any accountability). And into these times of distress will come those who will take advantage by telling everyone that they alone can make that all go away – they can take care of all the problems.
This is when, as followers of Jesus, we need most to remember the words of St. Paul “So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. …what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”
While that sounds like things will be fine after we die, even if things really stink here on earth, and that is true, what St. Paul was also trying to say is that, in the midst of hardship, there is hope. And hope will be what allows us to keep going as the world seems to be spinning out of control.
In this crazy world, where strife and divisions threaten to tear asunder, where some are turning their hearts over to wanna be dictators to be their savior, where injustice abounds and creation groans under the weight of our abuse, the words of St. Paul can help us. For in that hope we are grounded once again in the knowledge of the eternal – of God, and we remember who we are and whose we are, because the truth is, we sometimes forget.
In her book “Penguins and Golden Calves,” Madeleine L’Engle tells a true story about a family who has a 2 1/2-year-old daughter and a newborn baby. They do all they can to soften the displacement their older daughter might feel, encouraging her to hold and help change the baby. Everything is fine until they try to put the daughter to bed one night. She says, rather frantically, “I want to see baby.”
“Well, of course, darling, well take you to see the baby.”
“No, just me.”
“No, Mummy or Daddy will go with you.”
“No! I want to see baby alone!”
Seeing she was getting upset, they finally, they let her go. As they stood back in the doorway, the little girl bent over the cradle and said, “Tell me about God. I’m forgetting.”
See, we are all born with the knowledge of God. And now, more than ever, we need to try to reach back to the eternal – to remember the things we knew as children – the joy of life without boundaries, of believing in things not seen. And, we also need to remember that, like children, we are dependent on God to guide us, to stand beside us, to work through us, and to love us.
If we can do that, if we can remember who we are, and whose we are, then we will have our hearts open to the power of the Holy Spirit to do as St. Paul said, “renew our inner nature day by day.” We won’t run out of gas, even as we enter into the insanity of an election year. And that, my friends, will just allow us to do what we are called to do as followers of Jesus.
To break the chains of oppression.
To be a voice for the voiceless.
To be stand for the helpless.
To be a light for those who live in darkness.
To bring about God’s dream for us of that beloved community where all are welcome, all are loved, all are filled with hope.
And you know what – folks are gonna call that crazy!
They are gonna say we are out of our freakin’ minds if we think we can do all that!
They are gonna want us to shut up too!
They will want some authority or other to put us away!
Well, let ‘em. Let ‘em try.
Because we know the meaning of unconditional love – as we have been loved by Christ Jesus and nothing that any human can throw at us will ever stop us.
We know, that their fear, their hate, is temporary, but God’s love is eternal.
We know, that there is nothing crazier in this dang world than believing that some human is going to save us. We already have a savior, and he isn’t running for President, or Govrenor, or the local Council!
So, let ‘em. Let ‘em tell us we’re crazy. Heck, they may even be right.
That is… if it’s crazy to hope.
Crazy to care.
Crazy to love.
But we know different.
We know it ain’t crazy at all.
What’s crazy is a world that would think so.
But right now, we can’t worry about that, can we!
We are the Episcopal Branch of the Jesus Movement, and we will follow him – be him in the world – casting out the demons of despair, hate, fear, and violence – because we know about a “crazy little thing called love” – God’s love – and there is nothing that can stand in the way of that.
There are no tyrants that are more powerful, nor armies that are stronger.
There is not any hate that can defeat it, nor fear that it cannot overcome.
These are temporary afflictions, and we who follow Jesus will draw on our inner nature – the one renewed day by day in Him – to change the world – one crazy act of love and grace at a time.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Rec-001-Sermon-June_9_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
June 9, 2024
The Third Sunday After Pentecost
1st Reading – Genesis 3:8-15
Psalm 130
2nd Reading – 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1
Gospel – Mark 3:20-35
The post “Temporary Insanity” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
June 2, 2024: May God’s words be spoken. May God’s words be heard. Amen.
Like many of you, I was glued to the television taking in the monumental news this week of a former President of the United States being convicted of 34 felony crimes by the people of the State of New York. Of course, this is new to us here, but many other countries, including France, South Korea, Egypt, Algeria, Japan, Israel, Russia, Norway, Italy, and more, have convicted & imprisoned former heads of state long before we ever got around to just putting one on trial. So, not exactly big news around the rest of the world. Of course there are other trials going on – this time in Federal court – with our own Democratic Senator of NJ Menendez that starts this week, and Democratic Congressman Cuellar from the state of Texas. Corruption seems to know no political party boundary. And none of this is limited to politicians. There was also the news of horrific videos of Sean “Diddy” Combs and the Federal Grand Jury investigation into alleged sexual assault too. And so much more.
The sad truth is that we have an unhealthy habit in this country of assuming that if you are rich, famous, or powerful, you must also be good, right, and just. We tend to put our famous folks up on pedestals, and we become shocked when they come falling down – hard. We want to blame the system. We want to think it can’t be true.
Why is it that we can believe the most horrific things that are untrue about some people, but not believe the very real things about people we like? Well, it is a type of blindness, or really deafness, to what is right in front of us, and it doesn’t happen overnight.
I was thinking about all this when pondering the texts for today. In the story of Samuel in the first reading today, the passage opens with “Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.”
“The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.” Hold on to that thought as we hear again the story of Samuel.
He was a boy, probably around 12, the first child of Hannah, who had prayed to God, in that very temple where Eli serves, for a child. She promised in that prayer to give the child to God’s service if her prayer were answered. And when she finally gave birth to him and he was fully weaned, she made good on that promise, brought him to the temple, and offered up a prayer. And, if we paid attention, we would hear this in parts of Hannah’s prayer: ‘My heart exults in the Lord; my strength is exalted in my God… …The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble gird on strength. Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread, but those who were hungry are fat with spoil…The Lord raises up the poor from the dust; he lifts the needy from the ash heap…”
Sound familiar? It is what Mary, the mother of Jesus, had in her heart when she prayed with knowledge of who it was that was in her womb – and yeah, as I always point out – Mary knew.
Back to the story today though… Eli was old and had stopped listening to God. His sons, leaders in the temple, were corrupt, and they had preyed upon those they were called to serve. Into this environment the young Samuel was offered by his mother in fulfillment of her promise to God. This is why, as the text notes, the boy did not yet know God. There was no one to teach him…at least not until this moment.
Samuel is sleeping in the temple and hears a voice. Now, this might be a warning for everyone – be careful where you sleep. Or, as one pastor put it, the sermon for this text ought to be titled “The Danger Of Sleeping In Church.!”
Anyway, back to young Samuel, he hears this voice calling out “Samuel! Samuel!” He gets up, runs to where Eli is sleeping, wakes him up and says “Got your call – wadda ya need?” Eli, likely annoyed, sends him back to bed. The voice is heard again. Again Samuel goes to Eli, and again Eli tells him to knock it off and go back to bed. Finally, when it happens again, Eli realizes that this isn’t some sort of annoying prank, but that maybe, just maybe, this kid is hearing something from God. So, Eli tells him to go back, and if he hears the voice again, to respond with “Speak Lord, for your servant is listening.” And listen he does – to the bad news that he must deliver to Eli – that God is really ticked off at the wickedness of his sons and his unwillingness to do anything about it – so things are not going to go well for them.
Samuel goes back to his mentor and says, “Eli, ya gonna lose it all.” And Eli responds, “Yeah, that tracks.”[1]
The thing is, this a call story. For Samuel, of course, but also Eli – for though he had long ago stopped listening to God himself, he had the experience and the wisdom to guide the young Samuel in how to listen to God, and thereby enabled the prophetic work he would do in his life.
Now, remember that bit that opened the story of Samuel and Eli? “The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.” “The word of the Lord rare?”…highly unlikely. The reality was they weren’t listening. God is always speaking – then and now. The question for us, are we listening? Do we even know how to listen?
Samuel could hear, but he didn’t understand. That’s because hearing and listening are not the same thing. He needed someone to help him. Every single person who ever was called into ordained life will tell you that we didn’t understand what it was we were called to without help. People saw in us, or heard God’s call in us – they were able to help us listen, help us respond. Eli may have lost his way, but in a sort of final act of grace, he was able to guide his young charge so that Samuel could do what he was called to do. And to Eli’s credit, he pushed Samuel to fulfill his vow to God and speak the prophetic messages he was told to – no matter how hard it was for Eli to hear.
What about us?
What about you?
Whose voice are you listening to?
Sadly, though many go to church on Sundays, they often follow others – whether on Instagram, Threads, Facebook, the news…whatever it is – we are really good at following. But the one we promise in our baptism to follow – his voice – well, sometimes it just doesn’t break through. Maybe it would be better if Jesus had a Tik Tok channel – you know “Christ Tok.” Like a mug one of you gave me that says “Jesus is my influencer.” The other side of the mug says “Like and follow him.”
Folks, we are not meant to listen and follow to famous people – music or movie stars, politicians, or insta influencers…because when we do that – I can assure you – we will be deeply disappointed. We, who are baptized into him, are meant to listen to Jesus, to hear his voice, to answer his call! And oh how we need to do that these days, because the voices of others are loudly proclaiming to follow Jesus, but advocate with flags, banners, and social media Christian Nationalism.
Now I have been talking about this for some time and I will continue to do so as long as there are those who dare to conflate following Jesus with earthly civil power. These folks are the Elis and his sons of today – they have stopped listening to the Word of God. Worse, there are memes going around where the former POTUS is hugged by Jesus with the words “I too was persecuted, or depicted hanging on a cross with a flag as his loin cloth” I kid you not! To which, I think his mom would like to have a word – something along the lines of the Magnificat “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” Never, and I mean never, equate the son of God to any human politician, artist, or anything else – no matter who they are. That is blasphemous.
Folks, we have serious work to do, and we cannot delay in doing it. We need to listen to God. We need to speak about our faith. We need to proclaim the good news of Christ – of that unconditional love of God. We need to be guided by the Holy Spirit and help others to be as well.
And that means that sometimes we will have to say things to people, as Samuel did to Eli, that they don’t want to hear.
It means we also need to listen to the ways in which God is calling us.
It means we will need to be watchful for those God is calling, and help them to hear God’s voice – help them to respond and be who they were born to be.
And that takes practice – so it also means we have to continually remind ourselves of who we are and what we are called to do.
I remember a story about the former newscaster, Dan Rather. He spoke once about his way of keeping his professional objective always in mind. He says he looks often at a question he’s written on three slips of paper. He keeps one in his wallet, one in his pocket, and one on his desk. The probing reminder asks, “Is what you are doing now helping the broadcast?”
We should have those notes too – except for us, it would read “Is what you are doing helping spread the good news of Jesus?”
And of course the best place to practice is here – right here in church…though try not to fall asleep.
For it is here that we are reminded of who we are in Word and in sacrament.
Here we are given strength for that call in the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.
Here we learn to listen – to listen to God’s voice – because, for perhaps the only time in our busy week, we don’t have our cell phones out, we aren’t also cooking, watching TV, working… those are set aside. Here we allow ourselves the luxury of a singular focus – to listen in heart, mind, and soul, to God.
And when you do this, when you set your ears to listen, you just might feel in your deepest heart some voice stirring. If that happens, remember the words of Eli: Say “Speak God, for your servant is listening.”
And if someone tells you they are sensing something deep inside – something persistent they can’t quite name – tell them to listen more, and help them to hear it, to respond to it, no matter what it may mean for you.
Do this, all of you.
Do it because the world needs prophets – those who hear the Word and share it with others – for there are many powerful voices out there shouting hate and killing God’s children by their words and actions.
The world needs visions – for so many have lost the ability to dream of what can and should be. And visions are the lanterns that light the path toward what is possible.
As we enter this month of June in which we call for an end to gun violence on June 3rd, when we celebrate the freedom of people of color on Juneteenth, when we proclaim that love is love is love in all of this Pride month – we need to remember who we are – to listen for God’s voice, to help others to listen too, and to respond to that voice in the world.
Because that is what being a follower of Jesus is – we listen to his voice and model him in the world.
And that means we never align with earthly power, but serve all of creation, guided by the Holy Spirit, and with the humility of Jesus by the grace of God.
That means we never hate anyone or anything, but love all people unconditionally, and seek forgiveness when we fail, as we humans are bound to do.
That means we do not look to human idols for our guidance, but only to the one true God.
Because Jesus is our influencer – and we follow him.
And because of that, we will fight against injustice, as he calls us to do.
We will speak up for the voiceless, as he calls us to do.
We will be repairers of the breach, as he calls us to do.
We will serve the prisoner, the immigrant, the sick, the poor and thirsty, as he calls us to do.
We will listen to His voice, we will say “Speak God, for your servant is listening.”
And if we do that, all the world will come to know that “The word of the Lord is truly plentiful in these days and visions are widespread” most especially the vision of peace and harmony, of love and joy that God dreams for us all.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Rec-001-Sermon-June_2_2024.m4a[1] From Matt Skinner on Sermon Brainwave.
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
June 2, 2024
The Second Sunday After Pentecost
Proper 4 – Track 1
1st Reading – 1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20)
Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17
2nd Reading – 2 Corinthians 4:5-12
Gospel – Mark 2:23-3:6
The post “Jesus Is My Influencer” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
May God’s words be spoken. May God’s words be heard. Amen.
The Feast of Pentecost doesn’t get the same attention as Easter or Christmas. We don’t hold big family gatherings (though for some, that may be a good thing). It isn’t a typical day for exchanging gifts or sending Pentecost cards proclaiming a windy day of fire and speaking in tongues. Which is kind of a shame, because that would be so cool!
Now last week, because it was Mother’s Day, I asked you all to step out of your comfort zone and join me in using mother rather than father when speaking of God, because, as scripture makes clear, both male and female are made in God’s image. To be unable to recognize the divine feminine is to essentially say to God, “I don’t care that you are both male and female, or neither. I refuse to see you as anything but male.” It is essentially trying to push God into the same patriarchal box the folks centuries ago created – making God in the image we choose – as IF God could be contained by our human definitions!
Even if that is sadly too big a leap for some people to make, it is scripturally inaccurate to refer to the Holy Spirit as He. As I point out each year, Spirit in the Greek is pneuma – a gender neutral noun (from where we get pneumatology), and in Hebrew it is Ruach – a feminine noun. We didn’t make the Holy Spirit a boy until we latinized the Hebrew and the Greek. So, that outta be a reason to lift up this Sunday, because it gives focused attention to the feminine side of the Trinity.
And, if wind, fire, and the divine feminine isn’t enough – the Feast of Pentecost does give us some great music.
The hymnody for this Sunday is wonderful. The hymns we sing today, of course, but also “Gracious Spirit, give your servant” to the tune of Abbot’s Leigh, “Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,” sung to St. Agnes, and more. Of course, back in 2014, on my first Pentecost Sunday with you, I not only mentioned a pop song, but played it during The Peace dancing down the aisle as we all sang along. Anyone remember what that was?
Right – Billy Joel’s “We didn’t start the fire.” And there is another one too – [start the music]
“Prepare yourself you know it’s a must – Gotta have a friend in Jesus. So you know that when you die, He’s gonna recommend you. To the spirit in the sky (spirit in the sky)”1
See? the Holy Spirit at least gets Her due in music!
But to be clear, that other pop song had it wrong. Besides the part where it says “Never been a sinner, never sinned. I’ve got a friend in Jesus.” I mean – seriously? Never? While it is nice to know “you have a friend in Jesus”, ‘cause you do, it is clear you haven’t spent a human day on this earth if you’ve never sinned. But seriously, this whole “Spirit in the Sky” stuff may be good for pop music, but downright off when talking about the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete (as Jesus refers to it in the gospel we heard today). Because the Holy Spirit isn’t waiting up “there.” She is just not that passive.
The thing is – Billy Joel had it right. “We didn’t start the fire, it was always burning since the world’s been turning.”
The Holy Spirit has been around since the dawn of all time. That holy breathe of God moved across the chaos of the darkness and brought into life creation. The Holy Spirit has been at work in the world before the incarnation and ever since too. So, just as Easter cannot be contained in Eastertide – we are an Easter people, the workings of the Holy Spirit cannot be contained within this Sunday, or for that matter, the entire season of Pentecost!
But on this Sunday, it is a good thing that we reflect on the way in which the Holy Spirit was at work in the origin of the church, because it is something we need to remember if we are going to be the church today.
In the gospel of John, we hear a part of a longer passage that is broken up over the three lectionary years. In Year B, the one we are in now, we get the part where Jesus is telling his followers about his impending death, resurrection, and ascension. He says that he will send them the Paraclete (from the Greek παράκλητος). It is traditionally translated as Advocate, Intercessor, Comforter, etc. However, it is better thought of as “the one who comes alongside.”
Now, you might think – “that’s not exactly how this thing all went down for those earliest followers, – I mean…wouldn’t coming alongside mean more like pulling up a chair not setting my head on fire?” Sure, sometimes. Sometimes though, we just might need a bit more, because we aren’t good at listening to God. Oh, we are good at talking to God – we do it all the time, or so I hope so. But prayer, that is a conversation. And it requires listening, because this advocacy, this walking alongside, it’s a partnership. It is hard to be a good partner if you aren’t listening – ask anyone currently married. When it comes to God, well, we just don’t always listen. God invites us into our calling in the world, but we often don’t see the open door. Instead, we can be like those horror movies where there is a noise in the basement when alone at night, and instead of leaving the house and calling 911, we go down there to check it out.
I saw a meme the other day that said “Me yelling at squirrels in the street to move so they don’t die is probably the same feeling God has watching me live my life most days.” So very true for many of us, and I suspect that those earliest followers of Jesus were not too different either. They were going to need a message from God that would get their attention. And Lordy, the Spirit deliver on that!
Thankfully, through the centuries, many have heard the Spirit of Truth walking alongside them, and they responded, without the need for wind and flames. One of those is a saint of the church, who we celebrated this past week. And you know what? She died in 1965. She was not from a very long time ago in a galaxy far, far, away. Her name is Frances Perkins.
Frances Perkins was born Fannie Coralie Perkins in Boston, Massachusetts on April 10th 1880. “While a student at Mount Holyoke College, Perkins heard a speaker vividly describe the nation’s growing urban and industrial problems. She was deeply moved.
When she was living in Lake Forest, Illinois, and working in Chicago, she was attracted to the Episcopal Church. Perkins was confirmed at the Church of the Holy Spirit, Lake Forest, on June 11, 1905. She remained a life-long Episcopalian.
While working at a Chicago settlement house, she determined to “do something about unnecessary hazards to life, unnecessary poverty” because “our Lord has directed all those who thought they were following in His path to visit the widows, the orphans, … the prisoners and so forth.”
Perkins earned an M.A. at Columbia University in 1910. In 1911, after hearing of the Triangle Shirtwaist fire in New York in which 146 factory workers died, she took up industrial safety work for the City of New York. “Perkins continued her work in industrial relations, serving at the state level with Al Smith and Franklin D. Roosevelt during their respective terms as Governor of New York.”1
In 1933 President Franklin D. Roosevelt appointed her Secretary of Labor. Before accepting the job, she consulted with her friend, Suffragan Bishop Charles K. Gilbert of New York. She responded to Roosevelt by outlining for him a set of policy priorities she would want to pursue: a 40-hour work week; a minimum wage; unemployment compensation; worker’s compensation; abolition of child labor; direct federal aid to the states for unemployment relief; Social Security; a revitalized federal employment service; and universal health insurance. She made it clear to Roosevelt that his agreement with these priorities was a condition of her joining his cabinet. Roosevelt said he endorsed them all, and Frances Perkins became the first woman in the nation to serve in a Presidential cabinet.”
Frances Perkins led a “Committee on Economic Security, where she forged the blueprint of legislation finally enacted as the Social Security Act. Signed into law by the President on August 14, 1935, the Act included a system of old age pensions, unemployment compensation, workers’ compensation and aid to the needy and disabled. In 1938, Congress enacted the Fair Labor Standards Act, also crafted with the support of Perkins, establishing a minimum wage and maximum work hours and banning child labor.”2
Of course, I should note, she also was the winner of the Golden Halo of Lent Madness several years ago too!
Frances Perkins, seeing the poor and homeless, hearing of the horrific deaths of workers at the Triangle Shirt Waist Factory, heard the Spirit of Truth, the advocate, call her into ministry. Her faith, her willingness to see the need around her, led Frances to go further into the world than was expected of a woman of means at that time.
See, the thing about the Holy Spirit, as we hear in the Pentecost story in Acts, is that the world wasn’t made able to hear the apostles, the apostles were made to be able to listen to the world. They were given the gift of the languages of the world that they might go and meet people where they are – and join in the work the Holy Spirit was calling them to – which is, as Peter says to the crowd, prophet work. Peter, quoting from Joel, told them “God said, “Then afterwards I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.”
Frances was given that gift too – to be able to see, to hear, to have compassion for, to respond to, the people most in need in our society. To prophesy to the highest positions in our land that something must be done. Not only to prophesy – but to force the changes needed. She was able to dream dreams, and to make them reality.
And the thing is – we are meant to do that too!
Okay, maybe we don’t speak multiple languages, though in this very diverse congregation, with people from many parts of the world, you actually do. But we are meant to go out into the world to see, to listen, to meet people where they are rather than expecting them to come through our doors. And, we are meant to prophesy.
We are called to bear witness to injustice.
We are called to visions and dreams of what could be.
And that can’t be done only on Sunday mornings at 10:30am.
No. As I have said often in my 10 years with you, Church isn’t a destination. This is where we are given strength for the journey – in the real presence of the Eucharist.
This is where we are reminded of our baptismal call.
This is where we respond to the deacon’s dismissal to go out into the world.
Frances Perkins understood that. She knew that her faith meant that she could never turn her back on children of God who were suffering. She could have – certainly women in those times were meant to be seen more than heard (often true today too). But no. She insisted that her work, her life, have meaning – the meaning God intended for her, and for the world. That didn’t mean it was easy. In 1939, the programs she was advocating for were enraging Republicans, and she was brought up on impeachment charges, claiming she was a Communist. This was a deeply stressful time for this first woman cabinet secretary. Yet Frances recalled later that “I had a sense of a spiritual companion. As the Christians would say, My Lord walked beside me to the jaws of death. I had a sense of the Lord Jesus looking after his people and walking beside them.”
Frances knew she did not do the work she was called to do alone, and neither do we.
For as Jesus promised, the Spirit of Truth, the Advocate, came to those first apostles, leading them out into the world to bear witness to the good news.
And that same Spirit of Truth, that same Advocate, that same Holy Spirit came to Frances, is not up in the sky – She is right here with us too.
She will light a fire in our heart.
She will sustain us by that divine wind flowing through our lives.
She will lead us to places we never thought we would go, and gives us what we need to do the work we are called to do.
She will do all those things…and more.
If we will only be the Pentecost people we are meant to be.
If only we will prophesy.
If only we will, in the words of Frances Perkins, “be a doer of the Word, and not a hearer only, whenever and wherever we see the need.”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/Rec-001-Sermon-Pentecost-2024.m4a1 Norman Greenbaum – click here for the music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2msh0jut2Y
2 https://www.episcopalchurch.org/glossary/perkins-frances/
3 https://francesperkinscenter.org/learn/her-life/
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
May 19, 2024
The Feast of Pentecost
1st Reading – Acts 2:1-21
Psalm 104: 25-35,37
2nd Reading – Romans 8:22-27
Gospel – John 15:26-27; 16:4b-15
The post “Spirit In The Sky?” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
May 5, 2024: Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen.
Some of you know that I received my Master of Divinity from the seminary of Drew University, a Methodist institution. I am very proud of that, as the classes were filled with people from many denominations, cultures, languages, races, and theological points of view. So, as a Drew seminary grad, my Facebook feed was exploding with the posts of former classmates rejoicing in news out of the United Methodist Church General Conference (similar to our General Convention, except theirs are every four years, rather than every three years). For one, the tension and argumentative nature of the meetings were gone. Since the recent departure of those who were steadfast in their belief that homosexuality was “incompatible with Christian teaching,” there was less disagreement and more joy. They also proclaimed that it wasn’t incompatible with scripture to love differently, and they agreed to be in common communion with us, The Episcopal Church.
We experienced a similar thing with regard to inclusion and separation. While our identity is rooted in the via media – the middle way, we too can find that parting is the right path. This middle way, rooted in the beginnings of the Anglican Church – when Roman Catholics and those in the Church of England were killing each other over their beliefs – offers us a framework for loving one another not in spite of our differences, but alongside them.
However, not everyone is able to live in the tension of our differences. When one party in a relationship is insisting on all or nothing, rather than a both/and approach, even after much work toward reconciliation, it is often the loving thing to agree to disagree and separate – allowing each to live in harmony and peace. Because above all, Jesus wants love more than common liturgy, sacramental theology, or doctrine. That is what happened to us in years past, and it too resulted in a more harmonious legislative gathering at subsequent General Conventions.
Now, as far as common communion goes, it does not mean we agree on everything. It means that we agree on the basics. As described by The Episcopal Church, common communion means that “Each [partner]… recognizes the catholicity and independence of the other and maintains its own. Each … agrees to admit members of the other …to participate in the Sacraments. [It]…does not require from either … the acceptance of all doctrinal opinion, sacramental devotion, or liturgical practice characteristic of the other but implies that each believes the other to hold all the essentials of the Christian faith.”[1] We still need to approve it on our end, likely in 2027. And to be clear this is not something that just came on the scene – it has been the faithful work of people in both denominations for many years, and I pray it comes into reality one day.
These intra-denominational splits, and the desire to be in common communion across differences come to mind even more when we consider the scripture this morning from the Acts of the Apostles.
In the passage, we hear that Gentiles and Jews (described as uncircumcised and circumcised) were all listening to Peter preach when the Holy Spirit descended on them all, much to the astonishment of the circumcised. To understand what is going on here, we have to take a step back.
First, we need to know that Peter is one of the circumcised a good Jew (as was Jesus and all of his earliest followers). And, like all good people of faith, he and the other disciples abide by the teachings of their tradition – these include dietary restrictions, circumcision, and laws on what is clean, good and moral. Most of those that they followed we can find today in the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy – called the Holiness Code. These laws were meant to be followed by all Torah (meaning Scripture) abiding Jewish people. They were not for Gentiles, but were meant to set Jews apart from Gentiles as being the chosen people of God.
These laws were so important to Jews that the earliest followers of Jesus, if not already Jewish, were told that they had to follow them – they had to be circumcised if male, and everyone had to adhere to all the other rules too. In other words, to be considered a true follower of Jesus, you had to first be Jewish, as he was, even if Jesus himself often broke those very laws by healing on the sabbath, eating with defiled hands, and so on.
Now, just before this scene in Acts we hear today, something changes all of that – at least for Peter. As I so as I do every time this passage comes up, here is the Cliff Notes version: A Centurion has a vision that tells him to find some dude named Peter and get him to his house right away. Meanwhile, back at the apostle ranch, Peter is having the weirdest dream – he sees a sheet filling the sky and in it are all these animals he cannot eat according to that code I was telling you about. And God tells him to go ahead and feast on anything he wants. While Peter would sure love to have him some bacon with a side of lobster, being the good Jewish boy that he is responds with “No way God…is this some sort of test?” Yet God insists that whatever God has created cannot ever be deemed unclean by humans, so fire up the grill and eat up Peter.
Now, as I also point out each time – nobody ever asked the animals how they felt about it, but I am guessing they wished God would have told Peter all about the virtues of being a vegetarian. Anyway, just then some folks drop by telling Peter to go to the Centurion’s house, which is a big deal because again, Peter is being told to go somewhere that good Jewish boys (or girls) just don’t go – into the home of a Gentile.
Fast forward and Peter sees that the Holy Spirit is with the Centurion, and like the dream, Peter realizes that human law, even if in scripture, has little bearing on how God actually works in the world. God can do whatever God wants with whomever God chooses. Period.
So, in the passage we heard today, we can now understand why the circumcised folks there just can’t quite understand how the Holy Spirit would descend on “those people.” And if they weren’t Jews originally, but were circumcised in order to follow Jesus, well that would really annoy a person. I mean, they might be thinking – you have GOT to be kidding me. I went through that holy hell of pain and all I had to do was just wait a bit longer and I could have avoided it all together?
And, the newly evolved Peter says back to them, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” Or, put another way – are you trying to argue with what God is doing just because it isn’t what you think God should do?
The thing is, God’s grace doesn’t follow us into the world, we follow it. The Holy Spirit is already active, already present, we just have to be open to seeing it and to being a part of it. And that, as Peter and his followers discovered, is a choice we make. We choose whether we will participate in the on going work of God in the world – and God hopes we do choose to join in.
Unfortunately, we often don’t.
We try to control God. We essentially make the choice not to be a part of God’s work, not to be in relationship, not to love as Christ loved us. And sometimes, we have the audacity to say that God tells us to make that awful choice. And you know what…some even use these same Holiness Codes today to do just that – texts never meant for them – to exclude, deny, and harm.
We must make a different choice. We must choose to love. And the thing is, it won’t always come naturally to us. But, you know who set us an example of choosing to love? Jesus. He said in the passage today “You did not choose me but I chose you.” God chose to come among us, to be with us, to die for us, and then to live for us – that we might know God’s love. God made that choice to show us how to choose to love and to serve, as Jesus commanded us. All followers of Jesus are called to make the choice to love as he loved, and sometimes that means we have to change our relationship with one another in ways we don’t always want, at least initially, because it isn’t how we always did it before. Sometimes it means we join together, and sometimes it means we separate and wish one another well.
And that brings me back to the possibility of common communion with the United Methodists and the splits in both their denomination and our own. Jesus calls us to love one another, and to be one as he and God are one. Yet, the truth is that sometimes the best way for us to love one another, the best way to have relationship with one another, is to let one another go in a different direction, as much as it is to try to join together. This is true for both the Methodists and for us.
In fact, we were once united. Methodist was initially a derisive term applied to John Wesley, his brother Charles, and a few other students at Oxford, who regularly met to pray. They were called that because of their dogmatic or methodical adherence to scripture and worship as a way to reform their church – the Church of England. The Wesleys were preacher’s kids, their father being an Anglican priest, and despite John having been instrumental in forming what would later be the Methodist denomination, he did not advocate for breaking away from the Anglican Church. Still, he laid the seeds for that very thing. And so the Methodist Episcopal Church, as it was first known, split off from the Church of England, and many other splits and reunifications occurred off of that branch of the Jesus Movement in the years since.
We also had our split from the Church of England after the Revolutionary War, and in the many years since. And, more recently, we have also come into common communion with the Lutherans, the Moravians, and a few other denominations. We continue to have dialog with our Roman Catholic sisters and brothers too.
Now, you might think none of this is such a big deal, but it is. It is, because no matter which path one chooses in the Jesus Movement – we all are brothers and sisters in Christ. To act as if one Christian is better than another is absurd and the height of hubris. We can have our disagreements, but we must always choose to love – unconditionally.
The problem is, that many so called followers of Jesus – who unfortunately have grabbed the public microphones of Christian identity – choose a different path. One that excludes, that tries to control the Holy Spirit by making God’s love and grace conditional.
Worse yet is this the attempt of some to enforce this conditionality on everyone through a doctrine of Christian Nationalism. Nothing could be more antithetical to the gospel of Jesus Christ than to equate belief in him with civil power. To align Jesus with empire is blasphemous. To sell bibles with national documents contained inside is a sacrilege. We must stand against this at every turn.
So, what can we do?
Well, here is where we, as the Episcopal branch of the Jesus Movement.
Our middle way – our willingness to disagree and still love one another – is something we can teach the world, which seems often to be at one another’s throats., because so many demand that everyone be or think or live just like them. It can be a healing balm across our nation too, where families struggle to even converse at the dinner table because of entrenched political differences.
To live the gospel, is to be willing to enter into relationship with those who are different. It is also to choose to love those who need to go their own way. And it is to evangelize the unconditional love and grace every single day of our lives.
This we must do.
For that is the example set for us by Peter, who opened the door of life to those who had been previously thought to be undesirable and unworthy.
That is how we follow Jesus, who called us to love one another – period. Not just some, but all.
At a time when people of color are killed for the crime of being black, and not believed when they cry out “I can’t breathe!” as once again happened with Frank Tyson (when, oh when, will we believe them Lord!), we can not walk away from our calling!
We must choose to love as Christ calls us and like Peter, follow the work of the Holy Spirit, who calls us into new life, not because we agree with one another, or are the same in any other way, but because we are all children of the same God.
God who loves us all – no matter how we love, what gender we claim, what language we speak, how we pray, or how we vote.
As proclaimed in the psalm today “Sing to the Lord a new song, for God has done marvelous things,” let us sing a new song of peace, of unity, and most of all, of love.
Love for one another – in our commonality and across our differences.
The harmonies we produce today will, by God’s grace, resound across the world for generations to come, spreading peace where there is war, hope where there is despair, love where there is hate.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/Rec-001-Sermon-May_5_2024.m4a[1] https://www.episcopalchurch.org/ministries/ecumenical-interreligious/meaning-of-full-communion/
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
May 5, 2024
The Sixth Sunday Of Easter
1st Reading – Acts 10:44-48
Psalm 98
2nd Reading – 1 John 5:1-6
Gospel – John 15:9-17
The post “Sing A New Song” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
April 28, 2024: Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen.
While it happens more often than we realize, how strange it is to hear two places in one of our scripture readings that feature so heavily in our news cycle today: Jerusalem and Gaza. Stranger still is what takes place.
In the reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we hear about Philip, one of the seven anointed deacons (as opposed to Philip one of the original 12 apostles). He is told by an angel of God to travel on the road that connects Jerusalem to Gaza, and here the author of this sequel to the gospel of Luke wants the reader to know something – that this is a “wilderness road.” On that road is a chariot carrying a Eunuch a court official of the Queen of what was then called Ethiopians, who was returning from a trip to Jerusalem to worship. First, let’s give him a name… how about Caleb.
Caleb is reading a scroll of the prophet Isaiah as he travels in the chariot back home. This is when Philip is told by the Holy Spirit to “Go over to this chariot and join it.” Philip hears Caleb reading from the scroll and here’s where it gets interesting…he asks “Do you understand what you are reading?” Caleb replied, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to get in and sit beside him. As we hear, “the passage of the scripture that he was reading was this:
“Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter, and like a lamb silent before its shearer, so he does not open his mouth. In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken away from the earth.”
Caleb asked Philip, “About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?” Philip, starting with the scriptures that Caleb was reading, told him about Jesus. As they went along, there appeared some water, and Caleb said ““Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” Philip baptizes him, and then was immediately, and I quote, “snatched away,” by the Holy Spirit to another place, while Caleb continued on home rejoicing.
If we read or hear this amazing narrative with our 21st century lens, we will miss so many important details that those who first heard it would have understood, including Theophilus, for whom the author of this two parter of Luke-Acts was writing.
First is that Caleb, who had traveled to the temple in Jerusalem, was a high court official with financial means and status – at least in his homeland, because he is riding in a chariot, is entrusted with the treasury of the Queen, and he is also literate, which most people in that time were not.
And the author also tells us he is a Eunuch – meaning he had been castrated – a practice for many centuries in some cultures, particularly for those in service to a monarch. But what we may not understand is that most likely, after traveling to Jerusalem to worship, Caleb was likely returning home broken hearted. The scriptures were clear – in Deuteronomy it says that no castrated man could enter the assembly of God. Caleb was probably turned away from entering the temple. He likely was shunned by the religious faithful at every turn.
But there is something else we may miss if we are not learned in scripture, that there may have been a reason Caleb chose to read Isaiah, and what it was he was really asking Philip in his initial question to him.
See, if Caleb was traveling to Jerusalem to worship, he may have been Jewish, or had at least been exposed to the teachings of the Hebrew scriptures. And I have to wonder if sometime in his life he had heard that the prophet Isaiah offers solace and hope to Eunuchs. Maybe that is why he had purchased the scroll – not a cheap thing to do in those days – because he wanted some good news.
And if he had just read a few verses more, he would have seen it, for in Isaiah 56:4-5 it says “To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths, who choose what pleases me and hold fast to my covenant— to them I will give within my temple and its walls a memorial and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that will endure forever.”
But Caleb was on the passage in Isaiah 53 instead, and having been rejected from the temple, considering what it must feel like to not be welcome, he ends up reading about one who is silent in the face of his oppressors, who is humiliated and denied justice. Now hear his question to Philip again ““About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?” Or perhaps, what was really being said in Caleb’s heart “Is this about the prophet…or, could it be, that the prophet is talking about me and those like me?”
For all these reasons, I find this to be one of the most powerful narratives in our scriptures – and one that, if we allow ourselves to understand it in this way – resonates with so many people, because it is still happening today.
How many people have we, the church, through the centuries, turned away– all on account of snippets of scripture taken out of their historical context? For those in the LGBTQ+ community, we don’t have to imagine what Caleb was feeling – we have either felt it ourselves, or known someone who experienced it. The same is true of other marginalized groups too – people of color, women, the homeless, and more.
Of course the church has come a long way, but we have even more work to do. I remember a classmate in seminary. We were sitting having a snack in the atrium one evening after class. She seemed exhausted, and I asked her how she was doing. She nearly broke down in tears. It turned out that she had an autistic child. The pastor at the church told her that she and her family would have to leave because the child was too noisy.
I remember her saying something like “It is so hard – I try to keep him busy, to keep him focused. It is even hard just getting him to church, but I do because I need it so very much, and now we have nowhere to go.” And she just wept. My heart ached thinking about this woman and her child.
Thankfully this parish doesn’t mind a bit of noise, for we not only welcome a family who is in a similar situation, but prior to pandemic, offered services designed especially for those with special needs. And we have the most diverse parish in this diocese, and perhaps anywhere – people from many countries, LGBTQ+, and from all walks of life.
So what then does this story teach us here?
I think that depends on who we are in the story.
Are we Caleb, or are we Philip?
If we are Philip, then we need to pay attention to what he does, because it is something we need to be doing more of these days. Philip, whom we celebrate on October 11 in our calendar of saints is known as Philip the Evangelist.
Now, the big E word carries a tainted meaning for us here in the US because we have allowed it to be taken over by what is known as Evangelicals. Folks, we need to grab that back. In fact, the Episcopal Church has been doing that for a few years now – holding Evangelism Revivals, because Evangelism is what we are called to do!
No, not the type many of those so called Evangelicals do – that isn’t Evangelism, that is “I have the only truth, you don’t, and if you don’t listen to me you’re goin’ to hell” intolerant nonsense. As someone once said, “God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts.” No, that isn’t what we are called to do.
Evangelism is a spiritual practice. It isn’t about putting butts in the pews – it is about telling the story of our faith. But the key is – to do it the way Philip did. Anything else is just another path toward helping ourselves rather than serving Christ.
First, Philip listens to the message of God to go where he is not, and then to Caleb. Then Philip asks Caleb about what he is reading, rather than speaking his own truth first. In interpreting the text, Philip starts where Caleb is – that passage of Isaiah, and he then tells the story of his own faith in Jesus. That, folks, is evangelism, and it is what we are called to do. No – you don’t have to go looking for Eunuchs in chariots – Philip certainly wasn’t.
We need to listen to where the Holy Spirit is calling us.
We need to meet people where they are, not where we want them to be.
We need to be a seeker always by listening first.
You know, there is a reason that in our Anti-Sexism and Anti-Racism trainings required in our diocese we go over the differences between debate and dialog with everyone who attends. It is because we so often think we are conversing, when what we are really doing is debating. The difference is that in debate we are speaking with an end goal in mind. With dialog – there is no end goal – we are listening deeply and openly. We are speaking not to change another’s mind, but just to give voice to our own truth. That is the path of an evangelist too.
And because of Philip’s evangelism, Caleb, who had likely left Jerusalem in spiritual pain, had a life changing turn around. When he sees the water he tells Philip – “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?”
Listen to that – “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” It is written with a question mark at the end, but I would think it rather had more of an exclamation point. For Caleb had come to hear by Philip that the one whom he was reading about, the oppressed who was denied justice, it was God. God who became incarnate in Jesus, dwelt among us, suffered on the cross, died and rose from the grave. And that God did all of this because God loved us – loved HIM! Yes – him, the one others excluded. That is why it was he and not Philip who suggested baptism – that is how empowering evangelism can be…not for the evangelist, but for those whom they encounter.
And oh how God needs us to be like Philip now, because there are so many Calebs in the world. There are so many who feel excluded, who are seeking, who yearn to be loved, who sense there is something greater than themselves but are not sure what that means for them. Calebs who hope to be seen, hope to be listened to, hope to be understood, hope to be loved unconditionally – just as they are.
And if you are Caleb in this story – if you have been turned away, if you are a seeker, if you yearn to be seen, if you wish that just for once someone would meet you where you are, as you are, know this:
We want to see you.
We want to listen to you.
We want to know you.
Because to see you is to see Christ.
To listen to you we enter into relationship with him.
To know you is to love as he called us to love. It is to live into our own baptismal vows, which is the path for all who follow Jesus.
Which is why, perhaps, we are reminded today as well about the words in 1 John: “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God…Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love… Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.”
So, if you are a Caleb, and we come to you in openness – if we listen to you first, if you sense that we see you – invite us in to sit beside you as Caleb did. Ask what is in your heart. For if we have done this, if we have come to understand that Evangelism isn’t about conversion, but about conversation– a conversation that builds loving relationship with all of God’s children – then maybe, just maybe, we can, by our entering into relationship with you, help you to know that you are beloved by God – just as you are. And you will help us too, in ways unimaginable.
Now, for all you Philip’s out there, you might be wondering, how do I start? How exactly does one begin to be a good evangelist? Well, how about something like this: the next time someone asks you what you did this weekend, tell them. In addition to the other stuff – a trip, hanging out with friends, and all that – tell them you went to church. Tell them why you went to church. Heck, you certainly will get their attention if you tell them you heard about a Eunuch!
And, the next time you are walking about – look for Calebs. They are all around us, though we may have to go down some wilderness roads to find them because we have pushed them out of the way. And when you encounter the Calebs of our world today – go to them, listen to them, and starting from where they are, let them know about this unconditional love God has for them.
It will change them – not because they will all decide to be baptized – but because love does that.
Love changes things.
It will change you too.
It most definitely will change the church.
And that is good news indeed.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Rec-001-Sermon_-_April_28_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 28, 2024
The Fifth Sunday Of Easter
1st Reading – Acts 8:26-40
Psalm – Psalm 22:24-30
2nd Reading – 1 John 4:7-21
Gospel – John 15:1-8
The post “Eunuchs & Evangelists” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
PHOTO: Diana Wilcox
April 21, 2024: Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen.
It is Good Shepherd Sunday, which always is the fourth Sunday of Easter. Of course, the obvious clues to this are Psalm 23 and the passage from the Gospel of John. Many, even those who have never been to church, know the words of the Psalm – we say it at services, especially funerals, at hospital bedsides, and for many, it is a personal mantra. The gospel is less familiar outside of the church, but still an image many grew up with for Jesus.
In the fourth gospel, the authors include seven “I Am” statements one of which we heard today, where Jesus says “I am the good shepherd…” He also uses other ones – like door or gate, vine and bread – but we don’t do a Door Sunday. I guess it isn’t as catchy, and sadly there aren’t a whole lot of hymns about Jesus being a door.
And while many may hear Jesus in this gospel and focus on shepherds and sheep, it isn’t really the sheep that should draw our attention. Jesus wasn’t comparing shepherds to sheep, he was comparing shepherds to something else – to hired hands.
Whenever I hear this passage, I am reminded of my first few months here. I gathered our Vestry and Wardens together at a retreat. This retreat, unlike others we have taken, was a working one. We needed to get to know and trust one another. I was a new thing in the midst of a parish with significant financial and building concerns.
I am no longer a new thing, and we have come a very long way – into new life and resurgence in the first five years, then into pandemic for the next three, and finally into our post-pandemic struggles, which by the way, are much like where we started – reduced attendance, and financial stresses and building issues that loom large.
At that first retreat, I used this passage for our bible study and to ground our work. Through prayer, dialog, and breakout groups, we began to identify what it means to be a shepherd, rather than a hired hand. Jesus said “The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep.”
And the fact that we are still here, worshipping in this space, serving the people of our neighborhood in Christ’s name, offering care and education to children in our school and employment for our teachers – all of that is because they were shepherds then, and all of you have truly stepped into your calling as shepherds through the years.
You did not run away when the wolf of financial trouble that cast a shadow over our future.
You did not run away when the wolf of pandemic terrorized the nation and destroyed lives all around us.
You did not run away when the wolf of financial trouble growled around us once more post-pandemic.
You stayed, because you chose not to be hired hands.
You chose to be shepherds – followers of the great shepherd, Jesus.
And that has made all the difference.
Because through these many years, from 2014 to now, there were other wolves attacking the sheep entrusted to our care – from the killings of Eric Garner, Michael Brown and Tamir Rice in 2014, the Emmanuel AME mass shooting and the terrorist attack at a newspaper in Paris in 2015, the Pulse Nightclub massacre, the death of RBG, and the election of 2016, the racist Charlottesville march and mass shootings in Las Vegas and a church in Sutherland Springs in 2017, the war in Syria, the Mass shooting at Parkland High School, wildfires in the US and Hurricane Florence in 2018, another mass shooting, this time at a Walmart in El Paso, and a fire that ripped through Notre Dame Cathedral in 2019.
2020 brought the pandemic and the murder of George Floyd. 2021 began with the insurrection by domestic terrorists on January 6th and ended with tornadoes that killed 91 across the south and Midwest. Then in 2022, Russia invaded Ukraine, children were killed at Robb Elementary, and the 50+ year precedent of Roe v. Wade was overturned. Last year brought book bans, a devastating wildfire to Maui, the attempted bombing our neighborhood synagogue – Temple Ner Tamid, and war in the Middle East. And just in the first few months of this year, we have seen a bridge collapse in Baltimore, the intensity of another election in a very divided nation, and the rise of people advocating Christian Nationalism – an oxymoron if ever there was one. And through it all – every year – our climate continues to worsen by our abuse and neglect.
Of course, that litany of events isn’t complete. And, there were also many signs of hope, of light, of love through these years too: The Me Too movement and the women’s marches, the rise of Black Lives Matter, a fierce backlash in response to the Roe decision and a tidal wave of advocacy for LGBTQ+ rights and women’s healthcare, January 6th hearings that brought some level of accountability and visibility to our pained republic, the end of the pandemic and a return to in-person worship and other aspects of life that nourish us, Episcopal Church revivals and an increased presence of women leadership in the church, and profiles in courage too numerous to name by people who were willing to sacrifice everything for the good of others, for the country, for creation.
In our parish we continue to have visitors come, and many stay, as we grow in membership every single year. And most especially, I have witnessed your great love for one another and those in need – visiting the sick, offering food to the hungry, providing Christmas presents to the children of prisoners, caring for the animals in shelters, making the space accessible to all including learning to sign, opening our doors to those with special needs, marching in the streets to combat racism, sexism, and advocate for justice and love, and so much more.
All of this to say that hired hands would have fled a long, long, long time ago. Shepherds stay through the storms – not because they are stronger, but because they know that they are not alone – there is a greater shepherd who walks alongside them.
As we hear in the epistle, “We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us– and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action… All who obey his commandments abide in him, and he abides in them. And by this we know that he abides in us, by the Spirit that he has given us.”
He abides in us – indeed.
These verses have a special place in my heart, as they were set to music in an anthem I chose to be sung at my ordination to the priesthood. It was a reminder to me then and through the years that we are to love, not only in word and speech, but in truth and action – and that through it all – the Holy Spirit, given to us, will carry us on.
And while I may not have been a perfect shepherd of this parish flock through these long years, like all of you, I was given strength for the journey by the love of this community and by the incarnational reality of Christ in the Eucharist and in my heart.
And so we together continue.
We step once more into the unfolding of God’s infinite activity in creation, and our role within that.
We take up our shepherd’s staff and continue to care for the sheep entrusted to us – most especially the poor, the outcast, the lonely, the imprisoned, the oppressed, the addicted, and the spiritually hungry.
And we will have no fear of the wolves in our midst – those who choose might over right, those who hate and harm, and especially those who turn their backs on Jesus and try to weaponize him against the sheep in our care.
Nor will we be afraid of the snarling wolf’s teeth of parish challenges that rattle the rafters of our church, and that of many other parishes.
No, these will not shake us.
The wolves shall not drive us away.
For we have been here before, and we know what we must do. We know that that we are shepherds, not hired hands, and it is our call to care for the sheep of God’s creation, it is our call to serve one another and all of humankind in love.
We know too that there is another hand – one over our own – on that proverbial crook we carry – the hand of Christ Jesus.
Jesus – our great shepherd.
Jesus – who laid down his life for his sheep.
Jesus the risen One – who destroyed death.
So we will walk through the valleys and the shadow of wolves that lurk about – never abandoning our call to love and serve those entrusted to us.
For He is with us.
He guides us along the pathways of our calling.
He revives our souls.
He comforts us at this table before us.
Our cup is truly running over.
Goodness and mercy will follow us, and those we serve in his name.
And at the end of our lives, when we pass on our staff to the next generation of this parish, we know, that having been good and faithful shepherds, we truly will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Rec-001-Sermon-April_21_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 21, 2024
The Fourth Sunday Of Easter
1st Reading – Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 23
2nd Reading – 1 John 3:16-24
Gospel – John 10:11-18
The post “Shepherds Through The Valleys” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
Easter Sunday – March 31, 2024: Alleluia, Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen.
Well, that’s a really strange ending to this gospel’s resurrection narrative! Is it any wonder why later scribes added a tweak or two to the ending?
Just look at that last part, where it says that Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome “…went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
Now – that’s a bit of a problem, right?
I mean, if they told no one – what the heck are you’all doing here?
Obviously – somebody told somebody something, right?
Well, that’s why we get the added on sections, known as the Shorter Ending of Mark and the Longer Ending of Mark – clearly, these later authors were not big on creative marketing. Here is how those added bits went:
Mary Magdalene actually did tell the rest of the disciples. They rolled their eyes.
Now, just an aside, this outta have been a great time for Peter to make amends for his denial of Jesus three times. Maybe jumping up like Ron Wesley supporting Hermione Granger in The Deathly Hallows, after he had really, really, messed up. Peter could be like that and say “I believe Mary. Let’s take a vote! Now, all in favor…”
But noooooo.
Continuing on, Jesus appeared to two others on the road– perhaps Cleopas and his wife on the road to Emmaus – They told the disciples. Again, the disciples wouldn’t believe it.
Jesus then figured it was time for a holy smack down of those 11 guys. What a scene THAT must have been
On the whole, I’d like to say that it was a nice gift by this author to those 11 guys hiding away in Jerusalem not to mention their disbelief of Mary Magdalene or the other two, but it kinda did throw them all under the disciple bus.
What a story in Women’s History Month. Which reminds me of a meme I saw on Threads the other day, which read: “Women – Celebrate Women’s History month by interrupting men with your unsolicited opinions and taking credit for their work. If they get upset about it, tell them they sound hysterical and should smile more.” I think Mary Magdalene would drop a mic on that one.
The truth is though, maybe the author of Mark had the ending right all along. No, not in making it seem the women would be too afraid to tell anyone. Lord knows, and he does, it was the women who stood courageously at the foot of the cross, and came to the tomb as soon as the sabbath was over. Neither were safe to do. Perhaps that is why it was the women, in every gospel account, who are the first to receive the good news of the resurrection. Jesus knew he could count on them.
No, the reason the original ending works is because of the beginning.
This gospel doesn’t start with a narrative of Christ’s birth, genealogy, or a long hymn to the wonder of the incarnation. It starts with the immediacy, directness, and brevity we get in the rest of it. The gospel opens with “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
Now some might take that to be the opening of the first chapter, a biblical “Once upon a time” or “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”. Perhaps they are right. But, I would argue it is actually the title – because of the way the gospel ended.
Yes, it does sound like circular reasoning, that the ending is because of the beginning, which is because of the ending. And on this glorious day of resurrection, you might be thinking – so what?
Here’s the thing though – even while many come to church on Easter Sunday, enjoying all that this service brings to ones heart and mind, it can be hard to take in this story of the empty tomb, if we are really being honest. In our hearts we may feel the resurrection – the real presence of Jesus – but our heads sometimes find it all beyond comprehension. Which is why the ending of this story is so important, and points us back to the beginning. While that does sound like something Yoda the Jedi Master might say, “The ending not, the beginning it is,” perhaps this story will help.
In your Easter newsletter, both our Wardens wrote wonderful articles, and I commend them to you. Tom Reynolds – our livestream tech whose wife Amy is over there ushering – wrote something that touches on this very point about the resurrection. I will share a bit of it with you, but I hope you read it in full.
He wrote: “The other day, I was driving to the nursery school [of our church] to drop Sophia off, and she said, “Grandma is my best friend.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. My grandmother has been gone for six months, and Sophia starts the morning with this?! “Grandma says I have to go to school.” She continues. I felt the tears choke back as I tried to keep my vision from blurring coming down Hillside Ave. “What else did Grandma say?” I ask with a cracked voice. “Grandma says ‘I love you.’” [She replied.]
I’m glad the light was red, and I could collect myself then.
Tom continued “I think about moments like that as we come into this Easter season, this Resurrection season. We could put too much emphasis on the word resurrection; it feels heavy. It draws images of unthinkable acts or something we can dismiss because I’ve never seen a resurrected person before… They placed the lifeless body in the tomb and sealed it up. And then he was resurrected. Or, in my context, we buried my grandmother’s body, and now she is speaking through my child—the impossible.
But maybe that’s what Easter is about—taking a brief moment to believe the impossible. Like the line from Alice in Wonderland, “Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
The thing that struck me most in Tom’s story is at the stop light. He has heard something beyond comprehension – that someone he loves deeply, who has died, is still alive, though not in the way he knew her in her earthly life. He needed to stop – to take a breath – to process what it was he was hearing, before he could move on to what was next.
Now remember what happened with Mary Magdalene and the other women. They went to anoint Jesus, whom they had seen die a brutal death. The heavy stone that closed the tomb was gone. And they are told, in a strange scene with what other gospels describe as an angel – that he is risen – he’s alive! Not only that, but Jesus is on the loose! He is heading to Galilee.
The original ending was their stoplight moment – they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
But while this unimaginable experience froze them for a moment, clearly it didn’t end there. Not for them, or for Tom.
The thing is, when we encounter the incomprehensible, all of us need time to catch our breath, to replay what just happened in our minds, to consider what it means for us. In that moment we are often silent. Sometimes out of choice, but usually because we can’t really figure out how to put the experience into words.
But once we do – once we find our voice – what was once incomprehensible becomes just the beginning of the story as the experience shapes our lives in ways unimaginable.
That is what the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God, does.
That is the power of the cross and the empty tomb.
So, all the later scribes needed to do was end with the start, because the ending is the beginning.
The ending is an invitation to continue the story ourselves – to spend time here taking in the incomprehensible – experiencing of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist – to pause from the craziness of the day at this proverbial stop light and allow ourselves to be amazed. To believe the impossible, precisely because we know that the impossible is only that which our own minds are not yet capable of understanding.
And then…be the beginning of the good news.
Be like Tom and believe in the seemingly impossible and tell others about it.
Be like Sophia and tell others that “God says, I love you!”
Why? Why should we do this?
Because this type of transformative experience needs to be shared in a world where so many live in despair and hopelessness.
Because the unconditional love and grace of God – who chose to dwell among us, even knowing the painful cost – is the balm the wounded souls of the marginalized and oppressed need.
Because those stoplight moments are what can turn lives around, especially our own – and change what seems impossible into lived reality.
Because once we know the power of Christ’s resurrection – that awe inspiring, incomprehensible, mind blowing reality – then we also know that hate will always be defeated by love, light will always overcome darkness, and death never, ever, has the last word.
This is the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God!
Now it is up to us to continue the story.
So let us proclaim loud and clear for all the whole world that…
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Happy Easter everyone.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Rec-001-Sermon-Easter_Sunday-2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
March 31, 2024
Easter Sunday
1st Reading – Acts 10:34-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 15:1-11
Gospel – Mark 16:1-8
The post “The Beginning Of The Good News” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
Good Friday-March 29, 2024: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Jesus says before he gives up his spirit “It is finished.”
“It is finished.”
God became incarnate, became human in Jesus through Mary his mother. Jesus breathed in the air with us, felt the warmth of human touch, tasted the food and drink made of the earth. Jesus taught us to love and serve others. Jesus challenged the injustice of the world – not through violence, but through love.
Jesus saw the ones no one else noticed. Jesus met people where they were – going to places others would not dare. And Jesus felt the scorn of humanity’s capacity to hate, to hurt, to harm, as he died a criminal’s gruesome death on the cross.
What crime had he committed?
The one that angers oppressors the most – the willingness to love one’s enemies, do good to those who harm you, serve the poor, heal the sick, give rest to the weary and suffering – asking nothing in return, and perhaps most of all – letting people know that God loves them unconditionally and for all time.
Love is something tyrants know is dangerous – it changes things. And weapons, no matter how powerful, are useless against it. Armies, no matter how large, can never defeat it.
But tyrants throughout history seem to always think they can be the ones to conquer it, and the Roman governor, Pilate, was no exception. Pilate had Jesus flogged, bound and nailed to the cross, and left to die.
And he did.
Jesus gave up his spirit and died.
In Psalm 22 we heard “Be not far from me, for trouble is near,
and there is none to help.”
It would seem so standing in the shadow of the cross.
Those who have experienced great loss in their lives – you know this deeply. You understand the darkness, the emptiness, the sorrow of this moment.
And yet…
And yet…
Even in this, our darkest hour, we know that this is not the end of the story.
Our Collect on Good Friday – used in ordinations and other transformative moments of the church – rings true: “…let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new.”
Indeed they are.
For we who are weary and suffering in the tomb of our despair over what we see in the world – people cast down by the might of oppression, war, addiction, tragedy of all kinds – this will not be the final place for us.
Because hate will never have the last word.
Love did not die on that cross.
God is not dead.
But what has been cast down will be raised up.
What has grown old will be made new.
This night, this night of the cross, of Jesus’ suffering…this isn’t the end of the story.
It is, however, the chapter we must stay in, if we are to really understand what is coming next. For as we know – that while we who are baptized in his name shall rise with him, the first part of that baptismal journey is to die with him.
So, I invite you to feel the darkness of the moment, feel the loneliness of the Psalmist, feel the grief of those who stood at the foot of the cross.
Let it cause you to tremble, as we hear sung later. Tremble in your very soul.
Because you were there when hate tried to kill love.
You were there when darkness tried to extinguish all light.
You were there when they crucified Jesus.
And because of that – nothing – not you, not those who know you, not the church, not the world, will ever, ever, be the same.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Rec-001-Homily-Good_Friday-2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
March 29, 2024
Good Friday
Psalm 22
Gospel – John 18:1-19:42
The post “Let The Whole World See And Know” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
Palm Sunday – March 24, 2024: “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” Amen.
Just a reminder, as I say every year, this should be only Palm Sunday. The passion should not be read here – on Palm Sunday where it really doesn’t belong. Some say that we have always done it that way (meaning it was done that way in their memory). Maybe so, in the Episcopal Church anyway. But, sadly, there is no other reason it became a part of tradition other than many will not make it to the first to parts of the Paschal Triduum service (Maundy Thursday and Good Friday), so we add the passion to this service – because Easter, without Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, is an empty experience. So, we do it. We are always blessed to have the passion brought to life by the Dzieci Theatre, and we change up the order of things, to have that done as the final moment of the service.
So, sticking with text from the liturgy of the Palms, which today is Mark 11:1-11, Jesus tells his disciples to go into the village, untie a colt (a young donkey really), tell folks not to worry – that they are just borrowing it, and then he goes toward Jerusalem riding it as people shout praises of him in the streets. He then goes into the temple, looks around, and heads to Bethany for the night.
After that wild entry into the city – all the palms, and shouts of Hosanna, this is how he ends the day? According the gospel, “…he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.”
What was he looking at or for, and why was that such an important detail to note – particularly in this, the Gospel of Mark, written in such a hurry at the time of the 2nd temple destruction (around 68-70 CE).
This gospel author is not one for long narratives as you find in Matthew, or poetic hymns and lengthy discourses as the authors of John provide. Nope – this is the short, sweet, and to the point Gospel of Mark.
In Eastertide, I will be offering an adult formation series on this gospel, using a book called The Gospel of Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel. One of the authors is a friend and terrific Markan scholar. In the book, it says “When we enter the story of the Gospel of Mark, we enter a world of conflict and suspense, a world of surprising reversals and strange ironies, a world of riddles and hidden meanings, a world of subversive actions and political intrigues. And the protagonist – Jesus – is the most surprising of all.”
So, with that in mind, let’s remember the setting of this part of this gospel. Tensions in the city of Jerusalem are at a high at this time each year – during the Passover. Why? Because this is both a time when good and faithful Jewish people flood the city to celebrate this most important time, which just happens to celebrate release from the bondage of the oppressor. In the case of Passover, from Egypt, but it isn’t the sort of story that sits well with the current Empire of Rome. Which is why every year, entering into that same city at that same time is a large group of soldiers and the Roman Governor who ruled under the authority of the Emperor.
This was a difficult time for the Jewish leaders, who hoped to keep the peace with Rome, especially as the Jews have been granted the ability to celebrate their faith traditions (as long as they paid their taxes and stayed out of trouble). Those who didn’t faced terrible persecution, and Pilate, despite the clean-up the authors of the Gospel of John did, was no nice guy. He had brutally crucified thousands in previous years. The answer to his question of “what is truth?” is “you’re a tyrannical nut case Pilate!”
So, tensions are high among Romans and Jews alike – and Jesus then comes into town. He rode a humble donkey, a can’t miss contrast to the steeds being ridden at nearly that same moment on the other end of town by the Empire’s best and brightest. And the people gather in mass shouting Hosanna, claiming him to be their long awaited hope – found in the line of King David – and laying leafy branches before him.
What a scene this must have been. We have indeed entered into “a world of conflict and suspense…surprising reversals and strange ironies, … riddles and hidden meanings, … subversive actions and political intrigues.” What could possibly go wrong?
The stage is set.
It is now dusk.
The people are settling down for the night.
And Jesus goes to the temple and looks around. He then went to Bethany, a nearby town he knew well, to spend the night.
I often have a chance to be alone here – in this sacred space – sometimes at dusk, or at night – the light of the sun fading and its low setting casting colorful shadows on the walls. It offers for me a moment of contemplative prayer. I am called into the stillness before or after the chaos of the day. So, I sometimes wonder if that was this type of moment for him.
But the Greek would tend to move us in a different direction, because the author of this gospel uses the word περιβλέπο to describe what Jesus does in the temple – perí meaning “all-around” and blépō meaning to “look at, or gaze on.” This is used only 7 times in the Christian scriptures, all but one of them in this gospel. But this looking around is a bit more specific than just taking in the surroundings. It signifies that this is an act of closely observing with a sweeping or encompassing look and with high personal involvement or self-interest as expressed in the movement of the person’s eyes.[1]
St. Paul, in the epistle to the Philippians we heard earlier, said “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” Well, that is meet and right so to do (for all you 1928 prayer book folks).
So, what was Jesus searching so intently for in that moment. What was in his mind?
If we were to continue the story, we find that he returned to Jerusalem the next day, cursing a fig tree along the way for not bearing fruit (a metaphor for what he saw). He entered the temple and angrily overturned the tables of those who had turned that sacred space into a place of profit. This poked an already tense situation in the city, and Jesus wasn’t done yet.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. After the craziness of the palm parade, Jesus went to the place where people should be spiritually fed. Where he could be fed. And I suspect he left feeling spiritually hungry. His anger the next day at the fig tree – a symbol of the temple elite – is evidence of that. Whatever he did or did not see, it was clear that he knew what he had to do – but that moment was not the right time – he headed to Bethany to spend the night.
That is what Palm Sunday is supposed to be for us. That moment when we look around and know things need to change, and to prepare ourselves for what is to come.
There is much that we can look around and see, or not see, and know that change – big change – needs to happen.
For we know that this story is not something that happened once so long ago. It is happening now.
Empires that oppress.
Places of worship that do not nourish God’s children.
Jesus betrayed, denied, and crucified.
Because Jesus is the trans-teen left for dead after being savagely beaten. He is the immigrant imprisoned trying to flee persecution. He is the black man tortured and shot by police. He is the gay woman broken hearted that she is unwelcome in the church. He is the terrified and abused Jewish hostage of Hamas. He is the child in Gaza starving amid the rubble and death of the destructive bombing. He is the refugee hoping to find a safe home. He is the Ukrainian soldier fighting to keep her homeland free.
We live in a perpetual Holy Week. We also know that there is good news ahead, but only if we are willing to walk with Jesus into the fullness of this moment – one step at a time.
The procession of the palms is a transition point only, and not the full story. What we will experience in the days to come, like it was for those who were with Jesus that night, will change us, if we let it.
Today, we must have the same mind as Jesus – we must look around – see what is, and what is not – and then go to a place of rest, for there is much to come. Palm Sunday is our time in the temple and in Bethany. Our time to consider what we have seen or not seen, to consider what God calls us to do in response, and to rest for what is to come – what we as the body of Christ will bring about.
Holy Week is a journey we make every year by choice – not because it is the same – but precisely because it is not. How we enter into it, what we hear in it, what we feel going through it, and how we respond to it in the world, will change from year to year because we and the world are never the same from one year to the next. But one thing is for sure, moving through it makes Easter the transformative experience it is meant to be.
Holy Week will challenge you.
Holy Week will engage you.
Holy Week will change you.
If you let it.
I invite you all to the journey of a lifetime.
The rest is up to you.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Rec-001-Homily-Palm_Sunday-2024.m4a[1] https://biblehub.com/greek/4017.htm
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
March 31, 2024
Palm Sunday
1st Reading – Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 31:9-16
2nd Reading – Philippians 2:5-11
Gospel – Mark 11:1-11 & Mark 14:1-11
The post “Now Is Not The Time” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
March 3, 2024: Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O God, my strength and my redeemer. Amen.
Well, here we are again, now in part 3 of this lectionary trilogy on covenant. Two weeks ago, it was God’s unconditional covenant with all creation following the great flood. Last week, it was God’s covenant with the descendants of Abraham, Sarah, and later Hagar. And today, we get another covenant. One that God makes with the people of Israel on Mount Sinai through the giving of the law – known as the commandments.
Now, these commandments, the Decalogue as it is also called, they are so very familiar… I mean – how many think of Charlton Heston, right?
Heck, you can Google 10 commandments and find them for just about anything – golf, marriage, men…. I even found one from a Cat, which included:
- Thou shalt have no other pets before me.
- Thou shalt be grateful that I even give thou the time of day.
And,
- Remember my food dish and keep it full.
Anyone who has ever lived with a cat can understand.
And while cats believe they are Gods, and they were once thought of that way in some cultures (something they never want us humans to forget), these commandments we heard today from the book of Exodus are the ones given to humankind by the one true God. They are so nice – we get ‘em twice – as they are also in the book of Deuteronomy. And to be clear, as my dear friend and colleague, Fr. Jim Warnke, once said “They are in fact commandments, and even though we are Episcopalians, they have not been renamed “The 10 Interesting Suggestions.”
Now, I started this sermon talking about these Lenten scriptures as being about covenant, and you may be left wondering – what have these commandments to do with that?
The thing is – the law we hear today is not about restricting us, quite the opposite. The commandments are really there to ensure that we stay connected in a relationship of respect, care, and love. They are about freedom and identity – ours and God’s.
A free life is one in which we recognize that we are God’s beloved children, and that all of creation is of God. A free life means we do not hurt our neighbor, we respect one another and God, we give ourselves Sabbath rest, we respect our elders, we are content enough in who we are that we have no jealousy of anyone or anything. For those searching for the purpose driven life – look no further. Because jealousy, hatred, disrespect, constantly working rather than constantly loving, all of it is a self-made prison.
These commandments of God aren’t complicated either. As Christ boiled it down for us: all 10 amount to doing two things: loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves.
Well, and speaking of Jesus, he was not a happy guy today in the gospel, right? Our Lord and Savior went into the temple, found it filled with the folks who were using it to make a profit, often at the expense of the poor. They had defiled the place where others seek God by using it as a place to make a buck. The very place where one should be given restoration and renewal on the Sabbath had become a place where one was fleeced in order to follow some doctrine of conduct around sacrifice and coin imagery.
It was not always so – these money changing tables originally were meant to help people exchange Roman coinage for temple coinage, as the Roman coins had the image of the emperor on it – a symbol of idolatry not allowed in the sacred space of the temple. The tables were also there to allow people to purchase sacrificial animals to offer in thanksgiving – I know, horrific for us to consider today, but it was the practice of the faithful then. But greed had taken over, and these were now places where people were cheated in order to follow the temple laws.
If there was one thing Jesus was, it was a rule breaker – not because he didn’t value the temple or God’s laws, quite the opposite. His rule breaking was to remind us that we should never value doctrine over relationship with God and all of God’s creation, because in many respects that is worshiping idols – valuing human actions, rather than divine ones, as we heard Jesus say to Peter last week.
This is what following the commandments are all about. I know – no where in there does it say “Thou shalt overturn the tables of thy temples.” But if we follow them, there will be a need for us to do as Jesus did in the gospel, maybe not at houses of worship (but sometimes there – to be sure).
And this week our country remembers some folks who did exactly that – who followed the commandments by overturning tables of injustice.
March 7th is the 59th anniversary of “Bloody Sunday,” a pivotal moment in the civil rights movement, and boy did these brave souls knock over a few proverbial tables. In the words of the late, great, Rep. John Lewis, who was nearly killed that day, this is what happened:
“In Selma, Alabama, in 1965, only 2.1% of Blacks of voting age were registered to vote. The only place you could attempt to register was to go down to the courthouse. You had to pass a so-called literacy test. And they would tell people over and over again that they didn’t or couldn’t pass the literacy test. On one occasion, a man was asked to count the number of bubbles on a bar of soap. On another occasion, a man was asked to count the number of jellybeans in a jar. There were African American lawyers, doctors, teachers, housewives, college professors flunking this so-called literacy test. And we had to change that, so we sought to march.
And we got to the top of the bridge. We saw a sea of blue — Alabama state troopers — and we continued to walk. We came within hearing distance of the state troopers. And a man identified himself and said, “I’m Major John Cloud of the Alabama state troopers. This is an unlawful march. It will not be allowed to continue. I give you three minutes to disperse and return to your church.” And one of the young people walking with me, leading the march, a man by the name of Hosea Williams, who was on the staff of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., said, “Major, give us a moment to kneel and pray.” And the major said, “Troopers, advance!” And you saw these guys putting on their gas masks. They came toward us, beating us with nightsticks and bullwhips, trampling us with horses.
I was hit in the head by a state trooper with a nightstick. I had a concussion at the bridge. My legs went out from under me. I felt like I was going to die. I thought I saw Death. All these many years later, I don’t recall how I made it back across that bridge to the church. But after I got back to the church, the church was full to capacity, more than 2,000 people on the outside trying to get in to protest what had happened on the bridge. And someone asked me to say something to the audience. And I stood up and said something like: “I don’t understand it, how President Johnson can send troops to Vietnam but cannot send troops to Selma, Alabama, to protect people whose only desire is to register to vote.” The next thing I knew, I had been admitted to the local hospital in Selma.”[1]
The scenes on the bridge shocked the nation, emboldening leaders in Washington to pass the Voting Rights Act five months later. John Lewis and all the others who left their church buildings to cross the Edmund Pettis bridge that day were people who truly knew what being a people of the covenant and followers of Jesus was all about. They understood that being a person of faith was about far more than going to church on Sunday. They knew that what you do when you leave the doors of your church is as important as what you do inside them. They knew that being a child of God means living as God calls us to live – loving God, loving neighbor, loving self. It wasn’t something doctrinal – it was an identity – an identity rooted in covenant – in relationship with God!
Being a child of God is an identity given freely to all of us from the moment we are born, and that means that we are meant to be in relationship with God and one another. We are essentially baptized in those birth waters into a creation of love – for love. And God calls us again and again to return home to who we are – to be the beloved child of God we are called to be, and to live into that promise for ourselves and our neighbors. The role of faith, the role of the church, the whole purpose of all of God’s interactions with us through the course of history, is to remind us of that – to remind us of who we are. That is what Lent is all about too – returning home to who we are. It is about remembering our identities as those who claim to be followers of Jesus, and what that really means for us.
Because being a Christian isn’t about rules, doctrine, or dogma – not really. They are the things we would do naturally and freely if we understood who we are – and so they remind us of our identity. It isn’t about committees, vestries, dioceses, conventions – those offer us a way to serve Christ together.
But being a follower of Jesus IS about what we do in the world, and what we do here.
It IS about loving neighbor – fighting for the oppressed, working to bring people out of the dark corners of marginalization, speaking out against anyone or any system that seeks to harm any child of God.
It IS loving God through loving what God has entrusted to us – working to ensure that creation – the animals, the earth, the sea, and the sky is treated with respect and cared for – being the good stewards God asked us to be.
And – it IS about loving God and loving ourselves – remembering to honor the Sabbath by taking time to come here, to give thanks for all that we are given, to be nourished with the body and blood of Christ, to be strengthened by the fellowship of community, and to remember that we are loved – unconditionally and for all time.
That is what it means to follow Jesus.
Rep. John Lewis and the others knew that as they bravely marched across that bridge on that Sunday in March of 1965.
Many years later, Rep. Lewis often said when speaking about that moment “Get in good trouble, necessary trouble, and redeem the soul of America.” That’s a good message for us today too.
The commandments are a covenant – a reminder of what our identity means. That we are beloved children of God, called to a relationship of love with our Creator and with all of God’s creation. To live into this covenant, followers of Jesus must live as he modeled for us. And that will take coming here for strength and restoration at this table, and then leaving from here and getting into some “good trouble, necessary trouble,” for the redemption of the world, and of our own souls.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/Rec-001-Sermon-March_3_2024.m4a[1] https://www.democracynow.org/2020/7/20/remembering_john_lewis_selma_voting_rights
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
March 3, 2024
Third Sunday of Lent
1st Reading – Exodus 20:1-17
Psalm 19
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 1:18-25
Gospel – John 2:13-22
The post “Good Trouble, Necessary Trouble” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
February 11, 2024: Arise, shine! For your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. Amen.
This is a busy day in the Episcopal Church.
It is World Mission Sunday, which is always on the last Sunday of Epiphany. It is a time when the church comes together to focus on the global impact of our baptismal call to “seek and serve Christ in all persons.” Later today is also the diocesan service honoring Absalom Jones, the first African American to be ordained a priest in the Episcopal Church. His story of enslavement, perseverance, faith and justice work is remembered and honored on the Sunday prior to his saint day of February 13th.
And so it is good that today, with these two things in mind, we hear the story of the transfiguration of our Lord on the mountaintop, and of Elijah passing on his mantle to Elisha. Because the church, the world, all of us, are in need of transfiguring, and we have been passed the mantle of the work we are called to do now in our time.
In the gospel, Jesus tapped Peter, James, and John to go on a field trip up the mountain. They get up there and Jesus gets lit up like a Superbowl stadium at halftime – which, by the way, is yet another thing happening today. Anyway, Jesus isn’t alone. He seems to be having a conference with two other big stars of biblical fame – Elijah and Moses. The three of them standing there chatting away.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I sure would have loved to have been able to eavesdrop on that conversation – I mean, what the heck were they talking about. Perhaps they were taking bets on who will win – the Chiefs, the Niners, Taylor Swift, or the commercials. Whatever it was, we never get to know, nor do Peter & the Sons of Thunder (great band name, right?).
And then Peter decides he has to do something. No – he doesn’t take a selfie (he probably left his phone back in his tent – but dang that would’ve been some insta post, right?). Out of fear, the text says, he suggests building tents for Jesus, Elijah, and Moses up there on the mountain. God tells him to just listen to Jesus, who after the other two disappeared, leads the disciples back down the mountain.
Holy smokes what a great script for a Hollywood movie. But wait, here’s another one!
There is the story of the prophet Elijah and his protege Elisha. Elijah, as we heard today, was nearing the end of his life – he knew it, and so did Elisha. At every turn, Elijah offered his disciple an off-ramp – a way to avoid having to follow in Elijah’s footsteps. And at ever turn, Elisha refuses. Finally, after they had crossed the Jordan, Elijah says to his younger charge, “Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you.” Elisha said, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.”
Now, you have to wonder about that request, right? What exactly does that mean? I mean, maybe Elisha should have asked for something practical, like, I don’t know, a rule book, or a compass for all those crazy desert crossings, or a maybe a top 10 list of things no wandering prophet should ever do, right? But instead, he tells Elijah “Make mine a double!,” and in this very request, he is showing that he has learned something very important about this prophet work.
You see – prophets do not do the work themselves. Elisha knew that if he were to carry this work on, he needed to have the spirit that Elijah had, even doubly so (showing his humility in the presence of his mentor) – a spirit that would enable him to be open to being used by God for work in the world.
And then, when Elijah was taken up to God in what can only be described as the most fabulously Hollywood dramatic display of fire in almost a space-age version of the chariot race from Ben Hur, Elisha saw that Elijah’s mantle, his cloak of sorts, was left behind, and he picked it up – the transition was complete, and the journey was now Elisha’s alone.
These are two amazing biblical narratives. I mean, Elijah should win the Oscar for Best Dramatic Exit for flying up into the heavens in a fiery horse drawn chariot. And the transfiguration – Jesus, Elijah, and Moses lighting up like a Christmas tree on fire is mind blowing too. But let’s not get lost in the extravaganza and lose sight of what these stories are telling us about our faith, and our life – especially as we remember blessed Absalom Jones and World Mission Sunday.
But what could that message for us be? What are we to learn from these biblical narratives and that of Absalom Jones? What does any of it have to do with World Mission Sunday? Let’s take a step back and consider the news of today.
This past week, I was asked to sit in for our bishop on a House of Bishop’s call regarding the situation in Gaza. The speaker was The Rev. Fadi Diab, who serves as rector of St. Andrew’s Church in Ramallah and St. Peter’s Church in Birzeit in the West Bank. In addition to his parish responsibilities, he has multiple roles in the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem, including serving on the board of the Al-Ahli Arab Hospital in Gaza (which has been bombed, and has seen overwhelming tragedy), and as chaplain of St. Philip’s Church, which is on the hospital compound. And, Fr. Diab happens to be the one to write the sermon for World Mission Sunday offered by The Episcopal Church. (A link to this sermon is included at the end of this post)
He described on that call, and in his sermon, what life is like there now. “Tens of thousands have been killed and injured—70% of them women and children. Two million have been displaced. Entire neighborhoods have been leveled to the ground. Entire families have been wiped from the civil registry. Gaza has been described by UN officials as “a graveyard for children,” and “a living hell for everyone else.” And then he adds this: “What has been even more distressing to the Palestinian Christian community is the utter silence, even indifference, of the majority in the international church.”
The horror he described to us on that Zoom meeting left my heart broken. Even while we know this latest genocide began in response to the horrific attack by Hamas where women were sexually assaulted, children killed, and hostages taken, we also know that the complete destruction of a people is not the answer, nor is the persecution in Gaza something new, just something escalated beyond imagination. Political solutions may be complicated, but injustice is not – no matter who is doing it, or who the victims may be.
In the case of Absalom Jones, much of the church not only remained silent in the face of slavery, but in his case, literally turned their backs on him and those who had joined the parish because of his evangelism. History may say they left St. George’s, but the truth is – the church left them. And while we are blessed that he continued in his prophetic work, later ordained a priest in the Diocese of Pennsylvania, that by no means absolved the church, then or now, for standing silent in the face of injustice, and especially for participating in it.
In these transfiguration moments – these pivotal crossroads in our faith, both in our past and today – the church as a whole has not always made the right choice. We have sometimes sought refuge on the mountaintop. We have turned aside from the prophets of our age when there was an easier path to choose. We have even said “well, the church shouldn’t be political.” As though the suffering of a child of God could be called political. It is not political.
Yet as Fr. Diab wrote in his sermon for today, “As the Holy Land goes through what seems like an endless night, the church is called to engage, not retreat. To help transform pain into hope and oppression into liberation…Such a transfiguration mission requires that the church overcome neutrality, fear, self-centeredness, and carelessness. It entails engaging the messiest conditions and conflicts; it involves getting our hands dirty. It encompasses an indispensable action to dismantle systems of injustice and oppression. It believes that there is no sphere into which the church may not speak or cannot engage. It entails a prophetic denunciation of everything that seeks to undo God’s dream for God’s world. And yes, it anticipates criticism, repudiation, pain, and death for the sake of God’s mission.”
I believe blessed Absalom Jones would agree and add “let the people say Amen!”
Folks, this is no time for the church to be silent!
No, we must pick up the mantle given us in our baptism, and cross the Jordan to be the prophetic witnesses God has called us to be.
We must not allow ourselves the comfort of our personal experience of Jesus, but look inward at our complicity in systems of injustice, and atone for our sins, make amendment of our lives, and take action in the world.
Our work as followers of Jesus, as prophetic witnesses of God’s love for everyone – no exceptions – is not easy work.
Being a follower of Jesus means stepping into a journey where the cross looms as a possibility. You see, whenever we do the work of Christ – whenever we truly follow Him – we do not stand idlily by – we are not silent. We will do the things he did.
We will overturn the tables of hate.
We will stand with the suffering.
We will resist, persist, and enlist others in our cause of love.
And that, my friends, really annoys those who have power. Jesus knew that. Jesus knew what lay ahead for him once they descended down that mountain. Jesus was going to do what he came to do, the things we are called to do as his followers – and he knew the cost may be his life.
So here we are – a people amidst the rise of violent racism here in our country, genocide in Gaza, antisemitism around the world.
And having experienced the transfigured Christ in his real presence among us in the Eucharist, we stand at the crossroads of prophetic witness or safety as we leave our churches on Sunday mornings.
We are called to come down from the mountaintop, to not choose what is comfortable, but tread the righteous path!
We are meant to not only follow Christ, but to ask for a double share of his humility, his grace, his love – not for ourselves, but as a mantle to be worn in our work in his name!
And, we are doing some of that work across the church now, using our voice, our witness, our treasure to bring about the beloved community God dreams for us all. Like prophetic work has always been throughout time – it is for each of those who follow Jesus a life long journey – with hills and valleys – progress and setbacks. Yet we will not grow weary – we will not hide on the mountaintop – we will not choose to go another way.
Not while children of God are being slaughtered in the Middle East, in Ukraine, in our streets, at our borders because of the color of their skin, the faith they profess, for being female, because of who they love, what language they speak, and what gender they claim.
We, the church, followers of Jesus, will not be silent.
We will take on the mantle of Christ, pray for a double share of his humility, boldly leave our proverbial mountaintops and cross whatever rivers we must to speak the truth.
The truth that everyone is made in the image of God – everyone is God’s beloved child.
And, we will not be silent, we will not stand on the sidelines, when any of God’s beloved is harmed, nor will we turn our back on any part of God’s creation.
This we will do.
This we must do.
May God grant us all a double share of the Holy Spirit to equip us for the work we are to do in the name of Jesus, that all may come to live in love not fear, peace and not war.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Rec-001-Sermon-February_11_2024.m4aFr. Diab’s sermon for World Mission Sunday: https://www.episcopalchurch.org/ministries/global-partnerships/world-mission-sunday/?mc_cid=a87322c206&mc_eid=4975198647
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
February 11, 2024
Last Sunday After the Epiphany
1st Reading – 2 Kings 2:1-12
Psalm 50:1-6
2nd Reading – 2 Corinthians 4:3-6
Gospel – Mark 9:2-9
The post “We Will Not Be Silent! appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
February 4, 2024: Arise, shine! For your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. Amen.
Hey – did you’all see that bright thing in the sky? NJ.Com, a local news source, posted on their Facebook page this important bulletin: “Strange glowing orb spotted over New Jersey Saturday. Remain calm.” I heard a rumor that it was the sun! And, good ole Punxsutawney Phil didn’t see his shadow! Thanks be to God!
All kidding aside, seeing the sun after many days of gray clouds, rain, and snow does tend to gladden our hearts, so much so that scientists and psychologists have studied the effect of the sun and clouds on our mood many times over. It seems we crave a bit of restoration in the light of that yellowish orb. Yes, sometimes in ways that are destructive to us, but it is hard to deny the emotional and mental response.
So, as I scrolled through the social media posts proclaiming sun sightings, I started to think about today’s gospel about Jesus, the SON of God, in a different light – yup, I went there, didn’t I. Groan away – I deserve it.
We are still in the first chapter of Mark, and Jesus heads over to Simon and Andrew’s house with the other disciples. Simon’s mother-in-law happens to have a high fever and is very sick. Now, let’s give her a name…let’s call her Helen, which means torch or shining light. Anyway, Jesus took Helen by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever broke, and she began to serve them. The story continues saying that Jesus did a lot of healing well into the night. The next morning, while it was still dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.”
Now, before we go any further – let us first set aside the centuries of patriarchal misinterpretation of what is happening here with regard to the first part of this story, because for far too long this passage has been used to perpetuate the myth that God created women to serve men. That myth was brought to you by, wait for it, men.
According to that interpretation, woman have no place in pulpits, near an altar, wearing a stole, or a bishop’s mitre. Nor do we have a role in the board rooms of corporations or as heads of state. While there is nothing wrong with being a woman who chooses to stay at home and care for the household, there is a difference between choosing that, and being told that is where you must be.
It is true that this gospel was written at a time when there were expectations for women’s roles – are there not still today? I heard a report that, at the rate of change we are now experiencing, it will take another 300 years for women to achieve parity with men in the workplace. Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up.
Yet when we decide that Jesus is expecting this type of subjugation of any child of God, then we are doing what the Roman Catholic theologian Elizabeth Johnson once meant when she alluded that the way a community speaks about God, says more about the community, than it does about God.
So, let’s dig a bit deeper to find out what this story is all about, why it includes both the healing of Helen and Jesus praying, and most of all, why it matters to us today.
First, if this were truly about wanting people to know that a woman’s place was as a domestic servant, it is likely it would not even have been mentioned. Why, in a gospel that is so rushed, so focused on keeping things moving, would the author include something that in that society would have been like saying “Hey, did you know that the Romans can get testy about paying taxes?” Well, thank you Captain Obvious.
So, taking a closer look, we may find out why it was included early, or even at all, in this fast paced and brief gospel. And to start that, let’s look at some word clues, so get ready for a tiny bit of Geeky Greek. When Jesus heals Helen, the word used is ἤγειρεν. Okay – where exactly did we see hear THAT word? Well, we didn’t. We heard the English translation from the Greek, but it described the action that Jesus did with Helen and it matters. This wasn’t just a curing of a fever. What we heard was “he lifted her,” but it is also “he raised her.” You know where else we hear that word? – In the raising of Lazarus, and by Peter when speaking to the crowds in Acts 3 to describe God raising Jesus from the dead, to name two. This isn’t to say that our gal Helen was actually dead, but it does mean this was a transformational healing that went far beyond lowering her temperature.
Looking a bit further, the phrase used to describe her response helps us even more. It says “she began to serve them.” But the word used here is διακονίαthe same that we use for diaconal ministry – the work of Deacons in the church. One of the principal roles for Deacons in the liturgy is the setting of the table for the Eucharist, and in the cleaning up afterward – both done by Jackie, who is herself a candidate for Holy Orders, to serve Christ and his church as a Deacon.
And here is the real kicker – this diakonia – the word this author uses – it is the same word Jesus uses to describe his own ministry later in this gospel when he says “I came not to be served, but to serve.”
So no – the author isn’t asking us to see Helen as a model of feminine subversion. He specifically uses the word diakonia to describe something important – that yes, she likely set food and drink out for everyone, but she didn’t wait on them, she ministered to them. Deacons don’t wait on people, they minister to them.
And finally, it helps to know that in this gospel, the insiders – the big 12 male disciples – they never really get who Jesus is. The outsiders – women, demons, lepers and other people living on the margins – they know exactly who he is. This outsider, this woman, is the first to exemplify the work of a follower of Jesus – to serve as he served.
The thing is, Jesus restores people not so they can be what they once were, but that they may live out their call – that they may be the part of the Kingdom of God they were meant to be. In this case, he quite literally raises Helen into new life, that she may serve as he served.
This is a call story, which makes sense, as Jesus has been doing a lot of that in this first chapter of Mark – Simon, Andrew, Peter, James, John, and now this mother-in-law of Simon, who I have chosen to call Helen.
So now that we have that cleared up, let’s look at that other part, where it says that “Jesus got up, while it was still dark, and left to find a deserted place to pray.”
Again – this gospel does not add any extra stuff in – just the facts ma’me. So, with that in mind, and remembering that we are still in Chapter 1, why does the author tell us this little bit about Jesus sneaking away to a deserted place to pray?
Well, think about all that we heard about what happened that day.
It is the sabbath, and Jesus started off teaching in the synagogue, where he also cast out a demon. Then he goes to Simon’s house, and heals Helen so she could minister to others. Then half the town shows up for him to heal. It’s exhausting just reading about it. So, it makes sense, that the author put this part in about Jesus, because after all of that day of ministering to others, Jesus needed some ministering too as well.
He knew it. He didn’t try to shove it aside. He didn’t have a God complex that said I can do anything– though I suppose he would be entitled, because, well, you know.
No, Jesus did what he needed to do, so that he could be what he needed to be.
The author of this gospel, who sets a frenetic pace and isn’t one for extra details, knew that those who would listen to or read it would need something. They would need to know up front that following Jesus not only means breaking societal barriers as we serve in his name, but that we pray – early and often, because we cannot do this work alone. And if Jesus needed to do this, we can be assured that we will too.
As we enter this Black History month, I am reminded of something that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said about this very thing. Now in our minds and hearts, we know King as a man of deep faith, courage, conviction, and moral clarity. He towers large in the history and fabric of the nation.
Yet Dr. once said “Throughout this struggle for racial justice I have constantly asked God to remove all bitterness from my heart and to give me the strength and courage to face any disaster that came my way. This constant prayer life and feeling of dependence on God have given me the feeling that I have divine companionship in the struggle. I know no other way to explain it. It is the fact that, in the midst of external tension, God can give an inner peace.[1]”
Indeed, God surely can.
When we are raised up – when we encounter the restorative power of God in our lives – we want to respond by being as Christ like as possible, to serve as he served. But we must also follow him in his moments of rest and renewal. Like him, we need to seek places to be renewed in prayer – in our relationship with God who sustains us all.
That is the reality of discipleship, of ministry in Christ’s name. It is life giving and transformative, and it can also be exhausting if we do not lean on God and rest in the divine embrace.
Jesus knew that. Dr. King knew that. We all need to know that too.
Perhaps that is why many of us are here – because we do now that we need this. We are seekers – we seek something – restoration, renewal, calling, a sense of purpose, a place to serve, a path to discover who we are. In prayer, in community, and in the body and blood of Jesus, we are raised up for our calling like Helen, and we are given strength for that journey of ministry like Jesus. And Lordy, that’s a good thing, because there is a lot of service we need to do in his name, to be sure.
People are in physical, spiritual, and emotional pain – and Jesus needs us to bear the balm of his love to heal them.
People are suffering from the chains of oppression – Jesus needs us to exorcise those demons of hate through the overwhelming power of Christ’s love.
All of creation cries out from the wounds of our neglect and abuse – and Jesus needs us to lift that truth from darkness by his light at work in us, to restore and renew what we have harmed.
It’s a lot – this serving we are raised up and called to do.
Yet, as Dr. King said about himself, we too have divine companionship in the struggle, and all we have to do to feel it, to be restored and lifted up by it – is to follow Jesus.
Follow Jesus to a deserted place and pray.
Okay, it doesn’t have to be an actual empty place in the wee hours of the morning before there is any light. For some, there isn’t enough coffee in the world for that. Nor does it actually have to be quiet and by yourself. Each of you will have that time and space that is unique to you. You know where and when it is (and if you don’t, take some time to figure that out).
For many – it is here on Sundays. For others, it might be on your commute home, on a morning run, on an evening walk of the dog, or while rocking your baby to sleep. Whatever it is, and whenever it is, make it a time for you to open your heart to God. Allow not only the space for you to share your burdens and hopes, but to also be still and breathe in the divine breath – the restorative Holy Spirit.
In this time of global strife, amidst whatever demons or ills you yourself are facing, allow yourself also to feel dependence on something other than yourself – lean on God and offer up Dr, King’s prayer “asking God to remove all bitterness from your heart and to give you the strength and courage to face any disaster that comes your way.”
If you do this, if you lean on God, and offer up yourself in prayer, you will feel Jesus lifting you up for your own calling.
You will be reminded that you also are not alone – that you too have a divine companionship in the struggle,
And you will find yourself to be on the path to inner peace.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/Rec-001-Sermon-February_4_2024.m4a[1] Martin Luther King Jr., The Autobiography of Martin Luther King Jr., Chapter 12: Brush with Death, Stanford.edu/group/king/autobiography/chp_12.htm. Retrieved August 15, 2002.
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
February 4, 2024
Fifth Sunday After the Epiphany
1st Reading – Isaiah 40:21-31
Psalm 147:1-12, 21c
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Gospel – Mark 1:29-39
The post “Raised, Called, Restored” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
January 28, 2024: Arise, shine! For your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. Amen.
So, today St. Paul is talking a LOT about food. Now, I generally like the guy, but when he says ““Food will not bring us close to God.” We are no worse off if we do not eat, and no better off if we do.” Clearly, St. Paul has not been at some of our parish feasts, because Lordy!, the food, in my book, is just about heaven on earth.
But the truth of it is, St. Paul wasn’t writing to the churches in Corinth about food, well, not exactly about food anyway. In true Paul-like, over the top style, he does say a lot of words to get to a specific point though, and so we can sometimes lose sight of what the heck he was getting at – a sentiment anyone who studies him in seminary is likely to feel at one point or another, especially if you are trying to translate from the Greek. St. Paul is not one for the “short and sweet” approach.
But if you like that sort of style, then the Gospel of Mark is for you. This is the first to be written, of our four canonical gospels anyway, and the shortest. In fact, this gospel author seems to be in a very big hurry. As I mentioned before, there is no birth narrative, no genealogy – nope… adult Jesus is on the scene in the first chapter, and from there, the author moves quickly. This author goes from story to story using the word “immediately” 35 times, nearly half the times it appears in all of the Christian testament. Jesus doesn’t do a lot of long discourses either – action, more than words are what this author wants you to see about Jesus.
If you think about it, as St. Paul’s letters preceded any of the gospels, maybe the author of Mark was just done reading that former Pharisee’s writings, and thought “Good grief – let’s give folks something a little more straightforward for crying out loud.”
So today, remember now – we are still in the first chapter of Mark, Jesus – wet behind the ears from his baptism, and after picking up a few disciples along the way – enters the synagogue on the sabbath and begins teaching. I mean – in Matthew and Luke, Jesus isn’t even out of the womb in Chapter 1. John, well – Jesus isn’t even born, so let’s not go there.
Back to the story…Jesus is teaching and as the text says, “Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”” Jesus tells the demon to be quiet and get out of the man, and they obey. BAM! First disciples, first teaching, and first miracle done – all in the first 28 verses. Notice too that Mark doesn’t even tell you what Jesus says when he taught in the synagogue – that isn’t as important as what he does.
Which, if we remember what St. Paul was writing, is a similar thing. We can say we follow Jesus. We can call ourselves Christians. Heck, we can even go to church and quote scripture. It is how we live out our faith that matters. And both Jesus and St. Paul are making it clear that there is one way to do that – love.
Love that values compassion, justice, and relationship over all our notions about who is right or who is wrong.
And it is something that has been the focus all week across the entire Christian church. Every year in the Northern Hemisphere, between the Confession of St. Peter (on the 18th) and the Conversion of St. Paul (on the 25th) much of Christendom celebrates what is called A Week of Christian Unity. In the Southern Hemisphere it is held between Ascension Day and Pentecost. It is always an octave – an eight day observance in which followers of Jesus worship together, pray together, and look to build a connection and promote unity throughout the church.
As a member of our diocesan Ecumenical/Interfaith Commission, I was humbled to be a part of a service led by his eminence, Cardinal Tobin, Archbishop of Newark, and which also included Mother Lynne Weber our diocesan chair, from Atonement in Tenafly, several of the members of the Anglican-Roman Catholic dialog group we are both a part of, the distinguished professor at Seton Hall University, the Rev. Dr. Forrest Pritchett, and other representatives of denominations in northern New Jersey.
“The service began with the African custom of welcoming guests with a refreshing drink of water from a large calabash and then inviting them in to rest from their journey. Cardinal Tobin poured cups of water and distributed them to those present, and then led [us] into the [nave] of the church, [where we worshiped together as one united in Jesus Christ]”
In another part of the global church, our own Archbishop of Canterbury worshipped alongside Pope Francis in an evening prayer service in Rome. During that service, the Pope said, “Only a love that becomes gratuitous service, only the love that Jesus taught and embodied, will bring separated Christians closer to one another…Only that love, which does not appeal to the past in order to remain aloof or to point a finger, only that love which in God’s name puts our brothers and sisters before the ironclad defense of our own religious structures, will unite us.”
Amen to that Your Holiness!
And on this day in which we welcome little Eve Telemaque into the household of God, it is good that, as we conclude this week of Christian Unity, we are reminded of just that very ideal. For all baptism services open with this affirmation that there is: “One Lord, one Faith, one Baptism – One God and Creator of all.” Because today, Eve doesn’t become a part of Christ Episcopal Church, or the Episcopal Church at large, or even of the Anglican Communion. Eve’s baptism brings her into the church of Jesus Christ – that large household of God.
Eve, and her brother Duke, who I baptized before, will grow up in a world where being a part of the body of Christ is already looking far different than it did in years past, but the core identity of who they are in Christ has never, nor will it ever, change for them…or for us. That we are called to love and serve the least, the last, the lonely, and the lost.
In the coming years, Eve will learn what her baptism means from her parents, her godparents, and a whole cloud of witnesses – Sunday School teachers, friends of the family, and more. She may choose when she is older to confirm the promises made by her parents and godparents today, but even if she chooses another path, the seal made today between God and Eve will never be broken. Her welcome into the church universal – that very large body of Jesus Christ – will always be there for her.
All of this to say that despite our differences over liturgy, sacramental theology, or anything else, we are a people united by Jesus Christ by our baptism.
This is what St. Paul was trying to tell those folks in Corinth. Our faith isn’t about food, but about family – the family of Jesus. And the Jesus we follow isn’t one who builds walls. This Jesus breaks down barriers that we humans like to put up.
So, it is appropriate at this time when we are being reminded about the barriers we can sometimes construct within the church universal, when we hear these words from the epistle to the Corinthians, that we also get the story in the gospel. Because there, Jesus performs an exorcism – and this author believed it was this miracle that needed to be brought forward right in the first chapter.
We lose a bit of the power of this because for us, exorcisms are mainly the things of Hollywood movies. But those who were thought to be possessed by demons in the days of Jesus were outcasts. Jesus stands in that synagogue and commands the demons to depart from this man, and by that exorcism, by that healing, brings the man back into the fold of community.
We need some of that now, to be sure. The world needs a few exorcisms and boundary breakers.
We need to exorcise that which breaks the body, mind, and spirit of any child of God – racism, sexism, heterosexism, poverty, addiction, oppression, and abuse – calling out those demons and setting those captive to them free.
We need to exorcise the demons of our arrogance that has led to the neglect and abuse of God’s creation and all the creatures who dwell on this earth.
And we need to break down the barriers we have built – in our nation, in our families, in our faith. Instead, loving as he commanded us to do, we will build bridges where walls once stood – valuing right relationship with God, one another, and creation, over scoring some doctrinal, political, or personal point.
For what is it that really matters in the end?
Is it to be “right” or to be in right relationship.
St. Paul was very clear about where he stands when he said, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.”
And so, most especially as we enter this difficult election year, let us set aside our need to be right (because truth be told, we are often not), and instead ask ourselves: Is what I am about to say or post or whatever one does on Threads or X, really true, is it necessary, does it build up others, does it work to remove the demons – our own, or systemic in our society?
Or, to put it in clear terms – is it building up in love?
If it isn’t – let it go.
The world, the church you represent, your very soul will be better for it.
At that service with Pope Francis, our own Archbishop Justin Welby put it this way: “Anger imprisons us; our rivalry or dislike of our brothers and sisters cuts us off from the freedom that God offers [the] church…a church caught up in the fire of the love of God through the Holy Spirit will be a church of reconciliation, a church of hope, a church of healing,” it will be a church that can “care for the millions, the billions who are […] in pain, lost and suffering.”
I started this sermon with the words of St. Paul that “Food will not bring us close to God.”
That, my friends, is true.
But you know what will?
Love.
Love is the only thing we need – love of God, love of neighbor – love of self…and I would add – love of all of God’s creation.
Love does not tear down, love builds up.
Love does not try to wound, but yearns to heal.
Love does not judge, but is unconditional.
Love cares more about being in relationship than being right.
Love will truly bring us close to God.
It is the only thing that will.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_28_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 28, 2024
Fourth Sunday After the Epiphany
1st Reading – Deuteronomy 18:15-20
Psalm 111
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 8:1-13
Gospel – Mark 1:21-28
The post “Love Builds Up” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
January 21, 2024: Arise, shine! For your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. Amen.
Yesterday I was privileged to lead a retreat for the vestry of another parish in our diocese. It was a day filled with prayer, dreams, and a yearning to know where God was leading them. It was held at a place of spiritual renewal for many in our diocese – the Community of St. John Baptist (CSJB for short), our Episcopal Convent here in Mendham. I am an Associate of that convent, which means I pray for them, follow a spiritual rule of life, and support their life whenever possible. Perhaps you have been to this convent, and you may also remember that Sister Linda Clare came here last year on this Sunday to speak to us at our coffee hour. This is because today, across the Episcopal Church, the Anglican Church of Canada, and spreading to other parts of our Anglican Communion, we celebrate Religious Life Sunday.
Some might be surprised by our having religious orders in the Episcopal Church, and you would not be alone. One sister of the Order of St. Helena, wrote “Several years ago, at the General Convention of The Episcopal Church, I was walking around in my religious habit, and someone said to me, “It’s so nice that you Roman Catholic sisters are here.” When I replied that I was indeed a sister, but also an Episcopalian, she answered, “But you can’t be; I’ve been an Episcopalian all my life, and we don’t have them.” So, we found bumper stickers that said, “Proud to be an Episcopalian!” and we affixed these to the front and back of our habits.”[1]
So, yes – there really are nuns and monks in The Episcopal Church! Just some background though, in case the only time we have encountered one is when we watch The Sound of Music, [cad-vail] Cadfael, or Sister Act on TV:
“Religious communities in The Episcopal Church include monastic communities—whose members live together under a rule of life and vows such as poverty, chastity, and obedience—and dispersed Christian communities, whose members have jobs and live in their own homes, but who also live under religious vows.”[2]
Some may have in their imaginations that these sisters and brothers who are part of the more traditional order sit around praying all day, chant beautifully, and wear habits. Well – all orders do pray the office multiple times a day. As for habits, some wear them, some do not, and some wear them only during services. Some orders make fudge or jam, others do bee keeping and engage in sustainable farming, some support the work of parishes. Others, like Sister Monica Clare of CSJB, can be found on her Tik Tok channel, Linked In, and once the NY Times. And I can assure you that many engage in social justice and activism too – don’t ever get in the way of a nun who has seen a child of God harmed!
The religious communities are also often places where people can go for spiritual direction, retreats – like the one I led, meditative prayer, and more. And of course, most convents and monasteries offer the gift of hospitality – serving as a model to us all – welcoming guests as they would Jesus. Your vestry has been to Holy Cross Monastery, an Episcopal brotherhood, in West Park NY on the banks of the Hudson many times over the years for spiritual nourishment and reflection on their work.
We should thank God always for all of them. Yet there is a reason this Religious Life Sunday was approved by General Convention to be celebrated on this Sunday in Epiphany. And that brings us to our passages from Jonah and the Gospel of Mark.
Taking first the passage from Jonah, it sounds like God tells Jonah to go to Ninevah and proclaim God’s message for them, and he gets up, says “I’m your guy, God – I’m on it!” and off he goes. But, if we actually read the full story, which, btw, isn’t that long, that isn’t how this went at all.
So, a brief recap: Jonah’s first response was – hell no! He had no interest in going to “those” people. He planned a little shopping trip to Tarshish. So on to a boat he went in the direction he decided was best. God was having none of it. The ship was wracked by a fierce storm, and the sailors sensed somebody had displeased God. Jonah fesses up, they throw him overboard, he gets swallowed by a big fish, and after three days of stewing over this whole thing, he finally offers a prayer to God, which gets him vomited up onto the beach.
THEN, we get to this passage we heard. Kinda changes the meaning of it, doesn’t it?
And in the gospel, it was a whole different reaction to the call of Jesus for Simon (later Peter), Andrew, James, and John, right? Jesus walks by, says “Follow me and I will make you fish for people,” and BAM! Off they went with him. Easy peasy.
Here’s the thing though… call, if it is genuinely from God, is much more like the Jonah story than that of the disciples. In fact, the disciples story can make it seem so easy, when it really is often not. And call is what we, as children of God and followers of Jesus have – every single one of us.
Now, you might be thinking – Jesus never walked by me and told me to drop everything and follow him. God never called me to some great act of prophetic witness. Or, like some, you might think call is for “those” people – ordained clergy or the religious.
Well, call is sometimes for ordained or religious life – and not just for those who are young, as many find that it is later in life that God calls us. And, we need to really take in that call almost never goes the way it does in our gospel reading today.
Ask anyone who is ordained or religious and they will tell you that they relate to Jonah, Moses, Jeremiah, or Isaiah – all prophets who felt unworthy or didn’t want to go in that direction. In fact, it is often the thing we want least to do that God is actually calling us into.
Yet, through the centuries, the church universal has been blessed by those who, despite their initial reservations or discomfort, followed their call – ordained, religious, and lay. People like Jonah, Moses, Mary Magdalene, Peter, and the other apostles to people of our time – Dorothy Day, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Theresa, and from the Episcopal/Anglican Church Louie Crew Clay, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and the Martyrs of Memphis, just to name a brief few.
I should note that Louie Crew Clay was from the Diocese of Newark, and a leading voice for the full inclusion of LGBTQ+ people in the life of the church. I was privileged to have known him, and we in our diocese are proud of his prophetic witness.
One of those I mentioned were the Martyrs of Memphis. If you don’t know their story, you should – especially given the recent pandemic. From one account:
“In August 1878, yellow fever invaded the city of Memphis, Tennessee for the third time in ten years…In that time of panic and flight, many brave men and women, both lay and ordained, remained at their posts of duty or came as volunteers to assist in spite of the terrible risk. Notable among these heroes were four Episcopal sisters from the Community of Saint Mary in NY, and two of their clergy colleagues.
The Sisters had come to Memphis in 1873, at Bishop Quintard’s request, to found a school for girls adjacent to St. Mary’s Cathedral. When the 1878 epidemic began, George C. Harris, the cathedral dean, and Sister Constance immediately organized relief work among the stricken. Helping were six of Constance’s fellow Sisters of St. Mary; Sister Clare from St. Margaret’s House, Boston, Massachusetts; the Reverend Charles C. Parsons, Rector of Grace and St. Lazarus Church, Memphis; and the Reverend Louis S. Schuyler, assistant at Holy Innocents, Hoboken, New Jersey. The cathedral group also included three physicians, two of whom were ordained Episcopal priests, the Sisters’ two matrons, and several volunteer nurses from New York.
The cathedral buildings were located in the most infected region of Memphis. Here, amid sweltering heat and scenes of indescribable horror, these men and women of God gave relief to the sick, comfort to the dying, and homes to the many orphaned children. Only two of the workers escaped the fever. Among those who died were Constance, Thecla, Ruth, and Frances, the Reverend Charles Parsons, and the Reverend Louis Schuyler. All six are buried at the historic Elmwood Cemetery.”[3] Their saint day is September 9th.
I think about people like the Martyrs of Memphis and so many others when people say that religions do nothing but create wars, or that being a religious – a nun or a monk – only means a life of prayer beads shut off from the rest of the world (as though prayer isn’t powerful in and of itself). Which is one reason I love that the PBS drama “Call the Midwife,” has so many people who watch it. It is based on the true story of the midwives (lay and religious) of Nonnatus House working in London’s East End, an impoverished part of that city, in the years following WWII. The sisters in that drama, if you haven’t seen it, are Anglican. They are not Roman Catholic, they are part of our church! Yet what some might miss is that the sisters are not the only ones called in that show. The other midwives are doing amazing work too – as lay midwives. In fact, it is based on the memoir of one of them, Jennifer Worth.
So call – whether as a lay person, an ordained clergy, or a religious – has many forms, and through the centuries, the world has been blessed by those who don’t hop a proverbia boat to Tarshish, but chose to drop their nets to follow where God calls them.
But here is something we all need to take note of… the ones answering calls, especially ordained and religious, are getting smaller and smaller every year. There are many parish openings, and not enough clergy to fill them. Convents and monasteries are closing in some places because there are not enough nuns or monks left to minister and support the work.
Does this mean God stopped calling people to these roles?
No. Not at all.
The thing is – call requires something of us.
We need to listen.
We need to be open to possibilities unimagined for our lives and that of others.
We need to trust in God.
And the truth is – many stopped listening a long time ago.
It is hard to hear God calling us amidst the insanity of our daily lives. To hear anyone, even God, we need to be listening – giving our full attention. This is true whether our call is to ordained and religious, or to lay ministry.
That is why we need to take a page from the religious and ordained, for we are required to set aside time for conversation with God in prayer every single day. And – we do it willingly and gladly – for we know by our own call struggle that we must listen for the wee small voice of God, because God is always trying to tell us something.
And perhaps just as important – we need to be like Jesus and recognize the gifts of others, helping them to live into their own call.
I can honestly say that if you do this, if you listen, really listen for God’s call in your life, if you commit to being open to whatever God needs you to do – you will never, ever, regret it. And if, by your willingness to prayerfully see call in others, you are able to guide them to where the Spirit is leading, they will be eternally grateful to you as well.
The truth for all of us is – that we all have a call – one is to follow Jesus wherever he leads us, and the other is be like Jesus and help others to do the same.
So, on this religious life Sunday, take a moment today to give thanks for those who serve Christ in Religious Community, those like Constance and her companions, the midwives of Nonnatus House, the sisters of CSJB, or the brothers of Holy Cross. Think also about those who you know who are ordained clergy.
And then take a moment to consider the people you know in your life.
Are any of them called to ordained or religious life?
Are you?
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_21_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 21, 2024
Third Sunday After the Epiphany
1st Reading – Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Psalm 62:6-14
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 7:29-31
Gospel – Mark 1:14-20
[1] The Best Kept Secret in The Episcopal Church By Sr. Ellen Francis, OSH
[2] https://www.episcopalchurch.org/publicaffairs/episcopalians-invited-to-observe-religious-life-sunday-on-jan-22/
[3] Modified from: https://wearestalbans.org/september-9-the-martyrs-of-memphis-constance-and-her-companions-1878/
The post “Religious and Episcopal!” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
January 14, 2024: Arise, shine! For your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. Amen.
Today we celebrate the baptism of our Lord Jesus Christ. The lectionary appoints this as being celebrated last Sunday, but as we transfer the Feast of the Epiphany to the first Sunday in January, and the baptism of Jesus is a High Holy Day, we ensure it is celebrated on the Sunday following. Don’t worry though, we ensure that both call stories intended to be heard this week and next, will be read next week. The thing is – we do this lectionary dance because it is important that we celebrate both of these important feast days of the church.
This Sunday into the next one is also a time of gratitude for me each year, as it marks the anniversary of my ministry as Rector of this parish. I was no stranger to this parish to be sure. I had been the celebrant for the Christmas Eve service in 2013, days before being publicly announced as the incoming Rector, because at the time, the use of the high altar was not reachable by Mother Kay Locke, the long term supply priest, due to the many steps. I had also led the small Wednesday noon service after Mother Anne left the previous June. And, I attended the January 13th Vestry meeting too. Still, my very first official Sunday with you as your Rector was 10 years ago this coming Friday, January 19th.
Sometimes it feels like the time flew by, but with the pandemic, it also sometimes feels much longer than a decade. So, January is for me a reflection on that beginning, and perhaps it is for you as well.
Certainly, January marks a time of beginnings in other ways – people enter into the new year with resolutions, that while sometimes go unfulfilled, are by their very nature a sign of hope for what may be. Beginnings are like that – fresh slates, blank canvases, a place from which possibilities may become reality. And beginnings are what we are hearing about in our texts today from Genesis and the Gospel.
In the passage from Genesis, we heard the very first words of our Holy Bible. It is the story of the Holy Spirit, that divine breath of God, moving over the chaos and bringing order. God then creates light in the midst of darkness, and gives a divine thumbs up to it all.
And, as we are in Year B, we read from the gospel of Mark, where hear of the baptism of Jesus – right in the first chapter. Mark, the first of the canonical gospels to be written, has no birth narrative. There are no shepherds, no magi, no manger, no 12 year old Jesus getting grounded for scaring Mary and Joseph half to death with his own Home Alone story. The author of Mark starts with an emphatic “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God,” introduces our locust eating prophet John, then a fully adult Jesus shows up to be baptized before starting his ministry in the world. Clearly, this author is in a bit of a hurry here to get the story moving.
Both of these narratives launch a beginning – of God’s creation and of Christ’s ministry. The Spirit moves over the deep, the Spirit descends upon Jesus as he rises from the water. Light broke over the darkness, and the light of Christ was about to really ignite a fire across the world.
And on this weekend, when we also celebrate something else – the ministry and prophetic voice of a follower of Jesus – the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. – it is this knowledge of God’s light entering into the world, Christ’s light breaking across the darkness of humanity that gave Dr. King, and all of us in these troubling times, great hope.
As Dr. King preached in June of 1967, less than a year from his assassination, “Faith in the dawn arises from the faith that God is good and just. When one believes this, he knows that the contradictions of life are neither final nor ultimate. He can walk through the dark night with the radiant conviction that all things work together for good for those that love God. Even the most starless midnight may herald the dawn of some great fulfillment.”
King did not live to see the end of the darkness of racism, the dream he proclaimed to the world.
Neither do we stand in that radiant light of the beloved community God has dreamt for us from that first moment of Creation.
And yet our faith tells us that God is present in the chaos of the dark. That the Spirit moves constantly across creation. That Christ’s light overcomes even the deepest night.
We know this to be true here at our parish. Over these past ten years we have grieved together the violence, hate, oppression, poverty, abuse, and exclusion that brings pain to children of God and all of creation. We have comforted one another as we mourned the death of those we loved. We have supported one another through a devastating pandemic.
Yet we have also rejoiced in the blessings we have received through the years – new births, marriages, the sound of children ringing through the rafters, the build-up of our music program, new members coming through our doors, thriving ministry in our community, and our community using our spaces.
We have also come to know these past several years post-pandemic that God’s creative work in the world isn’t a one time thing. We began together back in 2014 with financial stresses and congregational decline threatening the close of our parish. But we had faith, and together we worked to grow in membership and financial strength to where, by 2020, we were on our way to a bright future. The pandemic years knocked us on our heels financially, and our in-person attendance is less than half of what it once was. For the past two years we faced once again the possibility of having to close our doors.
Yet, we also knew that God wasn’t done with us.
While still low, our in-person attendance continues to grow year after year. The enrollment in our school is increasing, and will soon meet and surpass the goal we set for this year. We also, by God’s grace, and your generous gratitude to God, have had one of our best pledge campaigns in our ten years together. As a result, we can now say that, even while there is still much work to do, we are out of the danger zone.
The dawn is breaking once again here at Christ Church, and it truly is good!
Still, we know that none of this is for us alone, but that we might be witnesses of God’s unconditional love, serving Christ in the least, the last, the lonely, and the lost.
Which is why it is good that in a few moments we will renew our own baptismal covenant.
The vows we make remind us that, just like Jesus, we aren’t meant to stand there toweling off and then return home after our baptism. We are to do as Jesus did after he was baptized. Okay, perhaps not head out to the wilderness for 40 days, but Lordy, our world can sure fill us with a sense of great evil and the temptation to give in to the despair of darkness, doesn’t it? Yet Jesus gives that darkness the divine flip off, and keeps on moving – to do what he was there to do. We are meant to do the same.
Dr. King understood that too. Baptized into Christ, he was gifted by the Holy Spirit with a prophetic voice that will resound through the centuries. Despite the dangers, despite all the evil that surrounded him, despite the desire of the prince of darkness to bring him to his knees in despair, Dr. King knew that his baptismal call was to proclaim that God’s light and love is stronger than the darkness of hate and racism.
And now…it is up to each of us.
We are the body of Christ.
We are the prophetic witnesses to God’s love.
And there is still so much work in Christ’s name to be done.
Ten years ago, I invited you all to come and see.
Come and see where Christ was leading us.
None of could have possibly imagined the wild and wonderful ride this would be for us, for our community, and for the gospel we proclaim. We have had our difficult times to be sure, but as was made clear in our scriptures today – darkness may always be here, but it is light that God brought into being. God’s light. Christ’s light. Our light. And there is no darkness that will ever overcome it.
And so we begin again – into 2024.
Into another year of priest and people.
Into another new life out of near death for our parish.
And into another year of living out our own baptismal call.
We will need the faith and courage of Dr. King to do this, to be sure, for we will enter into 2024 knowing the hate, violence, and oppression that will only grow worse in this election year. Dr. King offers us a message about that courage that we should hold in our hearts in the months ahead when the darkness tries to have its’ sway over us, trying to force us back. He said:
“Courage is an inner resolution to go forward despite obstacles; Cowardice is submissive surrender to circumstances.
Courage breeds creativity; Cowardice represses fear and is mastered by it.
Cowardice asks the question, is it safe?
Expediency asks the question, is it politic?
Vanity asks the question, is it popular?
But conscience asks the question, is it right? And there comes a time when we must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but one must take it because it is right.”
We who are baptized must not only act because it is right, but because we are followers of Jesus, and I believe that this courage that King speaks of – that he had himself – it doesn’t come from human power or might. It comes from knowledge of God’s love in our heart, the authenticity of the Holy Spirit in our humility, and the power of Christ’s light working through our brokenness.
And so I invite you again to come and see where Christ is leading us, as we seek to courageously live out our baptismal call in this place we call Christ Church, in our neighborhoods, and in the world. It is another beginning for us, and I suspect you might want to fasten your seatbelts, because we are in for a joyously wild ride as we continue to grow in faith, serve our neighbors, and create community in the name of Jesus Christ.
And in the end, I believe that God will look around here and say – it is good.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_14_2024.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 14, 2024
The Second Sunday After The Epiphany
The Baptism of our Lord (trans.)
1st Reading – Genesis 1:1-5
Psalm 29
2nd Reading – Acts 19:1-7
Gospel – Mark 1:4-11
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September 10, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
This is a season of change – in the weather of course – I mean what is up with this late summer thunderstorm surge? Change in our daily lives – a new school year for the kids, a return from summer vacations. And… change in the church – the choir is back (yea!!!), and lots of parish programming starts up again after a summer lull. Fall describes what happens to the leaves, but for the rest of us, it is more like a season of get-up-and-go! I look forward to what the next few weeks has in store for this church, and I hope you do as well. And it is living as a faith community that we hear a lot about in the Epistle and Gospel today.
Jesus, in the passage from Matthew this week speaks about the importance of working to reconcile our differences, and that he is there among us whenever two or three are gathered in his name.
Why would Jesus tell his followers this?
Perhaps it is because he knows that they will need to figure out how to get along with one another if they are to love and serve him in the world as members of a larger community of faith. And those communities, the church, well – it’s being part of a family, and families don’t always get along with all members all the time. Just think about any gathering for Thanksgiving or a wedding. Churches aren’t excluded from that, to be sure.
It is sometimes joked that, rather than what we heard in this passage this morning, it is more like “whenever two or three are gathered in his name, there will be a disagreement.”
And so, when we hear Jesus talk about how to live in community, at a time when a group of diverse folks living, loving, and serving others seems counter cultural with the world, we can wonder if it is a bit of a pipe dream, this beloved community of the faithful.
After all, our nation is being torn at the seams by conflict, cruelty, and violence. Of course racism, sexism, heterosexism, political divides, and the rest are not new. But, post-pandemic, it seems like itching powder has been tossed around the country, really around the world. People have less tolerance for one another, we are quicker to violence than to discourse, we share disinformation on social media without regard to truth because it makes us feel better about whatever position we have, we fly off an angry email faster, accuse one another more readily, forgive less often, and fear even more what or who we don’t understand. It is difficult then for many to imagine that people living across such divisions could possibly find a way to become a community.
But there is good news, at least with regard to the church. A recent article in the Washington Post and other news outlets noted a statistical report that showed that post-pandemic there has been an overall reduction of conflict within Christian congregations, an increase in giving, an increase in new people attending, and an increase in feeling positive about the future of the church. Sadly, the rate of clergy thinking about leaving a church, or even ministry altogether, has continued to rise, which is true for many of those in serving vocations.
But wait! There’s more! There has been, post-pandemic, another increase according to this report. It is in the number of people seeking – the number of people coming to a church for the first time is up to16%, an increase of 5% from pre-2020. People seem to be yearning for another way, sensing something at work in the world larger than themselves, larger than the pettiness of humanity’s capacity to hurt, wanting to be a part of a community of faith, perhaps because they feel it will be different from the secular.
And it is, or at least it can be, if we live as Jesus calls us to do in the gospel. But this reconciliation he describes is difficult if we also don’t understand something very fundamental about how we are to live as followers of Jesus. Which is why the epistle from St. Paul that we heard a part of this morning is so valuable for us as we seek to be the community of faith Jesus is talking about here.
St. Paul writes: “Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments, “You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet”; and any other commandment, are summed up in this word, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.”
Or for short, “Payback the love God gives to you early and often.”
Think about that for a moment.
For most of us, debt is something we understand far too well, it overwhelms us sometimes – student loans, mortgages, credit card bills… Owing something isn’t good, but a burden.
And love, well that is something we feel, a gift we give another, not owe, right? I mean, I watch the Hallmark channel – sooooo….
But, here’s a thought – what if St. Paul is right?
What if love was something we owed…what if there is a kind of debt that isn’t bad for us?
What if we started every day owing love?
Imagine waking up and looking at debt in a whole new way.
Imagine getting out of bed in the morning and thinking…how do I pay my debt of love to the world today?
What would that look like?
Well – something like what we have here – a place where everyone is welcome, all are included, and love is abundant. We are a very diverse family – people of many nations, cultures, languages, identities, ways of loving, being, thinking, and believing. A living example of the Beloved Community in action. It doesn’t mean we don’t have our differences. Of course we do. I mean, if you are looking for a church, office, family…well any regular gathering of folks that have no differences ever…good luck with that!
Yet, this is a place where differences are not spouted off in the parking lot, or in private meetings, but are resolved as best as possible with transparency and a willingness to prioritize loving relationship over end result.
Now to be clear, we are far from being perfect. We don’t get it all right all the time, and we have had conflict in our more distant past. We also have financial and building stresses that have escalated post-pandemic. And while we are growing again, we have far less people physically present here in church on Sundays than before the pandemic, and that weighs heavily on our hearts.
On top of all of that, we also know that Christ doesn’t call us to sit in our pews and congratulate ourselves for doing what we are supposed to do – for loving one another as Christ commanded us. Nourished by him in word and at this table we know that we are called to follow the Holy Spirit out into the world.
Still, Jesus was talking about living as a faith community, because he also knew that we have to get it right there first, before we can be the people he commanded us to be out in the world. That is where St. Paul’s epistle can really help us.
St. Paul was saying that to fulfill our debt is to love as Christ loved – to love as God loves us – to love our neighbor as ourself.
In other words, we fulfill our debt of love, by loving every single child of God, all the creatures God created, and the earth we inhabit by God’s grace. It isn’t reserved just for those we gather with as a parish family.
It seems like a lot when you think about it, doesn’t it? A burden too big to add to our already large pile. Perhaps then we need to take a closer look on the crosses we wear, or have in our pocket, or on our walls – to mediate on that image and remember what a real sacrifice of love truly is about, and how little we are really being asked.
Little, because paying this debt of love, well it isn’t like trying to free yourself from an obligation weighing you down. It is about recognizing some things about who we are, who our neighbor is, and especially who God is, and then responding to it all with love.
And we do, right? Not only within our walls, but when we serve the larger community through our mission and ministry.
But this debt of love can become harder when we remember that it isn’t meant only for some. Our debt of love is also owed to our immigrant neighbor, our LGBTQ+ and straight neighbor, our female and male neighbor, our Republican or Democrat neighbor, our Jewish/Muslim/Hindu/Buddhist/or anything else neighbor, our Atheist or Agnostic neighbor, our rich and poor neighbor, our science loving or disbelieving neighbor…you get the idea. And that is not an easy thing, even for the most faithful among us.
Which is why what we do here, and from here, matters. When we walk through those doors, we learn how to love the way Jesus calls us to – that radical, over the top, all inclusive, unconditional kind of love, that frankly, isn’t abundant in the world. We learn this here not because of who we are, but because of who God is. We learn this because we cannot worship God and ourselves at the same time. Our liturgy is how we are given strength for our journey in Christ, because in reverence to that which is greater than ourselves, and in the sacraments, we come to know the grace humility has to offer us.
For humility is about truth, about being transparent with ourselves, and with others. It is a willingness to be vulnerable, to be cracked open and filled with the light of God’s grace, that allows us to model Jesus in our lives. And when we are truthful about ourselves, in the context of God’s unconditional grace and love for us, we can’t help but respond – not just to those we know, but to all of God’s creation.
We will see our own faults, and be more ready to forgive others.
We will seek to resolve conflicts in our communities, building bridges of reconciliation and hope, rather than walls that divide and exclude.
We will come to know that we have been given so much, and joyously seek opportunities to love our neighbor as ourself.
We will awaken to the knowledge that this debt of love isn’t really a debt at all. It is a gift – a gift that keeps on giving – to us, and through us – every single time we are willing to humbly receive it and give it freely to others.
And with Christ among us, cloaked in humility and the light of God’s grace, we will by our small acts of love, bring the Beloved Community out from within our doors to the world around us. And that, that my friends, will make all the difference – to us, to the world, and to God.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Rec-001-Sermon-September_10_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
September 10, 2023
Pentecost 18 – Track 1
1st Reading – Exodus 12:1-14
Psalm 149
2nd Reading – Romans 13:8-14
Gospel – Matthew 18:15-20
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August 6, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Well, if you are a lectionary nerd, the lections being what we read on Sunday, you might notice that this isn’t the Tenth Sunday After Pentecost. It would be, but August 6th is the Feast of the Transfiguration, and as it…
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July 16, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Today’s gospel is one that I am sure most of you have heard before. Jesus tells the people about a sower who scatters seed that fell everywhere – on rocky ground, in weedy places, and in some good soil too. When…
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July 2, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Every time this text from Genesis read this morning comes around in our lectionary, I remember a seminary professor who once advised that anyone contemplating preaching on that text might want to think again. “After all,” he said, “there…
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June 11, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Welcome everyone to our annual Mass on the Grass…with Brass! service. Thankfully the air quality we had earlier in the week from the Canadian wildfires has improved dramatically, and we are able to worship here in this beautiful space,…
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The Rev. Diana Wilcox
Acrylic on Canvas
Pentecost Sunday – May 28, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Happy Pentecost Everyone!
While we are resurrection people, and we always carry Easter in our hearts, Eastertide is now over, and today we celebrate one of the most important Sundays of the Church.
In fact, Pentecost & Easter were central to Christian communities for centuries, when Christmas wasn’t even a thing. But, it seems in modern times that Pentecost has been lost to many in the church. It is such an important celebration, but the timing being as folks begin to head outdoors for mini-vacations, especially this year being on Memorial Day weekend, means that it is lost on many – not to mention, as I point out every year, that there sadly aren’t a whole lot of Pentecost cards in the Hallmark stores wishing you a windy day of fire dancing on your heads.
Still, it is an important Feast day of the church, and a fantastic narrative in our scriptures. On the day of Pentecost, the apostles being good Jewish men and women were in Jerusalem. Just a reminder about the setting – Jews from all over the world, gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate the Festival of Weeks and the giving of the law, one of three times they were required to make this pilgrimage – the other two being Passover and the ingathering of the harvest. But for the followers of Jesus, this was a time of uncertainty. They had experienced so much in such short time – the death of Jesus, his resurrection, and then his ascension.
What will the future bring?
This we can understand.
Post-pandemic, this parish is facing our own challenges. Having worked hard and followed the Holy Spirit, we had moved from nearly closing to thriving between 2014 and 2020. But like many parishes, we were hit hard financially when our nursery school had to close during the pandemic, and our attendance in-person since our return from pandemic has been low.
We had our near death, our resurrection, and now?
Well, now we are having our Pentecost moment.
The question we need to be asking is the same one those earliest followers of Jesus likely had…what is next?
What will the Holy Spirit bring forward here?
Because we know from our past that the Spirit is at work in this place, and in us. Where is She leading us now and how will each of us – you and me – be gifted for the work ahead?
St. Paul, in his first epistle to the Corinthians, told this fledgling faith community something that will help us. To really get the message Paul is sending, we need to know why he is writing.
Apparently, these folks knew they had been given spiritual gifts, but they were fighting about which one of these gifts was “the best.” Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up. Yet there are not too many parishes in the world, ours included, who only wish our people were fighting about whose gift was more important – or at least understanding how valuable each gift is, and how very much that gift is needed for the life of the church’s ministry.
Anyway, St. Paul basically did a gentle smack down, using the metaphor of our physical bodies to make it clear that all gifts, no matter how big or how small they may seem, are important to the overall body of Christ. Perhaps if they had really understood the gift these first apostles received, they would not be fighting in the first place… And it is a good place for us to start ourselves as we move forward together into our future.
When the apostles in Acts were filled with the Holy Spirit, they began to speak in other languages. Now there are some folks today who believe that the point of Pentecost is to speak in tongues, or at least in some other languages. There is nothing wrong with that, but that, I think, misses the larger point. It isn’t about languages really, or at least not JUST about that anyway.
Now as the text makes clear, those who made this Jerusalem pilgrammage for this most important celebration of their faith, were people from all over the known world. They were from differing nations, cultures, and languages. So, what happened? Well, as we heard “…suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.” Awesome!!!!
The Spirit blew through this place where the disciples were…and here’s the really cool part (well, okay, it doesn’t get much cooler than dancing flames all over the place and a thunderous wind, but anyway)… The Spirit did more than pyrotechnics… the Spirit gave them all a gift. The ability to speak the languages of people from all over the world. I mean – this is the stuff of Hollywood mega-movies!
But while really, really, amazing, the flames and wind were not the point – the languages were. The Spirit was enabling the earliest followers of Jesus to be the church alive in that day – not by making all of the people of the world become like the apostles, but by giving the apostles the ability to communicate directly with those who were different.
Think about it – the first gift the Spirit gives to these apostles was the ability to communicate with those that are different than they are. I mean, it could have been the gift of prophesy, or healing, or flying for that matter – boy, now THAT would have turned a few heads, right?
But no – God was making it clear that the first step for any body of Christ was to break down the barriers between people – not expect them to figure out how to be more like us – but allow them to be their uniquely created selves – inviting them in just the way they are. Because all of them – no matter what language they speak – are beloved by God.
And the thing is – the Spirit is giving us that gift too, and it is the one we most need now.
Oh, ok – maybe we don’t speak multiple languages, though I do know that many of you do, because we have, in our wonderfully diverse parish, people who are from all over the world. And today we are blessed to have Anne Watson here, signing the sermon. We will be launching in this Pentecost season lessons in American Sign Language, which Anne has graciously offered to teach – more about that soon, so stay tuned.
But whether you speak a language other than English, we all have the ability to meet people where they are – to listen to them – to make the effort to understand them. It just takes intentional listening, the ministry of presence, and the willingness to follow the Holy Spirit.
The earliest apostles certainly did not expect to take their gospel to those who were so different than they – but that is where they were led. They did not originally think it was a gospel for anyone but Jews, but Paul and Peter were led by God to show them otherwise.
And now – well, we are the apostles the Holy Spirit is looking to fire up, because the world needs us to use the gifts She give us – now more than ever before.
For there are people who hunger for the food of love, people who thirst for the cup of kindness, people who yearn to be seen and heard. And the earth and all the creatures on it, cry out in distress from our abuse and neglect.
Earlier I talked about the crossroads our own parish is in post-pandemic– we are not alone in that, to be sure. However, this is not a time to hide in our proverbial room here, but instead follow the lead of the apostles – come together in prayer as the body of Christ, and allow the Spirit to awaken our gifts – not for this building, but for the sake of the gospel work God needs us to do from here!
We are in a Pentecost moment folks – and we can choose to shutter the doors of this meeting room we call the church and ignore the Spirit’s thundering at the windows, imploring us out into the world, because we bemoan our current circumstance and are weighed down by the injustice we see all around us.
Or we can throw open the doors, and proclaim loudly, in whatever language of love we can find, that everyone is beloved of God – and that we were charged by God to be good stewards of our planet. We can step boldly forward and meet people where they are – listening to them, seeing them – just as those earliest apostles did. We may not baptize 3000 as they did, but we will change lives…including our own!
A few years ago, I led a retreat for a group of postulants and candidates for ordination in our diocese. And at that retreat, I told them to be brave.
Be brave enough to open your hearts, to invite the Spirit at work in the world in – to breathe deeply that holy breath of God.
Be brave enough to stand up for the rights of all people to drink clean water, breath fresh air, eat food not filled with toxins, and live without fear of violence.
Be brave to tell the world that God loves everyone – gay, straight, Muslim, Jew, black, white, male, female, trans – everyone – no exceptions.
Be brave – because the world cannot wait anymore for someone else to speak – God needs you to use your prophetic voice.
Be brave – because the world cannot wait anymore for someone to listen – God needs you to use your gifts to hear others into speech, to listen to their unique voice, to listen to the groans of our earth.
So, breathe in, breathe deeply, and be the brave, Spirit led, Pentecost people we are – in a world longing to be seen, to be heard, to feel peace, and to be loved.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/Rec-001-Sermon-Pentecost_Sunday_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
May 28, 2023
The Feast of Pentecost – Year A
1st Reading – Genesis 11:1-9
Psalm 104:25-35, 37
2nd Reading – Acts 2:1-21
Gospel – John 14:8-17, (25-27)
The post “Our Pentecost Moment” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
May 21, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Happy Easter!
Now you’all know by now that my favorite of the four canonical gospels is the Gospel of Luke. We didn’t read from that today, and likely won’t hear much from it until we move into Year C in Advent of next year. However, we did hear from the author of that gospel, because he wrote a two-parter. The Gospel of Luke is just part 1 – there is a sequel – and we heard from it in the first reading today, and really all through Eastertide. It is The Acts of the Apostles.
The gospel of Luke begins with these words “Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed.”
And the book of Acts opens just a few verses before the very reading we heard today, with “In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning until the day when he was taken up to heaven…” In other words, the author knew that the story isn’t over with the resurrection and ascension of Jesus – it continues on.
Now, those of you who have attended formation classes with me on the scriptures already knew that, and also may remember that we don’t know who this Theophilus was. The word can be a Greek description, or the honorific title given to someone, depending on its usage, so we don’t know whether this account that the author was writing was for a person with that title, or generally for those who love God or are loved of God as θεός (God) and φιλία (love or affection) would be translated. But, it really doesn’t matter.
What does matter is that the author of Luke/Acts knew that the story didn’t end with Jesus going up, up and away, and so we need to continue on too, so let’s look more deeply at this story in Acts.
It was clear that the Ascension, which in the church we celebrated as a feast day this past Thursday, well, it didn’t bring about the same reaction among the disciples as the Crucifixion or the Resurrection – why is that? I mean geez, the guy is like Rocketman – Burnin’ out his fuse up there alone… flyin’ off into the air. That’s kinda amazing, don’t ya think?
At any rate, my favorite part of this whole Ascension narrative is the two messengers – the ones that appear next to the disciples – who basically say to them as they crane their necks to stare at the departing Jesus, “Wadda ya lookin’ at?” In other words, you aren’t going to find Jesus up there folks. And that, is the point of the entire story. But wait, we’ll get back to that – there’s more…
The passage then says that they went back to where they were staying, near Jerusalem, and they were constantly devoting themselves to prayer. Then it adds this little nugget: “they were together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.” “Certain women” would most definitely include Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and more. Sadly, as much as I love Luke/Acts, this author didn’t deem it necessary to name these other good and faithful disciples of Jesus. At least this gospel author did tell the world that it was the women who underwrote the ministry of Jesus, so there is that I suppose.
But one thing is clear, the women and men who were closest to Jesus didn’t return to that room to hide. They went to pray and await what was coming. These were people who had been given something in this Ascension moment. Something that changed their lives completely. What was it?
It was a promise.
A promise of purpose for them, and hope for the world.
And what was that promise?
We hear it just before his departure. Jesus tells them “…you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”
And their response? Well, they gathered together in prayer to prepare themselves for the next chapter of the Jesus story – for their transformation into new life in his name. Funny thing about that – Jesus did the same thing too.
In the passage read earlier from the Gospel of John, we heard the first part of what is known as the High Priestly Prayer (you’ll hear the middle part next year, and the last in Year C). It is the final part of the Farewell Discourses I told you’all about, except this isn’t addressed to his disciples, but to God. Jesus prays this just before he goes to the garden and is arrested. From that point, things will move quickly, and everything will change for him, for his disciples and for the world. And so, he prayed.
And so now his disciples are doing the same.
They are praying to God just before their world, and all those they encounter, are changed in ways unimaginable.
I would be praying too! Wouldn’t you?
I remember this little poem I heard once.
“I got up early one morning and rushed right into the day!
I had so much to accomplish that I didn’t take time to pray. Problems just tumbled about me, and heavier came each task.
“Why doesn’t God help me?” I wondered, God answered, “You didn’t ask!”
I tried to come into God’s presence; I used all my keys at the lock. God gently and lovingly chided, “Why, child, you didn’t knock!”
I wanted to see joy and beauty, but the day toiled on, gray and bleak. I wondered why God didn’t show me. God answered me, “But you didn’t seek.”
I woke up early this morning, and paused before entering the day. I had so much to accomplish, that I had to take time to pray.”
The poem itself is a bit Hallmark like, and can make it seem that if we pray, all things in life will be easy, and all the things we hope for will happen. Folks, that isn’t prayer, that is a magical wish list. Yet it is that last line of the poem that speaks a lot of truth, “I had so much to accomplish, that I had to take time to pray.”
That is the heart of it all.
Prayer is conversation, really invitation. We invite God’s presence, we enter into conversation with Christ, we allow the Holy Spirit to guide us, to fill our hearts, to sustain us. It isn’t about everything being perfect, everything being as we hoped. It is recognizing that going it alone is so much harder, often impossible, and completely unnecessary. God will always listen to us, Christ will walk alongside us, the Holy Spirit will guide us. We just need to pray.
Or, think about it this way, how many new parents call their own parents after they have a baby? They don’t want mom or dad to do the parenting for them, but dang it – they just want some reassurance, some guiding help, some listening ear, because babies do not come with instruction manuals. Neither does life.
So, we pray, as Jesus prayed for his disciples, and as those earliest followers of Jesus prayed too.
And yet did you notice something about what the praying these disciples did? It wasn’t in isolation. They came together to pray. In fact, their entire ministry with Jesus was one done as a community. And today – we continue to pray here together in this place we call our parish home.
The thing about corporate prayer – this praying together we do – doesn’t mean we don’t have individual conversations with God. It is just that when we come together in prayer, our individual conversation with God is woven into a larger quilt of intention that in a very real sense amplifies and strengthens our collective voice, and binds us together with Christ in common communion.
So yes, we need to pray –often and together – because this life as those earliest disciples were about to really discover, being a follower of Jesus is an adventure of transformation. And transformation in Christ Jesus isn’t something done from our recliners – it’s a journey that’s gonna rock our world!
See, that’s the thing about this whole Ascension story that we still get wrong, just like the apostles did initially. We even say it in our creeds. “He ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father.” We root Jesus in some sort of earthly understood kingship – sitting all high and mighty on some sort of throne. Now, don’t get me wrong, for the scripture writers, this was not only how they understood the cosmos, as a three-tiered structure – heaven, earth, hell. But this was and is a radical statement of subversion against corrupt powers of our world – the heads of state that yield their might against their people. This is a statement that this “born in a stable” “here for the poor” savior is truly our leader, not anyone elected, appointed, or forced into power here on earth. We look elsewhere to something greater than all of them, to place our trust and our hearts.
Still, like our creed, we seem to put Jesus, God, the entire Holy Trinity really, in some sort of location – “up there” somewhere – and worse…sitting down. Now, I don’t know about you, but the Jesus I know, the Jesus I read about in the scriptures, is NOT one to sit around anywhere!
This Christ at Ascension, our Christ, was not one to sit at the right, left, or any hand of anyone or anything. The truth is, Jesus had to leave….not to go sit – but because we couldn’t keep up with him. The human existence was just too limiting.
Not only that, but on the day of Pentecost, which we celebrate next week, the Holy Spirit will also make it clear that She isn’t one stay still either. That fiery Spirit rushed in like a wild wind, descended upon those earliest apostles, and launched their mission. It’s a good thing they did some praying, don’t ya think?
So, is it any wonder then why the author of the gospel had to keep writing more of the story in the Acts of the Apostles? Clearly the Ascension of Jesus into heaven isn’t the end of the story! It continues on today – now – through us! And like those earliest followers, if we want to see Jesus, if we want to follow him, then looking up toward the heavens isn’t the way forward – we need to humbly lower our head, pray, and then filled with the Spirit, follow where Jesus leads now.
Because Jesus didn’t disappear from the earth at the Ascension, the Holy Spirit didn’t stop moving in the world on Pentecost, and God hasn’t stopped continuing to try to be in relationship with us – us – the Theophilus of today – the ones to whom this work is addressed, and for whom it serves as inspiration.
Jesus called them, and now us, to be his witnesses to the ends of the earth – to proclaim the good news of God’s all inclusive love from the streets of Bloomfield and Glen Ridge, to the furthest reaches of our earthly plane.
There is no airline ticket to buy – which, as it turns out, is a good thing given the prices these days.
Seriously though, this isn’t about far flung travel, it’s about far flung love!
Jesus ascends that we may also rise – rise up and be the people we were born to be.
The people of The Way.
Praying together.
Filled by the Holy Spirit.
Following Jesus not up, but out – out into this world that is in need of what he offered – healing, grace, and unconditional love.
That is our promise of purpose.
That is our life and hope for the world.
May we, like those earliest followers of Jesus, pray together always, and be ready to go wherever he leads.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/Rec-001-Sermon-May_21_2023.m4aThe post “A Promise Of Purpose” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
May 7, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.Happy Easter everyone!
I attended a funeral yesterday for the husband of Mother Lauren Ackland, the long-serving Rector of Grace Episcopal in Madison, where I first served as a seminarian. George Hayman, or Mr. Lauren Ackland, as he sometimes referred to himself, was a good clergy spouse (and that is NOT easy), an avid golfer, and engaged in many parish and diocesan roles. Mother Lauren, now several years retired from Grace Madison, formed many a seminarian along the way to their ordination.
And so yesterday, there were a lot of clergy, clergy spouses, and diocesan folks at this celebration of George’s life. The gospel reading was the first part of the one we read this morning, and I was not the only priest in the room hoping that the homily that Father Tom Murphy gave would be good fodder to help get this sermon written for today, since I hadn’t had a chance to write a single word. Sadly, while a fabulous homily, and a fitting one for the occasion, I had to do my own homiletical work by the grace of God.
So, here we go…
To start, there is a reason that the first part of this passage from the Gospel of John is often read at funerals, and you don’t need a theological degree to see why. Jesus said “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” and tells his disciples that where he is going, he will prepare a place for them.
Yet, just as I do at funerals here, yesterday the gospel reading was ended with “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” The part left out, which was read today, was the next part of verse 6: “No one comes to the Father except through me.”
The reason it is often left out at funerals is that it is not the time to address the misuse of this last bit by those who claim that only followers of Jesus – called Christians today – will ever hope to have relationship with God. Funeral homilies instead are about the Easter moment for the deceased, and about the Good Friday moment for those who grieve. As funerals are often attended by people of many denominations, other faiths, and no faith at all, such a passage, if not addressed, would be difficult for people to hear at a time in which they are grieving. But today we read it, and because of that, we will spend a brief moment addressing it before we go on.
“No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Some people hear that and quote it to show that Jews will not “go to heaven,” and all that. Door closed on all of them. Really? So, let me get this straight: if you follow the Jewish Jesus, and read the Holy Bible written by…wait for it…Jews, then it is only logical that this Jewish Jesus would be telling his Jewish friends that Jews will have no relationship with God. Does that make any sense at all?
And not for nothing, but Muslims weren’t a thing then, still folks will throw them into that excluded bucket too, as well as any other faith tradition. Talk about a clobber text (which is a term often used to describe the other snippets of scriptures people pull out of context to beat up and exclude LGBTQ+ folks). This is when Jesus does a face palm – because this is when we make God in our image.
Yet if you only read the full passage, you see that Jesus also says that if they have seen him, they have seen the Father. So, to keep this short, think of it this way: Jesus is saying “No one comes to God, except through God.” And we know that God, who created all humankind, also loves all of humankind, and will never exclude anyone.
Setting that aside, there is so much we need to hear in this gospel and in the reading from Acts today, and part of it is the opening in the passage that is so comforting to us in our moments of despair. “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”
Why would he say this?
Well, first, this is part of the farewell discourses in this gospel – really, really, long passages where Jesus tries to prepare his followers for his death, resurrection, and ascension. Of course it seems a bit odd hearing it now too, given that we are in Eastertide, right? I mean, we just moved through Holy Week, and over the past few Sundays we have been hearing about Jesus showing up to his disciples in a series of divine “I’mmmm baaaack!” scenes. Now we get something from before he was crucified?
Anyway, Jesus is telling them to believe in him, to know that where he goes, he will prepare a place for them. Now older translations will have him saying that there are many mansions in God’s house, like Jesus is going to set up a really cool resort town up in heaven or something. But what Jesus is saying is that they will be in relationship with him – they will be where he is, and he will be where they are. This isn’t a construction project he is talking about – this is about relationship with him.
He then adds “Believe in God, believe also in me,” which is better translated “Trust in God, trust also in me.” Jesus is really saying to set our hearts, our trust, on Jesus – and Jesus will be in relationship with us.
And here’s the thing – it isn’t just a promise for those who died. In fact, it is really meant for those who are on this side of that thin place between heaven and earth. Jesus tells his followers, whose movement post resurrection would be called The Way, to set their trust, their hearts, on him and he will be in relationship with them. The Way, knows the way, by trusting in Jesus, and remaining in relationship with him. Then Jesus adds this: that they will do greater works than what they have seen him do.
Sounds good, right? But don’t you just want to say – “Jesus, that sounds awesome – but while I would LOVE to turn water into wine, I am not sure about being able raise folks from the dead and all that.” What is Jesus really saying.
Our proto-martyr Stephen shows us.
We hear his story, or really, the end of it, in the small passage from the Acts of the Apostles we heard this morning. Stephen was one of the chosen 7 – the first Deacons – selected by the apostles from among the faithful to serve those in need in the community. Stephen was described earlier in Acts 6 as “a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit…full of grace and power,” and doing “great wonders and signs among the people.”
Well, as with others before him, this did not go over well with some. Long story short, they brought him before the council and the high priest with false accusations of blasphemy and acts against the holy law (sound familiar?). His very long and eloquent defense is the beginning of this 7th chapter. It was heart felt, spirit filled, and spoke to the way that prophets had been killed through the history of their faith. Basically, he said – look guys… why is it that any time somebody has some good news to share, the people in charge kill them.
This, as you can imagine, did NOT go over very well. And we heard today what happened. As the crowd seethes with rising anger, Stephen looks upward and sees Jesus. He sets his gaze on him as they bring him out from the council to stone him to death. As he continues to focus on Christ in this hate filled and final moment of his life, he asks God to forgive those who are murdering him…which, by the way, includes that Saul guy (who we know later as that fabulous writer of many, many, letters to churches everywhere – Paul).
So, wait a minute, you might ask… Jesus said “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” and yet here is this good and faithful guy getting stoned (and literally, not by weed mind you). How is this good news?
Here’s the thing. Look at that setting in Acts. Gangs of people filled with rage – even killing because they don’t like what someone is saying. It doesn’t take much of a stretch to imagine this scene, not with all that we are experiencing in this post-pandemic world.
Everywhere people seem to be ready to pop – like they have one nerve left and six people are getting on it before they even had their first cup of coffee. Worse, some of those folks have access to weapons of war – AR-15s – and, well, things like last nights mass murder at a Texas mall happen practically daily in our country.
How then do we not let our hearts be troubled?
How then do we live the Easter life we, as followers of Jesus are to live?
We do as Stephen did, and as Jesus was telling his followers to do in the passage we heard from the gospel.
No, I am not saying you need to go get yourself stoned to death, though there may be some things thrown at you.
Nor am I saying your hearts won’t be troubled. Of course they will. And Jesus knew it too.
Look, Jesus knew what was ahead for him, and for all those who set their hearts on him. As Stephen recounted before the council, for whatever reason, those who speak of peace, hope, and the unconditional love of God will tick off a bunch of folks whose heart has been hardened, and whose God is one that just so happens to hate the same people and things they do. Jesus also knew our hearts would be troubled by what humanity is capable of doing to one another. Our hearts should be troubled by poverty, war, oppression, neglect of the earth, and all the other ways we hurt one another and all of God’s creation.
Yet Jesus knew that the only way to live is set our sights on him – who is one with God and the Holy Spirit. Jesus will be in relationship with us as we set our very hope on him, trusting in God, allowing the Holy Spirit to lead us and fill our hearts. Yes, our hearts will be troubled by what we see happening in the world, but rather than it infecting us with rage, which only entraps us in a prison that will destroy us from within, we will rest those troubles on God.
Now to be clear, this isn’t saying – yup, it’s lookin’ bad out there in Jesus. We are down by 32 billion runs, Lord, with 2 outs in the bottom of the 9th – you’re up God. Hit a homer, or a few trillion, okay, while we go sit on the sidelines. No. It means that as we, the followers of Jesus, go up to face the stones flying all about, we will turn our face toward him as Stephen did. And that will save us and change the world.
The thing about what is happening today is that we are far too quick to return anger for anger, hate for hate, violence for violence. It is understandable. We all feel it sometimes. And it is right to be angry and to hate injustice, war, bigotry, greed and the other ways we marginalize, hurt, and oppress one another. Yet when our hearts are troubled in this way, it is so easy to go down that slippery slope where we turn that righteous anger and hate against what is happening and turn it instead toward who is doing it.
Stephen refused to do that.
His face looking upon Jesus, he asked God to forgive those who persecuted him. And that made all the difference. For we know by our faith in Jesus that it is only love that can defeat hate, and only light that overcomes darkness. By setting our faces toward him, our troubled hearts will be eased as we abide in his love and grace, and we will be kept free from the bonds of bitterness and hate.
Free to speak as prophetically as Stephen did.
Free to feed those who starve for love.
And then, by the power of Jesus working in us as we are in relationship with him, we will be truly doing wonders as he said we would.
We may not be turning water into wine, but we will be raising the dead into the living.
For we will breathe new life into those who have lost hope.
We will turn over the tables of injustice.
We will heal the wounds of anger and hate by our love.
And while our work will have some stones flying our way as we go along, we will keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, trusting in God, and our hearts will not be troubled.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/Rec-001-Sermon-May_7_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
May 7, 2023
Fifth Sunday of Easter – Year A
1st Reading – Acts 7:55-60
Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16
2nd Reading – 1 Peter 2:2-10
Gospel – John 14:1-14
The post “Troubled Hearts” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
April 30, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Happy Easter everyone!
Well, if you haven’t figured it out by all the readings we have heard this morning, the Fourth Sunday of Easter is always Good Shepherd Sunday. Now, Jesus as a shepherd is not a new thing to us, certainly not if we have ever seen any sort of image made of Jesus in Sunday School, or the internet. But, in our quest for this liturgically interesting annual thing we do, we run the risk of missing the point that the gospel assigned for these Sundays is trying to make.
Jesus in the Gospel of John has a narrative pattern: sign, discussion, discourse. All three parts are one story. Jesus will do something that shows he is the son of God – changing water into wine, raising Lazarus from the dead, healing the blind, that sort of thing. Then there is a discussion about it by those who witness it – often challenging Jesus. Then Jesus explains everything to his disciples.
This passage we heard today was that last part – Jesus explaining everything to his disciples – but without the sign or the discussion! It’s like saying that Harry Potter is the chosen one who will defeat Voldemort and break the Elders Wand, without telling you anything more. The chosen one of what? Who is Voldemort? What is an Elder Wand?
The thing is, we are being dropped into the end of a story that began in chapter 9. Without that chapter, this one is hard to really understand. And because we have tamed this gospel passage to a nice cozy image of Jesus with a sheep on his shoulders, we have also lost its power, and its incredible meaning for us today.
So, that said, let’s start at the beginning: The sign. We heard this story just a few weeks ago on the Fourth Sunday in Lent. Jesus saw a man who was blind from birth. He puts something on the mans eyes and tells him “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam.” The blind man listened to him, went and washed, and he could then see. Sign complete.
Now for the discussion: First, folks had to decide if this was really the same guy, which his parents affirmed. Then the temple authorities question his parents and the man about who healed him and whether he actually was blind at all. Not to mention his own disciples trying to figure out if he or his parents sinned that the guy was blind in the first place. Finally, not satisfied with the answers the man gave them, the temple leaders kick him out of the community. Jesus found out about it, seeks the man out, and includes him in the community of his followers. Discussion complete.
And now to today’s episode on the Jesus Channel – the discourse with his disciples. And here’s the thing about what we just heard – he does NOT say he is the good shepherd! That is the next verse, John 10:11, which will be read on this very Sunday next year, Year B. Sure, he TALKS about shepherds, but he doesn’t say he is one – not yet. In Year A, we get John 10:1-10, and Jesus is using one of the famous “I Am” statements we get in this gospel not once, but twice. But it isn’t to say “I am the great shepherd.” Instead he says “I am the door for the sheep.” It is translated as gate, so that we understand the imagery better, but it is actually the word door. He proclaims “I am the door” twice before he ever says “I am the good shepherd.” So clearly, Jesus as the door is what he wants his followers to know first and foremost in response to his healing of the blind man.
I mean, this really should be Door Sunday, but you don’t see a lot of images for that in religious art, and I haven’t heard a lot of Jesus Is My Door hymns, have you? It might be catchy [sung to Hyfrydol] “Jesus Christ, is my doooooor, and he leaves it open for me.” Well, maybe not.
But hymns and art aside…the disciples don’t understand.
The question for us is – do we?
Well, we may not understand Jesus fully, at least for the moment, but we sure do understand doors. We have red ones at church, all sorts of colors for them on our homes, storm doors to keep out the weather, screen doors to let the weather in, even revolving ones. But it might be helpful to set this passage in its context. Sheep pens didn’t actually have doors, or gates. So what on earth is Jesus talking about?
Sheep pens then, and even in some parts of the world today, are walled areas where sheep come to get rest after being out in the fields. They know they are safe there because the shepherd will lay across the open space the sheep enter and exit by. This way, if anything other than a sheep attempts to cross, the shepherd will stop it. To see what this looks like, check out the front cover of your bulletin that Candice, our Director of Communications, found to match the lectionary.
In the pen there are also sheep of other shepherds there too, as Jesus explains, and they will come out of the pen only to the sound of their particular shepherd’s voice. Then they know it is safe to go out into the pasture where their shepherd will lead them.
So, Jesus is saying that he will be the one laying across that open area, or leading his sheep out into the pasture when they hear his voice.
But most of all, remember that Jesus isn’t talking about being the door just because it popped into his head as they walked along. He is saying it in response to what happened to the blind man. Because once that man could see, he ran into a door he never saw coming – the one that closed him off from his community when the leaders kicked him out. The door of exclusion.
Now that is a door we all know well too, don’t we?
In fact, the church is great at being exactly that type of door through the centuries, sometimes using verses like this one we heard today to say some folks are part of the God crowd, and others are not. Yup – you will find plenty of preachers who will tell you that Jesus is trying to say that he is a gatekeeper who will not let anyone who isn’t his follower into the big Christian sheep pen, and all the others are doomed. Good Lord, deliver us.
This is what happens when we take snippets of scripture out of context and use it to justify the God we created in our own image. We must always remember our blind man to really understand what Jesus is teaching us. And in that story, when Jesus heals the man who was born blind, the religious leaders exclude the man from the synagogue. Why then would Jesus tell his followers that he is also an exclusionary door for the community of his followers? He doesn’t. In fact, in later verses, Jesus says “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”
Jesus isn’t acting as a gatekeeper to exclude, but as a door to guard against all that threatens the well-being of the sheep. He is talking about those who exclude, who cast away people they don’t understand, who judge others harshly, who accuse rather than love, who harm rather than heal. In other words, he is talking about the temple leaders who cast out this now sighted man from his community. Jesus heard about it, finds the man, and includes him in his fold.
But there is more to what he needs his disciples to understand, and so he tells them why he does this, why he came among them. He adds, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”
For me, there is no better statement in all of scripture for why God chose to become incarnate, to dwell among us, knowing the cost.
“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”
Jesus, the door, came that we may have abundant life.
What does this mean for us, who follow him today?
Well, once again, it is helpful if we remember the man who whom Jesus healed. The reality was that he was excluded long before he was cast out of the community after his encounter with Jesus. As one who was blind, he was already on the margins – pushed to the side and dependent on the goodness of others for his life, he was not able to live freely. This is not something foreign to us, is it?
Today we find this same man in those who seek refuge, in those who love differently, in women and girls, in people of color, in the differently abled, in the aged and the young, in the addicted and the imprisoned, in the mentally and spiritually suffering, and in those who hunger and thirst. Jesus will always see them, go to them, heal them, and bring them into his care.
We will find the temple authorities today too, especially among those who profess to follow Jesus, who exclude the ones most in need of love, who judge, who abuse.
And most of the world also has a different view of what abundant life is. Rather than it being about living a life of meaning, of purpose, of love, some believe it means getting everything we want, or doing whatever we want when we want. And, when others have similar dreams, to stop them – as though somehow someone else having what we ourselves strive for means we can’t have it too. Worse, when things don’t go our way, at least in this country lately, when we don’t get what we want, we don’t turn to prayer that we may remember what is truly important – oh no – we go pick up an AR-15 and shoot into a crowd. Just last night five people were killed, including an 8 year old boy, because they had the audacity to ask their neighbor to stop shooting his guns at night so their child could sleep peacefully. There are no words.
The thing is, abundant life isn’t something we try to get – it is something that happens when we live into our lives in Christ. And to do that, we need to allow Jesus to heal us of blindness to the suffering of others, heal us of our arrogance and greed to try to build an abundant life apart from God, heal us of our brokenness out of which we harm others.
Folks, this bigotry, hatred, and violence that has infected us are the very thieves, bandits, and later wolves Jesus was speaking about in John 10. Lately it seems that cruelty is the point – the more hurtful you are, the more powerful you become. It is exhausting, painful, and deeply troubling.
Thankfully, Jesus is our door too, offering us a place of rest from the world, and we sure have need of it today. For we are tired and worn out by the snarling, the killing, the hurtfulness that seems to be pervasive in the pasture in which we live. And here, together in our sheep pen, we are nourished by Jesus at this table, and given sanctuary.
Yet, we who follow him, who follow the one who is a door for the sheep, must follow his voice as he leads us out into the world too. For we were not meant to stay here asleep in our pens. Our abundant life is only truly possible when we hear his voice, and join with Jesus in his work in the world to include, to heal, to love, and to care for all the children of God.
The one who healed the sick, gave sight to the blind, and freed the captive is offering this to us today – calls us to join him in this life giving work, and by that, live the life he hopes for us. And living that life means that we are also the very doors through which the excluded may find God’s all abiding grace and love, and by which those who would harm any child of God are thwarted.
The blind man, the sheep, and the door are metaphors for all disciples of Jesus. We are healed, we are invited into community, into the abundant life of Christ.
Jesus is calling us, calling you and me, to listen to his voice, to be healed, to be pulled together into this community – that we may be nourished in him, and find respite for our souls in this sheep pen we call Christ Church.
And Jesus is also calling us, calling you and me, to listen to his voice, and leave this sheep pen of our parish walls. For he will lead us to enter into the pasture of the world, to the people others do not see, that we live the life he modeled for us, and be:
A healing balm of love.
A door of life.
A caretaker of God’s children.
And by this we will truly have life, and have it abundantly.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Rec-001-Sermon-April_30_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 30, 2023
The Fourth Sunday of Easter – Year A
1st Reading – Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
2nd Reading – 1 Peter 2:19-25
Gospel – John 10:1-10
The post “The Door To Abundant Life” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
Easter Sunday – April 9, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Dang, that never gets old. And perhaps that is why you are here.
You already know the story – just as with Christmas. And yet, here you are. Now, maybe you came because your parents, grandparents, or spouse “made you.” But let’s be real here – unless you are a child living under your parent’s roof, you have a choice. And the choice you each made was to be here, in person, for this most important day of our faith. And if you are a child, I hope there is a day when you look back and thank those who “dragged” you here to church, even if only as part of the C&E (Christmas and Easter) crowd. Because this proclamation we just made – it changes everything – and has for centuries.
And what we heard today begins with a woman, in a garden, at night.
Mary Magdalene, the only one in all four gospel accounts who is the first to see Jesus – to witness the resurrection – goes to the tomb where the body of Jesus had been laid. And the gospel passage opens with this: “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed…”
Now there is more to the story – she tells others, they come to take a look. It says they believed, but did not understand scripture, so the only thing they could really believe was the body had been stolen. They left. But Mary remained. Her grief keeping her in darkness even as the break of dawn began to rise above the garden mist. Maybe that is why she then bent in to look in the tomb.
The tomb was the last place the one she loved had been, and it was dark – it matched how she felt. He had been brutally killed, and to add even more pain, she now could not grieve beside his body. Instead of the darkness she expected though, she saw two angels in white who ask “Woman, why are you weeping?” And after she tells them she is looking for her Lord, she turns and sees another asking her the same question “Woman, why are you weeping?” She doesn’t know it is Jesus speaking until he calls her by name. He then tells her not to cling to him, but to tell the others “I have seen the Lord!” This is why Mary Magdalene is known through the centuries as the apostle to the apostles. The first to receive the good news, and the first to preach it to the others.
This is the gospel we heard today. There is a lot to take in, especially with that crazy bit of the beloved disciple and Peter – I mean – what the heck? But there is something we sometimes miss, and it is right at the beginning – “…while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed.” While it was still dark.
In the gospel of John, light and dark are featured prominently as metaphors for knowledge & understanding. Nicodemus visits Jesus at night trying to know more about him. Judas leaves the last supper, and the narrative notes that “it was night.” The gospel itself opens with “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”
So, it is no coincidence that Mary came to the tomb while it was still dark in this gospel, where the others have her arriving at or after dawn. She did not yet know what was to come, no one did, even though Jesus tried to tell them. Her heart ached with grief, her eyes were filled with tears. The cruelty of the world had cut her to the core. The authors of this gospel wanted us to understand all of that with that simple reference – it was still dark. It was still dark – because no one knew yet the good news.
Today we may feel a lot like Mary. It seems the cruelty of the world has come to our very doorstep with every breaking news story – from natural disasters to the many ways in which we crucify Jesus today – when children are cut down in school by our weapons of war, when people are marginalized or abused because of who they are or how they love, when the ravages of war kill and wound.
If the Johanninan Community that wrote this gospel were writing for the New York Times today, the articles would probably start a lot like something Snoopy types out from the top of his doghouse “It was a dark and stormy night…” For we cannot seem to understand why all this happens, and our despair can have us wondering if the dawn will ever come. We can even begin to feel comfortable in the tomb – it has become so familiar.
And we all have been there at one time or another on a personal level too – with pain known only to each of us, and to those in our close circle – when we too experience betrayal, denial, or death. That is one of the reasons I love our Healing Eucharist that we do on Wednesday in Holy Week. We gather at night to turn our pain over to God – actually writing down what we are feeling and burning them in a fire made from the palms of last year’s Palm Sunday. It is a time of naming the darkness that envelopes our hearts, of being nourished in the Eucharist, and of being anointing with oil for healing.
And this year, at the end of the service, I gave all who attended packets of wildflower seeds. Now, the thing about seeds is that they don’t really look like much do they? Little and seemingly lifeless, we put them into the darkness of the soil and wait in hope that something might happen. And if you looked at a garden in winter and early spring, it wouldn’t seem like anything happened at all with those little things.
Sometimes we can think that about the world or our lives – nothing ever changes – darkness, despair, hate, and death seem to always be. Mary and the other disciples must have felt that way too – having placed their hope in Jesus, and experiencing his arrest and brutal death on the cross. But we know that when it comes to gardens, as the earth warms, and the spring rains come, from the dark soil sprouts new life.
The same is true for us – because of the story we tell today! And it is all right there in that first sentence.
Mary did indeed walk to the tomb at night – yet here’s the part we sometimes miss – the stone was already gone, and so was Jesus! The resurrection had already happened. Jesus didn’t rise from the grave at dawn! It all happened at night!
And that, my friends, is the good news we celebrate – that God’s divine light is at work in the world even when we or others cannot readily see it.
That is our faith – and it is not an easy leap. It runs counter to our senses. It challenges us to see things in a new way.
Yet because of the empty tomb we have hope at the foot of the cross.
We know that light is always present in the darkest of nights, even if cannot yet see it.
We know that love will always overcome hate.
And we know that new life is always possible in the face of death.
Perhaps that is why the resurrection – that empty tomb – is in a garden. Just the place for new life to grow out of the dark soil of the grave.
But here’s the thing about the story of the resurrection we hear today – it didn’t end in the garden.
The empty tomb isn’t the end of the story, just the beginning of the next chapter.
Mary was sent to tell the good news.
And while those boys back in their homes didn’t believe her when she said “I have seen the Lord,” – ‘cause you know, the whole men listening to women bit – it doesn’t change what Jesus asked her to do.
It doesn’t change what Jesus asks us to do today either.
Now this doesn’t mean you need to run out of here to shout “I have seen the Lord!” Though that would be great.
It means that we must seek and serve the risen Christ now.
I mean, we don’t say Christ was alive, right? Do we?
Is that what we proclaim that he was risen?
No! Christ IS alive! And he is calling us by name as he did Mary, that we might be his apostles in the world.
How the heck do we do that?
Well, in a few moments, we will renew our baptismal covenant, and the answer is right there in the vows we make. We commit to “seeking and serveing Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourself, and striving for justice and peace among all peoples, respecting the dignity of every human being.”
That is how we proclaim “I have seen the Lord!” – by living as a people of the resurrection – serving the living Christ in all people.
And a second vow we make is that we will “continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers.”
We may be the body of Christ, but even he gathered others around him to form a faith community. They in turn formed their own, and so on through the centuries to those who founded this very church in which we now worship.
What we do here on Sundays – every Sunday not just Easter – matters. Being physically present here with one another, being nourished in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, that is what we commit to. And it is the garden moment we all need in a world where crosses loom large.
So let us, who today sing that Christ is alive, remember that we are sent by that same Jesus share the good news in word and in deed.
Let us, who shout with joy that Christ is risen, return here each week to be nourished by him in the Eucharist.
That as the sound of our Alleluias fade into the woodwork and stone of this place this night, the truth of the risen Christ will remain in our hearts, and by our service to him in the world, all may come to know the power of God’s great love.
And that, THAT, is truly is something that never, ever, gets old.
Happy Easter everyone!
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Rec-001-Sermon-Easter_Sunday-2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 16, 2017
Easter Sunday
1st Reading – Acts 10:34-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
2nd Reading – Colossians 3:1-4
Gospel – John 20:1-18
The post “It Never Gets Old” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
Maundy Thursday – April 6, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Tonight we begin.
Tonight we enter into a three day service – the Paschal Triduum. And as I note each year, there will be no dismissal at the end of the services tonight and tomorrow night – no neat ending before we leave, or coffee hour afterward… because it is not yet over. Tonight’s service continues tomorrow night, and concludes on Easter, which we celebrate on Sunday morning.
The Paschal Triduum, this most Holy time, is the story of our faith– where darkness and light, betrayal and love, death and life – are intertwined.
And so we begin this journey here – with Jesus at table with his friends on the night before he would be crucified. It is Maundy Thursday, Maundy being from the Latin Mandatum, meaning mandate or commandment. And that mandate is the one we hear tonight. Jesus asks his followers to love one another after he kneels before each of them and washes their feet – something only a servant in those days would do. Not just any servant, but it would likely have been a woman.
This act of humility and love should not surprise us.
Before he entered Jerusalem, Mary kneeled and anointed Jesus’ feet with oil.
A humble donkey, not a war horse, carried Jesus into the city.
And now tonight, before his arrest, Jesus gets on his knees to wash the feet of his disciples – including the one who would betray him, and the one who would deny him.
Humility is one of the threads that weaves through all of Holy Week, really – all of Jesus’ ministry.
After Jesus washes his disciples feet, he asks them, “Do you know what I have done for you?” Clearly they know the outer act. And, it was something that would be expected – though not by the Rabbi, not by the teacher. This was another overturning of societal expectations by Jesus – the Master, the man, serving the students.
Taking a step back a moment, let’s understand the context. While foot washing is strange to us now, it was not to those gathered around him. In fact, it was expected. Hosts would welcome guests by having either the woman of the house, or servants if they had them, wash the feet of those coming into the home. These were the days of open sandals, dirt roads, and bare feet worn by long days of walking. It would be important to allow a guest to be rid of the dust and dirt that covered their tired feet.
Today, while our feet may not be dusty and dirty, they are worn and weary by the weight of our lives – and the many steps of our journey they have borne for us. But, when it comes to someone washing our feet…well, this night can create discomfort for some, and not for the reasons Peter protested. No, our feet aren’t exactly the body part we want people seeing much less touching – unless, of course, they are completely clean already and we are in a massage chair getting a pedicure.
But that is exactly what Jesus wants – no, not a pedicure (though I think he wouldn’t have minded it). He wants to care for us. And if we really think about it, feet are a good thing to turn over to Jesus, because they truly do bear the many steps of our lives – their cracked, swollen, and calloused soles are a sign of our life journey. And so Jesus welcomes in his hands the part of ourselves we won’t usually let others near, because Jesus loves every part of us, even the parts that we would rather others did not see. But let’s get back to his question of those first disciples.
“Do you know what I have done for you?”
The One who would later this night allow himself to be handed over to a criminal’s death on the cross, kneels before the disciples, not only as an act of radical hospitality, but as a model of how his disciples must live, because he knows that the saving grace for a world weary by evil can come only through God’s transformative power that works through hearts filled with humility and love.
“Do you know what I have done for you?”
Do we?
Until we can allow ourselves to kneel in humility and love before another and care for their worn and tired lives – until we can consider the basin of water a symbol of our baptismal vows to love and serve him – then we will never really understand the depth of what Jesus has done for us.
But one thing we do know is that tonight – tonight everything changes.
Tonight, as his disciples did, we offer not only our feet, but our very lives to be held in his loving embrace.
Tonight, as Jesus did, we turn to face the evil of our world – where war rages, where children are killed because we love guns more than their lives, where people are oppressed because of the color of their skin or the shape of their eyes, where women and girls are abused and marginalized, where Jews, Muslims, and other people of faith are threatened and killed, where LGBTQ+ people are excluded and fearful, where God’s creation and all the creatures of the earth suffer from our neglect, where children of God live in poverty. We will face this evil as Jesus turns to face it in the cross.
Tonight we also come to know that amidst all the worldly power of Rome, and the heavenly power of Jesus, his humility and love is what will reign in the end.
It was true that first Holy Week, as it is true for us now.
For that is the death and resurrection that awaits us.
“Do you know what I have done for you?”
No Lord, we may never truly know, but let our hearts be fully open to you.
Let us fall readily to our knees before one another – before you who is in least, the last, the lowly, and the lost.
Let us be known only by our humility and love in your name.
And by this, come ever closer to understanding what you have done for us.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/Rec-001-Homily-Maundy_Thursday-2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
April 6, 2023
Maundy Thursday
Hebrew – Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14
Psalm 116:1, 10-17
Christian – 1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Gospel – John 13:1-17, 31b-35
The post “Do You Know What I Have Done For You?” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
March 19, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Several years ago, the BBC published a story about how people choose political leaders. While most people say that competence is why they vote for someone, how they determine that quality is sadly superficial – based entirely on the person’s appearance. According to the article, “Psychologists have correctly predicted the outcome of elections in the US, Bulgaria, France, Australia, Mexico, Finland and Japan…using [a photo of the face of the candidate] alone.”
Sadly, another scientific experiment in 2010 illuminated another aspect of the way in which we decide who is the most competent. “To set up the experiment, first they taught a computer what a strong leader looks like by randomly generating faces and asking volunteers to rate how able they looked. Then they used this knowledge to create a range of faces.” The result? “The competent faces were the most attractive, mature and masculine. Said one of the scientists, “It’s a bit disturbing because you can see that it’s gender biased. It’s essentially a male face that people want. The face which is incompetent is a female face.”
This isn’t a modern phenomenon, as we see in the stories we heard in our texts this morning. In the first reading today, the prophet Samuel is sent by God in search of the next King of Israel. The thing is…the current King, Saul, wasn’t dead! Samuel was deeply disappointed in what had become of Saul, apparently so was God. Anyway, God sends Samuel out to the family of Jesse, the one from Bethlehem, to find the next King. As soon as Samuel saw the oldest son, a handsome fellow – Hollywood action hero type to be sure – Samuel was sure this was going to be the next King.
Now, Samuel might have done better remembering this about the current King: “There was a man of Benjamin whose name was Kish …He had a son whose name was Saul, a handsome young man. There was not a man among the people of Israel more handsome than he; he stood head and shoulders above everyone else.” That’s what the scriptures said about Saul. So, you’d think Samuel would realize that maybe looks aren’t all they are cracked up to be?
So back to the story, God rejected that fine looking older son, saying “‘Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’” In fact, God says no to all of the sons…until they got to the last one, the youngest, the one out doing the hard and dirty work of shepherding – though that is a clue to the people of that day that David was suited to be king, as shepherd was an image of kingship. Anyway, it is David whom God chooses, not his better looking brothers. But just when God is saying to Samuel not to judge a book by its cover, don’t you just love how the narrator notes David’s beautiful eyes?
Today, as studies like the ones I mentioned from the BBC article have shown, we do the same. We expect our leaders to be tall, male, white, straight, slender, without any physical challenge, young – but not “too young,” experienced – but not “too old,” from particular schools, particular backgrounds, the list goes on and on. And, as one commentator noted, “…lest we in the church think we have risen above this shallow horizon, take a look at the leaders of the church– pastors, elders, bishops, college and seminary presidents–and ask yourself, “Are we really any different?” Sadly, we are not. It is still very true that when people think about calling their next church leader, if honest, they are imagining a young white man with a wife, in his early thirties, but with 20 years experience, 2.5 kids, and a dog. Okay, some might prefer a cat, but you get the picture. It would seem that we are in need of healing from our own spiritual blindness as much as the one in the gospel needed healing from physical blindness.
Yet these texts today are telling us that we must see the world as God does – which essentially means that we don’t use our eyes, but the ear of our heart. In that story about Samuel, he needed to remember that God didn’t ask him to look for a king, but to listen for the one God will name to him. Listening to God is clearly how we are to walk in this world, perhaps because God knows that our ability to see gets clouded by own tendency toward superficial judgements – creating outsiders and insiders – those we think look the part, and those that don’t.
In a very real sense, we are getting a similar lesson these past few weeks in the Gospel of John. Last week – Jesus engages in a powerful theological dialog with a woman and a Samaritan – an outsider on two counts, and she gets who he is! The week before Nicodemus, a learned Pharisee, comes to see Jesus, but doesn’t understand who is truly speaking with him. And this week, the sighted are blind, and the blind are sighted.
The world wherever Christ walks is turned on its head. Insiders aren’t the ones who are the heroes, the ones to model – it is the outsiders who see Christ for who he is. Just like the story of Samuel and David. It wasn’t the tall, handsome, oldest son that God chose, but the small, ruddy, youngest one of all. In God we have the unexpected, the unheard of, the unimaginable, and for some – the unbelievable.
God flips the expectations around to remind us not to think so small – not to box our perception of God in. God is doing amazing things in the world in the most unexpected places, the most unexpected ways, through the most unexpected people. And here’s the thing… you may very well be one of those unexpected people through which God has chosen to work…yes, you. You may be the one that God sees – really sees – and calls you to do great things. It reminds me of that sign on our sideview mirrors on our cars – only when it comes to call, it reads “The one God will name may be closer than you think.”
Perhaps that seems difficult to imagine because we are always our own worst critics. We cannot imagine God would have a purpose for us, given what we know about ourselves. Here’s the thing though, God isn’t looking for perfection. Which is a good thing, considering our shepherd, soon to be King, David. He ended up being no pillar of virtue, to be sure – raping Bathsheeba and having her husband killed. Yet through David, God also worked in the world for good.
The composer Leonard Cohen, in his work titled “Anthem,” wrote:
“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”
“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in” – that’s how God’s light gets in!
The author of Ephesians in the passage we heard today wrote “Once you were darkness, but now in God you are light. Live as children of light– for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. Try to find out what is pleasing to God.”
And that, my friends, is what Samuel was trying to do – find what is pleasing to God. And…it is what we are supposed to do too. Because the thing is – God is raising up shepherds among us now – unexpected people called to serve in unexpected ways.
Yet there are a few things to know about call.
The first is that God has a call for you – every one of you.
The second, is that among us are others God is calling.
How do we know who and for what purpose? The same way Samuel eventually knew it was David that was to be anointed King. We listen with our hearts to the way God is speaking to us in our lives and in the lives of others.
And folks, this is something we need to especially do now in the church. A friend of mine, who serves as the Canon for Transition Ministry in another diocese, posted a very telling photo on her Facebook feed this past week from their recent conference. The Transition Ministry Conference is where these diocesan staff gather to share openings in the church, and the clergy available and seeking. They then try to see where someone might be a good fit, inviting them to consider a call at a particular place. The photo showed a flip chart with the following numbers:
Dioceses Represented: 25
Clergy Presented (the ones available and looking): 31
Congregations Presented (the ones with an opening): 60
Total Clergy Needed: 296 (FT 128/PT 168)
As the author of Ephesians might say “Sleepers Awake!” That’s some very tough math there: 296 clergy needed, 31 looking. Yet it isn’t for a lack of people called. If there is work to be done in the service of Christ’s church, and there most certainly is, there are people God wants us to go to with horns filled with oil to anoint. What we are not doing is listening to our own call and that of those sitting among us in the pews.
And so we must ask ourselves – are we listening – deeply, fully, prayerfully, to the way in which God is speaking to us? Perhaps one of you is called to serve the church in a way you never imagined before. I can tell you, with a successful business career I had trouble hearing the full call of God in my life. I needed others who were willing to affirm a call to the priesthood before I could really hear it fully for myself.
Put another way – we are all called to be Samuel – servants of God who lift up the call of others. And thankfully, the people of St. Mark’s in Teaneck were good and faithful servants of the Lord, for they saw in Jackie McLeod the calling of God to the diaconate – a calling she was beginning to discern in her heart. Today she joins us as she continues that path she and her parish discerned – a call to ordained life as a Deacon. Welcome Jackie!
And so now to all of you – where is God calling you?
Where is God calling those you know, those who sit here among you, those with whom you work or share time with outside of this place? Because the thing about all of this isn’t about the church, not exactly anyway. It isn’t about filling clergy roles or church growth. Call is not always about wearing a collar. Call is about listening with our hearts to the God that loves us beyond measure. Because when we live as we are called to live, when we are the person God hoped for us from the moment we came into this world, then all of heaven rejoices. As Saint Irenaeus of Lyon said, “The glory of God is the human person fully alive.”
And when a person lives into their calling – the glory of God shines through them. They are living as children of the light – and they will feel more alive than they ever thought possible – and that, THAT, is very pleasing to God indeed!
So, let us listen to the ones God will name for us – listen intently.
The name you hear may be the very one that seems the least likely – the one so different than what you or the world expects.
The name you hear may even be your own.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Rec-001-Sermon-March_19_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
March 19, 2023
Lent 4
1st Reading – 1 Samuel 16:1-13
Psalm 23
2nd Reading – Ephesians 5:8-14
Gospel – John 9:1-41
The post “The One God Will Name May Be Closer Than You Think” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
March 12, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
One thing we can say after last week and today – the authors of this forth gospel are not lost for words. The narratives are long discourses that make the stories in the synoptics of Mark, Matthew, and Luke look like Tweets compared to the mini-series we get in John.
So, let’s just recap, but before we do, let’s also set the scene. Now, you’all know I love Hallmark movies, particularly the Christmas ones. And as you likely know, Hallmark movies pretty much go along the same plot line – you know, where maybe a big town CEO travels back to her small hometown, meets a handsome guy, falls in love, and decides to stay to pursue her lifelong dream of being a shop owner. Not a Hallmark fan? Well, the same is true of everything in Hollywood – boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back for the Rom Com set. Or in Westerns, we all know that when the Sheriff and the gun slinger meet in the street – they aren’t there to kiss and make up. A gun fight is gonna happen, and the good guy always wins.
Well, that’s what is happening here in this story too. No, not a gun fight, but more like a Hallmark movie. The thing is, we are so very far removed from the experience of those who first heard our scriptural stories that we forget what it was like for them to listen or read it themselves.
So first, this meeting of Jesus and the woman at the well is what is called a “type scene” – the original listeners or readers were being set up to expect something. Those who heard it told in the first century would have looked at this like we do when a man and woman meet in a romantic movie. They would have thought that – man in foreign country encounters woman at a well… they will get married and have many children. Why? See, this scene had happened before in sacred scripture – something these first listeners would have known.
Just to name a few: Moses goes to a foreign land and meets Zipporah at a well, Jacob goes to a foreign land and meets Rachel at a well, and Isaac sends his servant to his hometown to find him a wife from his people, and where does the servant encounter the potential mate? You guessed it – at a well. So what do you think listeners were expecting something when Jesus goes to this well in a foreign country and meets a woman there? Knowing the context is really important, right?
But there is one more thing we need to know, and we didn’t even hear it this week. The verse just before what we heard today says that Jesus “…left Judea and started back to Galilee. But he had to go through Samaria.” Sounds okay – we all have to go through other places to get to where we want to end up, right?
Here’s the thing though – that wasn’t true. Sure, it is a more direct path to take from Jerusalem to Galilee, but any Jew would never have taken it. The hatred between these two peoples was renown, so they would gone by a more circuitous route to avoid traveling through Samaria. Why then did Jesus have to go this way, as the text says? Good question. To answer it, let’s remember how we left off last week, or in scriptural terms – a few verses before this story – where we are told that “God so loved the world…” As one commentator noted “Jesus is saying to his disciples, “You want to know what the world looks like? Well, I’ll show you – we’re going to Samaria.”[1]
This was a theological, not a geographical, necessity. Jesus goes to Samaria and speaks with this woman to make it clear that God loves all the world, not just the part of it we live in ourselves, or the people we happen to like. Not only that, but when invited to stay…he does! For two whole days with these folks. Lordy, the disciples and those first hearing this story where probably rocked back on their heels like someone watching an action packed adventure movie just at that suspenseful climatic reveal that, you know, Darth Vardar is actually Luke’s dad – something like that.
So, with all that in mind, let’s go back to the dialog we heard, and try to imagine what it was like to hear this story in that context. First…let’s give this woman a name. I always like to call her Sophia, because she is full of wisdom. So, here we go – and of course, I will paraphrase a bit, as you know I do:
Jesus is tired as he travels through Samaria and goes to sit by a well, the infamous well of Jacob no less, for a bit of rest (his disciples had gone to the local Stop & Shop in town for some food). Just then, a woman comes to draw water from the well. Jesus says to her “Give me a drink” (let’s just add a “please” in there – I mean really, you may be the savior of the world, but still let’s be polite). So “Give me a drink, please.” Sophia says “Are you talkin’ to me? You do know I am a Samaritan, right? What on earth are you doing here? Don’t you want to run off so you don’t get cooties or something?” Jesus smiled and said “Now, you might think this is funny, but if you knew who I really am, you would be asking me for a drink.” Sophia looks him up and down thinking the hot sun got to this guy…“Say what? I’m the one with a jar, how possibly are you going to draw water from that deep well without one?” Jesus answered “If you drink water from this well, you will have your thirst quenched…for awhile, but then you will be thirsty again, right?” “Yeah, okay, go on…” “But the water I give quenches for all time the thirst you have, because once you drink of this water, you yourself become a well that springs forth water for all time.” Sophia thinks for a moment and says “Sir, give me a drink of your water.”
Now, this is where it takes an interesting turn. See, Jesus says “Go get your husband and come back.” But Sophia says “I don’t have a husband.” This is when Jesus affirms her, “What you have said is true – you’ve had five, but the man you have now isn’t your husband.” And here is where the misogyny of the world interjects meaning where it should not be.
So, before we continue, let’s just set the record straight. First, it may not really be about men at all, for that matter, this woman might also not have existed – all of them may be a metaphor for nations or the gods the Samaritans worshipped. As some scholars point out, it is possible this was a theological metaphor for the alliances of Samaria with surrounding nations, or of the people with other faith traditions. But even if these were actual people, none of it seems to matter to Jesus – he doesn’t care about any of that, because in that day there were many reasons this might be so – none of which would reflect poorly on the woman, especially given that women did not have full agency over their lives when it came to marriage. So, now that we cleared up the sexism of past church interpretation, let’s get back to the dialog.
“Sir,” she says to Jesus, “I see that you are a prophet, so let me ask you a question. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain – I mean, we are standing at Jacob’s well – a place that is sacred to Samaritans and to your people, the Jews. Why is it then that they abandon this place, and say that everybody has to worship in Jerusalem? What’s up with that?” Jesus replies “There is going to be a time when none of that matters, because what is important is not where you worship, but that you worship in spirit and truth – that your worship is genuine.” Sophia says “I know that there is one who is coming, the Christ, that will proclaim truth to us…are you…” “I am”
Now, let’s stop right there. He just uttered the words “I am.” I know the text we read in church has Jesus saying “I am he,” but that “he” is added by later translations into English to complete the grammatical sentence. The Greek is ἐγώ εἰμι – period. Jesus just used the divine name given to Moses – that he is “I AM.” Only God would say this.
And after hearing this amazing pronouncement by Jesus, Sophia leaves her water jar at the well and runs to tell the people in town everything, inviting them to go see for themselves. They do, and invite Jesus to stay with them, and get this…he does! He stays with them, or really, the Greek is even better – it is μένω, or abide. Jesus abides with these Samaritans.
So, now that we have heard it all again, with our understanding of the context, it is clear that this back and forth of Jesus and Sophia is a powerful theological dialog. But what is it saying to us now?
First and foremost is that God really does love the world – the entire world – not just our little corner of it. Jesus goes to Sychar, to a Samaritan woman – an outsider on two counts – because Jesus came into the world for everyone. Hate some group of people – guess what…God loves them. God goes to them. God abides with them.
And part of how we love others is doing as Jesus and Sophia, did – listen, really listen – deeply and without judgement. This was a dialog between a Jew and a Samaritan, a man and a woman. When she asks questions, he doesn’t respond with indignation, condemnation, anger, or impatience. It is easy for us to bypass the significance of this, but let’s reframe it so we don’t miss the heart of what is happening. We don’t have to even leave our country to do it.
From school boards to libraries, city hall to congressional office buildings, across social media platforms of all kinds, shouting and condemning one another has become the norm. Hate speech is now righteous in some minds because “they deserve it” – and “they” being any group we believe, rightly or wrongly, has harmed us – MAGA, Woke, TERF, Trans, Nazi, Socialist, Union, Management, Drag, immigrants, Jews, Muslims…Good Lord, the list of who many hate sadly goes on and on and on.
So, let’s be absolutely clear about it – hating anyone is never okay – and we must not be a part of it, and call it out where ever it may manifest in the world.
Violence against another person – no matter what they believe, how they vote, who they love, what language they speak, what color is their skin, no matter if they are male or female, rich or poor, and any other way we divide ourselves from one another, is unacceptable. God loves them, and so must we. Love does no harm to another – in word or in deed. Because even if hate is in the heart of those who stand opposite wherever we are, then we know by our faith that the only way to overcome that is not by hate, but by love. That is the power of the cross and empty tomb – light overcomes darkness, life overcomes death, love overcomes hate.
That is what Jesus is making clear in going to this place and having this conversation. And just as shocking as that was to those who witnessed it in his time, our life in Christ, loving as he loved, loving all the world – that is just as counter-cultural now. And, it doesn’t take much to know that anything that goes against the grain – that seeks peace amidst war, or love in the face of hate – well, that is going to not only be exhausting, but sometimes even dangerous. Jesus went to that well, it says, because even he was tired, and we also know the cross that lay ahead.
How then, are we to ever be the people we are called to be?
How possibly can we love all the world as God does?
The thing is, our faith is rooted in the water of life we receive when we are baptized into Christ. And it is here, at this well of life – this altar – where we are nourished by our encounter with the real presence of Jesus who abides with us in the Eucharist. It is here where we are healed, renewed, and restored in Christ, and by our fellowship with one another too. And from here, we are given strength for the journey to love all the world as God does – unconditionally.
None of that means that our lives in Christ will be easy, but Jesus was right – it will nourish us in ways unimaginable.
And finally, there is another take away from this gospel – and it is found in what the woman does. She leaves her jar at the well to share the good news with everyone she knows, that they may come and encounter Christ too.
So, as much as we need to be like Jesus – loving all of the world – we also need to be like Sophia – inviting others to meet him too.
We aren’t meant to stay at the proverbial well, but going into our towns and cities to proclaim the good news that all may come to know the unconditional love and grace of God.
So, come to this well and encounter Christ in one another, and abide in the real presence of Him in the Eucharist.
Come to be nourished, to be healed, to be loved.
Come to worship in spirit and in truth.
And then leave your water jars at the door to proclaim the good news. To say “come and see” – inviting others here to experience the life giving grace and love of Christ for themselves.
Leave your water jars at the door and go to the places others will not travel – to the ones others despise – and love them. Love all the world.
For God seeks such as these most especially – the ones who do not know they are loved. The ones who cannot see how marvelously they are made. The ones whom we and others have cast aside.
Jesus is meeting you here today.
Listen to him as he abides with you.
Invite others here to come and see – to encounter him themselves.
Walk as Jesus did to the places others will not go, to the people others will not talk to, and love them – unconditionally.
For God so loved the world.
All the world.
And so must we.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Rec-001-Sermon-March_12_2023.m4a[1] Karoline Lewis, Sermon Brainwave, 2023.
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
March 12, 2023
Lent 3
1st Reading – Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 95
2nd Reading – Romans 5:1-11
Gospel – John 4:5-42
The post “We’re Going To Samaria” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
March 5, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Well, we are now in the second week of Lent, and as the Lent Madness smackdowns have progressed, my bracket predictions are starting to look very sketchy. Harriet Monsell lost this past week to Johann Sebastian Bach. Now, as much as Harriet is the foundress of the monastic order that includes our own Community of St. John Baptist, where I am an Associate, and a powerful witness of Christ in the world, I suppose I should have seen that one coming.
Lent Madness is fun, but knowing more about the lives of the saints is something that can help us along the way. Since returning from the monastery retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemane I took in early February, and for some time prior to going, I have found myself drawn more deeply into the lives of the saints of the church. Of course, clergy are required to study them in seminary, and to pray the daily office, which will have a focus on their life within it, when a day has a saint assigned.
But lately, I am finding that the lives of people from Thomas Aquinas to Dorothy Day, Teresa of Avila to Bakhita, and martyrs from Uganda to El Salvador, are providing guidance and a place of prayerful turning when discerning God at work in my own life. Each of the saints are different from one another, their examples a wide variety of how one responds to the call of Christ, but in each there is a trust in God that is unmistakable.
That is what we are hearing in the Genesis narrative of Abram and Sarai, later Abraham and Sarah. God tells Abram to leave his homeland and family and head to an unknown place. But…why? Why would God ask that of Abram, or anyone for that matter? Well, God explains it, telling Abram, “So, that you will be a blessing.” Setting the blessing bit aside for a moment, why does God ask Abram to leave the familiar to venture out to the unknown?
You know, in the ordination process, seminarians are asked to leave their home parish as they continue along their discernment as postulants and candidates in the ordination process. And we will soon welcome a postulant here, Jackie McLeod, who is on the discernment journey of one who feels called to the diaconate – the Order of Deacons – a full and equal order in the church, even if it is not always seen that way by some. She is leaving her home parish, and we will certainly be blessed by her presence with us as she serves here.
We do this in the church so that those in the process can serve in a place that has no prior framing for who they are and what they can or should do. They are given a blank slate to better discern, and those with whom they serve have no box into which they have already – consciously or not – placed that person. Perhaps that is a part of why God did this with Abram.
It is also true that while there is a destination of a promised land and descendants in this Genesis story, it is really the journey itself that is the largest part of God’s calling – for Abram and for us.
But all of this call talk can sometimes have us thinking it is as obvious as getting a text or something – and that we just willingly always jump up and say – “Sure, put me in coach!” While God could communicate in whatever why God chooses, the response is likely to be more like this based on the long history of God and humanity: God sends a text “Hey – wanna be a blessing?” You text back “Sounds cool. Wad ya have in mind?” God replies “TPTB…which is of course – Moi – needs you to drop everything and go where I tell you, k?” “Ummm, u mean like right now? I kinda had plans.” God: “SMH”
Now, for some of our saints, the call of God was actually very clear – at least at first – and they did indeed accept it immediately. Mother Teresa heard the voice of Jesus lamenting the neglected poor while traveling on a train, and she began her call within a call to create a new order of monastics that would serve the poorest of the poor. Then there was Mary, the mother of Jesus – who got a visit from Gabriel that always reminds me of that opening scene of Dogma where Alan Rickman appears as a pillar of fire in the bedroom of Bethany.
I mean – you have to imagine that was a bit of a frightening thing to have this messenger of God show up when you are just a young teen (which is, what virgin actually meant – just that she was young). And as I heard another priest once add “I wonder how many other girls turned Gabriel down before Mary had the courage to say yes!”
Of course Abram didn’t get a fiery messenger, he got it right from the Source – the Source with a capital S mind you. Hard to miss that I would think.
Yet for most others, call is more subtle – like signs on the road that guide you. Or, like the wind Jesus talks about in his back and forth with Nicodemus. “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.” We can get that imagery, right? Watch a tree on any windy day – we don’t see the wind, but we hear it, feel it on our cheeks, and see the leaves and branches move.
Call is like that for many – really most. You see a sign of some kind (or several) that seem to float by you, and you begin to piece a direction for your steps – even if you aren’t sure why it is you feel drawn toward whatever or wherever you end up heading.
To be clear, call is not about wearing a collar. You can feel called to be a parent, to go to a particular place at a particular time where you end up meeting your future wife or husband, or perhaps a sense of what you want to do next in your work or personal life – a career move, a new hobby, a returning to something that drew you when you were younger, and yes – even a pastoral call to ordained or monastic life.
But all this still leaves us with a lot of questions. What does it mean to follow a call, or for that matter, what does it mean to be a blessing? This is where our patriarchs and matriarchs of scripture, where the saints that have gone before us, can really help a great deal. Because we often can think that all those folk had their act together all the time.
Why, they just heard their call from God, and off they went right on to it – no doubts, no wayward detours, no refusals to even bother with it. But the fullness of the Abram story is that even with this incredible call of God, he wavered in certainty about it – so much so that he tried to pass his wife off as a sister (not just once mind you) to save his own hide. I mean – how exactly does that show trust that God will provide descendents through her? But wait, there’s more! Again, instead of trusting in the promise, he got a slave, Hagar, to be his concubine so he could ensure that those many descendants would actually happen. And, if that weren’t bad enough – and it was – he turned Hagar and her son out of the family camp towards a sure death. Nice, right? Spoiler alert – God saves her and she gets her own divine promise. This is our patriarch Abram.
Abram trusted God, but he doubted a lot too. And you know what, the same is true for the rest of the patriarchs, matriarchs, apostles, and saints through the centuries. As I have said many times, faith without doubt isn’t faith at all – it’s certainty. For some, these moments where we are unsure of God’s presence in our lives, much less that we truly are following God’s call for us, can feel as St. John of the Cross described it like “a dark night of the soul.”
It was something Mother Theresa knew well, for she endured this spiritual dryness in which she could not feel the presence of God for most of her life after those initial revelations of her call within a call to serve the poorest of God’s children. Yet only upon her death was anyone aware of it. “In my soul I feel just that terrible pain of loss—of God not wanting me—of God not being God—of God not really existing,” Mother Teresa wrote in one of her letters discovered after she died.
The thing about this dark night period into which so many of us fall is that for people of faith, there is always something else there with us. While faith always has doubt in its shadow…the reverse is also true. In those periods of spiritual dryness, when we are unable to sense God’s presence, we have the power of hope to see us through – a trust that is enduring.
This is what we are hearing in the Psalm we heard today. Psalm 121 is one often read at the bedside of the sick, at a funeral, or in other times of distress in our lives. And yet certainly in those moments we know that even while we place our trust in God, even knowing that God watches over us – it doesn’t mean we will not endure suffering – spiritual or otherwise. We look then to God, as the psalmist looked to the hills, and ask “where will our help come?”
And so our lives as a people of faith, of one with a call, is not about the absolute or the easy. It is about trust – trust that God does indeed watch over us, trust that help will come by way of the one who created all things, trust that even when we are in that dark night of the soul, the dawn will come. And for those who follow Jesus – we know this to be integral to our faith – this hope amidst despair, and life in the shadow of death – for even while we stand at the foot of the cross, the empty tomb awaits. Even while celebrating the resurrection, the shadow of the cross is ever present.
Even knowing that, we are still left with this question about the story of Abram – what is this blessing business? What is that about? What does it mean to be a blessing?
The thing is, God was sending him on this journey for the sake of all those they will impact – which in their case, was for the whole world. Abram couldn’t yet see it, but his story, his call, became a part of a much, much, larger story of God’s ongoing relationship with all of humanity through the ages.
What about us?
The same is true.
Think of it this way. We know that when we are living a life that is authentic – where we are passionate about what we are doing, where we have a sense of purpose – what we of faith would name a call – then even amidst the difficult days of our lives, there is something palatable about us – something others sense deep within us. And whether we are intentional about it or not, it is a blessing of sorts to others as much as to ourselves. By our very lives, we make an impact. Because blessing is about more than stuff – more than financial or power gains…it is about being the person fully alive that God created us to be and sharing that with the world.
Yet for followers of Jesus, this goes much further. We not only have the call of our individual lives, baptized into him, to live as he commanded us, we are also a community of his disciples. So, this parish has a call too, one that others started when they founded it and built this church in which we sit. And now we carry it forward.
It was, and still is, to be a blessing – a place of spiritual nourishment in Christ for those who walk through our doors, and a blessing to the community in which we serve. Notice that nowhere in that call does it say we will always have large endowments, filled pews, perfect music (though I think these folks come very close), fabulous preaching (no comment there) and more volunteers than we could possibly imagine. Nope – none of that is the call of this or any other parish.
Our call is simple in what is asked, but not always in how to live it. We are called to love one another as Jesus loved us, and to share that transformational experience of unconditional love and grace far and wide. For the parish it means we have to know the community in which we live, because to really love someone, we need to see them, to go to them, to know them. It is a call to go out from these doors and be the people God calls us to be every single day.
This is not an easy thing to do – it wasn’t for Abram. It wasn’t for the saints either.
But thankfully, like Abram, we don’t journey alone. He had Sarai and Lot – we have the people and clergy of the Diocese of Newark, well for that matter, the entire Episcopal Church – who walk alongside us. And while that is absolutely freakingly awesome – we have far more than that too. For in this combined community of Bloomfield & Glen Ridge, we have walking with us followers of Jesus in other denominations. And with our Jewish & Muslim sisters and brothers, who share this story of Abram with us, we can speak in a united voice to the working of God in all of creation throughout history – to God’s all inclusive and unconditional love and grace. And as we journey together, they will all be a blessing to us, as I pray we will be to them.
So let us be the people God created us to be, that we might be blessed and be a blessing.
For we are called to go where God sends us, just like Abram.
We are called to trust like the psalmist that our help will come from God – the maker of heaven and earth.
We are called to whether dark nights like the saints, knowing that hope abides in the faithful, and the light will overcome.
We are called to be a blessing in a world in which so many are just looking for someone to love them unconditionally – looking, without really knowing it, for God.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/Rec-001-Sermon-March_5_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
March 5, 2023
Lent 2
1st Reading – Genesis 12:1-4a
Psalm 121
2nd Reading – Romans 4:1-5, 13-17
Gospel – John 3:1-17
The post “Called To Be A Blessing” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
February 26, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
On Friday, a friend and colleague, the Very Reverend Patrick Malloy, Dean of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, posted on his Facebook page a notice. Part of it read “…We have learned that tomorrow, [the 25th of February], has been declared a “National Day of Hate” by groups of antisemitic white nationalist organizations. This comes just days after a group of neo-Nazis heckled theater goers as they queued for a performance of the Broadway play, “Parade.” [The play] is about the wrongful rape conviction of Leo Frank, a Jewish man, in 1915. The hecklers asserted that he was, in fact, guilty as all Jews are guilty.” Dean Malloy went on to ask for solidarity with our Jewish sisters and brothers, and prayers for all.
After reaching out, again, to Rabbi Katz of Temple Ner Tamid here in Bloomfield to see how we might be of help, and assuring him that we stand with them, I began to think yesterday, on that so called “day of hate,” about the texts for this morning as I prepared this sermon – especially the story of Genesis and the Gospel.
Both of these texts are very familiar, so we sometimes can gloss over them – not really listening to what is happening, or to the context of the story itself. But we need to really pay attention, because what these scriptures are about can help us to understand our world today, and what we are called to do in our lives in Christ.
Taking the Genesis story first because, well, it is the first book and our biblical canon, and the first of our texts today, we get the story of the temptation of Adam and Eve in the garden. And to be clear, it was both of them in this metaphorical tale about our beginnings on earth. While I have altered the text we read in church to make this fact more clear: even the unamended translation we read says it too, though most people don’t pay attention to it. It reads, “She took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate.” So, not for nothin’, Adam is equally at fault here. Yet when God comes walking around, the first thing Adam does is point the finger at Eve, and said “She made me do it!” Weeny.
Anyway, once they come to eat of the tree of knowledge, their eyes were opened to what is good and what is evil. Now, just to side with the serpent for a moment – he was right – they didn’t die. At least not physically. And not for nothing, but why exactly would having knowledge of good and evil be a bad thing? Well, if it doesn’t also include the wisdom of who we truly are and what that means for us and for the world, then there is a danger in that knowledge. Which brings us to the gospel lesson.
The first thing to note is that the Holy Spirit KNEW what would happen to Jesus – this was a purposeful act. The text opens with “Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” This on the heels of God saying “There’s my boy – my beloved” as he is rising out of the waters of his baptism in the Jordan by John. Now this? Jesus might rightly say “Gee, dad – thanks for the playdate with the devil!”
And after being led there by the Holy Spirit, he encounters what our translation calls the tempter. The Greek word is διάβολος, which means “literally someone who “casts through,”… making charges that bring down or destroy.” Now, why on earth, or heaven for that matter, would God want to do that to God’s own son? Not to mention all the trinitarian hoops you can move through in this scenario – if it’s the Spirit, it is also Jesus, it is also God, so who is doing what really?
Anyway, it’s for the same reason God put that alluring tree of knowledge smack dab in the middle of that garden where Adam and Eve would be sure to be tempted by it.
The thing is, both of these stories are about identity and what that knowledge, or lack of it, can mean for us. The real impact of eating the fruit of that tree was as much a forgetting than a getting of any type of knowledge. These first humans forgot who they were – made in the image of God. When their proverbial eyes were opened after eating the fruit they saw only their humanity – and with that, a sense of inadequacy born of an inability to see that we are beloved children of God. And that can tempt one to seek to fill the gaping hole in their heart with things that will destroy them from within – usually without realizing it is happening.
Which is why it is good that this is paired with the Mathew text. While the children of God in the Garden went from having no knowledge of their human side, to forgetting their divine origins, Jesus knew exactly who he was, and the fully divine part of Jesus was purposely put into an internal battle with his fully human side – would he remember the fullness of his identity? The key to understanding what is going on in either of these two stories is to know that the battle isn’t between some external force like a serpent or a devil – but something deep within each of us.
God became incarnate that humanity might truly remember who they were and how deeply they are loved, not to do neat parlor tricks to bring the masses to their knees. So, Jesus is led into the wilderness where he self-stresses through fasting in that desolate environment to try to bring on what happens to all humans – the vulnerability, fear, and doubt that comes into our hearts in our darkest moments. Would he in his weakened state forget that he was God’s beloved?
In a sense, it was almost like a repeat of that garden moment, only this time God was trying to experience fully what it means to be human, or really, human without any knowledge of our divine nature as children of God. And I think it helped Jesus in his ministry with us too. It gave him insight into our fully human nature, and what draws us out of relationship with God.
Jesus needed this, and so do we. No, we don’t have to head out on a road trip to the desert and fast for 40 days. Instead, we have Lent – our time in the wilderness to face our own demons. And strangely enough, the temptations we have are not too far off from the ones Jesus was offered in the desert:
The temptation to think we are all we need to provide for ourselves.
The temptation to have power, or use power unwisely.
The temptation to make God in our image.
And it is that last one that was brought to my mind by this National Day of Hate. I mean – first of all – who the hell thinks a day devoted to hate is a good thing? Sadly, far too many people. And if we look at these so-called white nationalists, we will find that many them claim a Christian identity. We shouldn’t be surprised – the Ku Klux Klan burned what? Crosses.
In the wilderness of their own insecurities, the darkness of humanity’s most base inclinations took hold, and they built up for themselves a white American God who just happens to hate anyone who isn’t just like them – how convenient. Their religion is hate, their worship is violence, and their god is an idolatrous image of themselves.
So, let me make this absolutely clear – there is no such thing as a Christian Nationalist. You cannot love Jesus and hate anyone. You cannot be a follower of Jesus, a Jew himself, and abuse Jews, Muslims, Hindus, or any one of any other faith. For that matter, you, cannot be a disciple of Christ and harm any child of God for any reason whatsoever. And no – God did NOT create the United States as some sort of divine Christian nation. From God’s point of view – there are no countries – just a world filled with people God created and God loves – no exceptions.
So to set the record straight – a Christian Nationalist is an oxymoron. A Christian Nationalist is just a Nationalist, which is to say simply a racist, antisemitic, misogynist. It is a person who has lost their way, whose insecurity has filled their heart with fear, and darkness has infected their soul. They are in need of prayer.
But the thing is, no one is born that way. No one comes out of the womb hating anyone. It isn’t even something we would do if someone told us to hate so and so. I mean, if someone said to you “Go hate that person – for that matter – hate everyone that looks like that person,” would you really just do that? We only go down this path when we are weak because we have forgotten who we are, who God is, and what we are called to in this time we have here on earth.
For when we lose sight of all of that, when we forget that we are beloved children of God, our human tendency is to try to fill that hole we feel in our identity with things that will destroy us. We become vulnerable to the temptation to hate others as a way to feel better about ourselves. And when that takes hold, we become blind to the cry of our sisters and brothers in chains, and build up for ourselves a God made in our image, not the other way around.
It is this darkness of the human condition that Christ’s light sought to overcome in our hearts. And it is knowing this inclination of humanity that the church calls us home in Lent.
Because in Lent, we stop the busyness of our lives to reflect, to return, and to restore.
To reflect on the ways in which fear has made itself manifest in our lives, drawing us down a dangerous path of insecurity, vulnerability, envy, and bitterness.
To return here to be nourished in the real presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist, and to be fed with the fellowship of this community.
To restore ourselves in the knowledge of God’s unconditional love for us, just as we are – the ones made in God’s image – perfectly imperfect – meant for love and peace, not hate and war.
Jesus left his wilderness time strengthened to begin his ministry – to live the life he was called to live – to be the healing balm of God’s grace and love in a world that would crucify him.
We will leave this time of Lent strengthened in the knowledge of our identity as beloved children of God, and able more fully to stand at the foot of the cross with him, to rejoice in his resurrection, and to be the body of Christ we are called to be – loving and serving all people, most especially the Jesus crucified today.
And so we prepare now in Lent, and commit ourselves again to Christ, that we may stand in solidarity and love with our Jewish sisters and brothers, and people of all of other faiths, this day and every day.
Stand in solidarity and love with our black, brown, and API sisters and brothers.
Stand in solidarity and love with women and girls all over the world.
Stand in solidarity and love with our LGBTQ+ sisters and brothers.
Stand in solidarity and love with the homeless, the addicted, and all those who suffer in this life.
For when any child of God is abused, neglected, oppressed, or hated, it is Christ himself who hangs on the cross they use.
And because we know that all the earth is God’s, entrusted to our care from the beginning, in that very first creation story in Genesis, we stand also with the vulnerable earth and all the creatures on it who suffer from our abuse.
On Ash Wednesday, you were invited into a Holy Lent in this wilderness time in which we live, where there are demons all around infecting the hearts of the vulnerable with the darkness of hate.
I pray you accept that invitation to reflect, to return, and to restore – for your own salvation, and that of the world.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/Rec-001-Sermon-February_26_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
February 26, 2023
First Sunday in Lent – Year A
First Reading – Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7
Psalm 32
Second Reading – Romans 5:12-19
Gospel – Matthew 4:1-11
The post “The Devil Within” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
February 19, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
“Do not be afraid.”
Did you notice that in the gospel? Jesus tells his disciples “Get up and do not be afraid.” Just those words should have been enough for them to know that something transformational was, or is, or will happen. We hear it a lot in Advent – to Mary, to the shepherds, and to Joseph. It was spoken to Abram (later called Abraham), to Moses, and to Hagar, and so many more. And when folks heard this – their lives were about to be changed in ways that they could not even imagine.
And so, on this Transfiguration Sunday – the last in a season in which Christ is revealed to us – perhaps it isn’t a surprise that we hear it again. There’s a whole lot going on in all that we hear today – Moses up on the mountain with God, Jesus the same and taking along some of his disciples – and everything changes for them, and for us too.
Encounters with God are like that – they change you. That is, if you are aware of God’s presence in your midst. I think that is why Jesus takes these three away up the mountain. He wanted their full and undivided attention. Today, perhaps, Jesus would have to take our cell phones away and drag us off to a secluded retreat.
And that is exactly what we all need to do from time to time, including me. As you know, I was not here last week, as I was away on retreat. I spent time at the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani in Louisville, Kentucky. It is a monastery of the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance, more commonly known as Trappists.
Unlike some monasteries and convents, this order maintains silence not only from 8pm to 8am (the great silence), but at all times. It was one of the reasons I sought out this place for retreat. I needed time to really listen to God.
The grounds at Gethsemani are beautiful and expansive. There are wooded trails and paths through valleys of farmland. Thankfully too, it being winter, there were not too many people there. So, on one day, as I walked down one of the wooded paths, I was completely alone – the silence of the Abbey was carried along with me, and the only sounds I heard where my own footsteps, the distant abbey bells, and the life of the natural world. Along the way there were statues of saints, or of the nativity, hidden amidst the woods as I walked along. There was a lot to be heard, and I am still processing it all.
Yet there was another reason I chose to retreat at this particular place. It was the monastery of a monk named Thomas Merton, or Father [Loo-WEE] Louis, as he was known by his brothers. Thomas Merton, who lived from1915 to his strange death in 1968, “is arguably the most influential American [Roman] Catholic author of the twentieth century. His autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain, has sold over one million copies and has been translated into over fifteen languages. He wrote over sixty other books and hundreds of poems and articles on topics ranging from monastic spirituality to civil rights, nonviolence, and the nuclear arms race.”[1]
By The Merton Center: http://www.mertoncenter.org/Poetry/griffin.jpg, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18293738
Thomas Merton was, like the Christ he followed, controversial. Because what he heard in his silence propelled him to speak on the sins of the world – advocating for peace, non-violence, and social justice amidst the war in Vietnam, and the civil rights movement. And that will not make some people, the ones who profit from those things, very happy.
Yet this boisterous young man turned monk yearned most to listen to God.
Just outside where we gathered for meals at the monastery, there was an old piece of paper tacked onto a bulletin board. It had a quote by Merton, that read “My life is a listening; His is a speaking. My salvation is to hear and respond. For this, my life must be silent. Hence, my silence is my salvation.”
“My life is a listening. God’s is a speaking.”
Indeed.
Instinctively we all seem to know that we need time to be still – to be open to God speaking to us – even if we are the kind of person that gets anxious even thinking about having to be still, quiet, and listening. Still, we may not have someone like Jesus to lead us up to a mountaintop, and perhaps stays at convents and monasteries just aren’t your thing. That’s okay. The thing about listening is that it isn’t done solely with our ears, but with the ear of our heart, and God has a way of speaking amidst the din of our world, we just need to pay attention. And one of the reasons we need to be listening in whatever way we are able is that transfiguration moments are everywhere!
All children of God shine with the divine spark, bright as the sun – we just don’t always know it.
And that brings me to a moment famous in Merton’s life, so much so, that there is an historical marker in downtown Louisville that commemorates it for all to see. It was March 18, 1958, and in Merton’s own words, this is what happened:
“In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness… This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud… I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.”[2]
I went to that very spot, which is now the corner of 4th and Muhummad Ali Boulevard in a very busy section of Louisville, and I stood watching people go by too. I thought about that revelation of Merton, and how it seemed that he witnessed a transfiguration moment – all these people, made in God’s image, and shining like the sun. We know it changed Merton. How would it change us?
Because that truth hasn’t changed.
God’s light is shining in us, and all around us. Or as Merton once put it “We are living in a world that is absolutely transparent, and God is shining through it all the time.”
What those disciples saw on that mountain was God’s light shining in Christ. What Merton saw on that street corner was that same light shining in all the children of God. These are transfiguration experiences, and Jesus was right to tell his disciples about these moments to “Get up and do not be afraid.”
Because, as I noted earlier, we know that when folks in the bible are told not to be afraid, something is likely about to be dramatically changed in their life. But there is more to it than that. He tells them first to, “Get up,” yet the translation doesn’t really tell us how powerful that command was, because the words used here are the very same heard in the resurrection account of the angels. It is really “raised!” or “Be raised!”
The transfiguration is a story about resurrection – but not only Jesus’. It is the resurrection story of the disciples – which in essence, if we think about it, is a baptism story – for we die and are given new life in Christ in our baptism. And that, my friends, is a call story. Our baptism – is our transfiguration – is our calling.
And so this gospel may rightly be called the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus, but it could also be titled the call story of the disciples – the Transfiguration of Peter, James, and John. And the thing is – it is our transfiguration and call story too.
Because God is calling us as clearly as Jesus did those three on the mountain, to follow him – to go with God into the world – the world that God is transfiguring right this very moment.
And given the way in which transfigurations change us in life altering ways, is it any wonder Jesus told them “Do not be afraid.” Maybe that’s what we need to say at everyone’s baptism – or every time we come forward to receive Christ in the Eucharist – Do Not Be Afraid! – because our life as his disciples is transfiguration story – a resurrection call story.
Are we listening – do we see what is right before us and all around us?
This manifestation of Jesus to those disciples wasn’t left behind on that mountain, but is happening here – now. And it is a call to all who follow him to “Rise up, do not be afraid.” Because an encounter with Christ is a transfiguring moment – a resurrection experience – for us, and for the church. It should break us open that our inner light, that divine spark of our Creator in whose image we are made, would shine like the sun that all may see the light of God’s love and grace.
Being a follower of Jesus isn’t to bask in the glow of communion with one another and with him in the Eucharist, it isn’t to stay on that mountain. It is to break forth like the dawn into the world that lay in darkness. That’s what encounters with the light of God do – they transfigure us!
And that means we recognize Christ’s light shining before us.
It means we recognize the divine spark in all people – of every race, way of loving, gender, economic status, culture – every single human on this earth – no exceptions.
It means the church is not an exclusive social club where one comes to be seen, but a place where we are given strength for the journey in which we choose to see the world differently, and to share the light and love of Christ within us to all people.
The gospel of Jesus Christ is a radical message of God’s great love for all creation, and the transfiguration story is the story of our call to rise up, to not be afraid, and to walk with Jesus into the world to spread that love as he did – to those others wouldn’t see, to those others wouldn’t hear – and yes, follow Him even to the cross.
This week, on Ash Wednesday, we begin the season of Lent. And now it is we who are descending that mountaintop and heading towards Jerusalem with Jesus as we move through this next season of the church year. And if we really think about it, Lent is a season when we enter into an intentional time of listening, of retreat, across all the church. We put away our familiar silver and gold, the music becomes more subdued, the tone of the service even more reflective.
Perhaps each of you will use this season as a time of deep listening. A time to hear with your heart God speaking to you. A time to feel God’s light shining within. A time to see that light shining in others.
Because just as Peter, James, and John found, this was no time for them to stay on the mountain, nor is it time for us to shelter here in our church. They discovered that there were people waiting to be healed at the bottom of that mountain. And we who follow Jesus today surely know that there is much to be healed in our world today waiting for us outside these doors. All over this world, children of God suffer from earthquakes – natural ones, and the catastrophic upheavals of our own making – the earthquake of hate, violence, poverty, neglect, and oppression that systematically swallow up the children of God.
And so we must be the transfigured ones – the resurrected ones! We must answer the call of Christ – here and now.
Rise up and do not be afraid!
For Christ is with you.
God’s light shines within you.
Your revelation moment, your transfiguration experience, is at hand.
It may not be at a busy intersection or up on a mountaintop, but it will fill you with “the immense joy of being [human], a member of a race in which God [chose to] became incarnate.” And nothing for you, for the church, or for the world, will ever be the same again.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/Rec-001-Sermon-February_19_2033.m4a[1] https://merton.org
[2] Thomas Merton, Confessions of a Guilty Bystander
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
February 19, 2023
The Last Sunday After The Epiphany
1st Reading – Exodus 24:12-18
Psalm 2
2nd Reading – 2 Peter 1:16-21
Gospel – Matthew 17:1-9
The post “Rise Up!” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
February 5, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
The Gospel for today is a familiar passage, especially to those of us who happen to still own a copy of the soundtrack to Godspell, or who spent many youthful summers at Vacation Bible School singing “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine!” Following on the heels of the beatitudes, this is part of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.
He says “You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.” Well, most winters, save this one (thankfully), there is a whole lot of salt being trampled under foot all over driveways and walkways here in NJ. But, that’s probably not what Jesus had in mind.
Actually salt, or sodium chloride, was an important compound even more so then, as it is now, but oddly enough…it cannot lose it’s “saltiness.” It doesn’t degrade over time. But, it can be mixed up with other substances, and it was not unheard of in that time for unsavory merchants (pun intended) to dilute the salt with other substances to increases profits, but in essence, making the salt useless. So, Jesus is warning us not to be diluted, but to keep focused on our purpose.
And what is that purpose?
Well, he tells you.
He continues saying, “You are the light of the world,” imploring us to let our “light shine before others.”
What does that mean, to be the “light of the world?”
Now, we have been fortunate this winter, with the milder weather, (though Lordy it was really, really cold these past few days, right). Yet winter is a time when we seem to value light even more than at any other time of the year in our hemisphere. Even if you don’t suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, I doubt there are many of us that don’t want to stay close to firelight, candlelight, and any other kind of light that cuts through the darkness and warms our heart.
But the real purpose of light is to illuminate, to overcome darkness – not for itself – but for whatever is around it. The primary function of light is not to be seen itself, but to let other things be seen. Light does not exist for its own sake, but to reveal what we cannot otherwise be seen in the darkness.
Jesus is telling us that we are the light that will serve to reveal God’s unconditional grace and love. And, when we lose sight of that, we become as effective and purposeful as diluted salt.
And so all of this was coming to my heart and mind as we gathered together for Diocesan Convention these past few days. After this long pandemic, it was so good to be able to meet, to worship, to engage with one another again. There is nothing like hundreds of Episcopalians singing and sharing the Eucharist together – thanks be to God for all of that!
One theme that kept breaking through this convention was something our bishop, the Rt. Rev. Carlye J. Hughes, told us on the first night. She spoke about geese. Yes, geese – and how they fly in formation. Apparently, scientists have determined a couple of things about those geese in that sky high V we all observe loudly flying above us. How they determined this, I don’t know. Maybe they interviewed a few of them?
First, they can fly long distances like that, sometimes as long as 1,700 miles! My arms get tired thinking about that. Anyway, we all can readily see there is a lead goose, but it isn’t always the same goose leading the way. They rotate in and out depending on who feels called, in a sense, to lead, while others leverage the downdraft of the geese in front to fly a little easier when needed. And we certainly hear the honking from miles away. Scientists say that it is the geese in the back that are doing all the honking.
And this is where it gets really interesting, because, as Bishop Hughes explained, there is the thought that these honkers are basically saying to those ahead of them “Hey! You got this!! You are doing a great job! Keep it up… we have your back! Look at you go!!!” Fly on, you got this!!! Now, how awesome is that to have people who fly with you – cheering you on, affirming your call as head goose, lifting you up, and the like?
The other part of that honking though helps the other geese, especially the head goose, know something important too: Are we all still together? Does the honking sound too far away? Do we need to slow down? So, listening is important if we are to be successful in our journey.
Lastly, if a goose begins to feel ill, two other geese will fly down to the ground with it until it either feels better, or it dies. Whichever way it goes, they then either return with the recovered goose, or as just the two of them, back to the skies. If they can catch up to their former flock, they rejoin it, if not, they find another group, and fly with them. Because it isn’t about a particular group, it’s about the journey.
And after all we have been through these past few weeks – the death of Tyre Nichols, the many, many, many mass shootings, the attack on our local synagogue, and so much more, I kept thinking about the passages for today and those geese.
We need to be loud and have our voices heard like those geese in the back do, being sure that we are lifting one another up as we journey together – forging a new path toward a future that is good for all of our flock. And to be absolutely clear – our flock – isn’t this parish. It is the same flock that Jesus had – it is all of God’s children – every single person on this earth – that is our flock.
There’s another thing about those loud honking geese – that’s a great metaphor for the light Jesus was telling us to be in the world. The passage in Isaiah this morning started with “Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet!” Well – if we are ever going to shine the light of God’s all inclusive love, we need to begin with being a light that exposes the injustice in our midst.
If we are ever going to make the full journey toward the beloved community we are called to be, then we must honk as long and as loud as we can along our way until we bring those walls of hate down and build bridges of love in their place.
Sometimes we need to be the lead goose as we are able – leading others toward a brighter future – being that light of Christ shining the path ahead – helping others to step back and fly a little easier in our downdraft. Listening deeply to be sure no one is left behind.
Sometimes we need to step back, rest our wings a bit, and follow others forward, cheering them on.
And we sometimes are the guardian geese, the ones who stay with another goose in need. We must stand alongside those who are marginalized, oppressed, living in fear, dying emotionally, spiritually, and physically. That is being the salt of the earth – we fly down with them – stay by their side protecting them – letting them know they are not alone.
That is why so many of you were there with me at the Vigil this past Thursday at Temple Ner Tamid – being guardian geese. We were not going to allow our Jewish sisters and brothers to stand alone after a Molotov cocktail was throw at their place of worship in an effort to hurt them, to make them afraid.
No, we stood alongside them – and we were not alone! The news reported over 1,000 people, 300 of them standing outside in the cold, others in a spillover room, after the main space was filled to capacity. That is how we fly together! That is how we ensure that no one stands alone.
Folks, we have some serious flying to do if we are ever going to get to our destination of God’s dream for us and for all of creation – forging a path forward, acting as guardians to those in need, and being loud trumpets that proclaim that all people are loved by God just as they are – no matter the color of their skin, how they worship, what language they speak, who they love, how much money they have (or don’t have), what physical or mental abilities or challenges they have, or how they vote. No one gets left behind in the great flock of God’s creation.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
Not ever.
Because we will always shout out in support of those leading the way.
We will always fly beside those who need us.
We will always allow Christ’s light – burning in us and through us – to lead the way forward toward God’s dream of shalom, of peace, for us all.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/Rec-001-Sermon_-_February_5_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Episcopal Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
February 5, 2023
Fifth Sunday After The Epiphany – Year A
First Reading – Isaiah 58:1-9a, (9b-12)
Psalm 112:1-9, (10)
Second Reading – 1 Corinthians 2:1-12, (13-16)
Gospel – Matthew 5:13-20
The post “Flying High” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
January 29, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
What a year this has already become.
As I wrote this sermon, there were already 42 mass murders in our nation – 42. That’s nearly 2 every single day. A 6 year old shot a teacher. A toddler was wielding a gun in an apartment complex. People were killed while ballroom dancing in celebration of the Chinese New Year.
Good Lord, deliver us!
A savage dictator in Russia reigned down bombs on civilians in Ukraine, and in the Middle East, Israelis and Palestinians are killing each other. The carnage is difficult to comprehend.
On Friday afternoon a video was released of the assault of Speaker Pelosi’s husband Paul – a violent attack to his head with a hammer. All because the attacker wanted to imprison and put on trial his wife, because he had fallen victim to horrific partisan vitriol and purposeful misinformation.
And if that were not enough, we witnessed the brutal murder by police officers of Tyre Nichols. The video, released later Friday night, was heart wrenching. It was difficult to watch such absolute inhumanity as they beat him to near death while he cried out for his momma, and the callous indifference they and the EMTs showed as they stood around and let him suffer on the street.
I was not alone in feeling angry, disgusted, fed up, horrified, and exhausted with tears.
We may all want to “Rise, plead our case before the mountains, and let the hills hear our voice.” as we hear in Micah.
For we are tired of the violence.
Tired of the hatred.
Tired of the inhumanity.
Just plain tired.
But we also hunger and thirst for righteousness.
We are also mourning and are poor in Spirit.
And there is good news for us and for the world.
We all know the beatitudes of the gospels of Matthew and Luke, and I have talked before about how they are different, and why that matters. But most of the messages are the same, and one in particular is resonating amidst the horror we have witnessed in this month alone. Jesus tells those listening on that mountainside “Blessed are the Peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
“Blessed are the Peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
There are two things that jump right out at you. The first is that Jesus didn’t say “Blessed are those who agree with one another.”
At the root of many of our partisan divides, our vitriolic behavior towards those who are different, our violence, hate, and oppression – is that we want everyone to be like us: to think, love, vote, speak, and look as we do. What Jesus is saying topples that arrogance and squares it with the next part of what he says – “they will be called children of God.”
But are not all people children of God – made in God’s image?
Yes! And that is his point.
We may all be children of God, but unless we are peacemakers, we are not living into who we truly are. We have become only a superficial shell of our true identity. Because we do not see the other as being a child of God too.
And it is in Micah that we come to discover how to change – how to be the people that will be called children of God – how to be the peacemakers in a world filled with hate and violence.
Now, as I have mentioned before, the full reading is really a courtroom scene in which we, the people, are on trial before God. Just as a reminder, it goes like this:
First, we are told to “rise, plead your case before the mountains (or gods of judgement), because the “Lord has a controversy (read: indictment) against you” Of course we are stupid, didn’t lawyer up, and you know what they say about those who serve as their own lawyer – they have a fool for a client. And so there we are, the people, when God opens with a great first argument…and a really snarky one at that .
God says “What have I done for you?”…
Oh I KNOW what I did… “Let’s see now…freed you from your captivity, delivered you from persecution to a land of freedom…” “Shall I go on?”
Sensing this trial is not going well, we ask “With what shall I come before” God?” In other words, we are down on our knees confessing –see, that is why attorneys get paid the big bucks. So we ask “What do you want God?” “How to I make amends?”
Then God reels off loads of crazy things people were doing that they actually thought God wanted, like…you know…sacrificing their children & animals – delightful stuff like that. We still do that today? How many so called Christians turn around and persecute others? Look at what we do to the earth and all the creatures who dwell in it – the ones we were charged by God to care for. Honestly, we deserved to be put on trial – then and now – we are sometimes that stupid.
And then we get to God’s “punishment” which is the verse beloved by all. God says that all that is required of us is “to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”
“Whew!” right? I mean…coulda been another flood or something like that right?
But like the beatitudes, this isn’t a sweet little thing to needlepoint for a wall hanging, or tattoo on your, wherever, and leave it at that – it is a clear message about what we are called to do. So let’s think about what God is telling us to do.
What does it mean to do justice?
It means we not only work for justice for others, we live a just life. We treat people fairly, and work to ensure that they are treated that way by others.
What does it mean to love kindness?
Well, what does it mean when we love – it is something we embody. Think about the way you felt when you fell in love, or first saw your newborn child. That was a love you felt in the depths of your soul. We are to love kindness in such a way too – to embody it to feel it in our core.
Imagine that – what would that be like, and how might that change the world?
And then there is one more thing…
We are to walk humbly with our God…which is really, if translated directly from the Hebrew, more like walk intentionally with our God. What would that mean to us, to the world, if every step we took, we took with God (we do, of course, but what if we were mindful about it – conscious about God being right there)?
This charge by God to do justice, love kindness, and walk intentionally with God isn’t an easy out, but a call to a radical change in our lives – for ourselves, for the world, and for God. It is to truly become who we really are – Children of God – and that will mean we are living that beatitude life of the peacemaker.
And if there was ever a time to be the person God needs us to be, to live the life Jesus laid out for us, IT IS NOW!
God in Micah, and Jesus in the sermon on the mount, are putting in very simple terms, terms that we don’t need a lawyer to parse for us, that we must live into our identity as children of God. And that isn’t about getting on our knees, though I think doing that from time to time, and bowing in reverence, are good ways to remember that we are not the be all, end all, of the universe.
It is not about the church building, high or low liturgy, or any other thing.
Rather, it is about having empathy with our brothers and sisters everywhere, treating them with kindness, and always seeking justice for them no matter who they are, the color of their skin, where they are from, what language they speak, who they love, what gender they claim, or how they vote.
It is about being Jesus in the world – being the peacemakers in a world at war, among a people divided, amidst the violence born of hate.
And this is the message for each of us today…
This call to be peacemakers, to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God – that is our call today. It is for all people. For you, and for me. For we are children of God, and we need to live into that identity – now, tomorrow, and every single moment of our lives.
Each of us must do our part, because people’s lives are at stake, and as Christians, as a people of God, we cannot sit on the sidelines.
This is NOT a time to stay on the sidelines, because being a person of faith, a follower of Jesus, means we follow his example. He didn’t stay back in Galilee, but went out into the world to teach, to heal, and by his death and resurrection, remind us that love is more powerful than hate – God’s love most of all. And so we must be the body of Christ we were baptized to be, the children of God that we are, the peacemakers. And that means we must do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God.
We must do justice!
Speaking against those who seek to marginalize and promote fear, and be a voice for the voiceless among us.
Standing with those who are oppressed and in danger.
Working peacefully to destroy walls of hate and violence and build bridges of love and peace.
We must love kindness!
Seeing and welcoming the stranger in our midst.
Opening our hearts to the meek, the poor in Spirit, the persecuted.
Offering up what we have in love to those in need.
And, we must walk intentionally with our God!
Praying for guidance and strength.
Coming here in community to be nourished by the sacraments of our faith.
Remembering always that we are loved unconditionally, and letting that love and grace shine through us every moment of every day.
If we do this, if we do justice, love kindness, walk intentionally with our God, then we will truly be beatitude people, the peacemakers, we were meant to be.
If we do this, then all who encounter us will know what it means to be children of God.
If we do this, then all the world will be blessed, and we will exchange our tears for joy.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_29_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 29, 2023
The Fourth Sunday After The Epiphany
1st Reading – Micah 6:1-8
Psalm 15
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 1:18-31
Gospel – Matthew 5:1-12
The post “Children Of God” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
January 22, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Today we celebrate Religious Life Sunday. Now that may sound like – isn’t this what we do every week? I mean, aren’t we all religious? Well, yes, but this is also a term used for those in monastic communities. We are blessed to welcome Sr. Linda Clare from our local Episcopal convent in Mendham, the Community of St. John Baptist. She will be speaking with us later in coffee hour, and I know you all will give her a warm welcome.
I have known Sr. Linda Clare for many years, because I am an Associate of the convent. Associates and Oblates are those who vow to pray for the community, and to live a rule of life. I am humbled to be a part of this good and faithful community. And it is good to celebrate the religious life on this third Sunday of Epiphany, because it is on this day when we hear a story of calling.
In the gospel today, Jesus walks by the shore and shouts out to Simon and Andrew, and then to James and John – all of them fishermen. They dropped everything and went with Jesus. Of course, we remember this as the call of the disciples. But in the case of James and John, their father, Zebedee, remained behind.
I always had to wonder about ole Zebedee. I mean, what happened to him? His sons were likely his security when he reached his aging years – and yet, there they went, leaving their nets – the livelihood for the family, and their dad behind. Did Zebedee not hear Jesus? Did he, miss the boat – so to speak, while he remained in it?
No. I think he knew exactly what his role was, and it was to stay behind and keep things running in the home and in the village. He heard Jesus quite clearly – and answered his own call. I think we struggle sometimes with the idea that we might be called to do – nothing at all.
One of my favorite prayers in our Book of Common Prayer is found in the Ministrations to the Sick, on page 461. It is called In The Morning, and it goes like this.
“This is another day, O Lord. I know not what it will bring forth, but make me ready, Lord, for whatever it may be. If I am to stand up, help me to stand bravely. If I am to sit still, help me to sit quietly. If I am to lie low, help me to do it patiently. And if I am to do nothing, let me do it gallantly. Make these words more than words, and give me the Spirit of Jesus.”
We have times in our life when we are called to action – to go out into the world, and other times when we are called to stay in the boat. But whether we are in the boat or on the road, Christ does call us, and not always once in our lives, but to different paths at different points along the way.
Now before we go any further, let’s be clear that call is not only about ordained life, or as we celebrate today – being part of a monastic community. It may very well be that, but for most it is not, or we would not have that other most important ministry of the church – the lay order.
And, there is another misconception about call. We sometimes imagine that it is something mystical and powerful like, you know, some charismatic Jesus walking by the shore and calling us by name, or Moses encountering a burning bush. We also think that those who are called just get up and go like the disciples.
That may be how a few people feel their call in life, but for most of us, it isn’t quite as clear and easy. In fact, if you ask most ordained or religious people, they will tell you the call was a lot like those reluctant prophets –their reaction to it far more like Jonah, and yes, like Moses (though without the burning bush), than Peter, Simon, James, and John.
Now, it can be hard to consider any call, particularly that which we celebrate today – to monastic life. In fact, it can be difficult for us to even think that God is calling us at all. Maybe its because we expect it to be something overpowering and obvious, you know, like what we heard in the gospel, or a direct message of sorts.
I don’t know if you’all notice this when you walk in here, but there is a sign as you enter the nave with a picture of a mobile phone on it. It says “God may be calling you, but not likely on your cell phone, so please remember to turn it off before the service.” Well, maybe it would be helpful if that was how things worked, although with the way things are today, your mobile carrier might mark the call as spam. I mean, can you imagine it… your phone lights up with “God” on the caller ID?
In some ways, maybe God would have a better chance of reaching us today if God used a mobile phone to text us or Tweet. I can see it: @great-I-am with 100 billion followers. The funny thing is, there is a twitter account @Almighty God, whose description on the account is “I’m into creating universes, smiting people, writing holy books, and listening to prayers. My pronouns are They/Them,” and who recently tweeted in response to all our shenanigans down here “Don’t make me turn this planet around.”
Still, I wouldn’t wait for a tweet, text, or cell phone call directly from God…though, maybe don’t rule that out quite yet. And while it is true that call is not only about ordained or monastic life, let me share with you a bit about another call story, because it has to do with this community of sisters in Mendham. I don’t usually share stories about me, but today, the call story I will tell you is my own.
Years ago, during a particularly difficult time in my life following the death of my wife, the sisters of the Community of St. John Baptist offered compassion, prayer, support, and a safe haven of sorts for this weary soul. Walking the beautiful grounds there gave me a sense of connection to the sacred too, and so I spent a good amount of time at the convent. So much time apparently, that one day, Sr. Lura Grace, who has since departed this life, may God rest her soul, smiled and said something to me as I drove past her on the path to the cloister “You know,” she said “we are going to see you wearing this some day,” as she pointed to her black habit. I laughed, but then I thought – “I should pray about this.”
I remember my priest at the time being shocked that I would even consider this life (he wasn’t the only one – it was a surprise to me too), but I knew that I needed to reflect on this because I was spending so much time there. I felt I shouldn’t reject it out of hand. In the end, I did not sense a call to life in a monastic community, but I did sense a call.
Anyway, long story short, I continued to spend much time in the ensuing years at the convent, particularly visiting the cemetery to have a discussion with the nearly life sized Jesus on a cross there. One late afternoon, I asked Jesus to help me with this sense of call I had. “Was it real? Are you seriously calling me to ordained life? What??? Can’t you give me a sign or something? Please?” Afterward, I went up to the chapel to pray the office with the sisters.
Now, normally, I don’t read the psalms as they are chanted, but let it just wash over me. Yet that time, something compelled me to look down at the text. There in front of me was Psalm 116. I felt a stirring in my heart – It was my life laid out before me. Right then and there I knew nothing would be the same. I was called to be a priest.
There is far more to my own call story, then and now, but most of the time for me, it hasn’t been what I had planned, nor what I particularly wanted for myself. Call is often like that – just look at the prophets: Moses “Anyone but me Lord.” Jeremiah “What me? I’m just a kid!” And Jonah, well he basically said “Hell no!”
Just like the prophets, very few of those who have a call to ordained life respond like James and John, Peter and Simon. In fact, I think a story like today’s gospel can make call sound so far away from anything we might experience ourselves, and so we discount the idea.
And, even if we are able to perceive that we are being called into something, rather than jump out of the boat, we often tend to respond from a place of feeling unworthy, ill equipped, or it being too scary to consider. Yet the truth of it is that call isn’t about us, or at least not in the way we think. As the late and great bishop Barbara Harris once said “God doesn’t call those who are worthy. God makes worthy those whom God would call.”
This is something I have had to repeat to myself over and over again in these past few years of discernment on a call to the episcopate. A call, like that of the priesthood, that I neither expected, wanted, or felt worthy to do. “God doesn’t call those who are worthy. God makes worthy those whom God would call.”
And here’s the thing of it all… the story of James and John, Simon and Andrew, of Zebedee, of all the prophets, the religious, and clergy through the centuries to today – they are all people who are called. What’s more – they aren’t the only ones whom God calls. God calls you too!
Yes, all of you!
God has a call for each of you. Jesus is walking alongside you in your life, calling you to join in his gospel work. The Holy Spirit is shining a light on the path ahead. Do we notice these things? Sadly, we are often moving so fast through life – always doing, always talking, always heading to a destination – and we miss the “still small voice of God” calling us.
This is something monastic communities can teach us, for in their rather counter-cultural life, they offer a witness to the value of not allowing the world to dictate your pace in life, but to offer up times of silence and prayer – of intentional listening to the Holy Spirit. And in their daily life, they remind us that in all things, if done with Jesus in your heart and minds, you are in prayer. Your conversation with God can be while washing the dishes, mowing the lawn, or on your knees in church. All of it is prayer, all of it is listening – all of it is opening your heart to the call of Jesus.
And here’s the thing – that call could very well be something you never could have imagined for yourself, something you feel unable to do, something you even fear being drawn into. In fact, it is more likely than not. But to quote Star Trek’s Borg “resistance is futile.” Just look at Jonah.
So, what do we do? How do we begin to listen to the call of God for us. Well, how about we take a page from the monastics.
When you get home today, rip up your new year’s resolutions and replace it with something far more valuable – a Rule of Life. It doesn’t need to be the full Rule of Benedict, or any other used in monastic communities. No, just something simple, like this:
First rule: “I will seek God’s presence in my life, and listen deeply for the call of Jesus.
Second Rule: “I will ask God to set aside my fear, that I may follow the Spirit wherever I am needed.”
Third Rule: “I will give thanks to God for all that has been, and all that may yet be.”
And finally, add one that is a monastic rule: “I will welcome all people as Christ himself.” For that one will allow us to encounter the Jesus in our midst, the one walking along the shore calling us by name.
I can honestly say that if you do this, if you adopt this small Rule of Life, if you commit to being open to whatever God needs you to do – you will never regret it.
Your call may be a get out of the boat sort of thing, or one that says stay where you are and continue on for now. It may actually be to an ordained life, or one within a monastic community. But one thing is for sure – when you get that proverbial text from God… don’t ghost God, answer it. You might as well, because God isn’t going to stop with the messages until you do.
It doesn’t mean things will be easy when you live out your call, just look at what happened to the disciples, to the prophets, and to many martyrs through the ages.
No, living God’s call isn’t a ticket to a life of ease, but I can guarantee it will be life giving – to you and to all who come to know you. And, you will one day come to wonder how life could have been any other way for you.
Perhaps then you may find that God is calling you again to something else, to get out of that boat and on to another shore. Or, to continue on in your current call.
Either way, if you live the life God intends for you, you will truly know what living really is, and will have a sense of peace that many find hard to imagine.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_22_2023.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 22, 2023
The Third Sunday After The Epiphany
1st Reading – Isaiah 9:1-4
Psalm 27:1, 5-13
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 1:10-18
Gospel – Matthew 4:12-23
The post “Don’t Ghost God” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
January 15, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
This weekend we celebrate the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. While many will rightly extol this weekend the mark he made on the civil rights movement, the Rev. Dr. King would tell you that he was first and foremost a disciple of Jesus, a pastor, a man of deep faith, and it was that very faith upon which that gospel work of his life was founded. Which is why it always astounds me that people will say that Christianity is the cause of all the world’s grief. We certainly bear some responsibility for the sins of our past, but those same people would lift up this great prophet (and many others), and forget what was in his heart that gave fire to his witness in the world.
And so I think it is a perfect alignment of who Dr. King was, that we are, this Sunday, celebrating the baptism of our Lord Jesus Christ. Yes, a week later, because we transferred the Feast of the Epiphany to last Sunday, and moved this to today. Why do we do this? Because the visit of the magi and the baptism of Jesus tells us so very much about him, but most especially – about us – who we are, and what our baptism means for us, and for the world. And because the magi visit is on a date certain, following the 12 days of Christmas, it sometimes doesn’t fall on a Sunday. Don’t worry though, we will be back on track lectionary wise next Sunday.
So, the story we heard this morning in the gospel is one we all know, right? Jesus goes to the river Jordan, where his cousin John is baptizing his followers –preparing them for the One who was to come. Jesus, the One John was preparing the way for, came to the river to be baptized himself. As he rises out of the river, the heavens are opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. The voice of God proclaims to those there that Jesus is God’s beloved child, in whom God is well pleased.
Now, as you know already, we are in the season of Epiphany – a time when we are shown who Jesus is… who we are. And so the visit by the magi, and this baptism of Jesus raises an important question about what this event means – for Jesus, for us, and a clue can be found in the passage we read from Isaiah.
There we hear God proclaim to the prophet, “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights…” Sounds familiar, right? God followed that initial proclamation in this way “I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations… I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.”
Remember this: “I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations.”
Now, let’s take a step back for a minute, because there is a lot going on here.
First, it is true that this baptism, coming on the heels of the visit to the Christ child by the magi, and the birth in the manger, seems a bit rushed, right? I mean, Christmas Eve he’s just a newborn. Then last week, he is a toddler in a house. And now he’s about 30 years old? I know they say kids grow up fast, but that’s a bit ridiculous don’t ya think? It kinda feels like when the stores already have Valentine’s Day stuff on display on December 26th. Of course, if we who are here today think it is a bit speedy, imagine what it is like for those who only come at Christmas and Easter – Lordy! He’s born, and he rises from the grave! Heck, we didn’t even know he was dead! Which always reminds me of something Dr. King once said.
Through the years from around 1960-1967 at various locations, King delivered a sermon in which he said, “…it has gotten to the point today that some are even saying that God is dead. The thing that bothers me about it is that they didn’t give me full information, because at least I would have wanted to attend God’s funeral. And today I want to ask, who was the coroner that pronounced him dead? I want to raise a question, how long had he been sick? I want to know whether he had a heart attack or died of chronic cancer. These questions haven’t been answered for me, and I’m going on believing and knowing that God is alive.[1]”
There are a lot of powerful things that this prophet gifted the world in word, in deed, in his very life and death, but this is one that sometimes gets lost, and I think is very important. Because he is on to something about who God is, yes, but also about who we are too. We forget that God is alive and at work in the world – at work in us.
That is some of what the passage from Matthew and Isaiah are saying as well. Because when Jesus rises out of the water, there is something he notices: that the Spirit of God descends on him, and the words spoken would have reminded this very Jewish Jesus of the ones we hear in Isaiah. He would know that a covenant has been made between God and himself. It is a call story. Baptism always is, because covenant with God is about who we are and what we are called to do.
Do we recognize the Holy Spirit descending upon us?
It’s a good question to ask, because whether we see an actual dove or not, the Holy Spirit alights on us – not just in our baptism, but throughout our lives. Do we take notice?
Now, I’m not saying to look for birds flying down out of the heavens, but instead take note of the ways in which the Spirit is present in your life. Perhaps it is an inner sense of being pulled toward something, or a chance encounter that leaves you thinking about a new direction, or maybe it is an actual dove that just happens to land by you. But make no mistake about it, the Holy Spirit is alighting on you too, for you are God’s beloved, you also are God’s chosen, and like the prophet in Isaiah, like Dr. King, you are called into covenant.
Imagine if Dr. King never paid attention to the Holy Spirit yearning to awaken him to his call? Imagine how our world would have lost such a powerful witness.
The same is true for you!
Later we will reaffirm our baptismal covenant, and while we use different words, what we commit to is reflected in the passage from Isaiah. Remember, what was said: “I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations… I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.”
Or as we commit in our baptismal vows: “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves, and respecting the dignity of every human being.” The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. lived out his baptismal covenant in his life and his willingness to give his life for the gospel. And in his prophetic witness, we came to know that God is most certainly not dead, but very much alive!
As he added in that sermon: “You see, as long as love is around, God is alive. As long as justice is around, God is alive. There are certain conceptions of God that needed to die, but not God.”
God is very much alive!
God is not dead, nor is God relegated to Christmas and Easter. God is at work in the world, calling us to join in that Spirit filled work, anointing us in baptism to fulfill our covenant – seeking Christ like the magi, serving him like Dr. King.
In our opening collect today, we prayed “Grant that all who are baptized into his Name may keep the covenant they have made.”
Dr. King certainly kept that covenant.
God needs us to keep the covenant we have made – to be the servant, the chosen, the body of Christ alive in the world – to not leave our faith at the church doors when we leave here on Sundays, but to be that prophetic light to those who sit in darkness, to open the eyes that are blind to injustice, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon of oppression.
In this way, the Christ manifested to us in Epiphany becomes the Christ manifested to the world through us!
And so, as you leave here take your bulletins with you and read that first part of Isaiah over and over again this week, only like this: “Here am I, God’s servant, whom God upholds, the chosen, in whom God’s soul delights.”
Because it is true – God has made a covenant with you. God has put a right spirit upon you.
For you are God’s servant, whom God upholds, the chosen, in whom God’s very soul delights!
Listen to that.
Breathe that in.
Live that out in the world.
Then the living God, made manifest in Christ, will, by the power of the Holy Spirit, shine through us as a light to the nations.
And the dreams of prophets like the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and those before him and since, will be brought closer to reality, closer to that very vision of the Beloved Community God has for us all.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_15_2023.m4a[1] “Why Jesus Called A Man A Fool” By Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 15, 2023
The First Sunday After The Epiphany – Baptism of Our Lord (trans.)
1st Reading – Isaiah 42:1-9
Psalm 29
2nd Reading – Acts 10:34-43
Gospel – Matthew 3:13-17
The post “A Light To The Nations” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
January 8, 2023: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Today we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany. The actual feast is on January 6th, and today would be the Baptism of our Lord, but we shift those Sundays so that the fullness of our Savior’s life may be heard and celebrated.
Now, this feast ends our Christmastide – our twelve days of Christmas. So, as I said in previous years, don’t let anyone give you a hard time about still having the tree up. Besides, they can be thankful you don’t celebrate Christmas until Candlemas on Feb. 2nd as some do!
Every year we tell the story of the Magi who travel from the East to bring gifts to the Christ child, and as it is good to repeat each time the origin of this story of the three wise guys.
Matthew, the only gospel account of the magi, never tells us how many there were, or even if they were all men. But since Matthew mentions three gifts, later Christian tradition came to identify three them, and in the late sixth century Armenian Infancy Gospel, the Magi are even given the names-Melkon or Melchior, Balthasar, and Gaspar. But just as we don’t really know the names of the people who wrote the gospels, we also don’t know the names of these folks, so call them whatever you want – Frodo, Gandalf, and Aragorn – for all you Tolkien fans out there…it’s really up to you.
This story is one that is celebrated not only because of gifts, but as a symbol that the child born to us at Christmas was for all the people of the world, because they came from lands so very far away.
Whatever you name them, we know you can’t call them “on time.” As we hear today, Jesus was not a baby anymore, but a child, and living in a house. Apparently Waze or Google Maps was not available to these Eastern travelers.
Well, even if they were late, and brought really weird gifts to a young child, each year we like to tell the story of their visit…
Loud Knock Heard From The Back
Ceremonial Music Plays As King Approaches
King 1 presents Mother Diana with gift.
Mother Diana opens the box, inside is a pillow and a scroll.
Mother Diana reads the scroll aloud –
“We saw a star and knew this was a message – a call, if you will – to follow it wherever it leads. Yet it was when we slept that we were warned to take a different path home. When Joseph slept, he heard the truth of Mary and her call to bear forth the child of God – Jesus. That dream was a call to set aside what he thought to be true and embrace God’s truth.
The truth is –We brought gifts to the Christ child, and you likely also gave gifts to others to celebrate his birth. Dreaming, listening for God’s still small voice speaking to you, seeking God’s sign for you being made manifest in the world – that is a gift you can only give to yourself.”
Mother Diana rolls up the scroll and says,
“…Thank you great sage! I LOVE sleeping, so this pillow will come in handy. Now, as I was saying…”
Loud Knock Heard From The Back
Ceremonial Music Plays As King Approaches
King 2 presents Mother Diana with gift.
Mother Diana opens the box, inside is sign, and a scroll.
Mother Diana reads the scroll aloud –
“Joseph had another dream, of course, and this was not a call to stay steadfast, but to flee to Egypt with Mary and Jesus to escape the wrath of Herod. Having been turned away at two inns before a third offered them the stable, Joseph and Mary would hope, that on this journey, they would find open doors, not walls in Egypt as they fled from persecution in their homeland – and they did.
The truth is – there are two sides to this sign: open and closed. Which side of this sign will those in need find at your door, or in your heart, as they follow the dream God has given them to flee to safety, or to follow the star of promise to a new land?”
Mother Diana rolls up the scroll and says,
“…hmmm, thank you great sage for this most insightful gift. Now, as I was saying…”
Loud Knock Heard From The Back
Ceremonial Music Plays As King Approaches
King 3 presents Mother Diana with gift.
Mother Diana opens the box, inside is a canvas, and a scroll.
Mother Diana reads the scroll aloud –
“Each year many make New Year’s resolutions. These are signs of hope – of belief in the power of transformation. Artists see the world differently – they imagine (dream, if you will?) what is not yet. They let go of control, give in to the Holy Spirit (or as some say – their muse), and allow themselves to co-create – to bring forth into the world what they find forming in their hearts.
The truth is – Each day, each hour, each minute, each second is a blank canvas God gives to each of us – the possibilities for what we do with it are as endless as the infinite love of God.”
Mother Diana rolls up the scroll and says…
“…Wow – thank you great sage – I am so excited to think about this gift. Let’s see…three magi, three gifts, I guess we must be done. So…
Loud Knock Heard From The Back
Ceremonial Music Plays As King Approaches
King 4 presents Mother Diana with gift.
Mother Diana opens the box, inside is a snowman and a scroll.
Mother Diana reads the scroll aloud –
“This snowman isn’t really made of snow, but those that are appear only for a season. They are something we create, we love and enjoy, and then they return to the earth as water.
The truth is – While we are made in the image of God, we are not God – and are also here on this earth for a short season. What will you do with your season of life?”
“…Well, thank you great and final sage??? – I always loved building snow people, and you have given me a lot to think about.”
Are we done? [look around]
Well, this is an assortment of cool gifts, right? A pillow, an open or closed sign depending on how you display it, a blank canvas, and a snowman. These Magi have given us something to really think about, haven’t they? I think I need a nap to consider it all…oh wait, maybe later.
The thing is, these all might be quirky gifts, but the magi did manage to come up with just what we need this year. Especially in this moment in the world when so many are refugees like the Holy Family. They flee from war, famine, violence, and oppression.
Especially in this time when it is hard for us to imagine God is still at work in us, and through us. That there is a blank canvas waiting just for us to draw out what might be, from what is not yet. Or we are so worn that the thought of staring at a blank canvas no longer excites us, it fills us with dread.
Especially now, when we might feel like taking a long winter’s nap, not to dream, but because we feel weary from all that has been, in the world, and in our lives. Most of all perhaps, we can’t seem to quiet the world around us enough to hear our own thoughts, or that of God’s, and the white light of noise blots out the stars that may be shining to lead us forward. Sleep actually sounds like a dream.
Yet it is true that, like people made of snow, we are here on this earth for only a season. As the Swiss philosopher and poet, Henri-Frédéric Amiel, once said, “Life is short. We don’t have much time to gladden the hearts of those who walk this way with us. So, be swift to love and make haste to be kind.”
So, what are we to do?
We remember these gifts we received today: the pillow, the open/closed sign, the blank canvas, and the snowman.
We remember the pillow that tells us that God is still speaking – to us – now, this very day. Christ is calling us to follow his star – to find him in the world and welcome him into our lives. But if we are to hear the Holy Spirit guiding us, if we are to follow Christ, we must first give God time in our lives – times of prayer, of stillness, of rest from distractions.
We remember the snowman that reminds us that life is short, and we are here for only a season, so every day, every hour, every minute is a precious gift of God.
We remember the blank canvas of our lives, that we were meant to fill with whatever we dream, whatever we are led to explore.
And perhaps most of all, we must remember the two-sided sign, and be mindful of which side we offer in our lives. For if we are truly to keep Christ in Christmas year round, then we must keep him first in our hearts – and seek him like the magi in the world. And we will find him – when we welcome with an open door the stranger who is a refugee or immigrant, we will see him when we visit the imprisoned or sick, we will care for him as we tend to the needs of the impoverished and homeless, we will serve him as we feed those who hunger and thirst.
The gifts of our magi today invite us to open our hearts to God’s dream for us, to seek Christ in the world and welcome him openly, to co-create with the Holy Spirit, filling the canvas of our lives with the beauty of unconditional love and bringing forward the possible from what is not yet.
Then, when our short season is done, our lives will become a part of the colorful mosaic of God’s wonderous creation through time. A piece of that larger mural of the universe that binds us together with all of humanity, and with every single brush stroke begins to reveal the fullness of God’s vision for us all.
Amen.
Based upon a concept by the Rev. Phillip Dana Wilson – Used with permission.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/Rec-001-Sermon-Epiphany-January_8_2023.m4aRev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 8, 2023
The Feast Of The Epiphany (Transferred)
1st Reading – Isaiah 60:1-6
Psalm 72:1-7,10-14
2nd Reading – Ephesians 3:1-12
Gospel – Matthew 2:1-12
The post “A Visit From The Wise Guys – 2023” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
Christmas Eve 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
“Tonight I want to tell you the story of an empty stocking.
Once upon a midnight clear, there was a child’s cry, a blazing star hung over a stable, and wise men came with birthday gifts. We haven’t forgotten that night down the centuries. We celebrate it with stars on Christmas trees, with the sound of bells, and with gifts.
But especially with gifts. You give me a book, I give you a tie. Aunt Martha has always wanted an orange squeezer and Uncle Henry can do with a new pipe. For we forget nobody, adult or child. All the stockings are filled, all that is, except one. And we have even forgotten to hang it up. The stocking for the child born in a manger. It’s his birthday we’re celebrating. Don’t let us ever forget that…”
Some of you may remember these words as the opening of a sermon we sometimes hear at Christmas. It comes from one of my favorite movies, “The Bishop’s Wife.” No, not the more modern version with a slightly different title. The original – from 1947 – starring David Niven as Episcopal Bishop Henry Brougham, Loretta Young as his wife Julia, and Cary Grant as the debonair angel named Dudley. It’s a classic based on a book published in 1928 by author Robert Nathan, and the message is as timely today as it was then.
You see, Bishop Brougham was under a great deal of pressure, managing the fundraising for the building of a new and glorious cathedral. Inundated with meetings and demands of wealthy parishioners, he felt overwhelmed and lost. He prayed to God for guidance. What he got was Dudley, who shows up, tells the bishop that he is an angel, and later tells his wife that the Bishop has hired him to be an additional assistant to reduce his workload.
As the good looking Dudley spends time with his wife and young daughter, Bishop Brougham becomes incensed and jealous. There is more that happens in the story, including a really cool scene with a parish boy’s choir, but finally the bishop comes to see his misplaced priorities. He lets go of the plans for the cathedral, and begins to re-build instead his relationship of love with his wife and daughter, and connects once again to his ministry of service in Christ’s name.
As he goes to preach the Christmas Eve sermon, the bishop realizes that it isn’t the one he wrote, but the one that Dudley wrote for him – and it is clear that on that very night, he truly felt the story of Christmas fill his heart once again. His sermon ends the film, and I opened mine tonight with it – with the empty stocking.
The thing is, this empty stocking is really just a metaphor for the way in which we sometimes lose sight of who we truly are, and what this night means for us. And despite what some may think – Hallmark, Santa Claus, and the early Christmas displays aren’t the cause of it. The empty stocking isn’t something the world creates for us. It is something we make happen, even if we don’t realize it.
That is why this night, this birth, matters – not only for the world, but most especially to each one of us.
Because it is on this night, this most Holy Night, when we stop for a moment and remember what all of this means for us, and listen once more to the story.
We hear the story of Mary & Joseph.
Mary, who had the courage to say yes to God’s call – even though frightening – even though it could cost her her life.
And Joseph, who had dreams for himself and Mary, but thought they were all destroyed by this pregnancy. God helped him to envision a new dream – a new life.
We hear the story of the shepherds, of those who sit in darkness and live on the margins, whom God chooses as the first to hear the good news.
We hear the story of the angels, who proclaim the good news that the Word has been made flesh and dwells among us – that Peace on Earth is possible.
We hear the story of Jesus, born in a humble setting. God made manifest in a vulnerable baby – not to wield earthly power, but to share divine love.
This is the story we hear this night – in the words of the evangelist Luke. But it isn’t the full story. Something, really someone, is missing.
You!
You are part of this story too.
Because God was born not just to those who lived so long ago – but to you.
Who are you in this story tonight?
Are you Mary – facing a difficult challenge, and yearning for the courage to say “Yes!” to what lay ahead?
Are you Joseph – your dreams dashed, hoping to find a new way?
Are you a shepherd – feeling unseen, walking in darkness on the margins, searching for light and love?
Are you one of the angels – filled with joy and hope – sharing good news to those who most need to hear it?
Perhaps you are all, or none, of those, but one thing is for sure, you are the one in whom Christ is yearning to be born this day! Because this isn’t a story of long ago – this is a story of now! The angels tonight, in this very place, are shouting from the heavens “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” Jesus is born…in you – if you make room for him.
One of my favorite hymns on this night is “O Little Town Of Bethlehem,” (especially when sung to the tune Forest Green, as we do often in our Anglican communion). The words are from a beautiful poem by the Episcopal priest and bishop, Phillip Brooks, and it is this verse that perhaps we need tonight most of all: “How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given. So God imparts to human hearts, the blessings of His heaven. No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin, where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.”
“Where meek souls will receive him still, the dear Christ enters in.”
The question for each of us tonight is – are we willing to receive him still?
Because that empty stocking can only be filled when we are first filled with Him – when our stocking is truly full – not of the stuff of our busy lives, but because we received him still this night, and every night.
So, let us look aside from the proverbial cathedrals we sometimes try to build in our very busy lives – and turn instead to the light of that heavenly star shining on a stable so long ago. Because on this night, that light will shine in you – if you let it.
It doesn’t matter how much money you have, who you love, where you live, what language you speak, how you vote, or any other way we humans try to divide ourselves from one another. Jesus is born to you! And that is the greatest gift anyone could ever receive – the knowledge that you are deeply and unconditionally loved – just as you are!
That is the wonderous gift God is giving this night. A gift of love, light, and life – for all people – for you.
And here’s the thing about all of it – it is the gift we are supposed to re-gift!
That proclamation of peace to all the earth…that was a charge to humanity. That the Christ born to us, Jesus, will challenge us to have the courage to say “Yes!” to wherever God leads us, to dream new dreams of justice and love, to proclaim the good news of God’s light and love to those who walk in darkness, to welcome in the ones on the margins. For this birth we celebrate tonight is a gift to each of us, that we then give to the world, to one another, and most especially to Jesus himself.
So, let us fill our own stocking with Christ this night, and then, fill the other one – the one we sometimes forget to include for Him. As the good bishop implored as he closed his sermon, “Let us ask ourselves what [Jesus] would wish for most. And then, let each put in [their] share – loving kindness, warm hearts, and a stretched out hand of tolerance. All the shining gifts that make peace on earth…”
Yes, let all these things be put in that stocking and more, that once upon a future midnight clear, all of heaven and earth will rejoice – for peace on earth will truly be.
Merry Christmas everyone!
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/Rec-001-Sermon-XMas_Eve-11pm.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
December 24, 2022
Christmas Eve
1st Reading – Isaiah 9:2-7
Psalm 96
2nd Reading – Titus 2:11-14
Gospel – Luke 2:1-20
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December 4, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Anyone else watch the lighting of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree this past week? It is a beautiful tree, and when the lights came on, everyone cheered. It was amazing, and folks just seemed so happy.
I love this time of year. Advent and Christmas is one of my favorite seasons of the church calendar, and perhaps it is for you too. This past week I was able to go find my tree and bring it in the house. The smell of the pine, the crackle of a warm fireplace, the candles, the music of the church – it all fills my heart with deep joy.
Yet, we know that at this time of year, there are many who find the lights, the music, the social gatherings, the shopping pressure we place on ourselves, the cold and the longer nights – all of it – just too much to bear. This season then becomes a time of despair and loneliness. And for those who see empty seats at tables, who grieve those they love but see no longer, their hearts are filled with pain, not joy, at Christmas. They may not show this on the outside. Instead, they may be acting just like everyone else – singing carols, eating and drinking at parties, giving and receiving gifts, going to church. The exterior view belies what is going on inside.
I am reminded of a story I heard once. “In 1835 a man visited a doctor in Florence, Italy. He was filled with anxiety and exhausted from lack of sleep. He couldn’t eat, and he avoided his friends. The doctor examined him and found that he was in prime physical condition. Concluding that his patient needed to have a good time, the physician told him about a circus in town and its star performer, a clown named Grimaldi. Night after night he had the people rolling in the aisles. “You must go and see him,” the doctor advised. “Grimaldi is the world’s funniest clown. He’ll make you laugh and cure your sadness.” “No,” replied the despairing man, “he can’t help me. you see, I am Grimaldi!””
“I am Grimaldi.” You can feel the deep sadness in that declaration of his identity. Perhaps some of you today are saying “I am Grimaldi.” Perhaps you know Grimaldi as someone in your life. And it is the Grimaldi’s of the world who were brought to my heart and mind as I pondered the text from Isaiah in preparation for writing this sermon.
In it, we heard, “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.” As I mentioned before, these passages from Isaiah that we get in Advent are so familiar to us, that we can sometimes just move right past them without taking in what they really mean.
Last week it was swords being beaten into plowshares, and this week a vision of the beloved kin-dom of God where the lion and the lamb are best buds. Yet we need to spend some time on the first verse, and not ignore this stump of Jesse imagery, because it speaks of a tree that has been cut down – all that is left of it being a stump – a dead remnant of what had been –lifeless and dry.
But the true power is in the metaphor that the prophet was really writing about. That part of our human condition when we are cut down by the troubles of our lives, a weary shadow of our dreams, as dead inside as any tree stump could ever be. And right now, there are so many, who feel this way.
The thing is – not only is this time of year difficult for many people – for even the biggest Christmas elf type there is also the daily onslaught of cruelty and hate seen every day on the news. These are the long dark nights of winter, which seem to echo how we can feel inside at times – as dead as that tree stump.
This is how Advent begins – with death and destruction, right? This is what we have been experiencing over the four weeks of our seven week Advent. But thankfully, today – today is different. Today we make a turn, even if ever so slightly, and begin to see the first hints of light breaking through the darkness.
You know, one of the ways we walk through our seven week Advent is in the use of the ancient O Antiphons – sung by a soloist as an introit at the beginning of our service, and part of the opening of the verses for the hymn O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, which we sing at the Advent Wreath lighting. Each antiphon depicts a different title for Jesus, and find their source in the book of the prophet we read now – Isaiah. They are O Sapientia or Wisdom, O Adonai or Lord, O Radix Jesse or Root of Jesse, O Clavis David or Key of David, O Oriens or Rising Sun, O Rex Gentium or King of Nations, and finally, O Emmanuel or God is With Us.
Today it was O Oriens, or the Rising Sun, the Dayspring, the Dawn. How perfect is that antiphon for us, because a shoot will spring out of that cut down stump, life will emerge from death, and light will spring forth to change night to day. This is why this passage from Isaiah holds such promise for us, as it did for the people of Judah so long ago. The darkness will not take hold of us forever, because the dawn, Jesus our dayspring, is coming soon.
Yet there is more to this stump metaphor. That green shoot is a sign – a sign that despite the exterior of that remnant of a tree – new life was brewing deep down inside. That’s the thing about plants and trees, something has to die for the new life to take place. A seed, which looks rather lifeless on the outside, is broken and gives way to root, and then a stem, and then a full plant. So, inside that tree stump, life was brewing. Did the stump know? Could it feel the life growing inside?
One thing is for sure – God knew. God knew because God was at working in bringing new life out of death, allowing that stump to bring forth that shoot. And here’s the hope for all of us, especially for those Grimaldi’s who feel dead inside – God is at work inside us too.
We may not be able to feel it just yet, especially if we are feeling very dead, but God sees us, knows the darkness we feel, and will bring forth life within us. For we are not dead to God.
Advent invites us to face the night of our lives with the knowledge of the hope that will be born to the world, born within us, at Christmas. There may be signs of death all around us, real and metaphorical, but the promise of God found in Jesus is that death never has the last word, that love will conquer hate, and that light – his light – Jesus the dayspring – will always break through the darkness.
The lesson of Advent, of this prophetic witness in Isaiah, is that we are a people of hope, a people who will always look East amidst the darkness to the dayspring of God’s love and grace, knowing that in him, and through him, we are changed, and through us, so too is the world. For it is hope that has been, and always will be, what brings forward prophetic visions of what is possible, and fills the heart of the courageous faithful to bring that dream a step closer into reality – one day, one witness, one act of love at a time.
In the epistle of St. Paul to the Romans we heard this morning, he offers this blessing, in which he is reminding us that as followers of Jesus, we abound in hope no matter how dead we may feel, or how dark the world may be. And it is that hope which will change us – change everything – tomorrow, the next day, and for all eternity. He says “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
That hope St. Paul speaks of is the very promise of Advent. Our light will come. The long night we feel will be overcome by our dayspring. And so I close with how we began this service, with the O Antiphon:
“O Dayspring, brightness of light everlasting and Sun of Righteousness: Come and enlighten those that [sit] in darkness and the shadow of death.”
Yes, come thou long expected Jesus, our light, our hope, our life.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/Rec-001-Sermon-December_4_2022.m4aThe Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
December 4, 2022
Advent 5 – Year A
1st Reading – Isaiah 11:1-10
Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19
2nd Reading – Romans 15:4-13
Gospel – Matthew 3:1-12
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November 27, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Well, I hope all have recovered from the avalanche of stuffing, turkey, mashed potatoes, and all the other things that make us avoid the scale for a few weeks – not to mention Black Friday. And now we continue in Advent,…
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November 20, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. For some, this is a day called Christ the King Sunday, but the truth is, that is not a title he would have ever claimed. As we heard in the Gospel, it was a title given to him by the oppressors…
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November 13, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Having celebrated All Saints, and survived the time change back to EST (barely), we are now in Advent. For those who are new here, there is more information on the seven week Advent season in your bulletins (and for podcast listeners,…
The post “Testify To Love” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
November 6, 2022 – All Saints Sunday: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Well, today is our Annual Meeting, which will take place in the Parish Hall after this service. By the way…if you won last night’s Powerball lottery, I would like to see you beforehand – and then adjust…
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October 16, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Well, that’s an odd gospel, right? Jesus is imploring his disciples to pray always and not lose heart. Sounds good. But then he tells them a story about a judge who had no respect for God, or for his neighbor. A…
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October 9, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Last week, on the Jesus Channel, the disciples are asking Jesus to increase their faith, and he tells them that with faith the size of a mustard seed, they can do miraculous things. Today, Jesus himself does the miraculous. So, to…
The post “A Rather Large Amount Of Gratitude” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
October 2, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Today we celebrate our Fall Founder’s Fest after the worship service. We don’t do a Homecoming Sunday here, because, well, you all were here through the summer, even if we are in smaller numbers physically present since the pandemic. The Homecoming,…
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September 25, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. This past week we witnessed the funeral of a great woman of faith…two, really. Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, and Sheila Jackson, a member of our parish. The liturgy of the services for the State Funeral & Committal of the Queen…
The post “When ‘Isness’ Becomes ‘Oughtness'” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
September 11, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. It would seem a lot of things get lost these days. I say that because I can’t seem to find my keys anywhere, but had I put an Apple air tag on them…well, I might have had a chance. The fact…
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September 4, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. When I was a little girl, I remember hearing in Sunday School that God is always watching us. Probably, the teacher was trying to say “watching over us,” but given that I also loved Christmas and Santa Claus, I probably conflated…
The post “Marvelously Made” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
August 28, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. It is so good to be back here with you, and I am so grateful for the good care of Fr. Barry while I was away. Now, in the gospel we just heard, Jesus is heading over with a Pharisee on…
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July 31, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Like some of you, I bought a Mega Millions lottery ticket the other day. I only buy one. I figure, if God wants me to win it, one is all I need. Apparently, God has no such plans for my life,…
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July 24, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. It is good to be back with all of you – or at least those of you brave enough to bear this insane heat. I pray many of you that are not here are watching from a cool and comfortable place. …
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July 3, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Now, I love that bit St. Paul writes in this closing of his letter to the Galatians – “See what large letters I make when I am writing in my own hand!” Hilarious! Apparently, there is a reason scribes are used…
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June 26, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Where to start? At the end? At the beginning? Somewhere in-between? The last six weeks have been an avalanche of news across the nation. Men, women, and children shot dead in church, while shopping for groceries, while in school. Legislation was…
The post “Bad News On The Doorstep” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
Trinity Sunday – June 12, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Well, we all hoped to be outside today for our Mass on the Grass…with Brass! (well… we still have the Brass!!) Still, our church, I think, is one of the most beautiful anywhere – its stunning neo-gothic stonework,…
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The Feast of Pentecost – June 5, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Today is one of the most important Sundays of the Church. In fact, Pentecost & Easter were central to Christian communities for centuries. But, it seems in modern times that Pentecost has been lost to many…
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May 22, 2019: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s alone be heard. Amen. So good to see so many of you on this very hot weekend. And isn’t it appropriate that our gospel reading features a pool? I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind having one right now to dive into, right? …
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May 1, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. I saw a picture of a church sign somebody Tweeted– I won’t say the denomination – but it said “Pretend it’s still Easter and come to church this Sunday!” Pretend? Folks – we all know it is still Easter! It always…
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April 24, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s be heard. Amen. “Χριστός Ανέστη!” “Αληθώς Ανέστη” “Καλό Πάσχα!” “Christ is Risen!” “Truly [he is] risen!” “Happy Easter!” to all our Eastern Orthodox sisters and brothers in Christ, who today are celebrating Easter Sunday. We especially remember those who are celebrating this most Holy day…
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Easter Sunday, April 17, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. [Note: The initial lines in the sermon were added from the pulpit and inserted afterward] Wow! I know there is no greater story than this: The Lord is Risen! He is risen indeed! But my heart is filled with…
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Good Friday, April 15, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. “Why is this night different than all other nights?” This is what our Jewish sisters and brothers are asking this first night of Passover, which this year coincides with Good Friday. Jesus and all his disciples were Jewish, and would…
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Palm Sunday-April 10, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. At the end of this service, we will read the passion of our Lord – and the result of it all will be a wild rollercoaster ride of emotions – from the near carnival atmosphere of the procession of the…
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April 3, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. So, I am a Star Trek fan – I know that is no surprise to any of you. I love the vision of Gene Rodenberry, the creator of Star Trek. See – unlike much of the science fiction stuff today, where…
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March 27, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. So, today we have the gospel story in which Jesus tells the parable of what is usually titled “The Prodigal Son.” Now, I have to say, I hated this story growing up, and perhaps some of you did too. It just…
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March 20, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Usually, the readings we hear on Sunday are being read in churches of many denominations – Lutherans, Roman Catholics (with a few deviations), Methodists, Presbyterians, and so on – because we all read from what is called the Revised Common Lectionary…
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March 6, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. This March marks two years of the pandemic’s impact on us all. This certainly has been an unwanted, unexpected, and difficult journey for everyone. We have all been through so much, and we will never be the same. And while we…
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February 27, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen. Welcome to the last Sunday in Epiphany, because this week, on Ash Wednesday, we will enter into the season of Lent. Yet it feels a bit like a turn in the world has brought in a new season already – one…
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February 20, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Jesus said, “I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you… Be merciful…do not judge …do not condemn…Forgive.” That is what we just heard from Jesus – Love, do good, bless, pray, be merciful and without judgement or condemnation, and forgive. That’s a tall order for anyone.
Now, to be clear, Jesus is not saying that anyone should allow themselves to be abused, oppressed, or pained in any way. It is actually quite the opposite, for he knows that hate ensnares the one who bears it in their heart in a prison of poisonous destruction, and Jesus is hoping to save us from that same fate, and perhaps, in the end, save others too.
Yet, in our very divided world, in which a dictator in Russia is threatening war on a democratic people in Ukraine, where people of color are killed for the crime of being black or brown, where violence against women is the number one use of guns across the world, or where those who love differently are oppressed, where people physically fight others over masks, vaccinations, or who one supported in the past election, where destruction of creatures and the earth by those who choose greed over compassion is willfully killing God’s creation, these words of Jesus can seem a bit too altruistic, even downright unreasonable.
As to it being altruistic, I am reminded of something the Rev. Dr, Martin Luther King, Jr. said in a sermon in Montgomery, Ala.. He said, “far from being an impractical idealist, Jesus has become the practical realist. The words of this text glitter in our eyes with a new urgency. Far from being the pious injunction of a utopian dreamer, this command is an absolute necessity for the survival of our civilization. Yes, it is love that will save our world and our civilization, love even for enemies.”
Amen, Dr. King, Amen!
If we consider the condition of the world in which Dr. King preached, marched, and ultimately was killed, we come to realize that if his faith could place this knowledge in his heart, perhaps there is hope for us too.
And as for this type of love being unreasonable, well hell yes – it is! Love…when seen through the eyes of Jesus…looks unreasonable. I mean, come on…how possibly are we to do that?
Perhaps that is why this passage is paired today with the one of the story of Joseph in the book of Genesis. Of course in years past, most folks would know this story from Sunday School – or at least from a Broadway show – but these days, where the soccer field is the place to be on Sunday rather than church, it may be that we need a little refresher. So, here is the cliff notes version of how we got to the scene today:
Joseph was the first born son of Rachel, the second wife of the biblical patriarch Jacob, and the woman Jacob loved most. Now, before we go on, anyone who says that biblical marriage is between one man and one woman obviously never read the bible. Moving along, Joseph was also Jacob’s favorite child, even being given a technicolor dreamcoat by dad. And, had a gift – he could interpret dreams, even his own. Sadly, he had the unfortunate gift of telling the absolute truth. I say unfortunate, not because truth isn’t a good thing, but you know when someone asks “Does this outfit make me look fat?” and it gives the person the appearance of standing before one of those carnival mirrors that adds 500 lbs? Well, Joseph wasn’t great with stuff like that, so when he had dreams that predicted his brothers and even the stars and the moon, would bow down to him, he told his brothers about them. Suffice it to say that his older brothers were as thrilled with Joe as Roy Kent on the Ted Lasso show loves, well, anything.
So, one day, when Joe was sent out to look for his brothers who where far off tending flocks, they decide to kill him. Thankfully, cooler heads prevailed, and instead they sell him into slavery. They tell their broken-hearted dad he was killed by a wild beast – nice guys. Fast forward, and Joe is a slave in the Egyptian Pharoah’s house, when the Pharoah is having terrible nightmares no one of his court can interpret. Joe is summoned, and he tells him that the dream means there will be 7 years of abundance followed by 7 years of famine, and that if the Pharoah was to survive, he needed to manage the surplus wisely. The Pharoah makes Joseph a sort of Sub-Pharoah charged with doing just that.
During the lean years, even surrounding regions, including where Jacob and his boys dwelled, were hit hard. The sons heard that there was grain to be had in Egypt (due entirely, of course, to Joseph). So, off they go to ask this sub-Pharoah for some of that scarce grain. When they meet Joe, they do not recognize him, but they do bow down to him (yup – his dreams were spot on!). Long story short, Joe eventually, after scaring the daylights out of them, reveals himself to his brothers – this is what we heard today. He kisses them, and forgives them.
Now one might say – that’s a lovely story – but…it’s just a story, right? That doesn’t happen in real life – a guy isn’t imprisoned for years and when confronted with the ones who put him there seeks to reconcile and lead with love, right? Well, we need only look at the life of Nelson Mandela to see a similar story played out in modern times.
Mandela was born into a country that, like our own US, had institutionalized explicit and implicit forms of segregation, hate, and oppression based on race. Having graduated from law school, he participated in underground groups fighting against the apartheid system, which was formally made law in 1950. Arrested and imprisoned for 27 years, he was released in 1990, and continued his fight. In 1994, after worldwide pressure, including from churches and other faith groups from all over the world, apartheid was ended, and Nelson Mandela was elected President of South Africa.
What did he do with his new power? Did he exact revenge, as many hoped he would (and which most would understand), for the persecution of his sisters and brothers, for his own persecution? No. He announced that “courageous people do not fear forgiving, for the sake of peace.” And formed the Truth & Reconciliation Commission, chaired by our own Archbishop Desmond Tutu of the Anglican Communion, to seek a path of healing, forgiveness, and restoration. It is now a model for all the world, but then it was looked at as unreasonable, unworkable, and downright crazy.
This is not to say that forgiveness is easy – nor was it for Mandela. Yet he knew that it was the key to freedom – true and lasting freedom – for his people, and perhaps for himself too – for hate is the easy poison that kills the ones who bear it. To be clear, hate has its place – and as the passage of scripture (and a fabulous song by The Byrds) puts it: there is a time to love, and a time to hate. We should hate.
We should hate war, injustice, oppression, poverty, violence against humanity, and abuse of creation. We should hate racism, sexism & misogyny, heterosexism, and any other form of tyranny against God’s children. Yet overcoming these evils cannot be done through hate, but only through love – totally unconditional, unimaginable, and absolutely unreasonable, love. That is what Jesus is telling his people and us today – that we must act out of a place of love and grace, not fear and anger – for that is the path to peace and hope for the world. This runs counter to everything we believe about power and justice – this is not how many believe this is all supposed to work. This likely perplexed everyone on the plain listening that day, and perhaps it does to many today.
In the verses just before this sermon began, it says that He came down with them and stood on a level place, with a….great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him…And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them. They came to see him because they had heard he was powerful!
Yet, just as Jesus does with everything, he is toppling expectations about what is important, what is reasonable, and what power really. Power – his power – was not demonstrated by force, but by healing; not by vengeance, but by grace; not by fear; but by love – unconditional, unreasonable, love. This was not what was expected, or even hoped for, in the long-awaited Messiah. In fact, it is hard for us even today to consider this type of love to be anything but a sign of weakness. But if we really want to change what is, to what may be, if we really want to live as God dreams for us, there is no other way.
God came into this world that we may know the power of love – God’s love – for all time and in all places. And you know what the best part about it is? That power is free – it is within each one of us! Rich, poor, male, female, gay, straight, of any language, culture, or country! Jesus is saying then and now that this power is available to us – through unreasonable love in the face of anything but! He is telling those then, and now us, that we have all that we need to upend the world ourselves – to bring restoration to all creation, and most importantly perhaps, to ourselves!
And when we fail, and we will, we gather here and confess our sins to God, reconcile ourselves to one another through the Peace, and are restored by the gifts of God’s grace through the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Here, God demonstrates what Jesus calls us to do. We are forgiven, given great mercy, and loved unconditionally. What we say and do here makes it possible for us to be who we are called to be in the world. Our confession offers us a chance to reflect about ourselves and our actions in the world, and that is the key to the wisdom that will bring us into closer relationship with God, and help us to live as we are called to live. Because if we are to live this unreasonable life, we need the wisdom to do it.
You know, in the verses just after what we heard today, Jesus says “A disciple is not above the teacher, but everyone who is fully qualified will be like the teacher…How can you say to your neighbor, ‘Friend, let me take out the speck in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye.”
Put another way, as Aristotle said “Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” The beginning of this unreasonable love to which we are called is looking in the mirror and recognizing that we are not perfect. It is recognizing too that if we are not perfect, than we cannot have those expectations of ourselves, or of others. This is why we need that confession – because we will sometimes stumble as we seek to live out our lives in Christ – every single one of us. Each and every day I can say that confession with a full heart, for I know I have not loved my neighbor as I ought to have done, and because of that, I have not loved God with all my heart as I am called to do.
And by our act of contrition and forgiveness, by our willingness to do acts of love and reconciliation, even when we feel it not – we are slowly released from the heavy burden of hate, we unlock the key of our mortal prison of bitterness at what has been done or left undone. And as we take each step forward in grace, we begin to walk in love as Christ loved us.
Make no mistake about it folks, this type of unreasonable love takes courage. It takes courage to admit that we are not always the right ones, the sinless ones, the ones who never need to be forgiven. It takes courage to admit our own faults, and to forgive ourselves. It takes courage to forgive, to not judge, to be merciful, to pray for those who hate, especially when it is we who are the victims of that hate. We won’t always have it within us to do it, but we must always try – for our own sake and that of the world.
For it is a rather inconvenient truth that, as was prayed in our collect this morning, “…without love whatever we do is nothing.”
“…without love whatever we do is nothing.”
And that is the point of it all isn’t it. You know, in the US, we seem to have the motto “What’s in it for me?” It is a sad commentary on who we are as a country, but there it is. We are often a selfish bunch. Yet if one were to ask Jesus “What’s in it for me – this unreasonable love you ask for?” The answer is really simple – everything.
For without it, we surely die, and all the world with us.
With it, with this unreasonable and unexpected love, we truly live, and peace will abound throughout the earth.
To you that listen, the choice is yours.
Choose to be unreasonable.
Choose the inconvenient truth.
Choose love.
Because it truly is “love that will save our world and our civilization, love even for enemies.”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/02/Rec-001-Sermon-February_20_2022.m4a The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
February 20, 2022
Epiphany 7 – Year C
1st Reading – Genesis 45:3-11, 15
Psalm 37:1-12, 41-42
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 15:35-38,42-50
Gospel – Luke 6:27-38
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January 30,2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Well, isn’t that every preacher’s nightmare – like Jesus, you offer a sermon and the people try to throw you off a cliff! Hopefully, that will not be my fate today, or any Sunday.
Now, if you have ever been at a wedding, you have heard this passage from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, right? I mean, there is even a great scene in that Rom Com movie “Wedding Crashers” about this very passage. In the movie, Jeremy Grey and John Beckwith are divorce mediators who crash weddings to hook up with women. And after attending a lot of weddings, most of them in churches, the following happens at a wedding: The priest, Father O’Neil, says “And now for our next reading I’d like to ask the bride’s sister Gloria up to the lectern.” And with that, John whispers to Jeremy “20 bucks, First Corinthians.” Jeremy replies “Double or nothing, Colossians 3:12.” The bridesmaid, reaches the lectern and says “And now a reading from Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians.” Jeremy hands over the cash. He was foolish to bet against this letter from St. Paul. I used it at my wedding too, and I bet many of you did as well.
Well, let’s do a little wedding crashing ourselves, because the thing is, St. Paul isn’t talking about romantic love, and wouldn’t have dreamed about this being read at a wedding – not that it isn’t good for folks at a wedding to hear – in fact, we all need to hear it!.
So, let’s first step back a bit and remember what we have already heard over the past the past two weeks in our lectionary readings from this first letter of St. Paul to the church in Corinth. First, he tells the Corinthians that all have gifts given to us by the Holy Spirit, but each will be different than another – some will be prophets, some will have wisdom, some will speak in tongues, some will be evangelists, and so on. Then, as we heard last week, he wrote that we need each other – no part of the body of Christ is better or more important than another. And today he is saying that all of those spiritual gifts are rooted in the same thing – love.
He writes “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.”
Well, that is really love-ly – see what I did there – and it is a good message for folks attending a wedding. But to understand why this is important for us today, we need to look at St. Paul’s audience, and at what sparked his writing in the first place, and what this message of love was all about.
The people of the church in Corinth was a community in Christ that perhaps had started out alright, but somewhere along the way they got sidetracked. First, we need to know that the people of the city of Corinth were not a monolithic bunch – nor was this congregation. These were people divided by economic class, educational differences, and even religious beliefs, including among those in this church in Corinth. They began to have disputes among themselves, with some feeling superior to others because they had certain spiritual gifts, particularly of speaking in tongues (which is why St. Paul was particular about that gift in this passage). There were others who were bringing lawsuits against their fellow Christians over disputes – which then made the divisiveness of this church community an example to the public of what it means to follow Jesus – nice, right? All of these divisions, and a few more things that St. Paul speaks about in this letter, were tearing the community apart, and he was absolutely appalled by it all. Yet, while he does offer some doctrinal guidance, the meat of his letter is what we hear today.
And when we look at what he wrote, we find that this isn’t about romantic love at all. In the Greek in which he wrote, St. Paul doesn’t use the word eros, which is the passionate love of two people like a wedding couple, nor does he use the word philia, which would be the type of love we have for friends or our siblings. We call Philadelphia “The City of Brotherly Love,” from this word – philia. No, he doesn’t use those or other words he in Greek for love. St. Paul chose to use agape – a different kind of love – the kind God showed in becoming incarnate. It is unconditional, and it is the love God has for each and every one of us. The kind of love God has been trying to show us from the very beginning of time. From before we are formed in the womb, to beyond the grave, God loves us – just as we are – unconditionally.
St. Paul isn’t calling us to love when it is easy – when we feel passionate love toward another – but when it is hard – and he does it in a most particular way too. Notice how he describes this love to which we, as followers of Jesus, are called. He describes love as patient, kind, and so on. Really, what he is saying is that we should wait patiently, act kindly, rejoice in truth… Love, according to St. Paul, is a verb – it is defined not in how we feel, but in how we act!
St. Paul is telling this diverse and divided community that no matter what gifts they may have been given by the Spirit, even the speaking in tongues, if it is not done in love it is useless – and that love is given to others in our actions toward them, not just in what we say. If only many would hear these words today, because we live in a world as diverse and divided, really more so, than was Corinth.
One of the things that I rejoice in is that I get to serve such diverse community of faith. Here we have what many in the church seek – for we are of many races, cultures, gender identities, romantic relationships, and family makeup. It doesn’t mean we all agree with one another, nor do we all believe in the same way – but we do rejoice in the inclusivity of our growing and ever changing quilt of humanity that is our parish family.
Yet we know that in the world in which we live out our lives in Christ when we leave here, while also diverse, is struggling to rejoice in difference. Today our country is challenged by many who have gifts– but use it, not for love, but for hate and division. Politicians who give speeches, news anchors who spout opinion, and yes – even some preachers in pulpits – they speak in tongues alright, but the purpose isn’t to build up, but to breakdown. Those that listen to them have taken to violence against the “others” they are taught to fear – Jews, people of color, LGBTQ people, immigrants, Muslims, those who wear masks, and more. Sadly, many of these people…well most actually, would claim to be followers of Jesus! It makes me angry, and I suspect many of you as well. I am sure St. Paul was angry too about what he heard was happening in Corinth in the name of Jesus Christ.
Yet, if we listen to St. Paul here, he understood that he and all followers of Jesus, have a higher calling than to devolve into our baser instincts of anger. We are called to love – agape love – unconditional love. We are called to love not only when it is easy, but most especially when it is hard – not just those we like, but those who make our blood boil. He is telling the church that we are called to an audacious love – a love that acts across differences – the kind of love God has for us – the kind of love that is demonstrated in our acts. And that can be for us mortals a difficult journey.
That’s where the next part of this letter, the part that seems a bit odd, can really help us. St. Paul continues with “But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”
Now, I always find that part about putting an end to childish ways a bit odd – given that it isn’t children who start wars, and we aren’t born racist, or sexist, or heterosexist – we are taught that by adults. Not to mention Jesus saying we must be like children to enter the kingdom of God. But St. Paul is speaking to something else – something that is the only way to the kind of love we are called to. Something God demonstrated in emptying into human form to walk among us. Humility.
For no matter what things we are good at, how much money we make, or in his language – what prophecies we offer from our spiritual gifts – they all come to an end – but the love we offer in our time on this earth – that never ends. The love we offer, or do not, will be our legacy in the end. How does that change us?
When we also realize that no matter how talented we are, what miracles of prophecy and tongues we do, what achievements of humanity we accomplish – we don’t know everything, but see only dimly all that God knows – then we grow up enough to see that the world does not revolve around us, that we are but a speck in the greater cosmos of God’s creation. And if we can understand that, we will begin to grow in the humility that is required for the love we are called to embody – the humility Christ demonstrated for us, the unconditional love God has for us.
Because if we really think about it, we will come to know that the biggest obstacle to breaking down our divisions, to loving one another as Christ loved us, is our unwillingness to put aside our unconscious belief that the other is not deserving of our love – they are wrong, or do wrong, and we are the holders of the truth – we are the good ones – the righteous ones – the democrats, the republicans, the rich, the poor, the gay, the straight, the citizen, the immigrant – whatever it is we claim those others are not. We grow in our own arrogance and self-righteousness, and begin to see others as either deserving or undeserving of our love. It is a slippery slope to our own demise. Humility in all things, rooted in the understanding of just how little we really understand, and how great is our God, that we will find our way.
Humility, to be clear, isn’t about our allowing ourselves to be abused, for God would never want that for us – no one who loves us would want that for us. Humility is about knowing one’s own truth, about knowing we are God’s beloved, that frees us to love others, knowing that nothing will ever change that reality. When we truly understand how deeply we are loved, we grow in love ourselves, and hate has no place to reside in our hearts.
To love as God love us then requires that we humbly love unconditionally – not only in our thoughts and feelings – but in our actions in the world. Or as the theologian Thomas Aquinas put it, “To love is to will the good of another.”[1] And for all of us – that is not restricted to those we like. Think about this – think about how God loves. God loves that very person who drives you bananas as much as God love you – unconditionally and for all time. When we can embrace that, we can begin to shed our arrogance, and live in the reality of agape love – the love Christ taught us – unconditional love rooted in humility of knowing our own truth as children of God. It is this love, agape love, that will feed our faith and our hope – it is the love that will save us and all who know us.
And the reality is, poets and composers have been saying it for centuries, even while usually writing about eros, or romantic love. In the modern era, the Beatles had it almost right, “All you need is love,” Hal David and Burt Bacharach were also right “What the world needs now, is love sweet love, no not just for some, but for everyone.” Yet it was Andrew Lloyd Webber who nailed it on the head with “Love changes everything!”
Love does change everything – God’s love most of all – it is what we need, and what the world needs from us.
For we are a people of faith in Jesus, who loved us enough to die for us.
We are a people of hope found in the incarnation and the resurrection – of life over death.
We are a people of love – of the God who knew us before we were born, who loves us unconditionally, and who sends us forth to love and serve others.
“And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_30_2022.m4a [1] St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica. On Prayer and The Contemplative Life. Moral Theology. Biography.
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 30, 2022
Epiphany 4 – Year C
1st Reading – Jeremiah 1:4-10
Psalm 71:1-6
2nd Reading –1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Gospel – Luke 4:21-30
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January 23, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
There is a thread running through all of these scriptures that we have heard today. Jesus is in the synagogue among others, the people gather at the Water Gate with Ezra in Nehemiah, and St. Paul is writing not to some singular church leader, but to the full assembly gathered in Corinth. We are the spiritual and the religious – because we know that God’s dream for us is to be gathered together – not as some monolithic people – but celebrating amidst the gift of our diversity. That was St. Paul’s direct message – that while united in Christ, we are not all alike, nor should we be.
There is so much to say about that, but setting that aside for a moment, let us as a community gathered now turn our attention to this gospel story. Jesus, filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, goes back to his hometown, and being a good Jewish man, goes to temple on the sabbath. It was the custom in those days that one of the assembled would be appointed to read from the scriptures, beginning from where the last person left off the previous sabbath day. Then that person would interpret for all the passage they had just heard.
So apparently Jesus, the returning hometown hero, was chosen to read, and here is what happened. “He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.””
Now remember, all the eyes of the folks there were on him, because they were expecting him to offer an interpretation of what was just read – like a homily of sorts. What they got was Jesus saying – “look no further folks…all that you have been waiting for is right here – it is happening now.” A total mic drop moment. And what do they do? Well, at first they love it! Then, they started thinking about his past – how he was Joseph the carpenter’s son, and then they try to throw him off a cliff (as we will hear about next week). That’s what happened – they missed the moment – they couldn’t see the Holy One in front of them. How often does that happen to us all today?
Over the years, I have shared with you a number of stories from the Buddhist tradition, and I want to share this one with you again.
“Word spread across the countryside about the wise Holy Man who lived in a small house atop the mountain. A man from the village decided to make the long and difficult journey to visit him. When he arrived at the house, he saw an old servant inside who greeted him at the door. “I would like to see the wise Holy Man,” he said to the servant. The servant smiled and led him inside. As they walked through the house, the man from the village looked eagerly around all the rooms, anticipating his encounter with the Holy Man. Before he knew it, he had been led to the back door and escorted outside. He stopped and turned to the servant,
“But I want to see the Holy Man!”
“You already have,” said the old man. “Everyone you may meet in life, even if they appear plain and insignificant… see each of them as a wise Holy person. If you do this, then whatever problem you brought here today will be solved.””
I thought of this story, and others from that tradition, yesterday as the world lost a very wise holy man – Thich Nhat Hanh. “Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh [was] a global spiritual leader, poet, and peace activist, renowned for his powerful teachings and bestselling writings on mindfulness and peace. A gentle, humble monk, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. called him “an Apostle of peace and nonviolence” when nominating him for the Nobel Peace Prize. Exiled from his native Vietnam for almost four decades, Thich Nhat Hanh [had] been a pioneer bringing Buddhism and mindfulness to the West, and establishing an engaged Buddhist community for the 21st Century.”[1] With the people of all the world, and especially the beloved Plum Village Community, the first that he founded, we are grieved at the loss of one who taught us so much.
Thich Nhat Hanh’s most important message that he offered consistently to us all was that the present moment is everything. When we are not fully present, we miss the grace right in front of us. Or in his words, “If while washing dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nuisance, then we are not “washing the dishes to wash the dishes.” What’s more, we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes. In fact we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life while standing at the sink. If we can’t wash the dishes, the chances are we won’t be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the cup of tea, we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future—and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life.”[2]
So, what has washing the dishes, or the life of this Holy man, to do with us and what happened in the temple with Jesus? We find it in the first word Jesus spoke in interpreting the scriptures for the people gathered there, and it was a powerful one. He said “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
“Today.”
“Today”
For a moment, the people in the synagogue that day were all very pleased…then they began to think about the past. Today was lost to them. The Christ standing before them could not be experienced because they were wrapped up in what once was.
How often does that happen to us now?
How often do others want us to think about the past?
In the church today, many lament what has been, and article after article is published and passed around pointing our heads back to glory days, and then to a bleak future. Jesus could stand right in front of us today, proclaiming the year of the Lord’s favor, and we would not see him. This is not to say that we are the same as we once were – and for that I give thanks. No, I am not saying that having lots of folks gathered together is bad – heavens no – all of our scriptures today tell us of the importance of community. What I am saying is that the past had its problems too – ones that are far more terrible than declining church attendance and difficult financial outlooks.
The church was a place of exclusion – women were not included in the full sacraments of the church, LGBTQ+ peoples were told they were not welcome, and people of color could only find respect and dignity in a church if they formed it themselves outside of the all-white power centers of faith. That is not a past I ever care to lift up, no matter how large the congregations, or how financially secure the parishes.
This is not to say that we don’t have our share of concerns – each of you gathered here know that we are grateful for the way you have all responded to our pledge campaign this year as we navigate this difficult time in our parish during pandemic. We also have our blessings – as our congregation continues to grow year after year. But the ridiculous lament of so many that the church is dying, that things were once so much better, or that the future is grim, is a cry of those who are truly sitting amidst the savior, and failing to see that the scriptures are fulfilled in our hearing!
Why we proclaim this truth every Sunday – we don’t say only Christ died – we proclaim that Christ is, and Christ will be again! Looking backward we will fail to see the Christ that is – right here, right now!
In his book, the Art of Power, Thich Nhat Hanh put it this way: “To dwell in the here and now does not mean you never think about the past or responsibly plan for the future. The idea is simply not to allow yourself to get lost in regrets about the past or worries about the future. If you are firmly grounded in the present moment, the past can be an object of inquiry, the object of your mindfulness and concentration. You can attain many insights by looking into the past. But you are still grounded in the present moment.”
Jesus told them – “Today.”
“Today the scripture has been fulfilled.”
“Today.”
Today – the promise of God is here.
How hard that is for us to hear, especially as we stand at our proverbial sinks, washing dishes, and thinking about the bills we need to pay, grieving the loved ones we have lost, worrying over our own health and those of others, our hearts breaking at the division, hate, and violence that infests the world. Jesus calls us to mindfulness of the present reality – of his presence with us – of the kingdom of God all around us. He is telling us to focus on the dishwashing – not the tea – and the tea, not the next thing to do. For if we can do that, we will have our inner eyes opened to the presence of God in that moment – in every moment – and then, miracles do happen.
Miracles that will be good news to the poor – the poor in spirit, in health, and in means. What wonders are possible, what miracles will abound when we come to know, really know, God’s presence in the now!
Or as Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh put it: ““The kingdom of God is available to you in the here and the now. But the question is whether you are available to the kingdom [… ] You don’t need to die in order to enter the kingdom of heaven. In fact, you have to be truly alive in order to do so.”
Does that sound familiar? Then you know the teachings of our Master – Jesus – that the kingdom of God, the promise of our scriptures, is here – whereever he is.
And where is he?
Here – Today in our hearing!
For we, the the body of Christ, know that whenever we are gathered together – Jesus is in the midst of us.
How radical a thing we experience every single day of our lives! It is powerful – and that can be a scary thing. To get up every morning and realize that the promise of God is, not was, not to be hoped for, but IS! How does that reality change your day? What should we, the church, do?
The day of the lament for what was the church must be forever left behind, because it is weighing us down and preventing us from seeing the Christ present now. Yes, we don’t look like we used to – thanks be to God!
We are celebrating diversity in our community, not running from it.
We are open to the Spirit, not fighting Her to prevent change.
We see that Jesus IS, knowing He isn’t lost to some generation gone by.
Folks, if there is one thing we know about Jesus – nobody is going to kill him off. Not the Romans, and certainly not journalists and pollsters, and some in the church, who proclaim him dead. We can only die by denying him – by failing to see him standing right in front of us – and make no mistake about it – he won’t let our stubbornness have the last word.
Jesus is calling us to be mindful of the present moment – to know that he is here – now, Today! And that is transformative, because it forces us to focus not on hate, but on love; not on greed, but on compassion; not on division, but on forgiveness. When we are fully present with Jesus – who is fully present with us in the here and now – there is no other way but his – and that path is the one to enlightenment for all, and the realization of the kingdom of God as not a thing hoped for, but a thing experienced for us and for all the world. It doesn’t mean we don’t see the evils of this world, it means that they have no power over us – because we see him in all things, and that knowledge, so overwhelmingly wonderful, is more powerful than anything else.
Today, this promise is being fulfilled!
“Today”
“The kingdom of God is available to you in the here and the now. But the question [is are you] available to the kingdom?”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_23_2022.m4a [1] https://plumvillage.org/about/thich-nhat-hanh/biography/
[2] Thich Nhat Hanh, The Miracle of Mindfulness: An Introduction to the Practice of Meditation
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 23, 2022
Epiphany 3 – Year C
1st Reading – Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10
Psalm 19
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a
Gospel – Luke 4:14-21
The post “Today!” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Back in 2019, when I was on sabbatical (Lordy, it seems a lifetime ago), anyway – I had the opportunity to study at Oxford University in England. One of the classes I took was on Mary Magdalene, one of the disciples of Jesus. We studied canonical (meaning in our approved bible), as well as non-canonical, texts about this powerful woman. One of those texts, The Gospel of Mary, speaks of her as the disciple closest to Jesus, romantically close too. In it, Peter said to Mary following the death and resurrection of Jesus, “Sister we know that the Savior loved you more than the rest of woman. Tell us the words of the Savior which you remember which you know, but we do not, nor have we heard them.” Later a fight breaks out between these two over who will be the leader of this new Jesus movement.
It sure makes one wonder if our former Bishop, the Rt. Rev. Jack Spong (who sadly passed this year), if he was right when he pondered many years ago about whether the wedding in Cana, the gospel we just heard this morning, was not only a family wedding, but that Jesus and Mary were the couple (sure would explain why his mother didn’t want the wine to run out).
Now, the question is – does it really matter?
Well, perhaps, and I sure hope that Jesus had a romantic companion along the way. Still, can you imagine what it might be like being married to Jesus? Seriously – picture this…
Into the house walks Jesus at the end of a long day at work. He unties his dirty sandals, and as he starts to sink into the recliner, he shouts “Hi Honey! I’m home!” Mary pipes back “Just got in myself – crazy day at the office. How was your day?” “Well, the usual, I suppose – healed a few people, broke up petty fights among my disciples, fed 5,000 people. You?” Mary, rolling her eyes, poured herself a big glass of that wine from water they had in the house.
Not easy being married to the savior of the world.
Now, let’s get back to the story of the wedding at Cana. It is only found in the Gospel of John, and only read every three years, appropriately enough, during the season of Epiphany. Epiphany means manifestation – the revealing of something in light that has remained hidden in darkness – and this story reveals much about Jesus… and about us.
To really understand this passage, we need to remember that in the Ancient Near East, hospitality was everything (I think we would agree that it should be today). In this story, the family of the bridegroom was about to be found lacking with the wine running out – a major faux pas. Jesus, his family, and his disciples are there, and his mother asks him to use his gifts to provide for more wine, so as to not cause embarrassment. We don’t really know who was getting married, it must have been a family member, or a friend of the family, or – maybe – ya know…Jesus? Yet, after saying that his hour had not yet come, Jesus’ mother would not take no for an answer. Jesus listened to his mother.
She summoned the servants to do as Jesus tells them. So, he commands them to fill the water jars that were there for the Jewish rites of purification. Now these were very large jars, about 20-30 gallons each, so we are talking a whole lot of soon to be wine. But Jesus not only tells them to fill the jars, they are filled to the brim! If Jesus was going to make some wine, it was going to be enough for everyone to enjoy it! In the verses just before this story, Phillip, after hearing about Jesus wonders “can anything good come out of Nazareth?” – and as we find out in these verses, apparently very good wine!
So, as we hear in the story, that water was turned into the best wine, and in that transformation – the glory of Christ was revealed. This was the third revealing of Epiphany – the first being the Magi and their gifts, the second was at his baptism, and now this sign – this miracle being performed.
And we, the followers of Jesus, are a part of this story too. We are the empty vessels today, the children of God ready to be filled with the Spirit in the waters of baptism, and to serve everyone – to such a degree that they are transformed by love and grace. Water – the symbol of life in our baptism, gives way to wine – the symbol of our salvation in Christ’s blood. This in itself is a powerful message for us.
Yet there is something often missed in this story of the wedding at Cana, of Jesus’ first sign in his ministry, and it is the role his mother played. Mary, who is never named in this fourth gospel, will not accept her son’s initial reluctance. Mary, the mother of our Lord, the one who stepped beyond fear to say “Yes!” when God called upon her to be the bearer of the most high – she knew who her child was, and had been pondering it in her heart for many years since his birth.
So, when Jesus said he wasn’t ready, she essentially told him to “get out of her basement and move on to his life in the world.” This could not have been easy for her to do, for she knew how this would likely all play out, and that by pushing him out the door toward his calling, she was also setting in motion the events that would inevitably lead to his death.
Thank God for Mary.
Thank God for all those in our lives who push us forward to do the work we are called to do.
Tomorrow we celebrate the birthday of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He was one of those like Mary, who showed us the way forward, who pushed us out of our comfort zones, that we might be the people we are called to be.
When the government would not listen to him, he marched in the streets and implored us to join him.
When the people with power fought against him, he protested at lunch counters and on buses and called us to see what was happening to our sisters and brothers.
And when church leaders remained silent, he reminded them of the Christ they profess as Lord and Savior from his jail cell.
He pushed us all out of our proverbial basements, our church pews, and into our lives in Christ by word and by deed, but mostly by the most courageous form of love – and he did it all because he was a follower of Jesus.
You know, it always astounds me when I see some folks talk about so called “organized religion” (which, as I have said before is a term I don’t get – I mean really, organized…have you ever seen the acolyte room just before any worship service?). They say that Christians don’t do anything but cause pain. Now, we deserve some of that criticism, to be sure. Lord knows our past does have some horrific history. However, in the same breath these same people would lift up people like Dr. King as examples of people they admire.
Folks, if there is one thing Dr. King would tell you is that he is the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He would tell you that it was his faith in Jesus that was the foundation of his life work, that the church was his spiritual home. He would say that it was his faith that gave him the courage to implore us all to not be confined by the limitations of the chains which can bind us in fear, but to break them – to proclaim the good news that everyone is a beloved child of God, and to not rest until all are free. And he likely, from the perspective of heaven, would say that just as the church sometimes gets it wrong, so too the civil rights movement he was a part of, as it pushed women and LGBTQ+ peoples to the rear.
Today, we are all blessed that his voice continues to ring out all over the world, telling everyone that will hear him to get on with it – to be the people we are called to be that we might live the faith we profess, as he did in his life. And to be sure, living our faith will not look the same for every person.
As we heard today in the reading from the letter of St. Paul to the Corinthians, “Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom…to another gifts of healing, …to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy…,” and so on.
Some will be prophets – like Dr. King.
Some will be the wise who push us when we need it – like Mary, the mother of Jesus.
Yet all will be an important part of the work we must do until every one of us may live free to be the beloved child of God we are. Like a marriage, such as was celebrated in Cana long ago, the journey will not always be easy, but if we live into it in love, and with an open heart, Christ will fill us too, and the Holy Spirit will guide us, and we will not fail. The only way to fail is never to live out our calling at all.
Now, I have shared many of my favorite quotes of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. before, but this particular one bears repeating today, because he is speaking to just that message of the gospel – of our need to be the people God calls us to be. Here is what he said:
“Deep down in our non-violent creed is the conviction there are some things so dear, some things so precious, some things so eternally true, that they’re worth dying for. And if a man happens to be 36-years-old, as I happen to be, some great truth stands before the door of his life–some great opportunity to stand up for that which is right…A man might be afraid his home will get bombed, or he’s afraid that he will lose his job, or he’s afraid that he will get shot, or beat down by state troopers, and he may go on and live until he’s 80. He’s just as dead at 36 as he would be at 80. The cessation of breathing in his life is merely the belated announcement of an earlier death of the spirit… A man dies when he refuses to stand up for that which is right. A man dies when he refuses to stand up for justice. A man dies when he refuses to take a stand for that which is true.”
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. lived and preached the gospel of Jesus Christ, and like the savior he followed, he was killed for it. Yet he would likely say that he truly lived because of it, as he would have killed his soul long before any physical death were he to do nothing at all. This is true for each of us.
For our faith dies whenever we stand silent.
Our baptism is rendered meaningless whenever we do not act.
Our world becomes darker whenever we refuse to be the light of Christ.
So, let us be the vessels of God’s abundant grace that we might nourish others with Christ’s unconditional love – because we know, as Dr. King knew all his life, that love rooted in Christ defeats all hate, that Christ’s light overcomes any darkness, and that Christ alive in us is more powerful than any death that may await.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here (also available on Audible):
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_16_2022.m4a
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 16, 2022
Epiphany 2 – Year C
1st Reading – Isaiah 62:1-5
Psalm 36:5-10
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 12:1-11
Gospel – John 2:1-11
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January 9, 2022: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Happy New Year one and all!
It is good to be back, though I do love the twelve days of Christmas. I think it is kind of sad that right after the Magi make their long journey to the Christ child, everyone is too ready to pack away the decorations, including the creche. But maybe, just maybe, we need to re-think that a bit. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to leave our nativity displays out all year – perhaps then we would be reminded of something we are hearing in today’s scriptures – something that is fundamental to our faith – something that is a part of who we are as those baptized into Christ, whose birth we just proclaimed.
So, let’s take a look at the scriptures today…
First, I want to just bring forward three verses in the passage from Isaiah. God says: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;… Because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you…”
You know, that is the only place in all of our sacred canon of scripture where we are told that God said “I love you.” God demonstrates this love again and again, but only here, in this passage from Isaiah, do we hear God say it. What a wonderous thing to hear! Sometimes we need to hear the words, right?
Now, hold on to that for a moment, and let’s move to Luke & The Acts of the Apostles because there is a whole lot of passing through the waters going on there too. In the gospel, Jesus is being baptized (along with a bunch of others), and in the book of Acts, Samaritans are being baptized. And it is this pairing that will help us to really understand just how much God does indeed love us, and what that means for each of us baptized into Christ.
In this version of the baptism of Jesus, the first thing to ask is…who exactly is baptizing Jesus? Now I always tell you to be mindful when the lectionary leaves out verses, and today, we read Luke 3:15-17 and 21-22. But you know what happened in verses 18, 19, and 20 – the verses just before Jesus got baptized? John got arrested by Herod. Not the Herod we just heard about in the birth narrative – that would be Herod Numero Uno (or Herod The Great) – his Dad. This is Herod Antipas, who is sort of a chop off the old block. Sadly, John would know that to be true, because he is eventually beheaded by said Herod.
Sooooo, who baptized Jesus?
Well, it was John, and our clue is that bit about “when all the people were baptized, and Jesus also had been baptized…” The author backtracked in the story like a flashback scene in a novel, and seems to want to emphasize something about John, something that is important – that his preaching of repentance – of returning into relationship with the God who loves us – really annoyed folks who had power. Preaching the gospel can do that sometimes…actually, a lot of the time.
That mystery over, let’s get back to Jesus being baptized. As he rises from the water, the Holy Spirit descends upon him and he hears “You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.” And here’s the most important thing to know about this…what happened to Jesus happens to all who are baptized into him.
Baptism is one of the two Great Sacraments of the church (the other being the Holy Eucharist – and no, despite what some might think, Coffee Hour is not the Third Great Sacrament). Now, a sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. In Baptism, the outward sign is water– the inward is, according to the catechism you can find right there in those Books of Common Prayer in the pews, “union with Christ in his death and resurrection, birth into God’s family the Church, forgiveness of sins, and new life in the Holy Spirit.”
Today, little Duke Telemaque will be baptized. And like Jesus so long ago, like all who are baptized into him, the Spirit will descend upon him, Christ will claim him, and he will enter into the household of God. The Holy Spirit descends upon each of us baptized, just as it did Jesus – just as it does for everyone.
Yet what about that baptism of the Samaritans we just heard – the Spirit didn’t descend on them as they rose out of the water, right? To understand that, we need to be reminded that the people of Samaria, and the Jewish people – and all the apostles, as well as Jesus, were Jewish – were like cousins caught in a long-standing bitter feud. Yet in the Gospel of Luke, we get the story of the “Good Samaritan,” and in this gospel’s sequel, we hear about this baptism. If you know something about both those books, then you might come to know why the Samaritans are brought forward in this way in his writings. First, both books were written by the same author – essentially a two-part story. And what we know about this author is that he was writing for a Gentile audience – people outside the circle of Jesus’ earliest Jewish followers.
So, the Samaritans were baptized into Christ, but in the story, the Spirit did not descend upon them until the apostles in Jerusalem heard about it and sent Peter and John to them. Now, we might think that it means that those apostles controlled this act of the Spirit, but no human controls God. In fact, later in this book of Acts, the Spirit arrives upon the Centurion Cornelius and all the others before any apostle baptizes them! So, the Holy Spirit will do whatever the Holy Spirit wants to do when She wants to do it.
Now, back to the passage we heard today – why the delay with the Samaritans? Knowing the way that Jews and Samaritans looked on one another, the delay was not about the Samaritans, but about the apostles. They needed to witness God’s work in these people so that they would truly know that salvation is for all of the people – all of God’s children.
And when we take that in, on the heels of the nativity story of shepherds on Christmas, after celebrating the arrival of the Magi to the Christ child, and now hearing these scriptures today – we finally have an epiphany of our own if we are paying attention, and it is this:
There are no outsiders in God’s kingdom. No one is excluded from the love God expressed in Isaiah.
Yet we act sometimes as though we can divide the world into insiders and outsiders (with ourselves, of course, always being on the inside of whatever boundary we artificially draw). Even today in our country, the beloved Feast of the Epiphany, a day in which we remember the outsiders who followed his star and presented Jesus with gifts that marked his identity as King, God, and Sacrifice – that day, at least for the foreseeable future, will coincide with remembering an act of domestic terrorism. January 6th is now a day when racism, misogyny, and all the hate that goes with it are brought to our hearts and minds because one year ago terrorists tried to destroy our democratic republic with violence and hate. What was worse about that day a year ago was that many were holding large crosses and signs proclaiming Jesus as Lord.
How corrupted must their faith in Jesus be that, on the day when the Magi are remembered, they carried crosses and other signs of our faith as they violently beat police and sought to harm members of Congress and the Vice-President? Had any of them truly understood the meaning of the Magi their faith remembers on this day, then they would know that all people are their sisters and brothers, and no person who claims to follow Jesus could ever act with such hate and violence against another child of God.
It just seems so unfathomable, yet as I watched the commemoration by Congress a few days ago, and listened to our Presiding Bishop offer prayers at the national vigil, it occurred to me that perhaps it is a good thing that the Feast of the Epiphany and that disgraceful act of violence and hate coincide – because it is a pairing of the vision of God, and of the reality of our sinful world. It is a reminder of what the incarnation and the Epiphany was all about, and what our baptism means.
For Jesus was born into such a world as we live in today, where the innocent are slaughtered by the powerful. He was baptized when rulers seized righteous men like John and killed them. He walked among those who hungered for food, who thirsted for justice, who were oppressed by those with might. He was executed for being a man of peace in a land of war, a person who healed in a place where pain is inflicted, for preaching love among those who hate.
So perhaps it is fitting that those two events – the Feast of the Epiphany and this act of violence and hate – are on the same day. And perhaps it would help to keep our nativity sets out all year too. Let it all be a reminder to us, the ones baptized into Christ – that we have much work to do to bring about the vision of God for all people. For like those apostles who needed to see the Holy Spirit descend upon the Samaritans, we too may need a reminder from time to time that our faith is not one of walls, but of bridges, not one of hate, but of love, not one of division, but of peace.
What a message for us all today!
Because if we have learned anything from this pandemic it is that we cannot live our lives on this earth as though what we do does not affect others. We are all sisters and brothers – all children of God – no matter what country we are from, what language we speak, what gender we claim, who we love, and yes – no matter who we vote for – every single one of us is loved by God. Now we know that COVID is infectious, but you know what else is? Love. Love is infectious! That is one thing we need to spread all over the world – Love – the knowledge of God’s all inclusive love for us. For while we know that hate too is infectious, we know through Christ that the power of love will always triumph over hate.
We who are baptized into Christ, are baptized into his life and death – and we are anointed by the Holy Spirit to be the transformative agents of God’s love, because we know through Jesus that light overcomes darkness, life is more powerful than death, and love always defeats hate.
So let us look throughout the year upon that nativity with the Holy Family surrounded by those outsiders – the shepherds and the Magi – that we may remember our baptism, and what this birth that we just celebrated means.
I want to share with you this poem by Howard Thurman, an African-American theologian, educator, and civil rights leader because he so beautifully captured what this moment in our lives as followers of Jesus is all about:
“When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.”
Folks, we can put away the decorations, and stop singing the carols (okay – I admit, I am still singing them), but the incarnation – that wonderous gift of God’s grace and love – is not a thing for a season. Our savior, born to us at Christmas, and manifested to us in Epiphany, is ready and willing to enter into our hearts, if only we will let him. And if we do – it will change us – it will change everything!
The work of Christmas is only just getting started, and it continues every hour of every day, year after year after year!
And when we grow tired, when we feel overwhelmed by the work we must do, or forget who we are and what we are called to do, look on that nativity scene and remember that precious gift of love and grace, holding these words of God close to your heart: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you byname, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;…Because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you…”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here:
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/Rec-001-Sermon-January_9_2022.m4a The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
January 9, 2022
The First Sunday After The Epiphany
1st Reading – Isaiah 43:1-7
Psalm 29
2nd Reading – Acts 8:14-17
Gospel – Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
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December 26, 2021: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Well, you made it!
The stores will soon have “after Christmas” sales on, and likely have started putting out Valentine’s Day displays. Folks believe that everything can go back to normal – to the way it was. Some Christmas trees will be dragged to the curbtoday, lights will likely soon come down (or have been turned off), and relatives are heading home (or some hope they are). And folks are posting things on social media giving thanks that Christmas is finally over!
I hate to break it to them, but Christmas isn’t over – not by a long shot. Because the twelve days of Christmas, despite what the secular world will tell you, is not just a fun song, nor is it the 12 days before Christmas. It is very real, and we are only just getting started. Not only does the church celebrate Christmas for twelve days ending the day before the feast of the Epiphany on January 6th, but some even consider Christmastide to go on until after Candlemas on February 2nd!
So, not over. Not at all. In fact, we are just getting started! Those kings haven’t arrived yet, but if you are looking for them here in the church – they are here somewhere making their long journey toward the creche. And that in itself is symbolic of our faith.
The Christmas story takes a journey to really know it. That is why being here in the weeks and months to come is so important for understanding what this birth in a manger is really all about. And one of the ways we come to understand what it means to follow Jesus is in the story of the man whose saint day is celebrated today, December the 26th. His name is Stephen, and his story is one we should pay attention to, but we often miss it because of his unfortunate location on our calendar of saints. This good man was “a witness to the light,” as we hear of John the Baptist in the gospel today.
Stephen was, in fact, our proto-martyr – the first to be killed for the faith. He was one of the first deacons of the church too. Now, the diaconate is, if you are not aware, the oldest order of ordained ministry, and a full and equal order in the church. So, what happened to Deacon Stephen? This faithful man, who served the least of these, was murdered by those claiming to be righteous onto God.
He was murdered because he stood for the marginalized, he preached the good news, he was a voice for the voiceless. Another such man, the Most Rev. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, of our own Anglican denomination, died this very day – just a few hours ago, and the world is rocked with sadness this morning at this news. I will share more about him in a moment, but back to Stephen.
We just celebrated the birth of our savior Jesus – what does his life tell us today? What does it really mean to be his follower? It means being a martyr. Being a martyr doesn’t mean we have to be stoned to death like Stephen, though for some it has led to being killed. Being a martyr, being a follower of Jesus the one whose birth we proclaimed just yesterday, means being a witness.
And so it bears asking…how do we witness for the faith?
Well, maybe we need to think about the one Christmas song that thankfully at least mentions St. Stephen. It is that Christmas classic, “Good King Wenceslas.” The lyrics were written by hymn writer (and Anglican priest) John Mason Neale, and tells the legend that is based on the life of the historical Saint Wenceslaus I, Duke of Bohemia (907–935). I should note that Neale also wrote “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” – based on the O antiphons of Advent, and another Christmas hymn, the first verse of which we have been singing as our doxology in Christmas, “Good Christian Men, Rejoice.”
In the song, “Good King Wenceslas,” we hear of the story of this Bohemian Duke (called a King in the song so we will stay with that) who noticed a man trudging through the bitter cold with whatever wood he could carry for his fire. It was on the Feast of St. Stephen – December the 26th. Now we usually only hear that first verse, right? But we need to listen to the entire story, so let me share it with you:
Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath’ring winter fuel
“Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know’st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes’ fountain.”
“Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither.”
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind’s wild lament
And the bitter weather
“Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.”
In his master’s steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing
“Ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.” I still get goosebumps whenever the full song is sung. This is a song we should take with us as we step from Christmas into the rest of the year.
Why? Well, Christmas – that’s why.
There is a meme – you know – a social media image – that actually says something important (they so often don’t). It is a response to all those bumper stickers and billboards that say “Keep Christ in Christmas.” And this meme, which was posted last week on our church Facebook page, says “Want to keep Christ in Christmas, then feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger and the unwanted child, care for the ill, love your enemies.”
And in the words of this song, we get a glimpse of what that might look like. First, this good ruler noticed this man. He didn’t turn a blind eye. He didn’t look away or ignore what was right in front of him. We too need to see the ones others will not – the poor and the lost, the lonely and the stranger, the ones cast aside, the ones who have been silenced.
He could have told someone else to go out in the bad weather to care for this poor man, yet he went himself with his Page. When his Page lost heart, he gave him comfort and strength to make it through.
Perhaps most of all, he didn’t plan to just drop the stuff off. The song was clear – “Thou and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.” This man, who could easily have remained warm in his castle, this good King…he intended to be there to dine with this poor man. To be where he lives.
And while one would rightly say that our role as followers of Jesus is to be a voice for this man, that poverty like his is forever gone, I suspect that this good King did do something about his condition, and that of others.
So it is appropriate, I think, that this story about that Bohemian Duke is set on the Feast of St. Stephen – the very saint who died for having cared for the poor, the widows, and the orphans, and proclaimed the good news of Christ. For Stephen knew how to keep Christ in his heart, and this King Wenceslas knew how to keep Christ in Christmas. Perhaps we need no other example of how to be a martyr, a witness, a follower of Jesus, than what we get in the story of King Wenceslas. We have many actually, but I want to focus on one, our beloved Archbishop Desmond Tutu.
The Most Rev. Desmond Tutu was a martyr of our faith, an example of witness to the gospel of Jesus Christ in ways that changed the world. There is so much to say about this wonderful servant of Christ and His church. He was a voice of justice – speaking the truth to the world of the tyranny of South Africa’s racist apartheid system, and fearless in his quest for peace among all people – or what he called a “Rainbow Nation.” He advocated for the equality of LGBTQ+ people, for an end to the occupation of Palestine, and for an end to the abuse of God’s creation among so many other causes.
I found him to be a model of faith within our own Anglican Communion. If you ever receive an email from me of late, you would have seen one of several favorite quotes by this good man. It is this:
“God’s dream is that you and I and all of us will realize that we are family, that we are made for togetherness, for goodness, and for compassion. In God’s family, there are no outsiders, no enemies. Black and white, rich and poor, gay and straight, Jew and Arab, Muslim and Christian, Hindu and Buddhist, Hutu and Tutsi, Pakistani and Indian—all belong. When we start to live as brothers and sisters and to recognize our interdependence, we become fully human.”
May we, like Good King Wenceslas, like the Most Rev. Desmond Tutu, honor St. Stephen, proto martyr and deacon, and our savior Jesus, born to us, by exemplifying Deacon Stephen’s service and that of Archbishop Tutu – service to those in need and speaking truth to power, as we are called by Christ to do.
Or, in the words of our beloved Archbishop, “All over this magnificent world God calls us to extend [the] kingdom of shalom-peace and wholeness — of justice, of goodness, of compassion, of caring, of sharing, of laughter, of joy, of reconciliation. God is transfiguring the world right this very moment through us because God believes in us and because God loves us. What can separate us from the love of God? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And as we share God’s love with our brothers and sisters, God’s other children, there is no tyrant who can resist us, no opposition that cannot be ended, no hunger that cannot be fed, no wound that cannot be healed, no hatred that cannot be turned into love, no dream that cannot be fulfilled.”
“God is transfiguring the world right this very moment through us because God believes in us and because God loves us.”
Indeed. God believes in us and God loves us.
I have shared that quote with you a few times because it is a clear picture of our lives in Christ, of following him, of living out our baptismal covenant. If we do this, if we “extend [the] kingdom of shalom-peace and wholeness — of justice, of goodness, of compassion, of caring, of sharing, of laughter, of joy, of reconciliation,” then we will truly be keeping Christ in Christ’s Mass, in Christmas, and we will, like Deacon Stephen, like Archbishop Tutu, be the martyrs – the witnesses – of the good news of Jesus Christ – born to us this Christmas.
Merry 2nd Day of Christmas Everyone!
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/Rec-001-Sermon-Christmas_1-December_26_2021.m4a The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
December 26, 2021
Christmas I
1st Reading – Isaiah 61:10-62:3
Psalm 147:13-21
2nd Reading – Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7
Gospel – John 1:1-18
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Christmas Eve 2021: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
I love the music of the season – Advent hymns like “Comfort, Comfort Ye My People,” “People Look East,” “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” and so many more. Christmas hymns too, of course – all the ones we sing tonight most especially. And of course, there are the secular songs – “All I want for Christmas Is You,” “It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas,” and many more those…well, except that awful “Mary, Did You Know?” – for more about that, see a previous sermon, but the short answer is – of course she knew. Read the Gospel of Luke and quit mansplaining the birth of our savior.
But after this very long time of pandemic, one secular Christmas song has really resonated with me lately, and perhaps also with some of you – “Need A Little Christmas Now” – from the musical Mame. There is a verse in it that seems to be written for just such a time such as this – a time when gathering for worship or with friends & family is an on again-off again roller coaster ride, a time when we are mourning the loss of those we love, a time when the world seems gripped by anger, hate, and violence, a time when we seem so very tired by all that we have been made to bear. It is this verse:
“For I’ve grown a little leaner, grown a little colder, grown a little sadder, grown a little older, and I need a little angel sitting on my shoulder. I need a little Christmas now!”
Indeed, haven’t we all?
Haven’t we all felt leaner? Even if our pandemic zoom marathon may have packed on the pounds, we feel less our selves, less sure of what tomorrow will bring, less patient with all of it. Leaner is just another way of expressing that lessness.
We feel a bit colder too, don’t we? Our patience is wearing thin, our world seem darker, and we shudder from the vitriol and violence that breaks out from nearly every corner.
Sadder doesn’t even begin to describe the heartache we have all experienced this past year and a half. And all of it has made many of us age a bit more than the time that has passed would explain.
So yes, I think we all need a little angel sitting on our shoulder, and we do need a little Christmas now!
But wait, where is our angel sitting on our shoulder?
We sure see a lot of them in Christmas displays and pageants, and there were angels long ago telling those shepherds about the birth of Jesus. Now, about those shepherds, they may not have realized it in that moment, but they too needed an angel sitting on their shoulder, but they got far more than that, right? – they got a whole bunch of them singing across the night sky above! What a sight that must have been.
Heck, we would settle for just a single one about now, right?
Ahhh, but you see, they are there – every day. Every moment – they are there with us – trying to get through, trying to show us the light that defeats darkness, trying to tell us the good news!
The thing is, we often don’t see them because we aren’t looking for them.
There is a show I watch, and perhaps you do too. It is “Call the Midwife,” and it is “is a BBC period drama …about a group of nurse midwives working in the East End of London in the late 1950s and 1960s… The series was created by Heidi Thomas, originally based on the memoirs of Jennifer Worth who worked with the Community of St. John the Divine, an Anglican religious order, at their convent in the East End in London.”1 We still have religious orders in our Anglican church, in fact there is a convent of Episcopal nuns in Mendham, NJ , and a monastery of Episcopal monks in West Park, NY.
The show features a voice over done by Vanessa Redgrave, that is supposed to be the voice of the now older Jennifer Worth reflecting back on her experiences delivering babies, and working with the other midwives, some of whom, like her, were not a part of the convent. In the 2018 Christmas Special episode, this is what viewers heard in that voiceover: “There are always angels everywhere. Perhaps we only think to look for them at Christmas when their wings can be seen, when their halos glow with light. But they are always there. There in the quiet corners, there in the shadows, there in their ordinary clothes and they are beautiful. Make room for the angels for they will catch you unawares and fill your heart in ways you never could imagine.”
And that, my friends, is very true.
They are the ordinary ones, offering extraordinary acts of love – nurses, doctors, and staff who attend to the sick and the dying; first responders who risk their lives every day for others; people of faith all over the world who give of their time, treasure, and lives to help the poor, the outcast, the stranger, the imprisoned, the addicted, the lonely, and the lost. Angels are all around us – the earthly and the heavenly.
The light of angels – the light of God’s love – is always there – just as Christ – his light, his love – is always there – Christmas and every day – in church, and in our homes, offices, and everywhere we are willing to take him in our hearts, to see him in others, to be him and to serve him in the world.
That is the good news of Christmas
Because despite what Hallmark movies will tell you (and I do love my Hallmark movies), Christmas is about more than brightly decorated evergreens, visiting with family, and falling in love with your high school sweetheart. In fact – it is about none of those things. Christmas is Christ’s Mass – when all of Christendom celebrates the birth of Jesus, our Christ. And in that birth, everything changes.
Everything and everyone changes.
Because as the prophet made clear in the words from Isaiah heard tonight in churches all over the world “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness–on them light has shined.” And, as we heard this night, in the epistle to Titus, “…the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all.”
We who feel leaner, colder, sadder, and older are those very people – we walk in darkness and tonight we have seen a great light. Tonight – light has shined – and it is for all people. It is for YOU! Yes, you! God came into this world to show you just how much you are loved. Because the good news is that Christmas isn’t just for some people, but everyone – rich and poor, gay and straight, of all races, genders, and languages. God’s grace and love breaks down our human borders, breaks through our personal defenses. God became incarnate, knowing the cost, so that every single one of us may come to know that they are deeply and unconditionally loved by our Creator – just as we are.
And that good news – that good news of Christmas, the good news of God incarnate – willing to be born in our midst, to live among us, to die for us – that good news, my friends, will change not only our lives, but all of the world.
That is why we are here – because we already knew this to be true. We just needed to hear it again. We needed to be reminded. We needed to focus – not on the trappings of Christmas – but on the heart of it. Because we are the worn out ones, suffering under the weight of this pandemic, feeling a bit hopeless, unable to see the angels in our midst, unable to see the Christ in front of us.
We needed a little Christmas now, and we knew that it was in this place, hearing the word, receiving him in the Eucharist – that we would experience the fullness of this night.
We needed Christmas now.
And Christmas is here for us – it always is.
Just as long as we open our eyes, our hearts, our very lives – to seeing the angels proclaiming, to receiving the Christ born within us, to embracing the God who loves us beyond measure – just as we are. There is no test to pass.
We don’t need to have the perfect Christmas,
with the perfect presents,
with the perfect children,
with the perfect parents.
We need only let Christ be born anew in our hearts, to make room for the angels in our midst that we may see them, and we will know that we are all that we need to be, we will know the real meaning of love – unconditional, all abiding, all inclusive love.
And then we won’t need a little Christmas now – because it will always be Christmas for us, for those around us, and for all the world. Or, as that great theologian, Dr. Suess, would put it:
“Christmas Day is in our grasp, so long as we have hands to clasp. Christmas Day will always be just as long as we have we.
Welcome, Christmas. While we stand…Heart to heart… and hand in hand.”
Merry Christmas Everyone!
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here:
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/Rec-001-XMas_Eve_-_11pm.m4a 1 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Call_the_Midwife
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
December 24, 2021
Christmas Eve – Christmas Day I
1st Reading – Isaiah 9:2-7
Psalm 96
2nd Reading – Titus 2:11-14
Gospel – Luke 2:1-14(15-20)
The post “Need A Little Christmas? Make Room For The Angels!” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
December 5, 2021: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
I don’t know if you noticed the turn. You know, the turn our gospel just took for us today? We are now on our 5th Sunday of the original 7 week Advent, and Advent always begins, whether 4 weeks or 7 weeks, with the second coming of Jesus. We have heard these revealing passages these past several weeks, but today…something has changed, hasn’t it. Today, we are not hearing about the second Advent, but the first. After weeks of his return, we are heading into weeks of preparing the way for his birth. We have made a turn toward Bethlehem.
So enter in our “wild and crazy guy” John – son of Elizabeth and Zachariah, cousin of Jesus, and one truly unique character. Now Zach, his dad, is who we heard from in the Canticle chanted this morning. To understand what is going on here, we need to be reminded a bit of the back story.
Zach, a priest, and his wife Liz, who by the way is a descendent of Aaron (the famous brother of Moses) – they were a faithful and devout couple in their twilight years. They had no children, which in the bible meant it was the woman’s fault – she is barren. Yup, couldn’t possibly have anything to do with her partner. Anyway, Zach is in the temple serving in the sanctuary when an angel, actually Gabriel himself, appeared to him, and Zach was scared.
Now, I have said this before, but really – Have you noticed that whenever angels appear the first thing they say is “Do not fear” or “Do not be afraid?” It’s true – whether to Zach, or to the shepherds, or for that matter, to Mary the mother of Jesus. I wonder sometimes what they must look like to warrant this reaction. Do they come all ablaze like the character in Dogma, played by the late and beloved actor Alan Rickman (aka. Professor Snape)? ‘Cause THAT would be scary, right? Or, maybe they appear flying high and about 10 times larger than any human. Maybe. But perhaps it is because whenever one of these angels appears, it means things are going to change. Change can be good…but it also means that we don’t know how it will all turn out. We can’t control it, and that can make one fear it. It would be so much easier if things would just go exactly as we planned, or wanted, or prayed for, right?
So, there is old Zach, fearing whatever this messenger of God is about to tell him. And here is what Gabe told our beloved Zach – that his wife would bear a son, that he would be named John, and that he will be filled with the Spirit of Elijah the great prophet. Zach pushed back on this, reminding Gabe that he and his wife had just signed up for their AARP membership cards and Medicare gap insurance. Gabe was not happy, explained that this was God’s doing, and because Zach didn’t believe him, he would lose the ability to speak until the birth.
Now, that’s gotta hurt. We priests – we love to talk…a lot. Still, perhaps more than one prayer was answered that day – for a child, but I suspect Liz’s prayer was to get her husband Zach to shut up once in awhile. We will hear more about Liz and her cousin Mary (who really are the most important figures in Advent) two weeks from now, but for now let’s get back to Zach.
After the birth of John, Zach’s voice was restored, and Liz went to have a drink, because Zach couldn’t stop talking – rejoicing really – and that is his song we heard this morning – one of them anyway. It is The Song of Zechariah, or in church Latin Lingo – Benedictus Dominus Deus. He begins with “Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel; he has come to his people and set them free. He has raised up for us a mighty savior, born of the house of his servant David. And after a lot more talking, ends with this: “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
In fairness to old Zach – that is good news, isn’t it?
God has come to set us free – and in God’s tender compassion, those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death will have God’s light shine upon them, and they will be guided in the path of peace.” This is the good news we await in Advent, and in case we don’t understand it, John, son of Liz and Zach, shouts the message we need to hear in the wilderness.
And so we turn to the gospel today where John is all grown up now, and he is preaching to anyone who will listen. Not for nothing, not only is John all grown up, but so is Jesus. Remember, John is only a few months older than his Messiah cousin. This passage comes AFTER the birth narrative, so we have jumped forward this week and next, only to jump back again to our Lord’s nativity later this month.
Turning back to today’s passage (or is it forward???), we need to pay close attention to what the author of this gospel wants us to know. The passage begins with all those strange bible names of people and places: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.” Okay, let’s fix that last part – it is “John son of Elizabeth and Zachariah,” because we know it wasn’t Zach dealing with morning sickness, bloating, and pushing out that baby in pain, was it.
Now why would this author put all this information there before telling us all that important stuff John was saying? I mean, as one commentator put it: The names are “…an A-list of Earthly Powers: an emperor, a governor, three tetrarchs, and two high priests [and a partridge in a pear tree – kidding, the commentator did not say that]. Together they represent rulers of the known world, the regional lands, and the religious, political, and economic complex that stands at the heart of Jerusalem. Collectively they hold all the authority and might that wealth, military prowess, or ancestry can command.”[1]
Wow! That’s an impressive list, right? Yet reading on, where did the Spirit of God come and to whom? Where is John prophesying? Is it to these rulers and high priests? Is it in those cities of the powerful? No.
We hear instead that, “the word of God came to John … in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan…” God chose this man out in the wilderness to proclaim the coming of Christ. And the author draws from that most important prophet of the people, Isaiah, to describe the call of John:
“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth;
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”
The coming of God into the world as one of us, Emmanuel, God among us, is proclaimed by a locust eating, camel hair wearing, miracle child, John, and given not to the powerful, but to others on the margins – to those who are seeking, to those who will listen – the ones in the wilderness – telling them all to prepare themselves for all will see the salvation of God!
Think about that – the least, the last, the lonely, the lost – they are the first to receive this good news. The proclamation of the incarnation, of God’s coming into the world, is given not to the powerful, but to the powerless, not to the rich, but to the poor, not to the well connected, but to the disconnected!
And just as important are those words of Isaiah – that “all flesh shall see the salvation of God.” That is the promise of Advent – that is the promise of our God – that God’s salvation is for everybody. It doesn’t matter what walls we humans build, who we try to push aside, who we desire to exclude – because it isn’t about us. God will not be boxed in by our smallness, but destroys those very walls and replaces them with bridges of love – unconditional love. All people shall see! All people!!!
The word of God is coming to unexpected people and unexpected places, and that Word of grace and love is for everyone – no matter how much money you have, who you love, what language you speak, what gender you claim, or what faith you profess – everyone – all flesh – all of humanity – but most especially to those others have cast aside. Or, in the words of John’s dad Zach ““In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
“Live in the moment that anticipates such a promise. Be in the moment that believes such promise is possible.”[2] That, my friends, is the preparation we are being called to make in Advent. To open our hearts to God’s promise, to what the world would find absurd – this flipping of the world order, this light overcoming darkness – how crazy is that? And yet, even as we stand amidst the horrors of this world, we not only know it to be true, but we are to be the very ones crying out in the wilderness proclaiming it.
Okay, you don’t have to eat locusts or wear camel hair, but it is for us to prepare the way now – for ourselves and for others – and that means we have some prophesying to do ourselves, for the world does indeed dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, does it not? And we, who are baptized into him whose birth we await, we know that the promise of Advent does indeed become the reality of the Word made flesh – we know the good news and the power of God’s love. And we are called to prepare the way – by being the way for others.
And our prophesying must be more than words. We must be the very people of God, filled with the Holy Spirit, that we were born to be. We must be the unexpected and the chosen, the ordinary called to do the extraordinary.
What does that look like?
Well, begin with the exhortation of John to repent. Now, you might hear that and think it means to beat yourself up, but no. It means to change, to turn back toward God – to see our own fragility, our own human weakness that has led us to neglect and abuse any part of God’s creation – other children of God, the earth and the creatures who dwell within it, even ourselves. For we cannot prepare others, if we are not prepared ourselves. We return into the fullness of relationship with God by setting our hearts and minds on Christ Jesus, whose birth we await anew.
That is the preparation we are called to do – for we cannot only wait for Jesus, we must be the body of Christ we are called to be – then we can prepare others, then we can share the good news to a broken world. Advent is not to be rushed through, but is both a journey and a destination.
I am reminded of this story “about a group of tourists visiting the Vatican. Their tour guide had told them about the famed Sistine Chapel: the place where the College of Cardinals meets to choose a new pope, the room whose ornate painted ceiling is Michelangelo’s masterpiece. [Now, I have been there, and it is truly amazing, but] one aspect of the Sistine Chapel comes as a surprise to most first-time visitors: its size. It’s a rather small room. One young man was so eager to see Michelangelo’s painted ceiling, he dashed in one end of the Sistine Chapel and out the other. He mistook the Chapel for some kind of antechamber. The tour guide had to chase after him, saying: “Come back, you missed it — and this time, remember to look up!” It’s the sort of mistake that’s so easy to make during Advent. It’s so easy to confuse Advent with a waiting room: to dash through these…weeks, arms laden with packages, eyes cast downward. Advent is a destination in its own right.”[3]
Advent is our journey to prepare, and our destination to return to God. So how do we begin? How do we start this journey, this Christ filled destination of our lives begun in baptism?
We begin here…” In the twenty-first year of the twenty-first century, when Joseph Biden was President of the United States, and Philip Murphy was governor of New Jersey, and Michael Venezia was mayor of Bloomfield & Stuart Patrick was mayor of Glen Ridge (geez, where are the women????), oh…and Carlye J. Hughes was bishop of the Diocese of Newark – finally, at least the church has a woman – in that time, the word of the Lord came to Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge!
Think this a bit crazy? Well, believe it, because that is what we celebrate here – every single Sunday, every single day. God’s great love breaking into the world in the birth of Jesus isn’t some story of long ago – it happens here every single minute of every single hour of every day. It is happening now. And the journey of Advent isn’t limited to 7 or even 4 weeks – it is more like the Boy Scouts – we must always be prepared, or at least in the act of preparing – to have our hearts open to receive him anew – each and every day.
And by our willingness to receive him whom we await, by our returning to God in heart and mind and soul, we will be vessels of “the tender compassion of our God” whose light will shine through our own brokenness “on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.” Then, by God’s grace, we and all “the world will be guided “into the way of peace, “and ALL flesh shall see the salvation of God.”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here:
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/Rec-001-Sermon-December_5_2021.m4a [1] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-of-advent-3/commentary-on-luke-31-6-5
[2] Karoline Lewis.
[3] Homileticsonline.com
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
December 5, 2021
Advent 5 – Year C
1st Reading – Malachi 3:1-4
Canticle 16
2nd Reading – Philippians 1:3-11
Gospel – Luke 3:1-6
The post “All Shall See!” appeared first on Christ Episcopal Church.
November 21, 2021: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Okay, whenever I hear Psalm 126, I am immediately transported back to my Baptist childhood, when we would sing “Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves, we will come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.” And as a kid, I just wondered – why are we bringing in the sheets? When I was corrected and told it was sheaves, not sheets, I thought – what the heck is a sheave? Well… it’s from this verse in the psalm we heard today “Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed, will come again with joy, shouldering their sheaves.” So, in case anyone cares, sheaves are simply tall bales of the harvest wheat. Now you all can win the trivia night, should it ever come up.
And the whole reason this would be something we would consider – bringing in the sheaves with joy – is because we are grateful for the harvest – not just of wheat, but of life itself. This Sunday we enter into a week of thanksgiving to God for all of life. After a long pandemic absence, we may even be gathering with family and friends, to laugh, cry, and re-arrange the dishwasher the “right way,” after someone else has loaded it.
Yet there is much that troubles our hearts individually and collectively, and many may be finding it hard to be thankful. For some, this will be another year of isolation to protect themselves and others. There are some empty seats around tables across the world, with the pandemic taking the lives of over 769,000 people in the US alone – and still some people won’t get vaccinated or wear masks, so case numbers are rising once more. There was the news this week reminding us that racism is king in our country, where white, straight, men can openly wield weapons in our streets, killing people, and still be alive to stand trial – even getting acquitted – while unarmed people of color are murdered for the crime of being black or brown.
This year there has also been a lot for which to be thankful – for our health, if we have it. For the strength to have moved day by day through this difficult year and a half. For a return here in-person. For an economy that is robust and a job market that is finally rewarding laborers better. For COVID vaccines and children being able to get them. For our loved ones who are still with us.
So, in this time of thanksgiving, how then do we truly give thanks amidst the reality that there is despair, as well as joy, in our lives? Jesus gives us guidance in the gospel we heard today. Jesus says to his followers “I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear… But strive first for the kingdom of God and […] righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” And he uses the birds of the air, and the lilies of the field as examples of other parts of God’s creation that do not worry, but live simply by God’s grace.
It seems a bit odd to tell us not to worry about what we will eat for one who teaches us to pray by saying “give us this day our daily bread.” It also may seem really out of touch with the realities of life today. There are just so many demands on us – on our time, our attention, our focus. But to be clear – Jesus is not telling people not to work, or to join a nudist colony so you don’t have to wear clothes. Remember, he said that God “…knows that you need all these things.” Jesus is getting at something fundamental to our ability to live with gratitude, something we really need to understand if we are to get at the heart of what thanksgiving is…really, if we are to truly live as children of God.
I am reminded of a story from Zen Buddhism. “A man went to a Buddhist monastery for a silent retreat. After he finished, he felt better, calmer, stronger, but something was missing. The teacher said he could talk to one of the monks before he left.
The man thought for a while, then asked of the monk: “How do you find peace?” The monk replied: “I say yes. To everything that happens, I say yes.” When the man returned home, he was enlightened.”
Jesus, is teaching us now how to live an enlightened life. He is telling us that life will be filled with joy and sorrow, good and bad – for surely he knows that birds of the air will sometimes be caught by predators, and that lilies of the field will sometimes wilt from the heat of the sun, or be trampled on by passersby. Yet he reminds us that fear; anxiety, worry – they do not change what is or what may be. Fear is the enemy, the thing that will consume us, the thing that will destroy us from within.
This is not to say that awareness of our present circumstances has no place in our lives. It can be healthy when it alerts us to dangers that are present. But to dwell there is to be imprisoned. To stress about things that are out of our control is not only pointless, it can drain us of life. We are free when we are able to say “Yes” to everything that happens, good or bad, because in that moment, we stop being anxious, which is a form of pointless resistance.
Back when I was a kid, I trained and competed in Judo, and one of the lessons I never forgot is taught to every novice. It is not a particular move or hold. It is to yield. If an opponent is charging you, do not stand directly against them – rather step aside, and use their own force to your advantage. Yielding to what is coming at you isn’t a sign of weakness, but of strength. The same is true of a rip tide. I have been caught in them, and they are extremely dangerous and terrifying. Each year, many people on our own NJ shore die in rip tides. The way out of them is not to panic, and not to fight the current – you can’t – no matter how strong a swimmer you are. If you panic and fight, you will drown. The way out of them is to remain calm and yield to it – allowing it to carry you out, or to swim parallel to it – until you have broken free. It is to say Yes, to the rip tide.
Now, you might be wondering (and warning – geeky Star Trek reference coming) if that means that The Borg were right… resistance is futile. Well, yes…and no. Nobody, least of all Jesus, would tell you to just let a rip tide take you under, or stand there and allow an opponent to flip you from here to, well, Sunday, in a Judo match. There are things worth fighting for, worth resisting, even worth dying for – Jesus certainly made that clear.
So what then?
Like the monk in the story, Jesus is telling us to say “Yes!”
Say “Yes” to being alive, to seeing the world as a child of God, to resisting where it can make a difference, and yielding to the flow of life. Because there are serious things we need to be concerned about – racism, sexism, heterosexism, poverty, addiction, the destruction of our planet – these are what we can and must change. Resistance here is not futile – it is our call. For in all those who suffer, we see the face of Christ. We must never rest from our labors to serve others, most especially the oppressed, the forgotten, the marginalized, and the lost.
Jesus is calling us to say “Yes!” to whatever is our present circumstance. This is not to say that we don’t have real concerns that trouble us. Perhaps it is a struggle to pay the bills. Our parish itself has suffered financially in this pandemic. There may be loved ones we know who are ill, or perhaps we have heard a difficult diagnosis ourselves. These are the things that naturally lead us to be anxious about what may be. But remember that Jesus said “…can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” He isn’t mocking the very difficult times we face in our human life, but is warning us not to allow it to consume us – because we can’t solve it by worrying about it. We can’t block an opponent who comes at us with great force – we will be defeated. We can’t fight a rip tide by panicking and fighting it – we will drown.
In twelve step programs, the very familiar serenity prayer is a companion to all who walk the recovery journey.
“God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference.”
It is that last part that Jesus is telling his disciples and now us today –that God has already given us this wisdom – it is there in our hearts waiting for us to know it deeply within. For the key that unlocks that wisdom is in the knowledge of God’s unconditional love and grace. That is what it means to strive for the kingdom of God – it is to yield our lives to God – to free ourselves from the clutter of our human fear and embrace what it means to be God’s beloved children.
Then we can indeed be filled with gratitude – for then our gratitude will not be based on what we have, or do not have, what has, or has not happened. It will be based on the only thing that is absolutely sure in this life of ours – that we are deeply loved – just as we are.
And when we come to know that, we will come to live that life of “Yes.” We will be able to open our arms wide, take to the skies like a bird in the warmth of God’s love! We will feel the beautiful clothing of God’s grace that shines radiantly through us. We will be able to take up whatever sheaves that come our way – even if it is a mere strand of wheat – and offer it rejoicingly to God.
And we will truly know the meaning of thanksgiving, and be able to offer up to God these words of gratefulness by the Swedish diplomat, and former Secretary General of the United Nations, Dag Hammarskjöld,
“For all that has been, thank you. For all that shall be, yes!”
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here:
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/Rec-001-Sermon-November_21_2021.m4a The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
November 21, 2021
Advent 3 – Thanksgiving Day Lections
1st Reading – Joel 2:21-27
Psalm 126
2nd Reading – 1 Timothy 2:1-7
Gospel – Matthew 6:25-33
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November 14, 2021: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
We are now in Advent, the second week of Advent actually. Now, you may wonder if maybe you missed something, because it didn’t look like Advent last week. Well, last Sunday we celebrated the Feast of All Saints, transferred from November 1st, and as a principal feast, it took precedence.
Now, for those who haven’t been here before, the original Advent was seven weeks long, changed as late as the 7th century, but some orthodox communities still practice the longer Advent, and the return to it is spreading rapidly across our church and other denominations. And the standard lectionary, the cycle of scripture we use from week to week, gives us Advent readings for seven weeks too, so while we may not have acknowledged it before, the church was always in a 7 week Advent. We at Christ Church have leveraged the good liturgical work of the scholars at The Advent Project and have returned to the 7 week Advent since 2016. It allows us to set our hearts and minds on the coming of Christ, prior to the insanity that happens between Thanksgiving and Christmas. In other words, we refuse to allow the secular to define the sacred. More information on this is in your bulletin today, if you want to read it later.
Now, as many of you likely know, Advent also marks the beginning of our church year, and while we often think of this season as a time of preparing for the Christ Child, it always starts with destruction, fear, and darkness, not news about a baby born in Bethlehem. Advent always begins with the return of Christ, not his birth. And, all these things – Advent, destruction, and new birth – seem so appropriate for us in this time and in this place. So do the readings for today, which reflect all those themes.
Today we hear Hannah’s story, a narrative often overlooked. Hannah is an amazing woman of deep and abiding faith, who despite the trials of her life, trusted in God to deliver her…or really, allow her to deliver. While the patriarchal tone of our sacred texts focus more on her barrenness as a sign of her worth (not to mention the whole “worthless woman” bit), Hannah’s story has a powerful message for us today in this time and in this place.
Her faith, pregnancy, and rejoicing are part of our Advent experience as we remember the story of Mary, the mother of Jesus. Hannah’s song and Mary’s parallel one another, even while their individual journeys had differences. And, her longing for deliverance, her sense of emptiness within, her faith that God will lead her through, and her joy in this new birth resonates with us now. For we too have been through this long time of feeling empty, of praying for deliverance, of faith that God will lead us through, and of joy at the birth of a new time in our parish.
Through this time of pandemic, we have held on to the hope of being physically present with one another here and with our loved ones near and far. We have prayed for our health, and those of others. We rejoiced at the smallest of opportunities to grasp a moment of what once was normal…perhaps what once was taken for granted. And I suspect that, were we to put word to what is in our heart now, it might sound like Hannah’s song…and like that of the Magnificat, the song of Mary, which we will hear in a few weeks.
We have felt barren – longing for what we did not have – even while knowing that God would deliver us – would see us through this difficult time. So, perhaps Hannah’s life resonates with us more this year. And, maybe we also have a renewed understanding of what the disciples are hearing today in the gospel too.
Jesus, after doing some smack downs of the elite inside the temple is now outside of it with his disciples. Now, you gotta understand that the temple in Jerusalem was no small building, but an enormous and beautiful structure – beyond anything these backwater disciples had ever seen. They were admiring the grandeur of it all – the stones and all the magnificence of the whole thing as they stood in its shadow.
Jesus tells them that all that they are admiring will be destroyed – “not one stone will be left here upon another.” Now, imagine how that must have sounded to them? Even though the first temple had indeed been destroyed, that was centuries earlier – as far from their experience as Martin Luther and The Reformation is to ours. Now they will later realize the truth of what Jesus was saying, that he was speaking about his crucifixion and resurrection. Yet imagine how that must have sounded to them, this idea about the stones of this glorious temple being thrown down.
Then, imagine too how that sounded to those living at the time this gospel was written – when that temple was indeed a pile of rocks, with only the Western Wall remaining. To the first disciples, it must have seemed impossible, but to those earliest listeners of this gospel, it was their reality. They had experienced it – both the temple, and the crucifixion. And the disciples with Jesus, and those standing in the rubble of the temple, would want to know something very important – where then would God be found?
Where is God if not in the temple?
Because in that time, for the Jewish people – and all of them – Jesus and his followers – all were Jewish – for them God was found in the temple – in God’s house. If that house was destroyed – what then? Was God destroyed too?
We can only imagine how this must have felt to the disciples, and to those who experienced it in around 68-70 CE, but we do have some sense of it, don’t we?
Like those amidst the temple ruins, we too had our sense of security shattered. We also had to be reminded about who we are and who our God is, as those long ago did when the temple was destroyed. While our church was not destroyed physically, we were unable to come within these walls. How many times did we hear people lament the “closing” of their church during the pandemic? Yet like those earliest disciples, we learned that our faith, our Jesus, could never be contained within these walls, any more than he could be contained within the tomb – thanks be to God! We realized that our church was open – always – even when we were not able to be here physically.
We never closed!
Yet, while the physical stones of this temple, our church, were left relatively unharmed, our parish has emerged from this time deeply wounded. We now stand amidst the destruction this pandemic has wreaked on our parish financially, and we will have much rebuilding to do.
Thankfully it is Advent, and as I noted earlier, Advent is the beginning of the church year – a time of renewal, of expectancy, of hope, of promise, and perhaps even resolution making as a people of God. It is a perfect time for us to begin the next part of our journey together, a journey that will be, as it has always been, made possible by God, by the presence of Christ with us, and by the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
Life is returning to this nave, as it came to Hannah’s womb, and what is given birth here will be life changing for us, and for all that we serve in Christ’s name to be sure. Out of the rubble of this pandemic, we have discovered that our faith is not bound within a building, but within our hearts. So, we will move forward together – one step at a time, one stone at a time, one prayerful song at a time – until our work is done. For we have been here before, at a crossroads of death and new life, and we know that by God’s grace, new birth is just around the corner for us. Resurrection is always possible for followers of Jesus.
And so today, as I will close this sermon with these words that ended my very first sermon as your Rector back in January of 2014 on our Annual Meeting Sunday, because we were at a crossroads then too, and so they are so very true for us now:
“…Today we begin a new era – a new journey of priest and parish, and with it all the wonderful changes that we will experience together as we seek and follow Christ. After this worship service, we will gather to […for] our Annual Meeting – an opportunity to hear about the year past and our plans for the future.
So in the words of Jesus, “come and see.”
Come and see where we have been.
Come and see where we are.
Come and see where the Holy Spirit may be calling us next.
Come and see…and be changed.”
Amen.”
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here:
Sermon Podcast
https://christchurchepiscopal.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/Rec-001-Sermon-November_14_2021.m4a The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
November 14, 2021
Advent 2
1st Reading – 1 Samuel 1:4-20
2nd Reading – Samuel 2:1-10
3rd Reading – Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
Gospel – Mark 13:1-8
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