Jamie Parsley's Blog, page 13

Fr. Jamie Parsley/ Marjorie Schlossman / Art & P...

 

Fr. Jamie Parsley/ Marjorie Schlossman  /  

Art  & Poetry show

 

Celebrating the  publicationof 

Echo

Poems by

JAMIE PARSLEY

 Paintings by

MARJORIE SCHLOSSMAN

 

 

Saturday October 14, 2023

1:00—7:00 p.m.

with talks at 1:30, 3:00 & 6:00

 

ROBERTS STREET CHAPEL

333 Roberts Street North

Fargo, ND

 

19 Pentecost

 

Matthew 21.33-46

 

October8, 2023

 

+ I’m sure you’ve noticed, but there isa lot of zealous people out there, especially as we are gearing up for another electionyear.

 

There is very little middle ground anymore.

 

There is no end of people giving veryimpassioned opinions.

 

Just take a quick perusal of Facebook. Orthe News. Or outside your window.

 

Or look at what just happened in Israelyesterday.

 

And, for the most part, being zealousfor something is not a bad thing by any means.

 

I would rather have someone zealous foran opinion with which I might not agree than know someone lackluster.

 

At least the discussion will beinteresting.

 

In fact, this past Wednesday was thefeast day of one of the truly great zealots for Christ and for the Church, noneother than the great St. Francis of Assisi.

 

Francis was a fascinating man, andtruly one of the most favorite saints in the Church.

 

He is known as an animal lover, whichis why we are blessing our pets on this day.

 

He was known as a lover of peace.

 

He has the reputation of a kind andgentle person.

 

But, Francis was a zealot in his heartof hearts.

 

He was passionate in his love for God,in this following of Jesus, in his care for the poor.

 

Some—including his own family—thoughthe was a fanatic.

 

And maybe he was.

 

He heard the voice of Jesus speak tohim from a crucifix and tell him:
“Rebuild my Church!”

 

Which he did.

 

Both literally and figuratively.

 

But that passionate love he had for Godand for others is something we still are celebrating in the Church 797 yearsafter his death.

 

So, this morning, I am going to ask youa very important question:

 

What are you zealous for?

 

For what do you have real zeal?

 

Will anyone be talking about your zeal797 years from now?

 

I know. Yes, some of us have real zealfor sports.

 

And certainly, here at St. Stephen’s, Iknow there is a lot of zealousness for political opinion and causes.

 

As do I.

 

I am very zealous.

 

I certainly am zealous politically, andtheologically, and spiritually, and poetically.

 

You all know that.

 

If I have an opinion on something,you’ll probably know it in no time at all, even if you might not agree with it.

 

(Have I told you lately that I’m avegan?)

 

Trust me, I am full of zeal!!

 

But zeal is a word we don’t use toooften anymore.

 

And, at least in this part of thecountry, we are, for the most part, uncomfortable with zeal.

 

Zeal equals emotion—or should we sayover-emotion?—for us.

 

And certainly zeal involves anemotional attachment to something.

 

Now, as I said, it is not a bad thingby any means to be zealous.

 

It’s good to be challenged occasionally(respectfully, of course).

 

It keeps us on our toes.

 

And it humbles us.

 

Well, this morning we definitely haveone of those parables that challenges us, that keeps us on our toes.

 

It may even make us a bit angry andthat definitely forces us to look more closely at ourselves.

 

Let’s face it, it’s a violent story wehear Jesus tell us today.

 

These bad tenants are so devious theyare willing to kill to get what they want.

 

And in the end, their violence isturned back upon them.

 

It’s not a warm, fuzzy story that wecan take with us and hold close to our hearts.

 

The Church over the years has certainlystruggled with this parable because it can be so challenging.

 

At face value, the story can probablybe pretty easily interpreted in this way: The Vineyard owner of course symbolicof God.

 

The Vineyard owner’s son of Jesus.

 

The Vineyard is symbolic of theKingdom.

 

And the workers in the vineyard whokill the son are symbolic of the religious leaders who will kill Jesus.

 

From this view, we can see the story asa prediction of Jesus’ murder.

 

But there is another interpretation ofthis story that isn’t so neat and clean and finely put-together.

 

It is in fact an uncomfortableinterpretation of this parable.

 

As we hear it, we do find ourselvesshaken a bit.

 

It isn’t a story that we want toemulate.

 

I HOPE none of us want to emulate it.

 

But again, Jesus DOES twist this storyaround for us.

 

The ones we no doubt find ourselvesrelating to are not the Vineyard owner or the Vineyard owner’s son, but, infact, the vineyard workers.

 

We relate to them not because we havemurderous intentions in our heart. Not because we are inherently bad.

 

But because we sometimes can be just asresolute.

 

We can sometimes be just that zealous.

 

We sometimes will stop at nothing toget what we want.

 

We are sometimes so full of zeal forsomething that we might occasionally ride roughshod over others.

 

And when we do so, we find that we arenot bringing the Kingdom of God about in our midst.

 

Zeal can be a good thing.

 

We should be full of zeal for God andGod’s Kingdom.

 

We too should stop at nothing to gainthe Kingdom of God.

 

But zeal taken too far undoes the goodwe hoped to bring about.

 

The most frightening aspect of ourGospel story is the fact that Jesus tells us that the kingdom can be taken awayfrom us.

 

It can be given to others.

 

Our zeal for the kingdom has a lot todo with what we gain and what we lose.

 

Our zeal to make this kingdom a realityin our world is what makes real and positive change in this world.

 

At the same time, zeal can be a veryslippery slope.

 

It can also make us zealots.

 

It can make us fanatics.

 

And this world is too full of fanatics.

 

There are plenty of good examples offanatics in this world right now, from the far right Evangelicals to those poorpeople in North Korea who are held hostage to a brain-washed ideology.   

 

This world is too full of people whohave taken their religion so seriously that they have actually lost touch withit.

 

This story we hear Jesus today tell usteaches us a lesson about taking our zeal too far.

 

If we become violent in our zeal, weneed to expect violence in return.

 

And certainly this is probably the mostdifficult part of this parable for most of us.

 

For those of us who consider ourselvespeace-loving, nonviolent Christians—and we all should be that kind of aChristian—we cringe when we hear stories of violence in the scriptures.

 

But violence like the kind we hear intoday’s parable, or anywhere else in scriptures, should not just be thrown outbecause we find it uncomfortable.

 

It should not be discarded as uselessjust because we are made uncomfortable by it.

 

As I have said, again and again, it isnot just about any ONE of us, as individuals.

 

It is about us as a whole.

 

If we look at the kind of violence wefind in the Scriptures and use it metaphorically, it could actually be quiteuseful for us.

 

If we take some of those storiesmetaphorically, they actually speak to us on a deeper level.

 

If we take the parable of the vineyardworkers and apply it honestly to ourselves, we find it does speak to us in avery clear  way.

 

Our zeal for the kingdom of God shoulddrive us.

 

It should move us and motivate us.

 

We should be empowered to bring the Kingdominto our midst.

 

But it should not make us into the badvineyard workers.

 

It should not make into the chiefpriests and Pharisees who knew, full well, that they were the bad vineyardworkers.

 

A story like this helps us to keep ourzeal centered perfectly on God, and not on all the little nitpicky, peripheralstuff.

 

A story like this prevents us,hopefully, from becoming mindless zealots.

 

What it does allow and commend ispassion.

 

What it does tell us is that we shouldbe excited for the Kingdom.

 

True zeal makes us uncomfortable, yes.

 

It makes us restless.

 

It frustrates us.

 

True zeal also energizes us and makesus want to work until we catch a glimpse of that Kingdom in our midst.

 

This is what Jesus is telling us againand again.

 

He is telling us in these parables thatthe Kingdom of God isn’t just some sweet, cloud-filled place in the next world.

 

He is telling is, very clearly, that isit not just about any ONE of us.

 

It is not about our own personalagendas.

 

The Kingdom of God is right here, inour midst.

 

And the foundation of that kingdom, thegateway of that Kingdom, the conduit of that Kingdom is always love.

 

Love of God, love of neighbor, healthylove of self.

 

This is what Jesus preached. That isthe path Jesus is leading us on.

 

This is the path we walk as we followafter him.

 

And it is a path on which we should beoverjoyed to be walking.

 

So, let us follow this path of Jesuswith true and holy zeal.

 

Let us set out to do the work we haveto do as workers in the vineyard with love in our heart and love in ouractions.

 

And as we do, we will echo the words weheard in today’s Gospel:

 

“This is what the Lord is doing; it isamazing in our eyes.”

 

Let us pray.

 

Holy God, give us true zeal for yourKingdom. Instill in us a fire that will burn brightly to lighten our path sothat we may do what we must do as we follow your Son, Jesus, in whose name wepray. Amen.

 

 

 

18 Pentecost

 

October 1, 2023

 

Ezekiel 18.1-4;25-32; Matthew 21.23-32

 

+ Anyone who knows me for any timeknows how I LOVE cemeteries.

 

I know.

 

It’s weird.

 

It’s morbid.

 

But they sort of obsess me to someextent.

 

I love to think about all the storiescontained in a cemetery—all the stories that are untold, all the stories thatare just mysteries.

 

I love also how each cemetery is uniquein its own way.

 

Each has its own characters, its own“feel.”

 

Of course, we now have our own memorialgarden here at St. Stephen’s, which also is unique in its way.

 

But, what few of us know is that, justa few blocks north of this church, there are two cemeteries.

 

Unless you actually get out of your carand walk into the actual cemeteries you wouldn’t even know they’re there.

 

Some of us will go up there and explorethose cemeteries this afternoon.

 

If you do, you’ll see, in each, a largeboulder.

 

In one cemetery the boulder is inscribedCOUNTY CEMETERY #1.

 

The one is located at the end of ElmStreet.

 

Where the road forks, one to theCountry Club and the other to the former Trollwood, right there, on the leftfork toward Trollwood, is the cemetery.

 

You’ve probably driven by it countlesstimes and never had a clue.

 

County Cemetery #2 is located on theother side of the old Trollwood, just within sight of where the old main stagestood.

 

Back along the bend in the Red River,there is a stretch of grass and another boulder.

 

This one says COUNTY CEMETERY #2.

 

A third County Cemetery was located onnorth Broadway.

 

In 1984, those graves were moved toSpringvale Cemetery, over by Holy Cross Cemetery, near the airport, becausethey were falling into the Red River through erosion.

 

One of my great-uncles, who died in1948, is actually buried in that cemetery.

 

For the most part, many of the gravesin Springvale are marked.

 

But in the first two cemeteries, thereare no markers at all.

 

No individual gravestones mark thegraves of the people buried in the first two cemeteries.

 

In fact, if you walked into them, youwould have to force your mind to even accept the fact that it is a cemetery.

 

But there are hundreds of people buriedin those graveyards. Hundreds.

 

These are the forgotten.

 

These were Fargo’s hidden shame.

 

Beginning 1899 and going through the1940s, this where the prostitutes, the gamblers, the robbers were buried.

 

105 years ago, in the Fall of 1918, theSpanish Flu hit the world hard, and Fargo was definitely not spared.

 

Many of the unclaimed victims who diedin the epidemic were buried in the County Cemetery #1.

 

This is also where all the unwantedbabies were buried.

 

There are lots of stories of unwantedbabies being fished out of the Red River in those days.

 

This is where the bodies of thoseunnamed babies were buried.

 

And when one walks in those paupercemeteries, one must remind themselves of those words we hear from Jesus thismorning in our Gospel reading.

 

He tells us, “Truly I tell you, the taxcollectors and the prostitutes are going into the Kingdom of God ahead of you.”

 

What?!? That’s not what we want tohear!

 

Last week in my sermon I quoted thegreat Reginald Fuller, who said:

 

“[This] is what God is doing in Jesus’ministry—giving the tax collectors and prostitutes an equal share with therighteous in the kingdom.”

 

That—and those words of Jesus we heardin this morning’s Gospel reading—are shocking statements for most of us.

 

And they should be.

 

It should shock us and shake us to ourcore.

 

I think that is exactly what Jesusintended when he said it.

 

It’s a huge statement for Jesus tomake.

 

Partly it is because, things haven’tchanged all that much.

 

OK. Yes, maybe we don’t view taxcollectors and prostitutes in the same way people in Jesus’ day did.

 

Jesus uses these two examples as primeexamples of the “unclean” in our midst—those who are ritually unclean accordingthe Judaic law.

 

We, of course, have our own versions of“unclean” in our own society.

 

They are the ones in our society thatwe tend to forget about and purposely ignore.

 

But we really should give them concern.

 

And I don’t meant from a judgmentalpoint of view.

 

I mean, we should actually look and seeall those marginalized people we ourselves may consider “unclean” by our ownstandards our compassion.

 

We should be praying for them often.

 

And we should DO something for them.

 

Because to be viewed as “unclean” inany society—even now— is a death knell.

 

It is a life of isolation and rebuke.

 

It is a life of being ostracized.

 

The unclean are the ones who have livedon the fringes of society.

 

They are the ones who have lived in theshadows of our respectable societies.

 

The “unclean” of our own society oftenlive desperate, secret lives.

 

And much of what they’ve have to gothrough in their lives is known only to God.

 

And they need us and our prayers.

 

They need our help.

 

They need our compassion.

 

They definitely don’t need ourjudgment.

 

As uncomfortable as it is for us toconfront them and think about them—or to BE them—that is exactly what Jesus istelling us we must do.

 

Because by going there in our thoughts,in our prayers, in our ministries, we are going where Jesus went.

 

We are coming alongside people who needour presence, our prayers, our ministries.

 

 And rather than shunning them, we need to seethem as God sees them.

 

We see them as truly loved children ofGod, as fellow humans on this haphazard, uncertain journey we are all ontogether.

 

And, more importantly, we see in themourselves.

 

Because some of them ARE us.

 

Some of us here have been shunned andexcluded and turned away.

 

By us. By our Church. By ourgovernment. By our society.

 

The point of this morning’s Gospel isthis: the Kingdom of God is not what we think it is.

 

It is not made up of just people likeus.

 

It is not some exclusive country clubin the sky.

 

(Give thanks to God that it is NOT someexclusive country club in the sky!)

 

And it is certainly not made up of abunch of  Christians who have done allthe right things and condemned all the “correct” sins and sinners.

 

It is, in fact, going to be made uppeople who maybe never go to church.

 

It will be made up of those people wemight not even notice.

 

It will be made up of those people whoare invisible to us.

 

It will be made up of the people wedon’t give a second thought to.

 

As I said, in our society today we haveour own tax collectors, our own “unclean.”.

 

They are the welfare cases.

 

They are the homeless.

 

They are alcoholics and the drug oropioid addicts and the drug dealers.

 

Theya re the sex workers.

 

They are the ones who have beenexploited and trafficked and used.

 

They are the lost among us, they arethe ones who are trapped in their own sadness and their own loneliness.

 

They are the ones we, good Christiansthat we are, have worked all our lives not to be.

 

This is what the Kingdom of heaven isgoing to be like.

 

It will filled with the people who lookup at us from their marginalized place in this society.

 

It is the ones who today are peekingout at us from the curtains of their isolation and their loneliness.

 

They are the ones who, in their quietagony, watch as we drive out of sight from them.

 

They are the ones who are on the outside looking in.

 

They are the inheritors of the kingdomof God and if we think they are not, then we are not listening to what Jesus issaying to us.

 

When we think about those countycemeteries just a few blocks north of here, we need to realize that had Jesuslived in Fargo, had he lived 1900 years later and had died the disgracefuldeath he died, that is where he would’ve ended up.

 

He would have ended up in an unmarkedgrave in a back field, on the very physical fringes of our city.

 

In fact, he is there.

 

He is wherever the inheritors of his God’skingdom are.

 

Those cemeteries for me are potentreminders of who inherits.

 

They are potent reminders to me of whoreceives true glory in the end.

 

It is these—the forgotten ones, theones whom only God knows—who are in glory at this moment. 

 

Of course, we too are the inheritors ofthe Kingdom, especially when we love fully and completely.

 

We too are the inheritors when wefollow those words of Jesus and strive to live out and do what he commands.

 

We too are the inheritors when we openour eyes and our minds and our hearts to those around us, whom no one else seesor loves.

 

So, let us truly be inheritors of theKingdom of God.

 

Let us love fully and completely asJesus commands.

 

Let us love our God.

 

Let us love all those people who comeinto our lives.

 

Let us look around at those people whoshare this world with us.

 

And let us never cast a blind eye onanyone.

 

Let us do as God speaks to us thismorning through the prophet Ezekiel: Let us “turn, then, and live.”

 

Let us pray.

 

Holy God, help us to not with the eyesof the world, but with the eyes of those who are destined for your Kingdom. Inlooking, may we truly see those whom you love and cherish. And let us reach outand save them as your Son, Jesus, has commanded us to do; it is in his Namethat we pray. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

17 Pentecost

 

September 24, 2023

Jonah 3.10-4.11; Matthew 20. 1-16

 

+ I’ve been pretty open about this inmy own life, but, as some of you know, I struggle with anxiety.

 

Sometimes my anxiety is a verydifficult thing in my life.

 

For years, I thought I had depression.

 

But only a few years ago, I found outthat it was anxiety I had.

 

Anxiety is an insidious thing!

 

For me, it often manifests itself witha real sense of dread, that settles into my chest or in my gut, and no matterhow hard I try, I just cannot shake it.

 

Or it sometimes manifests as a sense thatevery one dislikes me.

 

Essentially, anxiety feels like a darkpall covers everything, and everything has a razor-sharp edge.

 

And I know I am not alone here at St.Stephen’s.

 

I know others also suffer from this.

 

And for any of us who have anxiety, weno doubt found ourselves relating to poor Jonah in our reading from the Hebrewscriptures today.

 

Poor Jonah!

 

One moment it seems like God isblessing him.

 

The next minute it seems like God hascursed him.

 

Jonah is mad that God changed God’s mind,that the people Jonah thought should be punished were not.

 

And then what happens, the tree thatGod gave him with shade was killed by the worm God sent to kill the tree.

 

The sun scalded him and the heat burnedhim.

 

And Jonah, stuck in this anxious,stubborn ways, is forced to live with a world in which everything seems to turnagainst him.

 

The gist of this story is that anxiousJonah, stuck in his anxious way, is upset over the fact that God is beingunfair.

 

The people who Jonah feels should bepunished are not, while Jonah is being punished.

 

And he’s so angry about it, he is so caughtup in his anxiety, that he simply wants to die.

 

I hate to admit this, but I’ve beenthere.

 

I’ve been Jonah in my life.

 

I have raged at God many times overwhat I perceive to be an unfairness in this world.

 

And I know: that’s not a very adultthing to say.

 

Any of us who have made it to adulthoodhave learned, by now, that none of it is fair.

 

One of the biggest things we learn asadults is that life is not fair.

 

And no one promised us that it wouldbe.

 

Still, we do still cling to thatbelief.

 

Things should be fair.

 

A perfect world would be a fair world.

 

And when it comes to our relationshipwith God, fairness takes on even more of a meaning.

 

God should be fair, we think.

 

And it seems that when God is not fair,what do we do?

 

We rage.

 

We get angry.

 

God should be on our side on this one.

 

Right?

 

But, it seems, not always is God on ourside on some things.

 

The scale of fairness is not alwaystipped in our favor.

 

To put it in the context of our Gospelreading today, I often feel like one of the workers who has been working fromthe beginning of the work day.

 

The parable Jesus tells us this morningis, of course, not just a story about vineyard workers.

 

The story really, for us anyway, is allabout that sense of unfairness.

 

 If you’re anything like me, when you heartoday’s Gospel—and you’re honest with yourself—you probably think: “I agreewith the workers who have been working all day: It just isn’t fair that theseworkers hired later should get the same wages.”

 

It’s not fair that the worker who onlyworks a few hours makes the same wages as one who has worked all day.

 

Few of us, in our own jobs, would standfor it.

 

We too would whine and complain.

 

We would strike out. 

 

But the fact is: life is not fair.

 

Each of here this morning has beendealt raw deals in our lives at one point or another.

 

We have all known what it’s like to notget the fair deal.

 

We all have felt a sense of unfairnessover the raw deals of this life.

 

But, as much as we complain about it,as much as make a big deal of it, we are going to find unfairness in this life.

 

The story of the parable is thateveryone—no matter how long they’ve been laboring—gets an equal share.

 

And in Jesus’ ministry, that’s exactlywhat happens as well.

 

As one of my personal theologicalheroes, the great Reginald Fuller, once said of this parable: “[This] is whatGod is doing in Jesus’ ministry—giving the tax collectors and prostitutes anequal share with the righteous in the kingdom.”

 

The marginalized, the maligned, thesocial outcast—the least of these—all of them are granted an equal share.

 

To me, that sounds like the ministry weare all called to do as followers of Jesus.

 

To be a follower of Jesus is to striveto make sure that everyone gets a fair deal, even when we ourselves might notbe getting the fair deal.

 

And there’s the rub.

 

There’s the key.

 

Being a follower of Jesus meansstriving to make sure that all of us on this side of the “veil” get an equalshare of the Kingdom of God, even if we ourselves might not sometimes.

 

That is what we do as followers ofJesus and that is what we need to strive to continue to do.

 

But…it’s more than just striving for anequal share for others.

 

It also means not doing some things aswell.

 

What do we feel when we are treatedunfairly?

 

Jealousy?

 

Bitterness?

 

Anger?

 

Being a follower of Jesus means notletting jealousy and bitterness win out.

 

Because let me tell you: there is a LOTof anger and bitterness out there right now.

 

And that’s probably what we’re going tofeel when others get a good deal and we don’t.

 

Jealousy and envy are horriblycorrosive emotions.

 

They eat and eat away at us until theymakes us bitter and angry.

 

And jealousy is simply not somethingfollowers of Jesus should be harboring in their hearts.

 

Because jealousy can also lead us intoa place in which we are not striving for the Kingdom.

 

Those of us who are followers of Jesusare striving, always, again and again, to do the “right thing.”

 

But when we do, and when we realizethat others are not and yet they are still reaping the rewards, we no doubt aregoing to feel a bit jealous.

 

We, although few of us would admit it,are often, let’s face it, the “righteous” ones.

 

We the ones following the rules, we arethe ones striving to live our lives as “good” Christians.

 

We fast, we say our prayers faithfully,we tithe, we follow the rules, we do what we are supposed to do as goodChristians.

 

Striving for the equal share forpeople, means not allowing ourselves to get frustrated over the fact that thosepeople who do not do those things—especially those people whom we think don’tfollow the rules at all, those people who aren’t “righteous” by ourstandards—also receive an equal share.

 

It means not obsessing over the factthat, “It’s not fair.”

 

Even when it is unfair.

 

Because when we do those things, wemust ask ourselves a very important question (a question I ask a lot):

 

Why do we do what we do as Christians?

 

Do we do what we do so we can callourselves “righteous?”

 

So we can feel morally superior toothers?

 

Do we do what we do as Christiansbecause we believe we’re going to get some reward in the next life?

 

Do we do what do because we think Godis in heaven keeping track of all our good deeds like some celestial SantaClaus?

 

Do we do what do simply because wethink we will get something in return?

 

Do we do what we do so we can feel goodabout ourselves at the end of the day?

 

Or do we do what we do because doing somakes this world a better place?

 

This is the real key to Jesus’ messageto us.

 

Constantly, Jesus is pushing us andchallenging us to be a conduit.

 

He is trying to convince us that beinga Christian means being a conduit for the Kingdom of God and all the very goodthings that Kingdom represents.

 

In us, the Kingdom breaks through.

 

Without us, it simply will not.

 

We do what we do as Christians becausewhatever we do is a way in which the barriers that separate us here from Godand God’s world is lifted for a brief moment when we do what Jesus tells us todo.

 

When we live out the Law of loving Godand loving our neighbor as ourselves, the “veil” is lifted and when it islifted, the Kingdom comes flooding into our lives.

 

It does not matter in the least howlong we labor in allowing this divine flood to happen.

 

The amount of time we put into itdoesn’t matter in the least to God, because God’s time is not our time.

 

Rather, we simply must do what we arecalled to do when we are called to do it.

 

Jesus came to bring an equal share to aworld that is often a horribly unfair place.

 

And his command to us is that we alsomust strive to bring an equal share to this unequal world.

 

And that is what we’re doing asfollowers of Jesus.

 

As we follow Jesus, we do so knowingthat we are striving to bring about an equal share in a world that is oftenunfair.

 

We do so, knowing that we are sometimesswimming against the tide.

 

We do so, feeling at times, as thoughwe’re set up to fail.

 

We do so feeling, at times, overwhelmedwith the unfairness of it all.

 

And just when we think the unfairnessof this world has won out—in that moment—that holy moment—the Kingdom of Godalways breaks through to us.

 

And in that moment, we are the ones whoare able to be the conduit through which the God comes.

 

So, let us continue to do what we aredoing as followers of Jesus.

 

Let us strive to do even better.

 

In everything we do, let us attempt tolift that veil in our lives and by doing so, let us be the conduit throughwhich the Kingdom of God will flood into this unfair world.

 

And let us do together what Jesus iscalling us to do in this world

 

Let us love—fully and completely.

 

Let us love our God, let us love ourselves and let us neighbors as ourselves.

 

As we all know, it’s important to “come”here and share the Word and the Eucharist on Sundays.

 

But we also know that what we sharehere motivates us to go out into the world and actually “do” our faith.

 

As followers of Jesus, we are full ofhope—a hope given to us by a God who knows our future and who wants only goodfor us—God who really is a fair God!

 

Let us go forth with that hope and witha true sense of joy that we are doing what we can to make that future glorious.

 

Let us pray.

 

Holy God, you call us in our followingof your son to do the right thing and strive for fairness and equality in thisworld; help us to do just that, so that by doing so, we may be the conduitsthrough which your love comes forth into this world; we ask this in Jesus’Name. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

16 Pentecost

 

September 17,2023

 

Matthew18.21-35

 

+ I am going to ask you a question this morning.

 

Do you have any “frienemies?”

 

I’m not saying murderers or criminals or Nazis.

 

I mean, do you have people who aren't quite friends but also not quite enemies?

 

I think we all do.

 

I know I do.

 

And, I have to admit, sometimes they drive me crazy.

 

 

I want to like them.

 

But sometimes, it’s really hard.

 

And sometimes—sometimes!—I just don’t want to have anything to dowith them.

 

I want to distance myself from them and be done with them.

 

Those people who claim to be friends, but who hurt us, sometimesdo so unintentionally.

 

Sometimes I seem to have an inordinate amount of them in my lifeat times.

 

So, of course, those are the people who come to mind when I readour Gospel reading for today.

 

It is not my “enemies” I think of when I hear the Gospel.

 

It’s my “bad” friends or “frienemies.”

 

In our Gospel reading, we find Jesus challenging us on this issue.

 

He is telling us, once again, maybe something we don’t want tohear.

 

Today we find Jesus laying it very clearly on the line.

Peter has asked how many times he should forgive. “Seven times?” he wonders.

But Jesus says,

“Not seventimes, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.”

In other words, we must forgive those who wrong us, again and again.

Oh, yeah, he also says that if we don’t forgive the sins ofothers, our own sins won’t be forgiven.

I’ll get into that in a minute.

But back to this whole forgiving seventy-seven times:

It has taken me a long time to learn the power of this radicalkind of forgiveness.

 

And it has not been easy for me!

 

But, the problem here is that, as hard it is for me with my badfriends and with this radical forgiveness, I have to remember something veryimportant.

 

I have been, at times, a bad friend to someone.

 

I have been a “frienemy.”

 

Probably to too many people.

 

I am the person who sometimes has caused issues.

 

I am the person that has caused those people distance themselvesfrom me in turn.

 

And I have to own that.

 

I have to face the fact that what I do matters to others and toGod.

 

Being a jerk to people has consequences.

 

And, I realize, on top of all that, I still retain the wrongs thatI felt had been done to me and I cannot sometimes get around what had been done to me.

 

I harbor sometimes real anger at people—and not righteous anger,you know, like toward Nazis.

 

Petty, selfish anger.

 

And all this causes me to be in a state of almost constant war andconflict with those people, whether they are aware of it or not (most of themare not).

 

I am not proud to admit any of this—to myself or to anyone else.

 

But, I am a fallible human being, like everyone else here thismorning.

All this led me to another sobering thought.

A few weeks ago I preached about being a life-long pacifist.

Being a pacifist is something I am very proud of in my life. 

My pacifism, at least at this point in my life, is anchoredsquarely in our Baptismal Covenant in which we promise, with God’s help, to“strive for justice and peace among all people.”

I have tried very hard to live that out in my life—all my life.

I have been very quick to speak out and protest wars andinvasions.

I have no problem standing up and saying “no” to wars that happen“over there.”

But to be a true pacifist, to be a true seeker after peace, we allmust cultivate peace in our midst.

When we say that we will “strive for justice and peace among allpeople,” that means us individually as well.

We must be peaceful in what we do and say.

And peace begins with respect for others.

Peace begins with responding to God’s commandment to love othersas we love ourselves.

Which bring sus to that whole thing Jesus about our own sins notbeing forgiven if we don’t forgive others “from the heart.”

What’s going on with that?

Is Jesus telling us that God doesn’t forgive us?

I thought God loved us.

Well, what I think Jesus is really getting at is that ourrelationship with God is hindered if we have barriers in that relationship.

And one of the barriers in our relationship with God is uscarrying around anger and frustration and a refusal to forgive others.

 And when we do that, whenwe carry around our anger, our refusal to forgive, we are at war.

Now, you might say “war” is a strong word here.

But let me tell you, it sure ain’t peace!

I hate to admit it, but I am often at war with myself.

And that war often either stems from or overflows into myrelationships and the world around me.

If we are truly going to be seekers after peace, we must start bymaking peace with ourselves.

We must actually forgive—in some way—those who have wronged us.

If not, we lose.

Not the person we’re mad at.

More often than not, they could care less that we’re mad at them.

They’re not losing sleep over the wrongs they’ve done to us.

They’re not feeling guilt over it.

And that drives us crazier than anything!

So, we are the ones in turmoil over what they have done to us.

We can’t make anyone feel anything.

And we can’t make anyone apologize to us or make right the wrongsthey have doen to us.

We can’t control others.

But we can control ourselves and how we respond to what others doto us.

I use a phrase often: when someone wrongs us and we refuse toforgive, we are just letting them live rent-free in our heads.

We are allowing them to live there.

And trust me they do.

And when someone wrongs us and we carry around all that pain andsuffering, we are the ones who suffer.

Deeply.

How are we going to have any meaningful, loving relationship withGod or others, or ourselves, when we are carrying all of these terrible,negative things within us?

We can’t.

We must forgive.

Even when it hurts.

Even when we really don’t want to.

Even when doing so is an admission of defeat.

But, it isn’t defeat.

It’s ultimate victory.

I forgive, and by doing so, I evict those people from residing inmy mind.

It doesn’t undo the wrongs.

It doesn’t even make everything right all the time.

But it does allow me to say I have no hindrance between them andGod and myself.

So, you might be saying, I get it, Father Jamie.

I can do that.

But. . .

That’s not all.

It’s not only about forgiving others.

It’s also about forgiving one very important person in ourlives—probably the most important in our lives—outside of God of course.

Our selves.

We must also learn to forgive ourselves seventy times seven.

We must learn to forgive ourselves too.

Because let me tell you, not forgiving ourselves also is ahindrance in our relationship with God and others.

Seeing ourselves as God’s own beloved in this world is often thehardest thing of all.

We tend to hate ourselves, or despise ourselves more than we hateor despise others.

So, we must strive for justice and peace among all people, evenourselves.

We must respect the dignity of every human being, even our ownbeing.

How do we do that?

Well, as followers of Jesus we must actually grantforgiveness to those who have wronged us in whatever way.

That is what all of us, as baptized Christians, are called to do.

In a practical way, we can just simply their name and say, “So andso, child of God, beloved of God, I forgive you.”

And mean it.

Deeply.

And when we do, we are truly freed.

Sometimes, if we are fortunate, we may be able to forgive some ofthese people to their face.

More often than not, we never get that chance.

On very rare occasions, those people will come to us in repentanceasking for forgiveness.

But more often than not, they will never ask for our forgiveness.

And they probably will not change their behavior.

Which brings me to one side note:

Forgiveness does not equal taking abuse from others.

We can forgive what people have done, but we are not called tojust go back to old ways of abuse.

If someone has abused us physically or emotionally orpsychologically, we must protect ourselves and not allow that behavior tocontinue.

But we can still forgive even those people.

Forgiving does not mean forgetting.

But forgiving does mean that when we forgive them—they areforgiven.

It is just that powerful!

When we forgive, those wrongs done against us are forgiven.

What we loose on earth—what we let go of, what we forgive onearth—is truly loosed in heaven.

And when we realize that, we then must move on.

We must allow true peace—that peace that we, as baptizedChristians, strive for—we must allow that peace to settle into our hearts anduproot any lingering anger or frustration that still exists there.

We must allow that peace to finish the job of forgiveness.

This is what it means to forgive.

This is what it means to forgive again and again—evenseventy-seven times, or a hundred and seventy-seven times, or seven hundred andseventy-seven times.

And, I stress, we must forgive ourselves too!

We sometimes have to forgive ourselves of the wrongs we havecommitted against ourselves and others.

When I talked earlier about allowing the anger and the pettinessin my life to control my life, in those moments, I was wronging my own self.

I failed myself in those moments.

And often, when we fail ourselves, we wallow in that failure.

We beat ourselves up.

We torture ourselves unduly.

Let me tell you, I have done it on many occasions.

But in those moments, there is no peace in my heart either.

I am allowing the war against myself to rage unabated within me.

Only when we are able to finally forgive ourselves, will we beable to allow true peace to come into our lives.

And while I have forgiven others many times, the only one I haveever had to forgive seventy times and much, much more is myself.

And again, it is as easy as saying to myself, “Jamie, child ofGod, loved by God, I forgive you” and to allow that absolution to do its job ofabsolving—of taking away the wrongs I have done.

So, let us forgive.

Let us forgive others.

Let us forgive ourselves.

And in doing so, let us let God’s peace settle into our hearts andour lives.

And let that peace transform us—once and always—into the person Godtruly desires us to be.

Dedication Sunday

September10, 2023

 

Genesis 28.10-17; 1 Peter 2.1-5,9-11

 

+ I love our Dedication Sundays.

 

I really do!!

 

It is this one Sunday each year when wereally get to celebrate St. Stephen’s and all it is and does.

 

We get to celebrate what it has been,what it is and what it will be.

 

And we get to celebrate all that God doesfor us here.

 

On our website, we are described as a

 

“growing, inclusive community of artists, poets, musicians,professionals, writers, students and searchers for God.”

 

I love that description of us.

 

Because that is who we are.

 

If you have not looked at our website,or any of our many social media, please do!

 

But St. Stephen’s is, to say the very least, a unique place. 

There are not many congregations quite like it—thisweird and wonderful blend of progressive, peace and social justice-basedministry blended with Anglo-Catholic worship and spirituality.

This is not some nonsensical mish-mash, however.

This is a place wherein somehow it all comestogether and forms a good solid base.

 

It is for this reason so many people are drawnto this out-of-the-way church in the far reaches of Northeast Fargo.

I had one parishioner say to me that St.Stephen’s is a really a kind of spiritual powerhouse.

This wonderful, eclectic place which has becomehome to so many people.

 Some people—especially those of whoattend here week-in and week-out, might not see this as all that unique ofplace.

Sometimes we don’t seethe treasures right under our noses, because they’re just that close.  

But let me tell you, others definitelythink we’re unique.

 

Andrew Uruho, who has been attendinghere for the last several months, definitely think we’re unique.

 

He’s attended over 200 Episcopalchurches all over the country.

 

And he definitely came here expectingone thing and found something completely different.

 

He came here expecting to find 1979 BCPand Hymnal 1982 hymns (all of which he loves).

 

He found liturgies adapted from EnrichingOur Worship inclusive language Eucharists, Celtic Masses and New Zealand PrayerBook.

 

This past week, Jane Gaffrey sent me anote about how important St. Stephen’s has been not only to her but to her sonJason, who is trans:

 

Jane wrote me this this week:

 

 

“I hear from Jason how much he is awed and happy because ofyou and others at St Stephens --how much he feels accepted and loved as heis.  And everyday I hear how awed he is that you share your own humanityand struggles publically.  He loves how REAL people are and how you andthe church love others well no matter who they are.”

 

Andrea Olsen, who was featured in anarticle on Episcopal News Service which has garnered A LOT  of attention, shares how she never feltwelcome anywhere like she was welcomed here, and she had attended quite a fewchurches in her search.

 

Even Mother Mary Johnson, a retiredpriest in this Diocese, who has filled in for me a few times over the yearswhen I’ve been on vacation, this past week was accidentally contacted when wewere updating our directory.

 

Her number got mixed up with ourparishioner Mary Johnson’s phone number.

She sent me a text message afterwardsaying,

 

“I would GALDLY be claimed as part ofthe St. Stephen’s community!”

 

Mother Mary, by the way, was one of thefew people in this diocese how actually reached out and commended us for ourstanding on DEPO back in 2015

 

We have parishioners who did not feelwelcome in any other church either here in Fargo or in any of the other placesthey have lived.

 

But they felt welcomed—and more thanthat—included—here.

 

I hate to break this news to you, butthis kind of radical hospitality is NOT common in the Church—even among so verymany Episcopal churches.

 

If you look at our social media youwill see what people are saying there about us.

 

And the renovations we have made herehave been a symbol in many ways of what we are truly doing here.

 

These renovations are important for usto reflect the vitality and the beauty of our parish.

 

Remember what it looked like in ournave back in 2007, for those of you who were here?

 

It was plain.

 

As in Quaker Meeting House plain.

 

Steve Bolduc shares the joke that onetime there was a Diocesan gathering here at St. Stephen’s about 20 years ago.

 

Two people in line for food in theUndercroft were overheard by Steve saying, “Ah, St. Stephen’s! So low church itshould be called Mr. Stephens.”

 

I love that story!

 

I love it, because that aint us now!

 

As we slowly brought more beauty into ourphysical building, not everyone was happy about those changes.

 

And that’s normal.

 

Some people felt it too “busy” in thechurch.

 

Some people feared stained glasswindows for fear that it was would darken the church.

 

People feared a memorial garden becausethey didn’t want to see a cemetery on the church property.

 

People feared a bell because it mightirritate the neighbors.

 

But a few weeks ago, Greta Taylor, whohas been attending St. Stephen’s since the late 1950s pulled me aside and toldme how she loved the fact the door to sacristy was moved.

 

It looked like how it was when shefirst started attending here.

 

And that all the attention when oneenters is directed to exactly where it should be—on the altar, and on thebeautiful cross above the altar, that has come to truly symbolize our communityhere.

 

This renovation has been a much-neededboost.

 

And I know our Altar Guild rejoices init.

 

But we are more than our windows, ouraltar, our cross, our bell, our tower, our organ, our labyrinth, our memorialgarden, our renovated sacristy.

 

We are so much more than these fourwalls and this roof.

 

This building symbolizes and reflectswho and what we are—a solidly progressive parish based on Peace and SocialJustice in our following of Jesus in this world.

 

But even that doesn’t fully representwho we are.

 

This past Wednesday night I preached aboutPaul Jones, who is commemorated in our Peace and Social Justice window,  and, more specifically, about the book OutlawChristian by my friend Jacqueline Bussie.

 

If you have not read this book, READTHIS BOOK!

 

Jacqueline Bussie and her late husbandMatt Myer attended briefly this church.

 

She saw in us an outlaw Christiancommunity.

 

Outlaw Christians are people are notafraid to rant, and speak out, and rail at the realities we are faced with.

 

Outlaw Christians don’t sugarcoat it.

 

Holy, righteous ranting and speakingout and not conforming to the status quo is very much a part of ourprogressive, peace and social justice tradition.

 

You don’t believe me?

 

Look at these windows!

 

These windows are rants!

 

These windows are our sermons.

 

Our whole, 67 year ministry here at St.Stephen’s is a rant—a long, impassioned, often angry speech.

 

And yes, I did say angry.

 

Anger isn’t always a bad thing.

 

We need to be angry about some things.

 

And I am angry.

 

I am angry when we are told to put ourflames under bushels.

 

I am angry when I am told that weshould be comply, that we should simply go with the flow.

 

Holy, righteous anger is not a badthing.

 

And many of us are here because we areangry at the way the Church has treated us in the past.

 

On this Dedication Sunday, I veryproudly boast of all that God has done here.

 

And if my boasting may at times soundlike a rant at times, I make no apologies for that.

 

I have no qualms about boasting aboutwhat all of us are doing here at St. Stephen’s.

 

In our wonderful reading this morningfrom St. Peter, we find him saying,

 

“Once you were not a people,

but now you are God’s people;

once you had not received mercy,

but now you have received mercy.”

 

When we look around us this morning, aswe celebrate 67 years of this unique, spiritual powerhouse of a congregation,we realize that truly we are on the receiving end of a good amount of mercy.

 

We realize that mercy from God hasdescended upon us in this moment.

 

And it is a glorious thing.

 

So, what do we do in the face ofglorious things?

 

We sing!

 

We rejoice!

We give thanks!

 

And, as unbelievable as it might seemat times, we cannot take it for granted.

 

We must use this opportunity we havebeen given.

 

We realize that it is not enough to receivemercy.

 

We must, in turn, give mercy.

 

We, this morning, are being called toecho what St. Peter said to us in our reading this morning.

 

We, God’s own people, are being calledto “proclaim

the mighty acts of [God] who called[us] out of

darkness into [that] marvelous light.”

 

We proclaim these mighty acts by ourown acts.

 

We proclaim God’s acts through mercy,through ministry, through service to others, through the worship we give hereand the outreach we do from here.

 

I love being the cheerleader for St.Stephen’s.

 

God is doing wonderful things herethrough each of us.

 

Each of us is the conduit through whichGod’s mercy and love is being manifested.

 

In our collect for this morning, weprayed to God that “all who seek you here [may] find you, and be filled withyour joy and peace…”

 

That prayer is being answered in ourvery midst today.

 

That joy is being proclaimed in songtoday.

 

And although it may seem unbelievableat times, this is truly how God works in our midst.

 

God works in our midst by allowing usto be that place in which God is found, a place in which joy and peace andmercy dwell.

 

So, let us continue to receive God’smercy and, in turn, give God’s mercy to others.

 

Let us rant.

 

Let us continue to be the outlawChristians we have been throughout our history.

 

But at the same time, let us be a placein which mercy dwells.

 

Because when we do we will findourselves, along with those who come to us, echoing the words of Jacob from ourreading in the Hebrew Bible this morning,

 

“How awesome is this place! This isnone

other than the house of God, and thisis the gate of

heaven.”

 

The Birth of Mary

 

From Kelly Latimore Icons

Today the Church celebrates the birth of Mary. This icon depicts Mary, the Mother of Jesus in Old age. Mary is Theotokos , (Greek for “God-bearer”) She was not God-bearer once, when giving birth to Christ. She was God bearer then, and her whole life into old age. In legend Mary lived to age 72. This icon was commissioned by our friend and Franciscan Friar, Br. Angelo. We sat with him outside of the monastery where he lives on a beautiful spring day in 2021 when he began to share what getting older and closer to death has taught him. Br. Angelo told us a story about sitting with an old Holocaust survivor. Before she even told him her story, she looked at him and he suddenly could see everything in her eyes. Someone who had been through so much pain and profound loss but was looking at him with such love, encouragement and hope. He couldn’t help think what it would have been like to be with Mary in her old age. Looking into her tender eyes, they must have told a story all their own. The life, death and resurrection of Jesus. The joy, the loss, the hope and love of a mother. Something she carried and gave back to the world her entire life. For all Mothers and Foster Mothers. “May I bring all that I am. May I birth all that I have. May I bear all that was, all that is, all that will be. Amen.”Signed Prints and Digital Download: kellylatimoreicons.com

Save the date

 

14 Pentecost

 

September 3, 2023

 

 

Matthew16.21-28

 

+ Last week, I preached about my strange relationship with theChurch—capital C.

 

I discussed my journey with deconstruction, my issues with theChurch as a whole, but ultimately that I really do love the Church.

 

That sermon caused a lot of discussion.

 

Several people who read it on my blog reached out to me to eithersay “Amen,” or to say it made them a bit uncomfortable.

 

But of course I stand by it all.

 

And this week as I thought about it, I would add that it seemsthat one of the reasons people lose heart in the Church is that they have a notion of what the Church should be.

 

I think there are a lot of people who think the Church is thissweet, nice place where everyone gets along.

 

As I said last week in my sermon, the Church is not always thatplace at all.

 

In fact, the Church, as I said last week, is a human-runorganization run by fallible human beings.

 

I don’t just mean Bishops and Priests.

 

I know it’s fun for some laity to be anti-clerical.

 

I know there are people who think: we don’t really need priestsand deacons and bishops.

 

That’s true.

 

There’s a place for those people.

 

It’s called Congregational Church. 

 

But, yes, we can legitimately blame the clergy for this and that.

 

But. . .

 

Lay leaders have also done much to undermine and hurt the Churchas well.

 

If you don’t believe me, read a very interesting book called When Sheep Attack and then get back tome.

 

Many people who come into the Church for the first time think thatbeing a Christian means being happy, and joyful all the time with nothing badhappening in our lives.

 

There are people who cannot understand why bad things happen toChristians.

 

Shouldn’t God be protecting us in some special way?

 

In fact, I had an argument with a friend of mine a few years ago aboutthis very same subject.

 

This friend—a committed Christian— told me that they he truly believedthat it was God’s will that we be happy.

 

“It is?” I said. “Really?”

 

He had a Bible sitting there. I took it and I pushed it towardhim.

 

“Alright. Find that for me!”

 

He couldn’t.

 

You know why he couldn’t?

 

Because it aint there. Anywhere.

 

I hate to break this news to you this morning:

 

But it is not God’s will that you or I or anyone be happy in thislife.

 

Yes, we should strive for happiness and contentment in our lives.

 

Yes, we should do our best to live fulfilling and meaningfullives.

 

But we are not promised rose gardens in this life (as the oldCountry song goes).

 

If you want proof that life as a Christian often means living withhardship and pain and suffering, then you need look no farther than the martyrsof the church.

 

At our Wednesday night Mass, we invariably encounter a martyr ortwo.

 

And their stories are often horrendous and frightening.

 

But martyrs are an essential part of the Church, of our faith.

 

After all, in the early Church, the martyrs were the rock stars oftheir age.

 

They were loved.

 

They were emulated.

 

They were, in some cases, often disturbingly, imitated.

 

To be murdered as martyr at that time was a great honor.

 

Even now martyrs are considered great heroes.

We, of course, honor and emulate such martyred leaders of theChruch as Martin Luther King or the great Lutheran theologian DietrichBonhoeffer or the Anglican Archbishop of Uganda, Janani Luwum

 

But this discussion of martyrs does cause us to ask some questionsof our selves.

 

The big question is: if worse came to worst, would we be willingto die as a martyr?

 

Would we be able to take to heart the words of today’s Gospel,when Jesus says,

 

“those wholose their life for my sake will gain it.”

 

Now, for those of us who were raised in the Roman Catholic faith,some of us heard about the differences between “blood martyrdom” and somethingcalled “dry martyrdom.”

 

A “wet” or “blood” martyr is someone like Martin Luther King or evenour own St. Stephen—someone who died violently.

 

A dry martyr is one has suffered indignity and cruelty for thesake of their faith but has not died violently in the process.

 

For example, next Saturday, on September 9, we will commemoratethe feast of Sister Constance and her companions.

 

They were a group of Episcopal nuns, members of the Community ofSt. Mary, who died while caring for the sick during a Yellow Fever outbreak inMemphis Tennessee in September, 1878.

 

They are known as the “Martyrs of Memphis,” even though they werenot murdered for the faith.

 

Instead, they stayed in Memphis to care for the sick and dying,knowing full well that they too would probably contract that very contagiousdisease and die themselves.

 

They stayed because they felt it was what God would have expectedfrom them.

 

And they in fact did contract Yellow Fever. And they died.

 

But before they did, they cared for people who had no one else tocare for them.

 

And for a brief moment, they made a difference in the lives ofthose people who were suffering.

 

Suffering like a martyr then doesn’t just mean dying like a martyreither.

 

There are many people who are living with persecution and otherforms of abuse for their faith.

 

Or people who suffer for simply standing up and speaking out forwhat is right, even if it means they will be persecuted for such a view.

 

And it is a perfectly valid form of martyrdom (martyr of coursemeans “witness”)

 

The point of all this martyr talk is that we need to be remindedthat as wonderful as it is being Christian, as spiritually fulfilling as it isto follow Jesus and to have a deeply amazing personal relationship with the Godof Jesus, nowhere in scripture or anywhere else are we promised that everythingis going to be without struggle.

 

We all must bear crosses in our lives, as Jesus says in today’sGospel.

 

“If any wantto become my followers, let them take up their cross and follow me.”

 

We all still have our own burdens to bear as followers of Jesus

 

And those burdens are, of course, our crosses.

 

While e might understanding losing our lives as martyrs might beeasier for us to grasp, picking up our cross might seem like a vague idea forus.

 

Bearing our crosses means essentially that, as wonderful as it isbeing a Christian, life for us isn’t always a rose garden.

 

Being a Christian means, bearing our cross and following Jesus,means facing bravely the ugly things that life sometimes throws at us.

 

Facing bravely!

 

I don’t think I have to tell anyone here what those ugly things inlife are sometimes.

 

Each of us has had to deal with our own personal forms of theworld’s ugliness.

 

Most of us here this morning have carried our share of crosses inthis life.

 

Most of us have shouldered the difficult and ugly things of thislife—whether it be illness, death, loss, despair, disappointment, anxiety,betrayal, violence, persecution, frustration—you name it.

 

The fact is: these things are going to happen to us whether we areChristians or not.

 

It’s simply our lot as human beings that life is going to bedifficult at times.

 

It is a simple fact of life that we are going to have feasts inthis life, as well as famines.

 

There will be gloriously wonderful days and horribly, nightmarishdays.

 

 But, we, as Christians, arebeing told this morning by Jesus that we cannot deal with those things likeeveryone else does.

 

When the bad things of this life happen, our first reaction isoften to run away from them.

 

Our instinct is fight or flight—and more likely it’s usuallyflight.

 

Our first reaction is to numb our emotions, to curl up into adefensive ball and protect ourselves and our emotions.

 

But Jesus is telling us that, as Christians, what we must do inthose moments is to embrace those things—to embrace the crosses of this life—toshoulder them and to continue on in our following of Jesus.

 

By facing our crosses, by bearing them, by taking them andfollowing Jesus, we was able to realize that what wins out in the end is Godand God’s love, not the cross we are bearing.

 

What triumphs in the end is not any of the ugly things this lifethrows at us.

 

Rather, what triumphs is the integrity and the strength we gainfrom being a Christian.

 

What triumphs is Jesus’ promise that a life unending awaits us.

 

What we judge to be the way we think it should be is sometimesjudged differently by God.

 

We don’t see this world from the same perspective God does.

 

And as a result, we are often disappointed.

 

Yes, our burdens are just another form of martyrdom—another albeita bloodless form of witnessing.

 

And, like a martyr, in the midst of our toil, in the midst ofshouldering our burden and plodding along after Jesus, we are able to say,“Blessed be the name of God!”

 

That is what it means to be a martyr.

 

That is what it means to deny one’s self, to take up one’s crossand to follow Jesus.

 

 That is what it means tofind one’s life, even when everyone else in the world thinks you’ve lost yourlife.

 

It means in the midst of sadness, suffering, loneliness and pain,to be able to say, “Blessed be the Name of God!”

 

So, let us take up whatever cross we’re bearing and let us carryit with strength and purpose.

 

 Let us take our cross upand follow Jesus.

 

Let us say, as we do so, “Blessed be the Name of God!”

 

And, in doing so, we will gain for ourselves the glory of God thatJesus promises to those who do so.

 

Let us pray.

 

Holy God, blessed is your name! we thank you for giving us thestrength and purpose to take up our cross and follow your Son, Jesus, along apath that, although uncertain and frightening at times, leads always to you. InJesus’s Name we pray. Amen.

 

13 Pentecost

August 27, 2023

 

Matthew 16.13-20

 

 

+ This past week I was discussing myjourney with deconstruction with a priest colleague of mine.

 

For those of you who do not know what deconstructionis, it is big thing happened right now among more progressively mindedChristians, especially those of more Evangelical backgrounds.

 

However it doesn’t haven’t to be forthose from Evangelical backgrounds.

 

It is essentially a way of re-examiningand shedding those parts of our faith life that’s imply do not work for usanymore.

 

I like to call it “burning away thefluff.”

 

My deconstruction journey has forced meto take a look at many of the things that have defined me as a Christian.

 

And it’s good for all of us sometimesto just take a moment and realize that things that may have sustained usearlier in our journey maybe do not sustain us anymore.

 

As you all know, I am a very liberalpriest on many issues, such as LGBTQ inclusion in the Church and full inclusionof women in ministry.

 

But the areas I have found myselflooking at long and hard on this journey are some of the other areas of mylife.

 

Things like how Jesus is so easilyworshipped in the Church, but so rarely followed.

 

That has been a big stickler for meover these last years.

 

And the more I see it, the more it digsdeeply into my spiritual skin.

 

It bugs me, because I have done itmyself.

 

A lot.

 

Let’s face it, it IS easier to worshipJesus rather that follow him.

 

And once that becomes a lens throughwhich I observe the Church and other Christians, I find myself seeing it sooften in our Christian journey.

 

And I see it as a source of what is sowrong with the Church.

 

It is safe to worship Jesus rather thanfollow him.

 

It is so safe to keep Jesus contained,neatly in our Aumbry, to pray nicely to him and kneel before him.

 

But it is not safe to actually seek toBE Jesus in this world.

 

To embody Jesus and to act like Jesusin this world.

 

And let me tell you, it is so easy toselectively ignore the things Jesus says to us in the Gospels.

 

For example, no where in scripture doeshe tell us to worship HIM.

 

But again and again he tells us tofollow him.

 

And to follow him doesn’t just mean to nicelyand politely follow him as he performs miracles and multiplies bread as thoughhe is performing for us.

 

As though we are an appreciativeaudience, politely clapping of rhim.

 

Following him, means striving to see ashe saw and love as he loved.

 

Sadly, the Church is not always good atthis.

 

Christians are sometimes the worst atdoing this.

 

That’s sometimes definitely the way itis with the Church—capital C.

 

Now, I know this is a shock to all ofyou, but I do not like authority.

 

I do not like being told what to do.

 

As many parishioners and a few bishopsover the years have tried (and failed) to do over the years.

 

Ultimatums do not intimidate me.

 

I do not respond well to nagging orunconstructive criticism or complaining.

 

I once had a parishioner who sort ofattended on occasion get mad at me.

 

She did not like that I did not confirmto her view of what a priest should be.

 

I did not nicely fit in to her neatlittle framework of what priests should say or do.

 

And she definitely didn’t like when Icalled her out for her abrasiveness toward others, her expectation that I giveher some kind of special attention, or that I didn’t just quietly smile whenshe was borderline racist.

 

The days of nice, smiling, complacentpriests are quickly dying away in the church.

 

And so they should be.

 

There are still plenty of nice, complacentpriests around.

 

But it’s not me, and it’s not here atSt. Stephen’s.

 

I will respect authority.

 

I will follow the rules (within reason)

 

But, let me tell you, I don’t alwayslike it.

 

There are days when I don’t like theChurch—capital C, or the authority of the Church or the hypocrisy of theChurch.

 

There are days when I really don’t likesome bishops, or some fellow clergy, especially when Bishops act pompous andfull of themselves and when clergy act like spineless weasels.

 

There are days when I don’t like Churchleaders—not just ordained ones but lay leaders too—who try to coerce andmanipulate the Church and its ministers.

 

Probably most of us here would say wehave felt the somewhat same way about the Church at times.

 

In fact, I know you have.

 

Because that is why you are here at St.Stephen’s.

 

There are days when we all groan whenwe see or hear other Christians get up and speak on behalf of the rest of us.

 

There are days when we are embarrassedby what some Christians say or do on behalf of Jesus and his Church.

 

There are days when we get frustratedwhen we hear clergy or other authorities pronounce decrees that, in no way,reflect our own particular views or beliefs.

 

There are days when we see people talka big game about their nice, sweet, white, blond Jesus whom they worship with wildabandon, but who then go out and act like the same people the brown, JewishJesus would condemn again and again.

 

And there are times when we getdownright mad at the hypocrisy, the racism, the homophobia, the misogyny, thetransphobia, the ambivalence, the silence in the face of oppression and eviland war, the downright meanness we sometimes experience from the Church.

 

And it IS meanness.

 

Most of us—idealistically, naivelymaybe—wonder:  wait a minute.

 

The Church isn’t supposed to be likethis.

 

The Church is supposed to be a place ofLove and Compassion and Acceptance and inclusion. 

 

It is supposed to be a place whereeveryone is welcomed and loved.

 

And yet, for us as Episcopaliansanyway, as we look around, we get a lot of polite, Episcopal complaining aboutrubrics, Prayer Book revision and the Hymnal 1982.

 

Knowing that and comparing the idealview of the Church with its shortcomings only make us feel more helpless,listless, angry, and disgruntled.

 

And that’s all right.

 

I personally think that’s a somewhathealthy way of looking at the Church.

 

Because we have to remind ourselves ofone thing: What we find ourselves turning away from and what we are often temptedto run away from is not God.

 

What we are running away from is ahuman-run, human-led organization.

 

We are running away from a celestiallyplanned treasure that has been run (and very often mis-run) throughout twothousand years of history by fallible human beings.

 

In today’s Gospel, we find thiswonderful interchange between Jesus and Peter.

 

Peter, when asked who he thinks Jesusis, replies, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God!”

 

Yes! That’s definitely the rightanswer!

 

But, Jesus responds to this confessionof faith with surprise.

 

He responds by saying, “I tell you, youare Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades willnot prevail against it.”

 

Of course, as you might know, Jesus isplaying a little word game here with the words “Peter” and “rock.”

 

The Aramaic word for “rock” is “kepha.”

 

In Jesus’ own language of Aramaic hewould have said, “You are Kepha (Peter is also called Cephas at times in theGospels) and on this kepha (or rock) I will build my church.”

 

If you’re from a  Catholic upbringing—and especially if you’remore Roman Catholic minded—it seems that Jesus is establishing the Church onthe Rock of Peter—and of course in that tradition Peter at this moment becomesessentially the first Bishop of the Church and in R.C. tradition, the firstPope. 

 

But that’s not what’s happening here.

 

The Church is being established not onPeter himself, but on the rock of Peter’s confession of faith.

 

Jesus IS definitely commending theChurch to Peter and to his other followers.

 

And this is important, especially whenwe examine who Peter is.

 

Jesus commends his Church to one of themost impetuous, impulsive, stubborn, cowardly human beings he could find.

 

Peter, as we all know, is not, at firstglance, a wonderful example for us of what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

 

He is the one who walks on water andthen loses heart, grows frightened and ends up sinking into that water.

 

He’s the one who, when Jesus needs himthe most, runs off and denies him not just once, not twice, but three times,and even then cannot bring himself to come near Jesus as he hangs dying on thecross.

 

But…you know, Peter is maybe a betterexample of what followers of Jesus truly are than we maybe care to admit.

 

Yes, he is a weak, impetuous, cowardly,impulsive human.

 

But who among us isn’t?

 

Who among us isn’t finding someone verymuch like Peter staring back at us from our own mirrors?

 

And the thing we always have toremember is that, for all the bad things the Church has been blamed for—andthere are a lot of them—there are also so many wonderful and beautiful thingsabout the Church that always, always, alwaysoutweigh the bad.

 

Obviously most everyone here thismorning must feel that same way as well to some extent.

 

If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be herethis morning.

 

Most of us are able to recognize thatthe Church is not perfect.

 

And I think that, when Jesus commendedhis Church to people like Peter, he knew that, as long as we are here,struggling on this “side of the veil,” so to speak, it would never be perfect.

 

But that, even despite itsimperfection, we still all struggle on.

 

Together.

 

I love the Church and I love the peoplewho are in the Church with me, sometimes even the ones who drive me crazy.

 

And I sometimes even love the ones withwhom I do not agree or who lash out at me for their own personal issues.

 

Why? Because that’s what it means to bea follower of Jesus.

 

That is what it means to be the Church.

 

I am here in the Church because Ireally want to be in the Church.

 

I am here because the Church is myhome.

 

It is my family.

 

It is made up of my friends and Jesus’friends.

 

I am here because I—imperfect,impetuous human being that I am because I love my fellow Christians, and Idon’t just mean that I love Michael Curry and all those Christians who are easyto love.

 

I love those who are hard to love too.

 

I love them because, let’s face it,sometimes we are those same people too.

 

I certainly am. I am a hard Christianto like sometimes.

 

Sometimes we are the ones who drivepeople from the Church as well.

 

And sometimes we ourselves drive ourown selves away from the Church.

 

But as long as we’re here, as long aswe believe in the renewal that comes again and again in recognizing andconfessing our shortcomings and in professing and believing in what it means tobe a baptized Christian, then we know it’s not all a loss.

 

As long as I struggle to not bethe person who drives people from the Church, but works again and again in mylife to be the person who welcomes everyone—no matter who they are and wherethey stand on the issues—into this Church, then I’m doing all right.

 

Because the Church Jesus founded was aChurch founded solidly on the rock of love.

 

The Church’s foundation is the factthat Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God and the message to us asfollowers of this Son of the Living God, the Messiah—the bringer of freedom andpeace—is that we must love God and love each other as we love ourselves.

 

If we are the Church truly built on alove like that then, without doubt, the gates of Hades will not prevail againstit.

 

And as long as I’m here, and you’rehere, we are going to make the Church a better place.

 

We need to be the Church from which noone wants to leave.

 

So, let us be the Church we want theChurch to be—because that is the Church that Jesus founded.

 

Let us be the Church that Jesuscommended to that imperfect human being, Peter.

 

In those moments when we find ourselveshating the Church, let’s not let hatred win out.

 

Let love—that perfect, flawless lovethat Jesus preached and practiced—eventually win out.

 

We are the Church.

 

We are the Church to those people inour lives.

 

We are the Church to everyone weencounter.

 

We are the reflection of the Church tothe people we serve alongside.

 

So let us be the Church, and if we are,we will find ourselves in the midst of that wonderful vision Jesus imagined forhis Church.

 

And it will truly be an incredibleplace.

 

It will truly be the Kingdom of God inour midst.

 

Let us pray.

 

Living God, we believe that Jesus isyour Son, the Messiah, who has come to us in our time of need; help us tofollow him, to be a Church of love and acceptance and inclusion, and in doingso, a place wherein your living Presence dwells. We ask this in his most holy Name.Amen.