Jamie Parsley's Blog, page 18

Christmas Eve

 

December 24, 2022

 

+ Anyone who knows me well, knows that I am a bit of…well…a curmudgeon regarding Christmas.

 

I am kind of a Scrooge about it all.

 

I am not a big fan of the commercial aspects of Christmas.

 

I certainly understand the tendency we all have of getting caught up in society’s celebration of Christmas.

 

It’s easy to find ourselves getting a bit hypnotized by the glitz and glamour we see about us.

 

I admit I even kind of enjoy some of those sparkly Christmas displays.

 

I understand how easy it is to fall to the temptations of what the world tells us is Christmas.

 

But what I think happens to most of us who enjoy those light and airy aspects of Christmas is that we often get so caught up in them, we start finding ourselves led astray into a kind of frivolousness about Christmas.

 

We find ourselves led off into a place where Christmas becomes fluffy and saccharine and cartoonish.

 

That, I think, is what we experience in the secular understanding of Christmas time.

 

The glitz and the glamour of the consumer-driven Christmas can be visually stunning.

 

It can capture our imagination with its blinking lights and its bright wrapping,

 

But ultimately it promises something that it can’t deliver.

 

It promises a joy and a happiness it really doesn’t have.

 

It has gloss.

 

It has glitter.

 

It has a soft, fuzzy glow.

 

But it doesn’t have real joy.

 

But, as much of a curmudgeon as I am about it, I do find myself joyful during this season.

 

I am, after all, a church geek.

 

I love church and doing churchy things.

 

That’s why I’m a priest, I guess.

 

And for me, the Christmas we celebrate here tonight, in this warm church, up here in northeast Fargo, is a Christmas of real joy.

 

I feel real joy being with all of you tonight.

 

I feel real joy celebrating the mystery of this event, this moment in which God gives us this special event in which we realize that God has reached out to us and shown us true love.

 

But it is a joy of great seriousness as well.

 

It is a joy that humbles us and quiets us.

 

It is a joy filled with a Light that makes all the glittery, splashy images around us pale in comparison.

 

The Christmas we celebrate here is not a frivolous one.

 

It is not a light, airy Christmas.

 

Yes, it has a baby.

 

Yes, it has angels and a bright shining star.

 

But these are not bubblegum images.

 

A birth of a baby in that time and in that place was a scary and uncertain event.

 

Angels were not chubby little cherubs rolling about in mad abandon in some cloud-filled other-place.

 

They were terrifying creatures—messengers of a God of Might and Wonder.

 

And stars were often seen as omens—as something that could either bring great hope or great terror to the world.

 

The event we celebrate tonight is THE event in which God breaks through to us.

 

And whenever God beaks through, it is not some gentle nudge.

 

It is an event that jars us, provokes us and changes us.

 

For people sitting in deep darkness, that glaring Light that breaks through into their lives is not the most pleasant thing in the world.

 

It is blinding and painful.

 

And what it exposes is sobering.

 

That is what God does to us.

 

That is what we are commemorating tonight.

 

We are commemorating a “break through” from God—an experience with God that leaves us different people than we were before that encounter.

 

What we experience is a Christmas that promises us something tangible.

 

It promises us, and delivers, a real joy.

 

The joy we feel today, the joy we feel at this Child’s birth, as the appearance of these angels, of that bright star, of that Light that breaks through into the darkness of our lives, is a joy that promises us something.

 

What Jesus came to show us that what happens in him can happen in us too.

 

Jesus, the beloved Son of God, shows us that we too are all beloved children of loving God.

 

And that, in God’s eyes, each and every of our own birth stories is special to God.

 

God also worked in those events.

 

God also has a plan from our very beginning.

 

Christmas, we need to realize, is a teaser of what awaits us.

 

It is a glimpse into the life we will have one day.

 

It is a perfect joy that promises a perfect life.

 

But just because it is a joyful event, does not mean that it isn’t a serious event.

 

What we celebrate is serious.

 

It is an event that causes us to rise up in a joyful happiness, while, at the same time, driving us to our knees in adoration.

 

It is an event that should cause us not just to return home to our brightly wrapped presents, but it should also send us out into the world to make it, in some small way, a reflection of this life-changing joy that has come into our lives.

 

Tonight, is one of those moments in which true joy and gladness have come upon us.

 

That’s what makes this a holy time.

 

So, let us cling to this holy moment.

 

Let us savor it.

 

Let us hold it close.

Let us pray that it will not end.

And let this joy you feel tonight be the strength that holds you up when you need to be held.

Tonight, God has reached out to us.

God has touched us.

God has grasped our hands.

Our hands have been laid on God’s heart.

This is what Christmas is all about.

God is here, among us.

This feeling we are feeling right now is the true joy that descends upon us when we realize God has come to us in our collective darkness.

And this joy that we are feeling is because the Light that has come to us will never, ever darken.

 

 

FR. JAMIE'S CHRISTMAS LETTER

 

Christmas, 2022

My Friends at St. Stephen’s,

 

A sign of how hectic this time of the year can be is that your Rector forgot to get his Christmas cards done. I had every good intention of getting them done and mailed early. Sadly, it did not happen. So, an electronic letter without a card will have to suffice for this Christmas season.

 

As we near our yearly commemoration of the birth of Jesus, God’s special gift to us  and prepare to celebrate all that that birth means to us,  we also find ourselves looking forward toward a new year of 2023. 

 

The future is certainly looking bright for us at St. Stephen’s.  We continue to grow and to experience a great swell of new faces, new names and new opportunities. And in 2023, we look forward to some changes to our church building, namely the renovation of our sacristy which is scheduled to begin in early February. Of course, we continue to be a place in which we welcome and include everyone, no matter who they are. We continue to be a place that radically accepts and loves everyone who comes to us and we ourselves seek out. As the organized Church continues to drive people away, as the Church continues to be divided and chose to serve at the golden altar of false prophets, golden idols and teachings of exclusion and hate, St. Stephen’s continues to be a place of refuge and love for those who feel they have no other place to go. To a large extent, this joy and excitement we feel is what Advent is all about. Those of us who waited in holy expectation and worked hard for the kind of growth we are now experiencing are truly rejoicing.

 

Serving as St. Stephen’s continues to be one of the most fulfilling experiences of my priestly life. Our life together of worship, ministry, music and outreach has been a source of great personal joy for me and has helped me to see how gracious God is in showering blessings upon faithful, committed people who truly do seek after God and to live out Jesus’ commandment to love God and love others.

 

As we move forward together into this future full of hope and potential growth, I ask for your continued prayers for St. Stephen’s and your continued presence on Sunday mornings, Wednesday nights and whenever else we gather together to worship and to do ministry.

 

Please know that I pray, as always, for each of you individually by name over the course of each week in my daily observance of the Daily Office (Morning and Evening Prayer). Also know that I  remember all of you at the altar during our celebration of the Mass. Above all, know that I give God thanks every day for the opportunity to serve such a wonderful, caring, radical and loving congregation of people who are committed to growth and radical hospitality.

 

My sincerest blessings to you and to all those you love during this season of joy, hope and love.

 

      PEACE always,

Fr. Jamie+ 

 

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Christmas, 2022

at St. Stephen’s

 

Saturday December 24  - Christmas Eve

7:00 pm – Holy Eucharist

Fr. Jamie, celebrant/preacher

Deacon John Anderson, assisting

James Mackay, music

 

Sunday December 25 –   Nativity of Our Lord

11:00 am Holy Eucharist

Fr. Jamie, celebrant/preacher

Deacon John Anderson, assisting

James Mackay, music

 

Monday December 26 –St. Stephen

6:00 pm – Holy Eucharist

Fr. Jamie, celebrant/preacher

Deacon John Anderson, assisting

James Mackay, music

 

Monday December 28 –Feast of the Holy Innocents

6:00 pm – Mass of the Dawn of a New Year

Fr. Jamie, celebrant/preacher

Deacon John Anderson, assisting

James Mackay, music

 

Sunday January 1 –Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus

11:00 am – Holy Eucharist

Fr. Jamie Parsley, celebrant/preacher

James Mackay, music

 

CONSIDER A YEAR-END, ONE-TIME PLEDGE TO ST. STEPHEN’S

St. Stephen’s, the parish I serve as Rector, is, as most of you have already discovered, a unique and amazing place. There aren’t a whole lot of congregations quite like it. We are eclectic. We are brave. We strive to be what the Church should be. We are not just a place a where people gather politely and sing hymns and pray (thought we do those things). We are not just a place that does liturgy just a bit differently than most other places (we do that too). We also stand up loudly for the underdog. We speak out boldly for those who cannot speak for themselves. We confront the powers that be and shake our fists at them at times. And we welcome and fully include those are just don’t quite fit in in any other church. Without question. Without judgement. We even bury those who have no other place to rest. For us, this is what it means to follow Jesus. For us, this is the radical message of the Gospel.  

 

As we head into the last days of the year, we are wrapping up our annual Pledge Drive. If you are considering a year-end offering someplace, please consider giving a one-time pledge to St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church. A one-time pledge can be as little as $10 or $25 or $50 or as much as you can give. All of it helps us be the unique place that we are.

 

If you would like to give, just take send a one time pledge (marked : One Time Pledge) through our Paypal account at Ststephensfargo.org or send a check (also marked “pledge”) to 120 20 Avenue North Fargo, or send an email to our recording secretary Laura Nylander at laura.nylander56@gmail.com and tell her that you would like to make a one time pledge.  All pledges are strictly confidential. Only Laura knows who gives what. But a year-end offering to St. Stephen’s will help us continue to be the eclectic, unique place we are.

 

 

A Letter from Fr. Jamie

 

December 6, 2022

The Feast of St. Nicholas

 

Dear St. Stephen’s family,

 

It doesn’t make sense. Logically, it shouldn’t be this way. St. Stephen’s is a small church building in the out-of-the-way, far-reaches of northeast Fargo. If you drove by and weren’t looking for us, you could pass us by without even noticing we’re there. But, still, this little church set back from the street is a spiritual powerhouse. It draws people from all over Fargo-Moorhead, and from far-flung places beyond the F-M area. Every week, without fail, we have new people visiting us. If you haven’t attended Sunday Mass in a while and then come back you will see people you’ve never met sitting next to you, or singing as cantor, or reading lessons, or greeting you at the door.

So, what is it about St. Stephen’s that draws people? It is the simple fact that there is no place around quite like St. Stephen’s. We are not a cathedral or a massive auditorium. We don’t have a choir of paid musicians, nor do we have fancy architecture. We don’t have screens, we don’t have a live band, we don’t have soaring ceilings or a wing of empty classrooms.

What we do have is our beautiful Anglo-Catholic liturgy. We do have bells and music and, at our Wednesday evening Mass, incense. We do have passion and commitment. We are rebellious and defiant and passionately trying to live out the message of the Gospel, and the revolutionary  commandment of God to love God and love others as fully and completely as we can. We have Christ in our Eucharist, in the hearing and proclaiming of the Word and in our presence with one another.

And we not only radically welcome people, we include them fully and completely. No one is ostracized here. No one here is turned away. No one here is snubbed or shunned or looked at strangely.

We are gay and straight, trans and cis, asexual or non-sexual, straight-edged or “out there.” We are normal and weird, staid and radical, old and young. And everything in-between. We are imperfect but striving to be better than we are and in doing so to make the world a better place as well—the make the Reign of God real and present in this world.

Everyone knows we are welcoming. It is not secret that we are fully-accepting. But we are definitely not push-overs. We are also very strong and committed. And when we stand up for something, we STAND UP. And we speak out loudly!

We were inclusive before inclusivity was expected of the Church. We welcomed and included people other churches discarded or turned away. And we continue to do that. And we do so unapologetically.

That is what St. Stephen’s is.  

As I write this, we have just had our annual Pledge in-Gathering. This is the one time of the year in which we ask for your help to help being the unique, eclectic parish we are. We cannot do it without your pledges. We cannot do it without your time and your talent.

If you have already pledged, thank you!! Thank you for contributing to the unique ministry we do here.

For those of you who have not pledged or have simply forgotten, please do so.   Please consider filling out a pledge card and returning it so we can continue to do what we do. Or simply fill out our name and the amount you can pledge and send it by email to Laura Nylander at laura.nylander56@gmail.com

Your pledge is not about paying my salary. Your pledge is not only about paying the bills of St. Stephen’s. Your pledge is about contributing to a parish that makes a difference in this community, in the world and in our individual lives. It helps us be the place we are. It helps us as we continue to grow, continue to welcome new people each week in our doors, continue to be a place where God’s Spirit is alive and is shared with ALL people, no matter who they are.  But more importantly, we actually dowhat we say we do: when dire situations happen within the lives of our parishioners, we are there to help, to lend support, to be a supporting presence. That is what your pledge supports here.

More than anything, however, please know how grateful and humbled I am to be serving as your Rector and priest. I am truly blessed by God to be serving a parish that is excited about what it is doing, that is renewed by its energy and committed to its very radical following of Jesus. Thank you for all you have given to me.

 

-peace,

Fr. Jamie+

2 Advent

 

December 4, 2022

 

Isaiah 40.1-11; Mark 1.1-8

 

+ One thing we often hear about if any of us have been Christians for any period of time is the big question:

 

What must one do to be saved?

 

Because many of us who believe really do have a fear of hell and eternal damnation, especially those of us who came from churches that preached those things on a regular basis.

 

Now, in many churches, we heard that all one had to do to gain heaven and glorious eternity was make this simple statement: I accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior.  

 

The rest of us, who didn’t make this statement in those exact words, were in deep trouble.

 

Now, on some level, that makes some sense.

 

It seems simple.  

 

If someone doesn’t accept Christ, then Christ shouldturn his back on those who didn’t accept him.

 

After all, we would turn our backs on those who would not accept us, right? .

 

And there should be a place where we had to pay for the wrongs we did.

 

We simply can’t sin and expect not to pay for it in some way, right?

 

But certainly for me, in my own spiritual life, as I grew into my relationship with God, as I tried to follow Jesus as faithfully as I could, and as I started to look long and hard at everything I have believed, I realize that there is one thing those people who believe that way have  missed.

 

It was one simple little word:

 

Grace.

 

Now, my very simplistic definition of grace is this:

 

Grace is a gift we receive from God that we neither ask for nor necessarily deserve.

 

In the Gospel we heard this morning, we hear the echoing words of John the Baptist.

 

The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me;

 H

e is that lone voice calling to us in the wilderness.

 

It is a voice of hope.

 

It is a voice of substance.

 

It is a voice of salvation.

 

More importantly, John’s message is a message of Grace.

 

This powerful One is coming!

 

There’s no avoiding it. 

 

God is coming to us.

 

God is sending some one to us—someone powerful, someone appointed and chosen by God.

 

This is the ultimate grace in a very real sense.

 

Although we have been hoping for God to come to us and save us, it is not something that we have necessarily asked for or deserve.

 

God comes to us in God’s own time.

 

It is this one fact—grace—that makes all the difference in the world.

 

It is what makes the difference between eternal life and eternal damnation.

 

Now, there are those who believe that there is an eternal hell.  

 

And if you’re not right with God, they say, that’s exactly where you’re going.

 

The fault in this message is simple: none of us are right with God.  

 

As long as we are on this side of the veil, so to speak, we fall short of what God wants for us.

 

We have all sinned and we will all sin again.  

 

That’s the fact.

 

But that’s where grace comes in.   

 

Grace is, excuse my language, the trump card.

 

Grace sets us free.

 

Grace involves one simple little fact that so many Christians seem to overlook.

 

And this is the biggest realization for me as a follower of Jesus:

 

Just because one doesn’t accept God or God’s anointed Christ  doesn’t mean that God of God’s Christ doesn’t accept us.

 

God accepts us.  

 

Plain and simple.  

 

Even if we turn our backs on God.  

 

Even if we do everything in our limited powers to separate ourselves from God, the fact of the matter is that nothing can separates from God and God’s love.   

 

God accepts every single person—no matter what we believe, or don’t believe, no matter if God is some abstract concept to us or a close, personal friend.

 

That’s right, I did say “personal.”  

 

Because, yes, it’s wonderful and beautiful to have a personal relationship with God and with Jesus.  

 

Our personal relationship with God and with Jesus is essential to our faith, as you have heard me say many, many times.

 

But the fact is, neither God nor Jesus is the personalsavior to any one of us in this place.  

 

God saves all of us, equally.

 

That is grace.

 

That is how much God loves us.

 

Now, I have preached this message my entire adult life as a Christian, and certainly as priest.

 

And, as you can imagine, there have been, shall we say, a few critics of my unabashed and unapologetic universalism.  

 

And some of these critics—actually quite a few of these critics—have been quite vocal.

 

In fact, I once preached this very same message one evening not long after I was ordained to the priesthood in a very diverse venue of what I thought were somewhat progressive Lutherans.

 

Later, I learned, I was essentially blackballed from that venue for that sermon.

 

I also preached it once at another congregation, at which I was a guest.

 

After I preached it, the presider at the service actually got up and “corrected” my sermon in front of everybody.

 

Critics of this message say that what I am talking about is cheap grace.

 

Cheap grace?

 

No, I counter.

 

And I still counter!

 

Again and again.

 

No, not cheap grace. 

 

It’s actually quite expensive grace.

 

It was grace bought at quite a price.

 

And no, I’m not being naïve or fluffy here.   

 

Trust me, I have known some truly despicable people in my life.  

 

I have been hurt by some of these people and I have seen others hurt by these people.

 

And I have felt angry over the pain these people have caused in my life and in those lives of others.

 

The world is full of people who are awful and terrible.  

 

Or people who do really dumb or foolish things that hurt others.

 

And sometimes the most awful and terrible person we know is the one staring back at us in our own mirrors.

 

But the fact is, that even when we can’t love them or ourselves, when we can’t do anything else but feel anger and hatred toward them, God does love them.  

 

God accepts them, just as God accepts each of us.

 

God doesn’t necessarily accept their actions. God doesn’t accept their sins, or their failings, or their blatant embrace of what is wrong.

 

God doesn’t accept the pain they’ve inflicted on others.

 

But, not even those things can separate them from Christ’s love.  

 

Nothing can separate us from God’s love and from God’s promise to eternal life.  

 

That is how God works in this world.

 

That is why God sent this Christ, this Messiah, this Child of God, to us.

 

I believe in that image we hear from our reading from the prophecies of Isaiah today:

 

[God] will feed his flock like a shepherd;

he will gather the lambs in his arms,

and carry them in his bosom,

 

We will be gathered up by our God, and we will be carried into our God’s bosom.

 

I love that image!

 

Because it conveys God’s true and abiding love for us. 

 

It’s a hard concept for those us who were taught otherwise.  

 

But I do believe it.  

 

I believe it because of the personal relationship I have with God.  

 

The God I have come to know and to love and to serve is simply that full of love.

 

So, do I believe we’re all going to heaven when we die?

 

Well, yes.

 

I really do believe that. 

 

Why?

 

Because, the love of God is just that big.  

 

It is just that wonderful and just that all-encompassing.

 

It is just that powerful.  

 

If one person is in some metaphysical, eternal hell for being a despicable person, then, you know what?  the love of God has failed.  

 

Something has, in fact, come between that person and God.

 

I do not believe that hell or Satan or sin or the Church or anything else is big enough to separate us fully and completely from God. 

 

Not even we, ourselves, can turn our backs on God because wherever we turn, God is there for us.

 

So, listen.  

 

In this Advent season of hope,  John’s voice is calling to us from the wilderness.  

 

He is saying,

 

Listen

 

God’s anointed is near.

 

God’s messiah, the Christ, is coming to us.

 

Let us go out, in wonderful, beautiful grace, to meet him!

 

Let us pray.

 

Loving God, come to us. Send us your power, send us your glory. Send us your grace. And let us know that no matter how often we may turn our backs on you, you have never once turned your back on us. You have always been with us and remain with us. And that nothing in all the world can separate us from you and your incredible love. For this, we are truly thankful today. In the name of your anointed, Jesus. Amen.

 

 

As I was straightening up the nave before Mass yesterday...

 As I was straightening up the nave before Mass yesterday morning I came across this little ditty some poet in the parish wrote.

1 Advent

 

November 27, 2022

 

1 Corinthians 1.3-9; Mark 13.24-37

+ In case you haven’t noticed, it is the first Sunday of Advent.

It is a beautiful time in the Church, and here at St. Stephen’s.

This morning, we have the beautiful blue frontal on the altar made by Gin Templeton.

Deacon John and I get to wear the beautiful blue vestments.

We have the first candle lit on the Advent wreath.

It is a time in which we, as the Church, turn our attention, just like the rest of the world, toward Christmas.

But…we need to be clear: it is not Christmas yet for us Christians.

Christmas starts on Christmas eve, on the evening of December 24.

For now, we are in this almost limbo-like season of Advent.

All the major Church feast days—namely Christmas and Easter—are preceded by a time of preparation.

Before Easter, we go through the season of Lent—a time for us to collect our thoughts, prepare spiritually for the glorious mystery of the Resurrection.

Advent of course is similar.

We go through Advent as a way of preparing, spiritually,  for Christmas, for the birth of Jesus.

What a lot of people don’t realize is that Advent is as much of a penitential time—a time in which we should spend time fasting and pondering about our place in life—as Lent is, to some extent.

In this way, I think the Church year reflects our own lives in many ways.

In our lives, we go through periods of fasting and feasting.

We have our lean times and we have our prosperous times.

There is a balance to our lives in the world and there is a balance, as well, to our church lives.

We will feast—as we do on Christmas and on Easter—but first we must fast, as we do during Advent and Lent.

Do you ever notice how, when you know you’re going out to eat with friends at a nice restaurant, you cut back on your food during the day?

You maybe eat a little less at breakfast and only a very light lunch.

Or if you’re like me, you just don’t eat at all.

I don’t eat breakfast.

And I only eat lunch when I go out to lunch with someone.

You avoid snacking between meals, just so you can truly enjoy the supper that night (even if you are a bit lightheaded) .

That is what Advent is like.

We know this joyous event is coming, but to truly enjoy it, we need to hold back a bit now.

Advent then is also this time of deep anticipation.

And in that way, I think is represents our own spiritual lives in a way other times of the church year don’t.

We are, after all, a people anticipating something.

Something.

But what?

Well, our scriptures give us a clue.

But what they talk about isn’t something that we should necessarily welcome with joy.

In our reading form Isaiah this morning, we find the prophet saying to God,

O  that you would tear open the heavens and come down,
so that the mountains would quake at your presence--

as when fire kindles brushwood
and the fire causes water to boil--

to make your name known to your adversaries,
so that the nations might tremble at your presence!

That doesn’t sound like a pleasant day to be anticipating.

Even Jesus, echoing Isaiah, says in our Gospel reading:

 In those days, after that suffering,

the sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light,

and the stars will be falling from heaven,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

 

Then they will see “the Son of Man coming in clouds” with great power and glory. 

Well, that’s maybe a bit better, but it’s still pretty foreboding.

However, it doesn’t need to be all that foreboding.

Essentially, all of this is talk about “the day of the Lord” or the day when the Son of Man will come in the clouds” is really  all about waiting for God, or for God’s Messiah.

It is all about God breaking through to us.

That is what Advent is all about.

God breaking through to us.

God coming to us where are we are.

God cutting through the darkness of our lives, with a glorious light.

For the Jews before Jesus’ time, waiting like we are, for the Messiah, they had specific ideas of what this Messiah would do.

Oppressed as they were by a foreign government—the Romans—with an even more foreign religion—paganism—, they expected someone like themselves to come to them and take up a sword.

This Messiah would drive away these foreign influences and allow them, as a people, to rise up and gain their rightful place.

And for those hearing the prophet Isaiah, the God who came in glory on that day would strike down the sinful, but also raise up those who were sorry.

The fact is, as we all know by now,  God doesn’t work according to our human plans.

God isn’t Santa Claus.

We can’t control God or make God do what we want.

And if we try, let me tell you, we are deeply disappointed.

The Messiah that came to the people of Jesus’ day—and to us—was no solider.

There was no sword in his hand.

The “Son of Man” that came to them—and to us--was a baby, a child who was destined to suffer, just as we suffer to some extent, and to die, as we all must die.

But, what we are reminded of is that God’s Messiah will come again.

It is about what happened then, and what will happen.

This time of Advent is a time of attentiveness to the past, the present, and the future.

Attentiveness is the key word.

Actually, in our Gospel reading for today, we get a different way of stating it.

 

We get a kind of verbal alarm clock.

 

And we hear it in two different ways:

 

“Keep alert.”

 

“Keep awake.”

 

Jesus says it just those two ways in our reading from Mark: It seems simple enough.

 

“Keep alert” and “keep awake.”

 

Or to put it more bluntly, “Wake up!”

 

But is it simple?

 

Our job as Christians is sometimes no more than this.

 

It is simply a matter of staying awake, of being attentive or being alert, of not being lazy.

 

Our lives as Christians are sometimes simply responses to being spiritually alert.

 

For those of us who are tired, who are worn down by life, who spiritually or emotionally fatigued, our sluggishness sometimes manifests itself in our spiritual life and in our relationship with others.

 

When we become impatient in our watching, we sometimes forget what it is we are watching for.

 

We sometimes, in our fatigue, fail to see.

 

For us, that “something” that we are waiting for, that we keeping alert for, is none other than that glorious “day of our Lord Jesus Christ,” that we hear St. Paul talk about in his epistle this morning.

 

That glorious day of God breaking through to us comes when, in our attentiveness, we see the rays of the light breaking through to us in our tiredness and in our fatigue.

 

It breaks through to us in various ways.

 

We, who are in this sometimes foggy present moment, peering forward, sometimes have this moments of wonderful spiritual clarity.

 

Those moments are truly being alert—of being spiritually awake.

 

Sometimes we have it right here, in church, when we gather together.

 

I have shared with each of you at times when those moments sometimes come to me.

 

There are those moments when we can say, without a doubt: Yes, God exists!

 

But, more than that.

 

It is the moments when we say, God is real.

 

God is near.

 

God knows me.

 

God loves me.

 

And, in that wonderful moment, in that holy moment, the world about us blossoms!

 

This is what it means to be awake, to not be lazy.

 

See, the day the prophet talks about as a day of fear and trembling is only a day of fear and trembling if we aren’t awake.

 

For those of us who are awake, who truly see with our spiritual eyes, it is a glorious day.

 

For us, we see that God is our Parent.

 

Or as Isaiah says,

 

 O Lord, you are our Father;

 

 

We are God’s fully loved and fully accepted children.

 

And then Isaiah goes on to say that

 

we are the clay, and you are our potter; 
we are all the work of your hand.

 

 

Certainly, in a very real sense, today—this First Sunday of Advent— is a day in which we realize this fact.

 

Advent is a time for us to allow God to form us and make us in God’s image.

 

It is a time for us to maybe be kneaded and squeezed, but, through it all, we are being formed into something beautiful.

 

The rays of that glorious day when God breaks through to us is a glorious day!

 

And it is a day in which we realize we are all God’s loved and accepted children.

 

In this beautiful Sarum blue Advent season, we are reminded that the day of God’s reaching out to us is truly about dawn upon us.

 

The rays of the bright sun-lit dawn are already starting to lighten the darkness of our lives.

 

We realize, in this moment, that, despite all that has happened, despite the disappointments, despite the losses, despite the pain each of us has had to bear, the ray of that glorious Light breaks through to us in that darkness and somehow, makes it all better.

 

But this is doesn’t happen in an instant.

 

Oftentimes that light is a gradual dawning in our lives.

 

Oftentimes, it happens gradually so we can adjust to it, so it doesn’t blind us.

 

Sometimes, our awakening is in stages, as though waking from a deep, slumbering sleep.

 

Our job as Christians is somewhat basic.

 

I’m not saying it’s easy.

 

But I am saying that it is basic.

 

Our job, as Christians, especially in this Advent time, is to be alert.

 

To be awake.

 

Spiritually and emotionally.

 

And, in being alert, we must see clearly.

 

We cannot, when that Day of Christ dawns, be found to lazy and sloughing.

 

Rather, when that Day of our Lord Jesus dawns, we should greet it joyfully, with bright eyes and a clear mind.

 

We should run toward that dawn as we never have before in our lives.

 

We should let the joy within us—the joy we have hid, we have tried to kill—the joy we have not allowed ourselves to feel—come pouring forth on that glorious day.

 

And in that moment, all those miserable things we have been dealt—all that loss, all that failure, all that unfairness—will dissipate like a bad dream on awakening.

 

“Keep alert,” Jesus says to us.

 

“Keep awake.”

 

Wake up!

 

It’s almost time.

 

Keep awake because that “something” you have been longing for all your spiritual life is about to happen.

 

It is about to break through into our lives.

 

And it is going to be glorious.

 

Let us pray.

 

O God of glory, we are longing for you in the darkness of our lives to break through to us; to come to us in this place and shed your Light upon us. And we know that when you do, it will truly be a glorious Day. We ask this in the name of your Messiah, Jesus our Savior. Amen.

Happy Thanksgiving from your favorite vegan priest-poet ...

 Happy Thanksgiving from your favorite vegan priest-poet friend.

Christ in Majesty/Last Pentecost

November 20, 2022

 

Jeremiah  23.1-8; Luke 23.33-43

 

+ Today is, of course, Christ the King Sunday.

 

Or Christ in Majesty Sunday for those of us who are more inclusive in our language.

 

And it is one of the truly beautiful Sundays of the year.

 

Everybody loves this Sunday.

 

We love it because it the last Sunday of the old Church year (Year C)  before the Season of Advent and the New Church Year (Year A) begins next Sunday.

 

But… as beautiful as this day is, it is not quite what you think it is.

 

First of all, this Day is not an Episcopal Feast at all.

 

In fact, if you look, you will not find the words “Christ the King” designated for this Sunday or any other Sunday in our Episcopal calendar.

 

You can’t find it in the BCP outside of the reference to Christ the King in the collect and in the lectionary’s choice of scriptures for today. .

 

It sounds like it’s an ancient feast.

 

But, it’s not.

 

It’s not even 100 years old yet.

 

The Feast of Christ the King was first introduced to the Roman Catholic Church by Pope Pius XI in 1925.

 

And his reasons for doing so were not necessarily pious.

 

His reasons for introducing this feast had to do with a situation that we are ourselves have dealt and may be dealing with again.

 

It’s that ugly called FASCISM.

 

And just as it was 100 years ago, it is still an issue now.

 

For Pope Pius XI it was a way of countering the nationalist fascism of Benito Mussolini.

 

It was a clear rebuke of Mussolini.

 

It was a statement making clear that as much as leaders in this world want desperately to hold absolute power, there is only one ruler that we as Christians hold up as our true leader.

 

And that the leaders of this world, who naively think they can gain and maintain absolute power, will fail, and fail miserably.

 

They will lose.

 

But before we move on from that, some people really don’t quite know what fascism is specifically.

 

So, let’s ask Google.

 

There, it is defined as

Fascism a far-right, authoritarian,   ultranationalist  political  ideology  and  movement , characterized by a  dictatorial  leader, centralized  autocracy ,  militarism , forcible suppression of opposition, belief in a natural hierarchy, subordination of  individual interests  for the perceived good of the nation and race, and strong regimentation of society and the economy

 

It characterized by racism and oppression.

 

Any of this sound familiar?

 

It is, to be blunt, anti-Jesus in everything is stands for.

 

And it is our duty, just like Pope Pius Xi, to stand up and speak out against it again and again.

 

Because it is when we are silent and complacent that fascism comes back.

 

If I despair over anything, I despair over the fact that here we are, in 2022, still preaching against fascism.

 

We fought a whole war in the 1940s so that fascism would be eliminated from this world.

 

And we have, in recent years, seen fascism make a come-back in the very country that fought it.

 

And, ironically, holds up those same people who fought as heroes of this neo-fascism.

 

But our scriptures today speak clearly to us about all of this.

 

In our reading from the Hebrew scriptures, we hear this:

 

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.

 

And in our Gospel reading for today, we see the end-result of fascism.

 

He find Jesus beaten and abused and whipped and mockingly crowned as King of the Jews.

 

This is exactly how fascism has dealt with its enemies over and over again throughout history.

 

It silences, beats, whips and murders its opponents.

 

I also believe a priest should not share their politics from the pulpit because many people here came from churches and denominations that had clergy who got up and not only shared their political views, but even went so far as to tell people how they should vote.

 

And that, to me, is an absolutely terrible thing.

 

And just so no one would ever think that I would do that—and I would NEVER do that—I purposely try to avoid politics as much as possible/

 

The exception for me is when a politician crosses the line and starts advocating for things that oppose basic human rights or human equality.

 

And I have spoken out on those issues.

 

Many, many times.

 

And will continue to do so any time it happens.

 

Let’s face it: Jesus did so many, many times.

 

But to be clear fascism is not only present in politics.

 

We see it in the Church too.

 

After all, as you have heard me say again and again, the Church is not historically a democracy.

 

And we continue to see fascism in the Church as a whole.

 

We see it when people continue to be oppressed.

 

We see it when people continued to be shunned.

 

We see it when we say things like, “Well, we don’t need to work on reconciliation with LGBTQ people, because it’s a non-issue now.”

 

I would like to say to those people:  come here to St. Stephen’s and say that.

 

Say that to the queer people in this parish who have been hurt by the Church, even in this Diocese, who have been shunned and discarded.

 

Say that to the queer people here are still bleeding from the wounds that the Church and this Diocese has done to them in our not-so-distant past.

 

Or rather say this to the 4 people killed night at shooting in an LGBTQ club in Colorado Spring.

 

It is NOT a non-issue.

 

Let me tell you as the priest and pastor of those hurt and wounded people, people hurt and wounded by the words and actions of clergy and people in the Church and in this Diocese in the past, we most certainly need reconciliation.

 

We most certainly need things to be made right after the behavior of so many clergy and people who are still active, who are still in leadership positions, who still say these things and believe these things.

 

But today, on this particular Sunday, we deal, somewhat indirectly, with another kind of political and religious fascism.

 

Today, we recognize that no matter how terrible or how great a leader may be, there is one leader for us, as Christians, who is the ultimate Leader.

 

The King of Kings.

 

Advent, that time of preparation for Christmas, is about to happen.

 

The Season of Advent is, of course, the season of anticipation—of longing.

 

And dare I say, maybe a fair share of healthy impatience.

 

Maybe that’s why I like it so much.

 

I am an impatient person—as anyone who has worked with me for any period of time knows.

 

Certainly, we, as followers of Jesus, might get a bit impatient about that for which we are longing.

 

Our journey as followers of Jesus, is filled with anticipation and longing.

 

We know, as we make this journey through life, that there is an end to our journey.

 

We know there is a goal.

 

But we might not always be aware of what that goal is or even why we’re journeying toward it.

 

But today, Christ the King Sunday, we get just a little glimpse of that goal.

 

We get to get an idea of what it is we are anticipating.

 

The Christ we encounter this morning is coming to us on clouds, yes.

 

But he also comes to us while standing on the throne of the Cross—an about-to-be condemned criminal—engaging in a conversation with Pontius Pilate about who he is.

 

The Christ we encounter today is crowned, yes—but he is crowned with thorns.

 

This King we celebrate today—this King crowned as he is with a crown of thorns—he is the Ruler of all of us, no matter who the rulers on earth may be.

 

And because he is our ruler, in him whatever divisions—especially political and ecclesiastical divisions—are eliminated.  

 

After all, he too lived in a world of terror and fear, in a world of division, where fear and terror were daily realities in his life.

 

This is the Christ we encounter today.

 

The Christ we encounter today is Christ our majestic King, Christ our Priest, Christ our ultimate Ideal.

 

But he is also so much more than that.

 

He is also the one that some would also judge as Christ the Rebel, Christ the Misfit, Christ the Refugee, Christ the Failure.

 

And what the Rebel, the Misfit, the Refugee, the Failure shows us powerfully is that God even works through such manifestations.

 

God works through rebellion, through ostracization, through failure even.

 

And this is a very real part of our message on Christ the King Sunday.

 

In the midst of the brokenness of Christ, God is ultimately truly victorious.

 

And because of what God does in Christ we too, even despite our own brokenness, despite our own  rebelliousness, despite our own failures, we too will ultimately triumph in Christ.

 

The King we encounter on this Sunday, the King that awaits us at the end of our days, is not a fascist despotic king.

 

The King that we encounter today is not a King who rules with an iron fist and makes life under his reign oppressive.

 

This King is not some stern Judge, waiting to condemn us to hell for what we’ve done or not done or for who we are.

 

But at the same time the King we honor today is not a figurehead or a soft and ineffective ruler.

 

This is not a spineless chameleon of a leader.

 

Rather, the King we encounter today is truly the One we are following, the One who leads us and guides us and guards us.

 

This King does not allow us to have fear as an option in our lives.

 

This King eliminates our divisions.

 

The King we encounter today is the refugee, the misfit, the rebel, the outcast, the marginalized one, who has triumphed and who commands us to welcome and love all those who are marginalized and living with terror and fear in their own lives.

 

And his Kingdom, that we anticipate, is our ultimate home.

 

We are all—all of us, every single one of us, no matter who we are—, at this moment, we are citizens of that Kingdom of God, over which God has put the anointed One, the Christ.

 

That Kingdom is the place wherein each of us belongs, ultimately.

 

You have heard me say it in many, many sermons that our job as Christians, as followers of Jesus, is to make that Kingdom a reality.

 

You hear me often talking about the Kingdom breaking through into our midst.

 

That’s not just poetic talk from the pulpit.

 

It is something I believe in deeply.

 

The Kingdom—that place toward which we are all headed—is not only some far-off Land in some far-away sky we will eventually get to when we die.

 

It is a reality—right here, right now.

 

That Kingdom is the place which breaks into this world whenever we live out that command of Jesus to love God and to love one another.

 

When we act in love toward one another, the Kingdom of God is present among us.

 

Again, this is not some difficult theological concept to grasp.

 

It is simply something we do as followers of Jesus.

 

When we love, God’s true home is made here, with us, in the midst of our love.

 

A kingdom of harmony and peace and love becomes a reality when we sow seeds of harmony and peace and love.

 

And, in that moment when the Kingdom breaks through to us, here and now, we get to see what awaits us in our personal and collective End.

 

As we prepare for this END—and we should always be preparing for the END—we should rejoice in this King, who is the ruler of our true home.

 

And we should rejoice in the fact that, in the end, all of us will be received by that King into that Kingdom he promises to us, that we catch glimpses of, here in this place, when we act and serve each other out of love for one another.

 

The Kingdom is here, with us, right now.

 

It is here, in the love we share and in the ministries we do.

 

So, on this Christ the King Sunday, let us ponder the End, but let us remember that the End is not a terrible thing.

 

The End is, in fact, that very Kingdom that we have seen in our midst already.

 

For us the End is that Kingdom—a Kingdom wherein there is a King who rules out of love and concern for us.

 

And it is in our End that we truly do find our beginning.

 

 

 

 

23 Pentcost

 

Stewardship Sunday

 

November 13, 2022

 

Malachi 4.1-2a; 2 Thessalonians 3.6-13; Luke 21.5-19

 

+ I don’t want to do this.

 

Not today, on Stewardship Sunday.

 

But…

 

Let's go back for a moment.

 

Let's go back in history.

 

We’re not going to go far.

 

In fact, it’s a very shorts trip.

 

And, sadly, it’s not going to be a pleasant one.

 

For a moment, let’s go back to…2020.

 

We all remember it.

 

It was a terrible time.

 

In fact, it was truly one of the most terrible of times in our collective history.

 

It was a time for the history books.

 

And going back to 2020, let’s look at where we were here at St. Stephen’s.

 

Here, even in the darkest days of the pandemic, we kept going on.

 

Thanks to Livestreaming and a devoted core (or “pod” as we called it at the time) of Vestry, church members and staff we never missed a Sunday.

 

We plugged away, even when it looked scary and uncertain.

The reason I want to take you back for a moment is this:

 

Let’s now look at where we are now.

 

It’s not perfect.

 

But it’s certainly so much better.

 

And for the first time, this past year, we were able to move away from the pandemic and all it’s difficulties.

 

And where are we here at St. Stephen’s?

 

And we are right back, for the most part, to where we were in 2019.

 

Well, at least on a operating level.

 

And the reason I’m bringing it up is because I don’t want us to take anything we have for granted.

 

Today, as I said, is Stewardship Sunday.

 

Today is the day in which we are asked to take a good, hard look at ourselves as members of St. Stephen’s.

 

At who we are as this strange, unique, eclectic, eccentric congregation in a hidden, out-of-the-way back corner of Fargo.

 

Stewardship time is a time for the mirror to be set up and for us to look deeply into it.

 

And to realize that we are unique, and eccentric and eclectic.

 

And vital.

 

And alive.

 

And, we’re survivors.

 

And that we survived that ugly time in 2020.

 

Let’s face it: there aren’t a whole lot of churches out there quite like St. Stephen’s. 

 

 We are an amazing place! I think we can say that.

 

And Stewardship is a time to say one important thing:

 

Thank you.

 

Thank you, O God, for leading us here.

 

Thank you, O God, for what you have done here.

 

Thank you, O God, for your goodness to us here.

 

Thank you, O God, for the refuge that we are to people who need a refuge.

 

Thank you, O God, for bringing us through.

 

And thank you, O God, for restoring us.

 

Sometimes when we’re in the midst of it all, we don’t realize how amazing these things are.

 

Sometimes we take it all for granted.

 

But let’s not do that.

 

Let’s not take for granted what has been happening here.

 

It’s also not a time for us to become complacent.  

 

There is still work to do.  

 

There is still so much more ministry to do.

 

What’s even more amazing is that you—the congregation, the ministers of St. Stephen’s—you have truly all stepped up to the plate.

 

 You have given of yourselves, of your time, of your talents, of your finances, of your very presence this past year.

 

And that is amazing.

 

And we ask you to do so again this coming year.

 

As we look around at St. Stephen’s, I don’t think we fully realize what has been happening here.

 

We need to know that we are more than these walls, than these pews, than these windows, than this tower and bell, than an organ, than this building.

 

If we think following Jesus means safely ensconcing ourselves in this church building—and I seriously doubt anyone here this morning thinks that—then we are not really following Jesus.

 

As we, who are members of St Stephen’s know, following Jesus, means following him out there—out in the field, out on the battlefield.

 

It means being out there, being a presence out there, being a radical presence out there.

 

It means shaking things up.

 

It means speaking out—respectfully and in love.  

 

It means being an example of a follower of Jesus in all we do outside these walls, as well as within.  

 

It means giving people a new vision of what the Church really can be.

 

Back in 2020, there were, as can be expected, prophets of doom.

 

There were those so-called experts who were us telling this then:

 

“This is the end of the Church.”

 

“They’re never coming back.”

 

That was something everyone seemed to saying at the time.

 

“They’re never coming back.”

 

We will never see anything like we did before the pandemic started, they told us.

 

But as you know I scoff—and scoff loudly—at prophets of doom.

 

I did then.

 

And I do so even more confidently now.

Do you know why?

 

Because, this year—this first real year after the pandemic, when things really started to feel normal again—when the prophets of doom predicted that churches would be dying off, this year, we welcomed 18 new members to this parish.

 

18!

 

And we were even welcoming new members in 2020.

 A

nd in 2021

 

But 18!

 

That is an amazing thing!

 

And we should be grateful—deeply grateful—for that growth.

 

And if people ask why, I like to share stories like this.

 

A few weeks ago, after one of our Wednesday night Masses, we were at supper and we were talking about the uniqueness of St. Stephen’s.

 

And two of our new members both said, in different words, that this is the only congregation they knew in which they would be fully welcomed and included.

 

And they had done their research.

 

And we are more than that.

 

We are more than inclusive.

 

We also really do believe in God.

 

We also really do worship a true and living God.

 

We also really live that out in our lives and in the worship we do together.

 

We definitely do that here!

 

We need to be a church that is alive and breathing and moving and changing.

 

Of course, because it is, our job has doubled.

 

Of course we will continue on as we always have, doing what we’ve always done.

 

We will to be who we need to be and do what needs to be done.

 

We will continue to be a safe refuge for those people who have been hurt or alienated by the larger  Church.

 

And there are plenty out there.

 

People who are gay or lesbian or trans or who simply were hurt by the Church in any way.

 

There are plenty here this morning that have been hurt by the Church.

 

Which is why we are here!

 

We realize that the words of this morning’s Gospel are made real in our lives.

 

Looking in the mirror also means seeing ourselves for who we are.  

 

The church of the future is made up of people who step up to the plate and say, “here I am, Lord. I am willing to do it.”

 

We have our work cut out for us.  We do.

 

There’s a lot of work to do.

 

But, none of that is anything to fear.

 

Jesus tells us not to be afraid.

 

Nor should any of us.

 

Not a hair of our head will perish to them, he tells us.

 

As we look around here, we know—God is here.

 

God is with us.

 

That Spirit of our living, breathing God dwells with us.

 

And God and God’s radical, all-inclusive love is being proclaimed in the message we carry within each of us.

 

When we welcome people radically, when we embrace those no one else will embrace, when we love those who have been hated, when we are hated for loving those who are hated, we know that all we are doing is bringing the Kingdom of God not only closer, but we are birthing it right here in our midst.

 

And we have nothing to fear, because, as Jesus says today, “I will give you words and wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.”

 

We are blessed, here at St. Stephen’s.

 

And that is what we are thankful for today.

 

Paul tells in in his   letter to the Thessalonians this morning: “do not be weary in doing what is right.”

 

Those words are our battle cry for us here at St. Stephen’s.

 

Those words are the motto for the Church we represent.

 

Do not be weary in doing what is right.

 

Yes, I know.

 

We are weary at times.

 

We are tired at times.

 

We have done much work.

 

And there is much work still to do.

 

But we are doing the work God has given us to do.

 

And we cannot be weary in that work, because we are sustained.

 

We are held up.

 

We are supported by that God who truly loves and supports us.

 

But we must keep on doing so with love and humility and grace.

 

St. Stephen’s is incredible place.

 

We all know it.

 

Others know it.

 

God certainly knows it.

 

So, let us be thankful.

 

Let us continue our work—our ministries.

 

Let us do the ministries we are called to do.

 

Let give of our time, talent and resources.

 

Because we can’t do any of it without all of those things.

 

And as we do, as we revere God’s Holy Name, see what happens.

 

The Prophet Malachi is right.

 

For those of us who continue our work, who continue to revere God’s holy Name, on us that Sun of Righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings.

 

Amen.