Jamie Parsley's Blog, page 3

Trinity Sunday

 

June 15, 2025

 

 

+ Last Wednesday, I observed the 21stanniversary of my ordination to the Priesthood.

 

My priesthood is now of legal drinkingage, if it drank.

 

(It, like me, doesn’t)

 

And on Friday, with my ordination anniversarystill fresh in my mind, I was reminded of something:

 

Earlyin my training for the Priesthood, I was cautioned to avoid “lone wolf”ministry, advice I very often blatantly ignored.

 

Knowingwhen or even how to ask for help when I need it hasoften been difficult for me.

 

Anexample of my “lone wolf” tendencies happened about a year ago when I thought Icould simply move one of my heavy plastic window-well covers by myself to cut aweed that had grown inside the window-well.

 

I gotthe cover off without too much trouble but when I tried to put it back I endedup shattering it (in retrospect I realize it was definitely a two person job).

 

Well,lesson learned.

 

OnFriday, I ended up asking our very loyal deacon, John, if he could help hischronically  “lone wolf” priest on arainy day to pick up and install a new window-well cover.

 

Whichhe did.

 

And Iam grateful.

 

Because,well, I couldn’t have done it on my own.

 

And ingratitude for that, I’m preaching on Trinity Sunday instead of him.

 

Usually,at least for the last five years or so, I let Deacon John preach on thisSunday, which he does well.

 

But,today, I will do it.

 

*sigh*

 

So, why my apprehension about the Trinity?

 

Well. . . when all is said and done, at the end of the day, I cansay this about myself:

 

I am don’t know how orthodox I am for people.  

 

Let’s face it.

 

I’m pretty liberal.

 

And the accusation of “heretic” has been tossed in my directionmore than once.

 

Probably because, as you all know I am unashamed universalist.

 

I do believe that, eventually, we will all be together with Christin heaven.

 

I really do believe that.

 

I do not believe in an eternal hell.

 

But despite all of that, I am actually a pretty “orthodox” priest.

 

I am pretty cut and dry on the other stuff.

 

I really do believe Jesus is the Son of God.

 

I really do believe he’s the Word of God Incarnate.

 

I believe prayer does make a difference in this world.

 

I believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Bread and Wine ofthe Eucharist.

 

And let’s not get into my view of Mary and the saints.

 

And then, there’s the Trinity.

 

Sigh.

 

The Trinity.

 

Now, I taught Systematic Theology for 10 years at the Universityof Mary

 

I still teach Religion on a regular basis.

 

Every time I try to explain it, I find myself nudging over intosome kind of heresy.

 

Am I doing a Modalist definition?

 

Or am I guilty of Partialism?

 

So, to avoid anyone getting that ugly “heretic” accusation lobbed atme. I’m not even going to attempt it today.

 

After all, I’m just a priest.

 

I’m not a theologian, nor have I ever claimed to be one.

 

Most of us, let’s face it, don’t give the doctrine of the Trinitya lot of thought.

 

Like you, I really don’t lost a lot of sleep over it.

 

I approach this Sunday and this doctrine of the Trinity as Iapproach any similar situation, like Christmas or Easter or, as we celebratedlast Sunday, the Holy Spirit and Pentecost.

 

It’s a mystery.

 

And I love the mystery of our faith.

 

And let me tell  you, thereis nothing more mysterious than the Trinity.

 

God as Three-in-One—God as Father or Parent or Creator, God as Sonor Redeemer and God as Spirit or Sanctifier.

 

I know, I know.

 

It’s difficult to wrap our minds around this concept of God.

 

The questions we priests regularly get is: how can God be threeand yet one?

 

How can we, in all honesty, say that we believe in one God when weworship God as three?

 

Certainly our Jewish and  Muslim brothers and sisters ask that veryimportant question of us:

 

My answer is: I don’t know.

 

Whole Church councils have debated the issue of the Trinitythroughout history.

 

The Church actually has split at times over its interpretation ofwhat exactly this Trinity is.

 

We can debate it all we want this morning.

 

We can talk what is orthodox or right-thinking about the Trinityall we want.

 

But the fact remains that unless we have experienced God in a realand somewhat personal way, none of this talk to the Trinity is really going tomatter, ultimately.

 

And there is the key to everything this Sunday is about.

 

We can go on and on about theology and philosophy and all mannerof thoughts about God, but ultimately what matters is how we interact with ourGod.

 

How is our relationship with God and with each other deepened andmade more real by this one God?

 

That’s what Jesus tells us again and again.

 

Just love God.

 

In scripture we don’t find people worrying too much about whetherthey are committing a heresy or not in trying to describe God.

 

What do we find in scripture?

 

We find a constant striving toward a more personal and closerrelationship with God.

 

This is our primary responsibility: our relationship with God.

 

How can all this talk about God—how can this thinking aboutGod—then deepen our relationship with God?

 

Our goal is not to understand God: we will never understand God.

 

God is not some Rubik’s Cube or a puzzle that has to be solved.

 

Our goal is to know God. In our hearts. Passionately.    

 

Our goal is to love God.

 

Our goal is to try to experience God as God wishes to be experienced byus.

 

Because God does know us.

 

God does love us.

 

And, more likely than not, we have actually experienced our God inmore than one way more than once in our lives.

 

I personally have experienced God in what I would call atri-personal kind of way (I don’t know what heresy that might be, but I reallydon’t care)

 

I personally have experienced God as a loving and caring parent,especially when I think about those times when I have felt marginalized bypeople or the Church or society or by friends and colleagues.

 

I have also known Jesus as my redeemer—as One who, in Jesus, hascome to me where I am, as Jesus who suffered in a body and who, in turn, knowsmy suffering because this One also has suffered as well.

 

And this One has promised that I too can be, like Jesus, a childof this God who is my—and our—Parent.  

 

I have been able to take comfort in the fact that God is not somedistant deity who could not comprehend what I have gone through in my life andin this limited, mortal body.

 

In Jesus, God knows what it was to be limited by our bodies.

 

There is something wonderful and holy in that realization.

 

And I have known the healing and renewal of the Spirit of God ofmy life.

 

If that’s the Trinity—and certainly that’s the Trinity I haveexperienced in my life—then, it’s wonderful!

 

If all we do is ponder and argue and debate God and God’s nature,we’ve already thrown in the towel.

 

And we are defeating the work of God in this world.  

 

But if we simply love God and strive to experience God throughprayer  and worship and contemplation,that is our best bet.

 

No matter what the theologians argue about, no matter what thosesupposedly learned teachers proclaim, ultimately, our understanding of Godneeds to be based on our own experience to some extent.

 

Yes, God is beyond our understanding.

 

Yes, God is mysterious and amazing and incredible.

 

But God does not have to be a frustrating aspect of our faith.

 

Our experience of God should rather widen and expand our faithlife and in our understanding and experience of God and, in turn, of eachother.

 

And that’s where I’m going to leave the whole issue of theTrinity.

 

 

Ok. I’ll say one more thing about theTrinity.

 

Every year, on Trinity Sunday, I placethe Andrei Rubelev’s famous icon of the Trinity in the nave

In it you’ll findthree angels seated at a table.

 

According to sometheological interpretations, these three Angels represent the three Persons ofthe Trinity.

 

In the icon we cansee that all three Angels are shown as equals to each other.

 

In a sense, this iconis able to show in a very clear and straightforward way what all our weighty,intellectual theologies do not.

 

What I especiallylove about the image is that, in showing the three angels seated around thetable, you’ll notice that there is one space at the table left open.

 

That is the space foryou.

 

In a sense, we are,in this icon, being invited to the table to join with God.

 

We are being invitedto join into the work of God.

 

And I think that iswhy this icon is so important to me.

 

It simply allows me to come to thetable and BE with God.

 

It allows me to sit there and be onewith God.

 

No need to wrestle, or debate,  or doubt God.

 

And we realize, certainly in our ownlife here at St. Stephen’s, that, like this ikon, God is still calling to us tobe at the table with God.

 

Here, at this altar, we find God,inviting us forward.

 

And from this table, at which we feastwith God, we go out to do the ministries we are all called to do.

 

Today, as we ponder God—as we consider how God has worked in ourlives in many ways— and who God is in our lives, let us remember how amazingGod is in the ways God is revealed to us.

 

God cannot be limited or quantified or reduced.

 

God can only be experienced.

 

And adored.

 

And pondered.

 

God can only be shared with others as we share love with eachother.

 

So, let us sit down at that table.

 

Let us bring our doubts anduncertainties with us.

 

And let us leave them there at thetable.

 

Let us let God be God.

 

When we do that—when we live out and share our loving God withothers—then we are joining with the amazing and mysterious work of God who ishere with us, loving us with a love deeper than any love we have ever knownbefore.

 

 

 

 

Pentecost

 

June 8, 2025

  Acts 2.1-21

 

+ This past week Deacon Suzanne and I met to discuss a few things,and our conversation turned to theology.

 

We discussed some interesting things regarding the nature of God,the Trinity.

 

And the Holy Spirit.

 

It’s interesting to talk to someone else about these things,because it helps put a needed perspective on one’s own views and beliefs.

 

The Holy Spirit does not usually get a whole lot of conversation.

 

But today, it’s all about the Holy Spirit.

 

As it should. 

 

Yes, we are of course celebrating Pentecost today.

 

It’s a very important day in the life of the Church.

 

Today is essentially the “birthday” of the Church.

 

But, in Judaism, the feast of Shavuot was just celebrated lastweek.

 

Shavuot is a wonderful and important Jewish feast.

 

It is now 50 days since Passover.

 

The word Shavuot is Hebrew for “weeks.”

 

The belief is that, after fifty days of traveling after leavingEgypt, the nation of Israel now has finally arrived at Mount Sinai.

 

And on Shavuot, the Torah, the “Law,” the 10 Commandments weredelivered to them by Moses.

 

So, in a very real sense, this is an important day not just forJudaism, but for us as well.

The Torah, the 10 Commandments, are important to us too.

 

Our feast of Pentecost is very similar in many ways. 

 

It now 50 days after Easter.

 

The word “Pentecost” refers to the Greek word for 50.

 

And it’s connection with Shavuot is pretty clear.

 

Shavuot is this  feast onwhich the early Jews offered to God the first fruits of their harvests.

 

And that is particularly meaningful to us Christians and what wecelebrate on this day of Pentecost.

 

It is meaningful that the Holy Spirit came among us on the feast ofShavuot in which the first fruits were offered to God.

 

After all, those first Christians who gathered in that upper roomin our reading this morning from Acts, were truly the first fruits of theChurch.

 

And let’s not forget that those first Christians were also Jews,gathering to celebrate the festival of Shavuot.

 

God chose to send the Spirit on those first followers of Jesus onjust the right day.

 

Still, like nuclear power or electricity, God’s Spirit issometimes a hard thing for us to grasp and understand. 

 

The Spirit can be elusive and strange and sometimes we might havea hard time wrapping our minds around the Spirit.

 

 In a sense what happens with the Descent of God’s Spiritupon us is the fact that we now have the potential to be prophets ourselves.

 

The same Spirit which spoke to Ezekiel in our reading this morning,which spoke to Isaiah, which spoke to Jeremiah, which spoke to Moses, whichspoke through Jesus, also can now speak to us and be revealed to us just as itspoke and was revealed to those prophets from the Hebrew scriptures and throughJesus.

 

That is who the Spirit is in our midst.

 

The Spirit we celebrate today—and hopefully every day—and in ourlives is truly the spirit of the God that came to us and continues to be withus.

 

It is through this Spirit that we come to know God in ways wemight never have before.

 

God’s Spirit comes to us wherever we may be in our lives—in anysituation or frustration.

 

God’s Spirit is with us, as Jesus promised, always.

 

Always.

 

For those of us who want to grasp these experiences—who want tohave proof of them—the Spirit doesn’t fit well into the plan.

 

We can’t grasp the Spirit.

 

We can’t make the Spirit do what we want it to do.

 

In that way, the Spirit truly is like the Wind that came rushingupon those first disciples.

 

So, how do we know how the Spirit is working in our lives?

 

Well, as Jesus said, we know the tree by its fruit.

 

In our case, we know the Spirit best through the fruits God’sSpirit gives us.

 

Remember what the feast of Pentecost originally was?

 

It was the Jewish feast on which the first fruits were offered toGod.

 

On the feast of Pentecost, we celebrate the fruits the Spirit ofGod gives to us and we can be thankful for them, and, most importantly, sharethem in turn with those around us.

 

The Spirit comes to us and manifests itself to us in the fruitsgiven to us by the Spirit.

 

We often hear about Pentecostals—those Christians who have beenborn (or baptized) in the Spirit.

 

They are the ones who speak in tongues and prophesy and have wordsof knowledge or raise their hands in joyful praise—all those things we goodEpiscopalians find a bit disconcerting.

 

These Pentecostals—as strange as we might find thesepractices—really do have a lot to teach the rest of us Christians about theworkings of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

 

I remember the first time I ever attended a Pentecostal church.

 

Rather than being attracted to that way of worship, I was actuallyturned off.

 

Partly my reason for doing so, is that by that time in my life Ihad, in fact experienced the Spirit very profoundly in my life.

 

For me, the Spirit of God came to me not in a noisy, raucous way,but rather in a quiet, though just as intense, way.

 

The Sprit of God as I have experienced it has never been a“raining down” so to speak, but rather a “welling up from within.”

 

The fruits of the Spirit for me have been things such as anoverwhelming joy in my life.

 

When the Spirit is near, I feel clear-headed and, to put itsimply, I simply feel happy.

 

Or, in the midst of what seems like an unbreakable dark grief,there is suddenly a real and potent sense of hope and light.

 

When the future seems bleak and ugly, the Spirit can come in andmake everything worth living again.

 

We experience God’s Spirit whenever we feel joy or hope.

 

As Jesus says in today’s Gospel, the Spirit of God is a Spirit ofTruth.

 

We experience God’s Spirit when we strive for truth in this world,when truth comes to us.

 

In turn, we are far from God’s Spirit when we let bitterness andanger and frustration lead the way.

 

We frustrate God’s Spirit when we grumble and mumble about eachother and hinder the ministries of others in our church, when we let our ownagendas win out over those who are trying also to do something to increaseGod’s Kingdom in our midst.

 

We deny the Spirit when we deceive ourselves and the truth is notin us.

 

No doubt everyone here this morning has felt God’s Spirit in someway, although we might not have readily recognized that experience as God’sSpirit.

 

But our job, as Christians, is to allow those fruits of the Spiritto flourish and grow.

 

For us, we let the Spirit of God flourish when we continue tostrive for truth and justice, when stand up against the dark forces of thisworld.

 

The Spirit of God compels us again and again to stand up and to bedefiant against the dark forces of this world!

 

That dynamic and life-giving presence of the Spirit of God speaksloudly to us.

 

Certainly we see the Holy Spirit at work in the ministries we do,in the love we share with others, with the truth we proclaim as Christians,even in the face of opposition.

 

We experience this Spirit of truth when we stand up againstinjustice, wherever it may be.

 

This is how God’s Spirit comes to us.

 

The Spirit does not always tear open the ceiling and force its wayinto our lives.

 

The Spirit rather comes to us just when we need the Spirit to cometo us.

 

Though, often the Spirit comes to us as fire—an all-consuming firethat burns way all anger and hatred and fear and pettiness and nagging and allthe other negative, dead chaff we carry within us.

 

So, this week, in the glow of the Pentecost light, in the Shavuotglow with the Law written deep in our hearts, let us look for the gifts of theSpirit in our lives and in those around us.

 

Let us open ourselves to God’s Spirit and let it flow through uslike a caressing wind and burn through us like a purifying fire.

 

And let us remember the true message of the Spirit to all of us.

 

Whenever it seems like God is distant or nonexistent, that is whenGod might possibly be closest of all, dwelling within us, being breathed untous as with those first disciples.

 

On these feasts of Shavuot and Pentecost—these feasts of thefruits of God—these feasts of the fire of God—let us give thanks forthis God who never leaves us, who never stops loving us, but who comes to usagain and again in mercy and in truth.

 

 

 

7 Easter

 

The Sunday after the Ascension

 

June 1, 2025

 

Revelation22.12-13, 16-17, 20-21

 

 

+ + This past Wednesday evening, at our regular Wednesday eveningEucharist, we celebrated the Eve of the feast of the Ascension.

 

Now, for most of us, this just isn’t that big of afeast day for us.

In fact, I don’t know a whole lot of Christians who, quitehonestly, even give the Ascension a second thought.

 

No one was packing it in on Wednesday for the Ascension Eve Mass!

 

Some of us might look at the Ascension as a kind of anticlimacticevent.  

 

The Resurrection has already occurred on Easter morning.  

 

That of course is the big event.  

 

The Ascension comes as it does after Jesus has appeared to hisdisciples and has proved to them that he wasn’t simply a ghost,  but was actually resurrected in his body.

 

In comparison to Easter, the Ascension is a quiet event.  

 

The resurrected Jesus simply leads his followers out to Bethanyand, then, quietly, he is taken up by God into heaven.  

 

And that’s it.

 

There are no angels, no trumpet blasts.

 

There is no thunder or lightning.

 

He just goes.

 

And that’s that.

 

So, why is the Ascension so important to us?

 

 

Well, it’s important on two levels.

 

One, on a practical level, we recognize the fact that, at theAscension, this is where our work begins.  

 

This is when our work as followers of Jesus begins.

 

We, at this point, become the Presence of Christ now in the world.

 

This is where we are now compelled to go out now and actually dothe work Jesus has left for us to do.

 

Those apostles who are left gazing up at  Jesus don’t just simple linger there,wringing their hands, wondering what has just happened.

 

Well, actually, yes, that’s exactly what they do.

 

For a while anyway.

 

But eventually, with a BIG prompting from the Holy Spirit, theyget going.

 

They go out and start doing what they are meant to do.

 

But we’re going to talk about that NEXT Sunday on the feast of Pentecost.

 

For now, we’re here, with them, watching Jesus being taken up, outof their midst.

 

For now, we know Jesus is taken out of our midst and is seated atthe right hand of God.

 

Again, this is the point in which we become the presence of Christin this world.

 

Now, I love the Feast of the Ascension!

 

What I love about the feast is that it is more than just going outto do Christ’s work.

 

Which brings us to our second point.

 

Again and again, as we see in the life of Jesus, it isn’t justabout Jesus.

 

Our job is not simply to observe Jesus and bask quietly in hisholiness.

 

A lot of Christians think that is all it is.

 

But, it’s about us too.

 

When we hear the stories of Jesus birth’ at Christmas, we can lookat them as simply fantastic.

 

They are wonderful stories that happened then and there, to him.

 

Or…we could see them for what they are for us.

 

We could see it our birth story in the births tory of Jesus aswell.

 

God worked in the life of Mary and Joseph and what happened?

 

God’s own Son was born.

 

But it should remind us that God worked in our birth as well.

 

Well. Maybe not with angels and shepherds.

 

But God worked in our lives even from the beginning, as God did inthe life of Jesus.

 

See, Jesus’ birth became ourbirth.

 

At  Easter too, we couldsimply bask in the glorious mystery of Jesus’ resurrection from the tomb.

 

But the story doesn’t really meananything to us until we see ourselves being resurrected with him.

 

His resurrection is ourresurrection as well.

 

God, who raised Jesus, will raise us as well.

 

Well, the same thing happened last Thursday.

 

Jesus’s ascension is ourascension as well.

 

What God does for Jesus, God does for us too.

 

That’s incredibly important to understand!

 

We are not simply followers of Jesus.

 

We are sharers with Jesus in all that happens to him.

 

And that is incredibly wonderful!

 

The event of the Incarnation is a reminder that in much the sameway God’s Word, God’s very essence, is incarnate in Jesus so God’s Word, God’sessence,  is incarnate in us as well.

 

So, regarding the Ascension, it is important for us to look atwhat happened and see it not only with Jesus’ eyes, not only in his followers’eyes, but in our eyes as well.

 

Yes, we are rooted to this earth, to creation.

 

We are children of this world.

 

But we are also children of the next world as well.

 

We are children of heaven too.

 

Jesus tells us in our reading from Revelation today:

 

“See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay accordingto everyone’s work.”

 

Our reward, as children of Heaven, is with the One who says,

 

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, thebeginning and the end.”

 

What the ascension reminds us is that we are inheritors of heaventoo.

 

We, like Jesus, will one day ascend like him, beyond this world.

 

We will be taken up and be with God, just as Jesus is with God.

 

In fact, our whole life here is a slow, steady ascension towardGod.

 

We are moving, incrementally, upward toward God.

 

This is our journey.

 

And as we do, as we recognize that we are moving upward, slowlyascending, like Jesus, to that place in which we ultimately belong, we shouldbe feeling what Jesus no doubt felt as he ascended.

 

Joy.

 

Happiness.

 

Exultation.

 

When we are happy—when we are joyful—we often use the word soar.

 

Our hearts soar with happiness.

 

When we are full of joy and happiness we imagine ourselvesfloating upward.

 

In a sense, when we are happy or in love or any of those otherwonderful things, we, in a sense, ascend.

 

Conversely, when we are depressed?

 

We plunge!

 

We fall.

 

We go down.  

 

So this whole idea of ascension—of going “up”—is important.

 

Jesus, in his joy, went up toward God.

 

And we, in our joy, are, at this very moment, following that path.

 

We have followed Jesus through his entire journey so far.

 

We have followed him from his birth, through his ministry, to hiscross.

 

We have followed him to his descent into hell and through hisresurrection from the tomb.

 

And now, we are following him on his ascension.

 

And it is joyful and glorious.

 

Right now.

 

Right here.

 

In this world.

 

Doing the work God gives us to do.

 

And what is that?

 

It is doing what we must do to make God’s Kingdom present here andnow.

 

It means loving—loving God, loving others, loving ourselves.

 

It means doing what needs to be done to love and make God’sKingdom present right now, even weary as we may be, while we are in this world.

 

Even in this sometimes very ugly, very violent world.

 

So, let’s not just wring your hands like the disciples of Jesusafter the Ascension, wondering what to do next.

 

We know what to do.

 

So let’s do it!

 

Here we are.

 

In this place.

 

In this world.

 

Doing the best we can.

 

And just when we think God has provided just what we need for thisjourney, we find one more truly amazing gift to us.

 

Next week, an event will happen that will show us that Jesusremains with us in an even more extraordinary way.

 

On that day—Pentecost Sunday—God’s Spirit will descend upon us andremain with us.

 

Always.

 

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

 

For now, we must simply face the fact that it all does somehowfall into place.  

 

All that following of Jesus is now really starting to pay off.

 

We know now—fully and completely—that God will never leave usalone.

 

In what seems like defeat, there is amazing resurrection.

 

And ascension.

 

In what seemed like being stuck to an earth that often feels sickand desolate, we now soar.

 

So, today, and this week, as we remember and rejoice in theAscension, as we prepare for the Holy Spirit’s descent, let our hearts ascendwith Jesus.

 

Let them soar upward in joy at the fact that God is still with us.

 

Let us be filled with joy that God’s Spirit dwells within us andcan never be taken from us.  

 

Let us rise up, in joy.

 

Let us rise up in us and proclaim loudly.

 

We are children of heaven!

 

We are ascending to our God and your God.

 

And we are gaining our rightful inheritance!

 

And it is good!

 

Very good!  

 

Amen. 

 

 

 

6 Easter

 

RogationSunday

May25, 2025

John 14:23-29

 

+ 11 years ago tomorrow—on Sunday, May26, 2014—we did something special at our Rogation Blessing.

 

On that Sunday eleven years ago we processedout to our overgrown labyrinth and that bare patch of lawn under the tree thereand dedicated and blessed the space for  ourMemorial Garden.

 

Before that, it was a somewhatforgotten corner of our property.

 

We used to have a composting bin there,where we would put our composting.

 

No one even really noticed it at ll.

 

And now, look!

 

Thanks to Sandy Holbrook and thegardening committee and all the people who have worked for that garden and allthat beautiful landscaping that was done there, it has become a place ofbeauty.

 

And in these eleven years, our memorialgarden has become a place of rest for 25 people—and a place of consolation forcountless others.

 

When I first proposed a memorial gardenfor St. Stephen’s, I remember people being resistant.

 

I got weird looks when I firstmentioned it.

 

And there were some people who wereoutright vocal in their opposition for such a thing.

 

But your loyal priest persisted.

 

(As he does!)

 

And he was diligent.

 

If, one day, when I shed this mortalcoil, I believe those two words will definitely be used to describe the rectorof St. Stephen’s.

 

Persistent and diligent.

 

(along with maybe a few other choicewords)

 

Well, this persistent and diligentpriest went out and did his research.

 

I visited memorial gardens in otherplaces.

 

I learned how such things were done.

 

And I learned also about an apostolateof St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church in Winston-Salem, North Carolina called theSociety of St. Joseph of Arimathea.

 

They were a group who provided burialsfor unclaimed babies in their church cemetery.

 

I wanted to make sure that anyone whoneeded a dignified burial had one in our memorial garden, that no one would beturned away because of financial difficulties, or for any other reason.

 

I remember a dear friend of mine atanother church who was faithful in in her duties to that congregation.

 

As she was preparing for her ownpassing, she decided she wanted to be interred in the church’s columbarium.

 

But the price tag to do so was a bitsteep for her.

 

I went to the priest and said, “She hasbeen very faithful to this congregation. She has volunteered and been there foreverything she is needed for. Just give her the niche.”

 

And that priest said no to me, and tothat elderly woman.

 

She finally was able to muster themoney together (due to some help from some of her friends) and her ashes now restthere in peace.

 

But the story struck me.

 

I never wanted anyone to struggle intheir own lives to find a place of dignity for their final resting place.

 

That is why I am so grateful for ourmemorial garden, and for all those who made this place what it is not only forus, but for everyone else who has benefitted from it.

 

Now I don’t think I’m overestimating itwhen I say it has also become a place of mercy.

 

We of course have laid people to restthere who had no other place to rest, who were rejected or forgotten.

 

Why? Why do we do that?

 

Because that is what we do asChristians.

 

In our Christian tradition, mercy playsheavily into what we do.

 

And as a result, there have been, sincethe early Church, a series of what have been called corporal acts of mercy.

 

I’ve talked about this many timesbefore.

 

These corporal acts of mercy are:

 

To feed the hungry;

To give drink to the thirsty;

To clothe the naked;

To harbor the harborless;

To visit the sick;

To ransom the captive;

To bury the dead.

We at St. Stephen’s, inthe ministry we do as followers of Jesus, have done most of those well(actually I don’t know if we’ve ransomed a whole lot of captives)

 

Including that last one. 

 

Burying the dead is a corporal act ofmercy.

 

And, it’s appropriate we are discussingthings like mercy and love on this Sunday, Rogation Sunday, the Sunday beforethe Ascension of Jesus.

 

In our Gospel reading for today we findJesus explaining that although he is about to depart from his followers—thiscoming Thursday we celebrate the feast of Jesus’ Ascension to heaven—he willnot leave them alone.

 

They will be left with the Advocate—theSpirit of Truth.

 

The Holy Spirit.

 

He prefaces all of this with thosewords that quickly get swallowed up by the comments on the Spirit, “If you loveme, you will keep my commandments.”

 

And just to remind everyone, thatcommand is, of course, “to love.”

 

To love God.

 

And to love our neighbors as ourselves.

 

This is what it means to be the Church.

 

To love.

 

To serve.

To be merciful.

To be Christ to those who need Christ.

 

To be a Christ of love and compassionand acceptance.

 

Without boundaries.

 

Without discrimination.

 

Because that is who Christ is to us.

 

Our job as Christians, as followers ofJesus, is  to show mercy to others.

 

We are doing so this morning.

 

We are living into our ministry ofmercy to others.

 

Today is, as I’ve said, RogationSunday.

 

Rogation comes from the Latin word“Rogare” which means “to ask.”

 

In our Gospel reading today we hearJesus saying to us,  

 

 “I will ask the Father, and he willgive you another Advocate…”

 

From a very simple perspective, thething we are asking today, on this Rogation Sunday, is to be faithful followersof Jesus, thorough our works and acts of mercy.

 

Now for some of us, this whole idea ofRogation Sunday and the procession that we will soon be making outside at theconclusion of our Eucharist this morning might seem a bit too much.

 

 The fact is, it is something, very much likeburying the dead on the church grounds.

 

Our memorial garden—this visible signof the final corporal act of mercy—is a part of this Rogation celebration.

 

This is where we do our blessing.

 

We process there. In this procession,we will bless the earth and the land.

 

We will bless our new pocket prairie.

 

We ask God’s blessings on the growthnot only of crops and fields.

 

We also thank God today for the growthof our congregation.

 

We are thanking God for the acts ofmercy and grace done to each of us.

 

And we are asking God to continue tomake us Christ to those who need Christ.

 

We are thanking God especially for allthe graces in our lives.

 

Grace is especially something wecelebrate on Rogation Sunday.

 

Let’s see if you can remember mydefinition of grace.

 

Grace, in my very simple opinion, is agift we receive from God that we don’t ask for.

 

In fact it is often something wereceive from God that we may not even known how to ask for.

 

And we all get to be reminded of thefact that God’s grace still works in our midst in wonderful and beautiful ways.

 

This is how God works sometimes in ourlives.

 

And we have provided grace to severalof the people buried in our garden.

 

We gave them something they could notask for.

 

But we, seeking to live out mercy inour lives and in ministries here, provided them something others did not. 

 

It is appropriate to remember all ofthis on this Rogation Sunday—this Sunday in which we ask God’s blessings on us,on the growth in our lives, and on the renewal in our lives, and in which weseek to be grateful for the graces in our own lives. 

 

As  we process out at the end of the Eucharisttoday, I ask you to look around  at thememorial garden before and even as we head on to the Mary Garden at the back ofthe church.  

 

I ask you to look at the names on thestones there.

 

We know many of them now.

 

Others of them we will never know onthis side of veil.

 

I ask you as you walk about to thankGod for them.

 

I ask you today to thank God for thegrowth God has granted us at St. Stephen’s.

 

And I ask that you remember Jesus’ callto us, to love God and to keep that  commandment of love and mercy.

 

This is more than just sweet, religioustalk.

 

It is a challenge and a true calling tolive out this love in radical ways.

 

It is a challenge to be merciful.

 

As we process—especially as we blessour two pocket prairies—as we walk together, let us pay attention to this worldaround us.

 

Let us ponder the causes and theeffects of what it means to be inter-related—to be dependent upon on each tosome extent, as we are on this earth.

 

We do need each other.

 

And we do need each other’s love.

 

We definitely need each other.

 

And we definitely need more mercy inthis world.

 

We do need that radical love that Jesuscommands us to have.

 

With that love, we will truly love ourneighbors as ourselves.

 

We will truly show mercy to them.

 

Let this procession today truly be a"living walking" as the great poet (and one of my heroes) GeorgeHerbert put it.

 

But let our whole lives as Christiansbe also a “living walk,” a mindful walk, a walk in which we see the worldaround with eyes of love and respect and justice and care.

 

And, most importantly, with eyes ofmercy.

 

Amen.

5 Easter

May 18, 2025

 

Revelation 21.10, 22-22; John 13.31-35

+Last Wednesday, after the Wednesday evening Eucharist, at supper at theRustica Tavern, the St. Stephen’s group had a discussion about the so-called “LastTimes.”

 

Kristine in particular was sharing someinteresting things from her own religious upbringing about this.

 

No doubt, you too have encountered otherChristians who have told you things like this:

 

“You know we’re in the last times, right?”

 

Or,

 

“When the Rapture comes, you want go with it,because to be left behind is terrible.”

 

I personally never understood these commentsuntil I later heard that they come from some Evangelical churches that havefound these interpretations of the Book of Revelation to mean that what iswritten in that book is happening right now.

 

And with the popularity of such awful booksas the Left Behind series (which Ipersonally find to be major manipulations of scripture, not to mention verybadly written books), we have seen even more clearly some Christian’s ideas ofhow the Book Revelation somehow is interpreted in the light of current events.

 

Later, as I sort of studied it a bit, I founda big problem with such teaching:

 

Almost every Christian since the time ofJesus believed they were in the “end times.”

 

People thought it was the end times when theBlack Death rolled through Europe.

 

People thought it was the End Times when theProtestant Reformation raged, or when the Turks invaded Europe or when theFrench Revolution happened.

 

People thought it was the end times whenWorld War I came.

 

People thought it was the End Times duringthe 1918 Flu Epidemic.

 

People definitely thought it was the endtimes when Hitler rose to power.

 

People in the 1950s were saying it was theend times with the Communist threat from Russia and China.

 

Or they were saying it was the end of timeswhen kids started listening to Rock and Roll or the Beatles came to the U.S, oranytime during the very tumultuous 1960s.

 

Back in the 1980s, I remember my aunt, whobelonged to the First Assembly of God Church, saying it was the end timesthen. 

 

This was also the height of a thing calledthe “Satanic panic.”

 

People of my generation definitely remember howwe were told by some groups of evangelical Christians that all the rock musicwe listened to had hidden satanic messages, or if you played a record backwardit would reveal some demonic message.

 

I even remember my aunt saying that we shouldnot have VISA cards because VISA was a clever guise for the Mark of theBeast—the numbers 666.

 

Certainly, people thought it was the end ofthe world five years ago when the Pandemic was at its worst.

 

I remember everyone playing “It’s the End ofthe World As We Know It” by R.E.M.

 

If we were to believe everyone who cried itwas the end times, we could honestly say that the end times have been happeningfor at least 2,000 years. 

 

I solved my confusion about this issue by doingthe only thing I could do in the face of all that confusion:

 

I simply re-read the Book of Revelation frombeginning to end.

 

And you know what happened?

 

I was able to claim—or re-claim—it, andhelped me toread it anew.

 

AndI was able to see that the Book of Revelation really isn’t about “End Times”

 

Thereis no Rapture in the Book of Revelation.

 

Still,I think there are a lot of us who feel very differently about the Book ofRevelation.

 

Revelationis a strange book.

 

Itcan be a frightening book.

 

It’scertainly not my favorite book of the Bible.

 

But—andI know this might seem strange to many Christians— I don’t see it as a book ofprophecy, as many Christians do.

 

Idon’t see it saying anything definitely about future governments or somemessianic Anti-Christ in our midst or that we are living in the so-called “lastdays” or what have you.

 

Mindyou, I do believe “anti-Christs” come and go through history.

 

Ido believe that powerful people who represent every anti-Jesus, anti-Christianideals which are opposite of the Christian express of loving God and lovingothers and respecting the worth of dignity of all peoples are real, and thosepeople are, by definition, the anti Christ.

 

But,for that matter, anytime any of us run counter to these Christian ideals, wetoo become kind of “anti-Christs” to those around us.

 

Still,what I do see the book of Revelation doing is speaking to us through somebeautiful and powerful poetry on what is happening in our lives, rightnow, as Christians, and about how, in the end, Christ is victorious.  

 

Ithink it is important for us to re-claim Revelation in this way —and, in doingso, re-read it with a new lens. 

In our reading this morning from Revelation, we find some very strange esotericimages—not an uncommon thing when we read Revelation.

 

Wefind this morning these images of a new heaven and a new earth, of this newJerusalem, where death is no more or tears or crying.

 

Itis a place of beauty and glory.  

 

Itis a place of unending life.

 

Andit is here that I think the Book of Revelation speaks loudly to us.

 

Evenwe, as Christians, sometimes struggle with the reality of death in our lives.

 

Evenwe fear it at times.

 

Andthat is all right.

 

Thatis normal.

 

Ofcourse, death is a part of life, and certainly it’s part of my job as a priest.

 

Iknew that going into it.  

 

But,let me tell you: it still is hard, often.  

 

Andfor people who have to deal with this mystery of death on a regular basis,there have to be ways to find strength and comfort in the midst of death.  

 

Oneof the ways I find my way through this sometimes constant dealing with death isby turning to the scriptures.

 

Thereis a common theme we find through all Scripture.

 

Andthat common theme is this:

 

thedefeat of death.  

 

Oras the great Episcopal theologian William Stringfellow (one of my favorites!) calledit: “authority over death.”

 

Iagree with him 100%.  

 

Ithink he is absolutely right about that.

 

Stringfellowsaw it most profoundly in the life of Jesus.  

 

Therewe see this authority over death most profoundly.

 

Wesee it every time Jesus healed the sick, calmed the storms, cast out demons,ate with sinners, cleansed the temple, raised the death, carried the Cross.

 

Andof course, in the Resurrection, which we are still celebrating in this seasonof Easter, it is all about authority over death.

 

Inall of this, we see the God of life—God in Jesus—being victorious over death.

This view of life over death speaks to us most profoundly during this Easterseason.

 

We,as Christians, cannot let the power of death control and direct our lives.  

 

AsChristians, as followers of Jesus who crossed that awful boundary between lifeand death, and came back, we must truly be defiant to death.  

 

Ofcourse, that ultimate victory over death happens only when we can face deathhonestly.

 

Truevictory over death is when we can see death in the light we hear about intoday’s reading from Revelation.

 

Onlythen do we realize that death has no victory over us.

 

Becauseof what happened on Easter, because of the Resurrection, because Jesus did die,yes, but God raised him from that tomb, and because Jesus walked victoriousupon the chains of death, we know now death does not have the last word in ourlives.

 

But,for us Christians, we can’t be stuck in such death.

 

Wemust live.

 

Andwe must move forward.  

 

Wemust  stand up againstdeath.

 

But,standing up to death, even when we’re sick of it, is not easy.

 

Choosinglife, with all its uncertainties, can be scary.

 

Evenwhen moving forward into life  and living our lives fullyand completely, we realize it can be frightening.

 

Weare, after all, heading into the future which is unknown to us.

But that, again, is what I love about Revelation.

 

WhatRevelation promises to us, through all that poetry and imagery, is that deathwill lose, hatred will lose, violence will lose, evil will lose, war will lose,racism will lose, dictators and despots will definitely lose—and goodness, andholiness and LIFE will be victorious.  

 

Thatisn’t wishful thinking.  That’s isn’t beingnaïve.

 

Rather,this is what it means to be a Christian.  

 

Thisis what it means to believe in the God of life.

 

"See, the home of God is among mortals,” St. John tells us inour reading for today.
“[God] will dwell with them as their God;
they will be [God’s] peoples,
and God…will be with them;
…will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away."

Those are words of absolute and glorious victory.

 

Butmore so, they are words of life—of a life that goes on forever and ever.

 

Aswe travel through these last days of Easter, let us do so with true Easter joy.

 

Letus do so rejoicing from the very core of our bodies.

 

Weare alive.  

 

Thismorning, we are alive.

 

Lifeis in us.

 

Weare followers of Jesus.

 

God’sholy Spirit lives and breathes within us!

 

Weare filled with life and love.

 

Aswe heard Jesus say in our Gospel reading for today, “I give you a newcommandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you shouldlove one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciple, if youhave love for one another.”

 

Thosewords are our words this morning as well.

 

Weare filled with love and life.

 

Weare celebrating love and life.

 

Andit is all very, very good.  

 

Wehave much to be thankful for and in which to rejoice.

 

So,let us be thankful for this life.

 

Letus rejoice in it.  

 

Andlet us realize that in rejoicing in our lives and in the life within each ofus, God has truly prepared for us, as we heard in our collect this morning,“such good things as surpass our understanding.”

 

I’mgoing to close today with the lyrics to a song I heard (and saw) on Tiktok theother day by a performer Nathan Evans Fox, who is a “leftist Christian from theOzarks.”

 

It’scountry music, and I’m not a real big fan of country music.

 

Butthis one I like.

 

Thisparticular song, “When the Lord Comes Back,” reminds us that all those peoplewho look with joy for the End Times to come because they think they’re getsaved while everyone else gets sent off to hell—well, those people might be infor a real big surprise.

 

Ialso want to say, I don’t agree with everything in this song, but be openminded as you heard the lyrics.

 

Whenthe Lord comes back

Aintgonna be no cops

Youcan cook your own

Andsmoke your crops.

 

Allthe boys gonna wear

Thepretty things

Whenthe Lord comes back

Aintgotta prove a thing

 

Whenthe Lord comes back

I’mgonna drive real slow

Gonnago wherever the spirit goes

Gonnadawdle and piddle and talk and cuss

Aintno boss gonna make a fuss

 

Whenthe Lord comes back

I’mgonna drive real slow

Wellevery high place

gonnabe brought low

 

Whenkingdom comes

We’llwant for nothing

It’sjust a long table

Amess of beans and honey buns

 

Thetrucks are small

Thetrains are late

Menpick up their dinner plates

Aintnobody sees that debts are paid

 

Theguns are all for shootin’ clays

Theguns are all for shootin’ clays

 

Whenthe Lord comes back

Therich get scared

Aintgotta act mean to

Betreated fair

 

Allthe living’s honest

Anddying too

Ourbodies return

Asheirlooms

 

Couldalready come

Atime or two

Andthey kill Him like

Theytend to do.

 

SoI’m praying for

Themighty to fall

Elseaint no use

Inprayer at all

 

Whenthe Lord comes back

I’lldo my best

Toshare my okra and cigarettes

Breakevery law I can’t respect

Leavesome tall grass for all the critters rest

 

Don’tsmoke cigarettes, but pray—pray hard!—for the mighty to fall.

 

 

 

3 Easter

May 4,2025

 

John 21: 1-19

 

+ I am fond of using a great quote from the British literarycritic, A. Alvarez.

 

He said, essentially, it’s good to be an apprentice.

 

You learn the task—in this case, of poetry—so that “when the Deviltakes you by the throat and shakes you,” it is then, that you’ll know what todo.

 

It is then, that you become a poet.

 

It has been great advice.

 

And I think it’s advice that can be used in multiple situations.

 

So, the question for all of you this morning is: When the so-called“Devil” takes YOU by the throat and shakes you, what do you do?

 

What do you do when you find yourself at the left hand of God, aphrase that comes from Fr. Richard Rohr about being in a bad place in yourlife?

 

What do you do when the bad things of this life are thrown at you?

 

Do you shut down, and curl up and just wait for it to pass?

 

Do you freeze up and just brace yourself for it?

 

Do you react and rage at the injustice of it?

 

Or do you confront it all?

 

When the “Devil” takes me by the throat, when I find myself at theleft hand of God (and I’ve been there MANY times in my life!) do you know whatI do?

 

I make myself busy.

 

When I was diagnosed with cancer, when my father died verysuddenly, when any of the bad things happen, I just get busy.

 

I do something.

 

Anything.

 

Because not doing something is worse than the “Devil”’s cold handon my throat.

 

However, I will say this: when my mother died, I shut down to alarge extent.

 

I did not do something simply because I couldn’t do anything.

 

The shock of her death and the deep level of emotional painprevented me from doing anything.

 

And that, to me, was so much worse.

 

Doing something in the face of the “Devil”—doing something whenyou find yourself on the left hand of God—is so much more important thanfreezing up and collapsing.

 

In this morning’s Gospel, we find the Apostles doing somethingvery much like that.

 

They aren’t sitting around doing nothing.

 

They are doing some thing.

 

They are keeping busy.

 

In the wake of the murder of Jesus, in the wake of hisresurrection, in the wake of his appearing to them—in the wake of this unusual,extraordinary activity in their lives—they do the most ordinary thing in theirlives.  

 

They go fishing.

 

They pick up their nets and they go out onto the water.

 

No doubt, considering all that had happened to them in theprevious days and weeks, their minds were reeling.  

 

But, now, they are doing something they knew how to do.

 

Something that gave them some comfort, no doubt.   

 

Fishing is what they did, after all.

 

Fishing is what their fathers did and no doubt what theirgrandfathers and great-grandfathers did as well.

 

Fishing was in their blood.

 

It was all they knew—until Jesus came into their lives.  

 

And, no doubt, when the extraordinary events of Jesus’ murder and resurrectionhappened, the only way they could find some normalcy in their life was by goingfishing.

 

The fact is, this is probably the last time they would ever gofishing together.

 

Their old life had once and for all passed away with the voicethat called to them from the shore.  

 

Their jobs as fishermen would change with the words “Feed mysheep.”

 

In that instant, they would go from fishermen to shepherds.

 

No longer would they be fishing for actual fish.

 

Now they would be the feeding the sheep of Jesus’ flock.

 

That symbolic number of 153 seems to convey to us that the worldnow has become their lake.

 

And what is particularly poignant about all of this is Jesusdoesn’t come into their lives to change them into something else.

 

He comes into their lives and speaks to them in language theyunderstand.

 

He could have said to them: “Go out and preach and convert.”

 

But to fishermen and shepherds, that means little or nothing.  

 

They are fishermen, not rabbis or priests.

 

They are not theologians.

 

Instead, Jesus says, “Feed my sheep.”

 

This they would understand.

 

 In those simple words, theywould have got it.  

 

And when he says “feed my sheep,” “Shepherd my sheep,” it was notjust a matter of catching and eating.

 

It was a matter of catching and nurturing.

 

And this calling isn’t just for those men back then.

 

That voice from the shore is calling us too.

 

In a sense, we are called by Jesus as well to be shepherds likePeter and the fellow apostles.  

 

And those around us—those who share this world with us—are theones Jesus is telling us to feed.

 

It isn’t enough that we come here to church on a Sunday morning tobe fed.

 

A lot of us think that’s what church is about.

 

It’s about me being fed.

 

It’s about me being nurtured.

 

To some extent, yes.

 

But, if all we do is come to church to be fed and then not to turnaround and feed others, we are really missing the point.

 

We, in turn, must go out and feed.  

 

And this command of Jesus is important.

 

Jesus asks it of Peter three times—one time for each time Peterdenied him only a few weeks before.  

 

Those words of Jesus to Peter are also words to us as well.

 

In the wake of the devastating things that happen in our lives,the voice of Jesus is a calm center.

 

Amid the chaos of the world, the calm, cool voice of Jesus isstill saying to us, as we cope in our ordinary ways, “feed my sheep.”

 

Because, it is in these strange and difficult times that peopleneed to be fed and nourished.  

 

Not just by me, the priest, only.

 

But by all of us—all of who call ourselves followers of Jesus.

 

It is in times like these that we need to be fed, and it is intimes like these that we need to feed others as well.

 

That, in a sense, is what it means to be a Christian.

 

Following Jesus, as we all know, is not easy.  

 

The fact is: it’s probably the hardest thing one can do.  

 

Jesus is not present to us as he was present to those fishermen inthis morning’s Gospel.

 

He is not cooking us a breakfast when we come back from ordinarywork.  

 

This God of Jesus, this God he keeps telling us to love and toserve, is sometimes a hard God to love and serve.

 

Loving a God who is not visible—who is not standing before us, inflesh and blood, is not easy.  

 

And I’m sure I don’t have to tell anyone here this morning: lovingour neighbors—those people who share our world with us—as ourselves, is noteasy by any means.

 

It takes constant work to love.

 

It takes constant discipline to love as Jesus loved.  

 

It takes constant work to love ourselves—and most of us don’t loveourselves—and it takes constant work to love others.

 

But look at the benefits.  

 

Look at what our world would be like if we loved God, if we lovedourselves and loved others as ourselves.  

 

It was be ideal.  

 

It would truly be the Kingdom of God, here on earth.  

 

It would be exactly what Jesus told us it would be like.

 

But to do this—to bring this about—to love God, to love ourselves,to love each other, it’s all very hard work.

 

Some would say it’s impossible work.  

 

There are people, I’ll confess, I don’t want to love.

 

I don’t want to love those people who hurt me, or who hurt peopleI actually do love.

 

Sometimes I can’t love them.

 

I’m not saying I hate them.

 

I’m just saying that sometimes I feel nothing for a person who haswronged me or one of my loved ones.

 

In that instant, it really is hard to be a follower of Jesus.

 

Certainly, it seems overwhelming at times.  

 

Let’s face it, to live as Jesus expects us to live, to serve asJesus calls us to serve, to love as Jesus loves—it would just be so much easierto not do any of it.   

 

Being a Christian means living one’s life fully and completely asa follower of Jesus.

 

It means being a reflection of God’s love and goodness in theworld.

 

 A quote you’ve heard me share many, many time is this one of  St. Augustine: “Being a Christian meansbeing an Alleluia from head to toe.”

 

That word “Alleluia” means what? It means “praise God.”

 

It means being praising God even when the bad things in lifehappen.

 

It means being an Alleluia—praising God—in our service to others, whenwe would rather just go fishing.

 

It means, occasionally, going and feeding the sheep rather thangoing off fishing and being a busybody when the bad things in life happen. 

 

In the midst of all the things in the world that confuse us—as westruggle to make sense of the world—the voice of Jesus is calling to us and istelling us to “feed my sheep.”

 

Because in feeding those sheep, you know what happens: we too arefed.

 

In nurturing Christ’s sheep, we too are nurtured.

 

See, it all does work out.

 

But we have to work at it for it to work out.

 

So, let us do just that.

 

Let us feed those Jesus calls us to feed.

 

And let us look for the Alleluia of our lives in that service toothers.

 

In finding the Alleluia amidst the darkness, we—inour bodies and in our souls—become—from our head to our toes—truly an Alleluia.

Amen.

 

Easter

 

April 20, 2025

 

John 20.1-18

 

 

+ As I say every year, I am very much an Easter person.

 

Some people are Christmas people.

 

I am very much an Easter person.

 

For me, this Day is what it’s all about.  

 

Today everything just seems to come together.

 

This day is, by far, the most glorious day of our Christian year.

 

This is the day when it all happens.

 

This is the high point, the highlight.

 

This is what it’s all about.

 

This is what’s all about to be a Christian—to be a follower ofJesus.

 

Yes, we followed Jesus through his birth, through his childhood,through his baptism and ministry.

 

We followed Jesus as he performed miracles and raised the dead andpreached and proclaimed this seemingly elusive Kingdom of God.

 

And this past week, we followed him through the exhausting journeyof his last supper, his betrayal, his torture and his death.

 

And we even followed him as he descended into hell.

 

But now, all that following of Jesus pays off.

 

Now—today—is what it’s all about to be a Christian.

 

Now is the pay-off.

 

Easter, for me anyway, is like that glorious vision we are given.

 

Today is what heaven must be like.

 

Today is what those who have gone before us must experience allthe time.

 

Today, all that darkness that we traveled through, all thatuncertainty, all that doubt, all that pain and frustration, all that anger and anxiety anddepression, all those things we thought were so powerful are now seen for whatthey are—illusions.

 

Today, we see that the Light that has dawned upon us this gloriousMorning has driven away those shadows and has shown us only this wonderful,holy moment.

 

The tomb is empty.

 

Death is not what we thought it was.

 

Jesus, the one we have been following, the one we have doubted attimes, the one we have betrayed and turned away from and been embarrassedby—the one we thought was dead—is alive.

God has raised Jesus to eternal life. 

 

Christ is alive, and because he is, we know that, even though we toowill die, we too will live.

God will raise us like Jesus, as well, to eternal life. 

 

What I love about all of this is that there are no pat answers tothe big questions in this moment.

 

Everything we once used to gauge a situation to be true has beenthrown out the door.

 

Instead, what we have is just this one perfect moment.

 

This one glorious moment, filled with light and life and promiseand hope.

 

And joy.

 

Following Jesus means following him through those miserable, harddark times.

 

But it also means following him to this moment.

 

This is the pay-off.

 

Yes, we might be tired.

 

Yes we might be exhausted from the gauntlet of life that we havebeen through.

 

But somehow, in this moment, in this mystery we are celebratingtoday, it’s all made right.

 

And that is what Easter is all about.

 

It is about renewal.

 

It is about life not in the midst of death, but life that destroysdeath.

 

I can tell you that I am very grateful that I am follower ofJesus.

 

I know.

 

It’s easy to say that right now in this moment.

 

But I am even grateful for following Jesus through all that wehave been through liturgically with him these last few days.

 

Because in so many ways, this is what our own lives are like aswell.

 

We do have those moments of darkness and we have those moments oflight.

 

We have those moments in which we feel as though we might actuallybe able to touch death.

 

And we have those moments in which life seems to incredible andwonderful that we almost can’t believe it.

 

Following Jesus is very much like going through the valleys andmountains of our own lives.

 

Now, in this moment, we are celebrating the victory.

 

We are celebrating the victory over every bad thing that hashappened.

 

We are celebrating the victory of light over darkness.

 

We are celebrating the victory of life over death.

 

I know that it all almost seems too good to be true.

 

But it is true.

 

And we know it’s true because the One we follow has shown the wayfor us.

 

So, let us celebrate today.

 

Let our shouts of Alleluia be true shouts not only of joy, but ofvictory.

 

Let our hearts ring out as our voices do this day. And let uscontinue to follow Jesus into that glorious Easter Light.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

 

The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia! 

 

 

Holy Saturday

 

April 19, 2025

 

 

+ This year for Holy Week, I have been re-reading a book I readoriginally way back in 2006, right after it was published.

 

The book is The Last Week by Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan.

 

Marcus Borg is one of my favorite contemporary theologians.

 

And this book is a good book to read to get a solid perspective onthe events of Holy Week and the last days of Jesus, as well as their meaning.

 

And yes, in this book there is a whole chapter on this day, HolySaturday, a day most people gloss over and forget.

 

Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter, of course, get all theattention.

 

As they should.

 

But today is about hell.

 

Well, not quite.

 

And it’s also interesting that your priest, who has outspokenlyexpressed his universalist views regarding “hell,” should pay find thisparticular liturgy one of his favorite for Holy Week.

 

But to truly understand it all, we must look at that whole conceptof hell.

 

First of all, when we hear of the “Harrow of Hell,” or even of Christdescending into hell, we must be clear that the concept of Hell in Jesus’ daywas very different than our concept of hell.

 

For Jews of his day, Hell was actually a place called “Sheol.”

 

And Sheol was not the place of hell we traditionally think of.

 

For them, Sheol was the place under the earth, where all deadpeople went.

 

It was, essentially, the grave.

 

Nothing more.

 

Nothing less.

 

Our concepts of hell have very little do with Sheol or evenscripture.

 

Out concept of hell is based solidly on much later populartradition, such as Dante’s Inferno.

 

This place of hell, where all bad people go, was not even known ofin Jesus’ day.

 

So, Holy Saturday is the time in which we commemorate not only thefact that Jesus is lying in the tomb—in which we perform a liturgy that feelsacutely like the burial service.

 

We also commemorate a very long belief that on this day, Jesus,although seemingly at rest in the tomb, was actually at work, despite the factthat it seemed he was dead.

 

He was in the depth of hell.

 

Sheol.

 

The grave.

 

The place of the dead.

 

This belief, of course, comes to us from a very basic reading of 1Peter, and from the early Church Fathers.

 

Christ descended into death and preached to those who had died.  

 

The popular term for this is the Harrowing of Hell.

 

He went to hell and harrowed until it was empty.

 

WheneverI preach about the Harrowing of Hell I always reference the famous icon of Christstanding over the broken-open tombs pulling out Adam from one tomb and Eve fromthe other.

 

Butthere is another image I would like to draw your attention to—a moreinteractive image.

 

Thatimage is, of course, the image of the labyrinth.

 

Oneof the many images used in walking the labyrinth is, of course, the Harrowingof Hell. 

 

Whenyou think of the labyrinth, you can almost imagine Christ trekking his way downto the very bowels of hell, of sheol, of the grace.

 

There,he takes those waiting for him and gently and lovingly leads them back throughthe winding path to heaven. 

 

It’slovely to imagine and, whether it’s true or not, I like to cling to that image.

 

As a follower of Jesus, I find the story of the Harrowing of Hellto be so compelling.

 

And in one sense, I actually DO believe in hell.

 

The hell of our own making.

 

The hells we ourselves have created right here, right on earth.

 

The hells we have going on within us at times.

 

In that sense, I can say that I have more certainly been there.

 

I’ve been to hell.

 

More than once.

 

As we all have.

 

I have known despair.

 

I have known that feeling that I thought I would actually die frombleakness.

 

Or wished I could die.

 

But didn’t.

 

Even death wasn’t, in that moment, the worst thing that couldhappen.

 

That place of despair was.

 

It’s the worst place to be.

 

Which is why this morning’s liturgy is so important to me.

 

In the depth of hell, even there, when we think there is no onecoming for us—just when we’ve finally given up hope, Someone does.

 

Christ comes to us, even there.

 

He comes to us in the depths of our despair, of our personaldarkness, of that sense of being undead, and what does he do?

 

He leads us out.

 

I know this is a very unpopular belief for many Christians.

 

Many Christians simply cannot believe it.

 

Hell is eternal, they believe

 

And it should be.

 

If you turn your back on God, then you should be in hell foreverand ever, they believe.

 

If you do wrong in life, you should be punished for all eternity,they will argue.

 

I don’t think it’s any surprise to any of you to hear me say thatI definitely don’t agree.

 

And my faith speaks loudly to me on this issue.

 

The God I serve, the God I love and believe in, is not a God whowould act in such a way.

 

So, yes, there is a hell.

 

As I said, I’ve been there.

 

The hell I believe most certainly exists.

 

And many of us—most of us—have been there at least once.

 

Some of us have been there again and again.

 

Any of us who have suffered from depression or severe anxiety, orhave lost a loved one, or have doubted our faith, or have thought God is not aGod of love—we have all known this hell. 

 

But none of them are eternal hells.

 

I do believe that even those hells will one day come to an end.

 

I do believe that Christ comes to us, even there, in the depths ofthose personal hells.

 

I believe that one day, even those hells will be harrowed andemptied, once and for all.

 

Until that day happens, none of us should be too content.

 

None of us should rejoice too loudly.  

 

None of should exult in our own salvation, until salvation isgranted to all.

 

If there is an eternal hell and punishment, my salvation is notgoing to be what I thought it was.  

 

And that is the real point of this day.

 

I love the fact that, no matter where I am, no matter where I putmyself, no matter what depths and hells and darknesses I sink myself into, eventhere Christ will find me. 

 

And I know that the Christ I serve and follow will not rest untilthe last of his lost loved ones is found and brought back.

 

It’s not a popular belief in the Christian Church.

 

And that baffles me.

 

Why isn’t it more popular?

 

Why do we not proclaim a Savior who comes to us in our own hellsand bring us out?

 

Why do we not proclaim a God of love who will bring an end, onceand for all, to hell? 

 

We as Christians should be pondering these issues.

 

And we should be struggling with them.

 

And we should be seeking God’s knowledge on them.

 

On this very sad, very bleak Holy Saturday morning, I find a greatjoy in knowing that, as far as we seem to be in this moment from Easter glory,Easter glory is still happening, unseen by us, like a seed slowly blooming inthe ground.

 

That Victory of God we celebrate this evening and tomorrow morningand throughout the season of Easter is more glorious than anything we canimagine.

 

And it is more powerful than anything we can even begin tocomprehend.

 

In my own personal hells the greatest moment is when I can turnfrom my darkness toward the light and find consolation in the God who has cometo me, even there, in my personal agony.

 

Even there, God in Christ comes to me and frees me.

 

God has done it before.

 

And I have no doubt God will do it again.  

 

In the bleak waters of abandonment, God has sent the buoy, thelifesaver of Christ to hold us up and bring us out of the waters.

 

That is what we are celebrating this Holy Saturday morning.

 

That is how we find our joy.

 

Our joy is close at hand, even though it seems gone from us.

 

Our joy is just within reach, even in this moment when it seemsburied in the ground and lost.

 

 

Good Friday

 April 18,2025

 

 

+ When you came into church today, did younotice a kind of different smell?

 

Something different than the usual incense?

 

Well, that smell you smell today is the smellof nard.

 

It’s a beautiful smell, if you ask me.

 

So, why nard?

 

Well, way back in 2019, when we got ourbeautiful new altar, when it was consecrated by Bishop Carol Gallagher, part ofthe consecration rite included pouring chrism over the top of it.

 

Chrism is the specially consecrated oil thatis consecrated by a bishop, and is used for anointing.

 

Chrism is even more special because itcontains nard.

 

Nard is a very fragrant oil that is added tothe olive oil of chrism.

 

And nard is also the oil that Mary the sisterof Martha and Lazarus, anointed the feet of Jesus with just before hiscrucifixion.

 

Nard is what the body of Jesus would’ve beenanointed with when it was placed in the tomb.

 

And nard is used to consecrate an altar,because the altar is a representation of the tomb of Jesus.

 

Our altar here is a representation of thetomb of Jesus.

 

It is a kind of personal tradition over thelast few years, following our Maundy Thursday Mass, after the altar wasstripped of its paraments, after it was stripped of the fair linen (whichrepresents the burial shroud of Jesus), I pour chrism over the top of the altarand work it in to the wood.

 

I do this every year.

 

It’s a kind of tradition I do after everyonehas left the church on Maundy Thursday and I have some time alone—with thesacrament reserved on the altar of repose in the chapel in the undercroft, inthe time I spend here in this stripped-down church.  

 

As I have been saying throughout Lent thisyear, unless we see what happens to Jesus as our story, unless we realize thatwhat happens to Jesus happens to us as well, the story of Jesus remains whollyobjective—wholly other.

 

We are called to embody the life and yes eventhe death of Jesus.

 

His story is our story.

 

His cross is our cross.

 

His tomb is our tomb.

 

The nard that anoints the body of Jesus isthe nard that anoints our bodies as well.

 

In a short while, there will be anopportunity for you to come forward, to venerate the cross of Christ.

 

This cross is a special cross.

 

It was a cross made 15 years, for Holy Week2010.

 

This cross was made by my father for thatlast Good Friday before he died.

 

It is especially ironic I think that he diedon the Feast of the Holy Cross (September 14) in 2010.

 

As you come forward to venerate the cross,please see it for what it is.

 

Look at it.

 

See it for what it represents.

 

Ponder what all of this represents.

 

The brokenness of Jesus.

 

That one word is what hangs in the air rightnow like the smell of nard from the chrism anointed into eh wood of this altar.

 

Brokenness. 

 

In many ways, that is what this day is allabout.

 

Brokenness.

 

The Jesus we encounter today is slowly,deliberately being broken.

 

This moment we are experiencing right now isa moment of brokenness.

 

Brokenness, in the shadow of the cross, thenails, the thorns. 

 

Broken by the whips.  

 

Broken under the weight of the Cross.  

 

Broken by his friends, his loved ones.

 

Broken by the thugs and the soldiers and allthose who turned away from him and betrayed him.

 

 In this dark moment, our own brokennessseems more profound, more real, as well.  

 

We can feel this brokenness now in a way wenever have before.

 

Our brokenness is shown back to us like thereflection in a dark mirror as we look upon that broken Body on the cross.

 

We have all wondered attimes in our lives if God, who once was such a source of joy and gladness tous, had turned away from us.

 

We have all known whatthe anguish of losing someone love feels like, whether we lost that person todeath, or to a change of feelings, or simply due to desertion.

 

Some of us have knownthat fear that comes when we are faced with our mortality in the face ofillness, and we think there will never be a time when we will never be wellagain. 

 

This dark place is aterrible place to be.

 

But as Bishop CharlesStevenson once wrote:

 

“To receive the light,we must accept the darkness. We must go into the tomb of all that haunts us,even the loss of faith itself, to discover a truth older than death.”

 

 Yes, we have known brokenness in ourlives.

 

We have known those moments of loss andabandonment.

 

We have known those moments in which we havebeen betrayed.  

 

We have known those moments when we have lostsomeone we have cared for so much, either through death or a brokenrelationship.  

 

We have known those moments of darkness inwhich we cannot even imagine the light.

 

But, for as followers of Jesus, we know thereis light.

 

Even today, we know it is there, just beyondour grasp.  

 

We know that what seems like a bleak, blackmoment will be replaced by the blinding Light of the Resurrection.  

 

What seems like a moment of unrelentingdespair will soon be replaced by an unleashing of unrestrained joy.

This present despair will be turned completely around.

 

This present darkness will be vanquished.

 

This present pain will be replaced with acomfort that brings about peace.

 

This present brokenness will be healed fullyand completely, leaving not even a scar.

 

In a short time (though it might not seemlike it) our brokenness will be made whole.

 

And will know there is no real defeat,ultimately.  

 

Ultimately there will be victory.

 

Victory over everything we are feelingsadness over at this moment.

 

Victory over the pain, and brokenness, andloss, and death we are commemorating

 

This is what today is about.   

 

This is what our journey in following Jesusbrings to us.

 

All we need to do is go where the journeyleads us.

 

All we need to do is follow Jesus, yes, eventhrough this broken moment.

 

Because if we do, we will, like him, beraised by God out of this broken place.

 

The God in whom we, like Jesus, trust, willreach out to us, even here, in this place, on this bleak day, and will raise usup.

 

Following Jesus, means following him, even tothis dark and bleak place.

 

But, we, who have trusted in him, will soonrealize this is, most definitely, not the end of the story.

 

Not by any means.

 

We will, in a short time know, that,  in our following of him, we will knowjoy—even a joy that, for this moment, seems far off.  

 

Palm Sunday

 

April 13, 2025

 

+So,this is how we begin Holy Week 2025.

 O

urliturgy today—this service we have this morning—begins on a high note, as it alwaysdoes.

 

Jesusenters in a hail of praises.

 

Thecrowds acclaim him.

 

Itis a wonderful and glorious moment as Jesus enters Jerusalem, praised byeveryone.

 

Buteverything turns quickly.

 

Whatbegins on a high note, ends on the lowest note possible.

 

Thecrowds quickly turn against him.

 

Heis betrayed. He is whipped. He is condemned.

 

Andalthough we hopefully have not physically experienced this things, most of us,have been here at least emotionally.

 

Wehave known these highs and lows in our own lives.

 

Wehave known the high notes—those glorious, happy moments that we prayed wouldnever end.

 

Andwe have known the low notes—when we thought nothing could be worse.

 

Andsometimes these highs and lows have happened to us as quickly as they did forJesus.

 

Unlesswe make personal what is happening to Jesus in our Gospel reading this morningand throughout this coming holy week, it remains a story completely removedfrom our own lives.

 

Aswe hear this reading, we do relate to Jesus in his suffering and death.

 

Howcan we not?

 

Whenwe hear this Gospel—this very disturbing reading—how can we not feel what hefelt?

 

Howcan we sit here passively and not react in some way to this violence done tohim?

 

Howcan we sit here and not feel, in some small way, the betrayal, the pain, thesuffering?

 

Afterall, none of us in this church this morning, has been able to get to this pointin our lives unscathed in some way.

 

Weall carry our own passions—our own crucifixions—with us.

 

Wehave all known betrayal in our lives as times.

 

Wehave all known what it feels like to be alone—to feel as though there is no oneto comfort us.

 

Wheneverwe feel these things, we are sharing in the story of Jesus.

 

Weare bearing, in our very selves, the very wounds of Jesus—the bruises, the whipmarks, the nails. 

 

Andwhen we suffer in any way in this life, and we all have, we have cried out,“where are you, God?”

 

Thatis what this story of Jesus shows us very clearly.

 

Whereis God when we suffer?

 

Whereis God when it seems as though everyone has turned from us, and abandoned us?

 

Whereis God in our agony?

 

Whereis God?

 

Thedeath of Jesus shows us where God is in those moments.

 

Whereis God?

 

Godis right here, suffering with us in those moments.

 

Howdo we know this?

 

Becausewe see it clearly and acutely in this story of Jesus.

 

AsI said, the Gospel story we heard this morning is our story.

 

Forthose of us who carry wounds with us, we are the ones carrying the wounds ofJesus in our bodies and in our souls as well.

 

Everytime we hear the story of Jesus’ torture and death and can relate to it, everytime we can hear that story and feel what Jesus felt because we too have beenmaligned, attacked, betrayed, insulted, spat upon, or discriminated againstthen we too are sharing in the story.

 

Everytime we are turned away and betrayed, every time we are deceived, and every timewe feel real, deep, spiritual pain, we are sharing in Jesus’ passion.

 

Whenwe can feel the wounds we carry around with us begin to bleed again when wehear the story of Jesus’ death, this story becomes our story too.

 

But…andthis is very important BUT, there’s something wonderful and incredible aboutall of this as well.

 

Thegreatest part about sharing in this story of Jesus is that we get to share inthe whole story.

 

Lookwhat awaits us next Sunday.

 

Thesesufferings we hear about today and in our own lives are ultimately temporary.

 

Butwhat we celebrate next Sunday is forever—it is unending.

 

Eastermorning awaits us all—that day in which we will rise from the ashes of thislife—the ashes of Ash Wednesday, the ashes of these palms we wave this morning,the ashes of war and discrimination, and live anew in that unending dawn.

 

NextSunday reminds us is that, no matter how painful our sufferings have been, nomatter how deep our wounds are, God, who has suffered with us, will alwaysraise us from this pain of ours, just as God raised Jesus from his tomb.

 

Godwill dry all our tears.

 

Allour pains will be healed in the glorious light of Easter morning.

 

This is our hope.

 

Thisis what we are striving toward in case we might forget that fact.

 

Ourown Easter morning awaits us, as well.

 

So,as difficult as it might be to hear this morning’s Gospel, as hard as it is torelive our pains and sufferings as we experience the pains and sufferings ofJesus, just remember that in the darkness of Good Friday, the dawn of Eastermorning is about to break.

 

Withit, the wounds disappear.

 

Thepains and the sufferings are forgotten.

 

Thetears are dried for good.

 

Thegrave will lie empty behind us.

 

Andbefore us lies life.

 

Unendinglife.

 

Lifewithout war.

 

Lifewithout violence.

 

Lifewithout discrimination.

 

Lifewithout hatred.

 

Beforeus lies a life triumphant and glorious in ways we can only—here and now—justbarely begin to comprehend.