Jamie Parsley's Blog, page 4

5 Lent

April6, 2025

 

John 12.1-8

 

+ If you have spent anytime with me, you will hear me say a fairlyregular round of platitudes or favorite quotes.

 

Yes, we know I love quoting about chickens and roosting, which arewords I am, at this moment, eating as we sit here watching our financial worldcrumble around us.

 

Sorry. You hired a priest, not a prophet.

 

But one of the ones I use quote often also is this one:

 

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we arespiritual beings having a human experience.”

 

And I have found that to be true in my own life as well.

 

We are spirits essentially experiencing this very human, veryphysical, very matter-filled pilgrimage toward God.

 

And we as spirits must deal with all the joys and sorrows, all thebeauties and pains of having these physical bodies.

 

I think most Christians think that being a Christian means we onlydeal with the spiritual aspects of life.

 

But that’s not so.

 

The physical bodies we are given are also very important of ourspiritual journey.

 

Even in today’s Gospel, we find Mary doing something that sort ofencompasses this view of the sacredness of the body.  

 

We find her coming before Jesus and doing a very unusual thing:she anoints his feet.

 

And Jesus, even more strangely, reprimands jealous Judas by sayingthat Mary is doing nothing more than anointing his body for burial.

 

As we near Holy Week next week—that final week of Jesus’ lifebefore the cross—our thoughts are now turning more and more to these “lastthings.”  

 

Yes, it’s all starting to sound a little morbid.

 

And no doubt, poor Judas was also thinking Jesus was gettingweirdly morbid himself.  

 

But, Jesus is reminding us, yet again, that even the simplest actsof devotion have deeper meaning and are meant to put us in mind of what isabout to ultimately happen.

 

Mary sees in Jesus something even his disciples don’t.  

 

She sees—and maybe doesn’t fully comprehend, though she certainlyintuitively guesses—that Jesus is different, that God is working through Jesusin some very wonderful and unique way.  

 

And she sees that God is working through the very flesh and bloodof Jesus.

 

For us, as Christians we do know that issues of the flesh areimportant.

 

And not in some self-deprecating way, either.

 

You will not hear me preaching much about the “sins of the flesh.”

 

(Don’t think I’m encouraging them either, though)

 

For us, flesh is important in a good way in our understanding ofour relationship with God.

 

What we celebrate here every Sunday and Wednesday at the Eucharistis reminder to us how important issues like physical matter are.

 

We worship not only in spirit and in spiritual things.

 

We worship in physical things as well.

 

The altar.

 

The wooden cross.

 

Bread and wine.

 

Candles and bells.

 

Paraments and vestments and icons and stained glass.

 

And, on Wednesdays, incense.

 

These are the things that are important to us as loud and proudliturgical Christians—Christians for whom liturgy and liturgical expressions ofour faith and worship of God are important.  

 

These things remind us that we have senses, given to us by God.

 

And these senses can be used in our full worship of that God.

 

And that God that we worship is concerned with our matter as well.

 

God accepts our worship with all our senses.

 

God actually gets down in the muck of the matter of our lives.

 

And for us, it also kind of defiant.

 

So many Christians view physical things or the flesh as such ahorrible, sinful things.

 

That baffles me.  

 

And as we all know, there are Christians who truly believe that.

 

The flesh is bad.

 

The spirit is good.

 

There are Christians who believe that these bodies of ours aresinful and should be treated as wild, uncontrollable things that must bemastered and disciplined and ultimately defeated.

 

Why we as Christians get so caught up with this awful ridiculousview that the flesh is this terrible, sin-filled thing that we are imprisonedwithin is frustrating for me.

 

In fact, the belief that the flesh is bad and the spirit all-goodis a very early church heresy, which was condemned by the early ChristianChurch.

 

We have all known Christians who do think that flesh is ahorrible, sinful thing—who think all we should do is concentrate only on thespiritual.  

 

For those of us in the know—even for those of who have sufferedfrom physical illness and suffering ourselves in this flesh—we know that theflesh and the spirit truly are connected.  

 

We cannot separate the two while we are still alive and walking onthe earth.

 

Which bring sus back to our good quote at the beginning of thissermon.

 

What are we?

 

We are “spiritual beings having a human experience.”

 

I think we could just as easily say that we are spiritual beingshaving a material experience.  

 

I, of course, don’t see that as a downplaying of our flesh.  

 

Rather, I see it as truly the spirit making the material holy.  

 

Our flesh is sacred because God makes it sacred.  

 

And if we have trouble remembering that our flesh is sacred, thatGod cares about us not just spiritually but physically, we have no furtherplace to look than what we do here at this altar, in the Eucharist.  

 

Here, God truly does feed our flesh, as well as our spirits.  

 

And, we can even go so far as to say that by feeding our flesh, Godbecomes one with us physically as well as spiritually.  

 

So much so that God’s very Word came to us and became incarnate inthe person of Jesus.

 

The Incarnation + (“In the flesh” is what Incarnation means)

 

That is also what Holy Communion is all about.

 

I think often about the unknown and abandoned ashes we have buriedin our memorial garden.

 

One of our ministries here is providing a final resting place forthe ashes of people we will never know.

 

At least not on this side of the veil.

 

These ashes were often discarded.

 

No one came to claim them.

 

Some of them sat unclaimed for 60 or so years.

 

Whoever survived that person, their lives went on.

 

And it’s easy to do that.

 

It’s easy to just let ashes be ashes.

 

It’s easy to just say, “they’re just ashes.”

 

But for any of us who have lost people we truly love, that is notthe case.

 

They’re not “just ashes.”

 

Those ashes are what remains of someone who lived and loved andlonged for something more than this world often gives.

 

Those ashes were remains of someone who lived like we did and diedlike we will die.

 

Those ashes are us, to some extent.

 

Because we are interconnected.

 

We all matter to God.

 

Even our matter matters to God.

 

It is for this reason that we do what we do here at St. Stephen’s.

 

It is for this reason that we inter what others consider “justashes.”

 

For us, these are not “just ashes.”

 

These are our ashes.

 

Next week, on Palm Sunday, we will begin our liturgy with joy andend it on a solemn note as we head into Holy Week.  

 

Next Sunday, we will also get palms.

 

Now, every year you hear me say: save those palms.

 

First of all, they are blessed palms.

 

We will bless them at the beginning of the Mass.

 

I say fold them, display them, let them dry out.

 

Because next winter, right before Ash Wednesday, I will ask you tobring them back to church.

 

Those green and beautiful palms that we wave next Sunday, will beburned and made into the ashes we use on Ash Wednesday, when we are remindedthat we are dust, and to dust we shall return.

 

There is a strange and wonderful circle happening in all of this.

 

We see it all comes around.

 

And that God does really work through all of these material thingsin our lives as Christians.

 

Yes, even in the ashes, and matter of our lives.

 

Holy Week is a time for us to be thinking about these lastthings—yes, our spiritual last things, but also our physical last things aswell.   

 

As we make our way through Holy Week, we will see Jesus as heendures pain physically and spiritually, from a spirit so wracked with painthat he sweats blood, to the terror and torment of being tortured, whipped andnailed to a cross.  

 

As we journey through these last days of Lent, let us do sopondering how God has worked through our flesh and the flesh of our loved ones.

 

Yes, we truly are spiritual beings enjoying a physical experience.  

 

We are spiritual beings enjoying an incredible and wonderful pilgrimagethrough matter.

 

So, let us enjoy it.

 

Let us exult in it.

 

Let us truly partake in this material experience.

 

Let us rejoice in this material experience God has allowed us.

 

Let us be grateful for all the joys we have received through thismatter in which we dwell and experience each other.  

 

 And let this joy be the anointment for our flesh as weponder our own end and the wonderful new beginning that starts with that end.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4 Lent/Laetare Sunday

 

March 30, 2025

Laetare Sunday

 

 

Luke13.1-3,11b-32

 

+ I said it last week, but I’ll say it again today:

 

Lent is a strange time of the year.

Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this on Laetare Sunday—when things areeven stranger than they normally are.

On this day surrounded with so much rose.

Because, yes, even Laetare Sunday and the rose-colored paramentsand vestments are also even kind of strange.

Yes, we have this season to think about things like sin andrepentance.

But it is also a time for reflection.

And reflection, as serene as it might seem, can really bedifficult too.

I don’t really like doing.

Because, reflection means looking at one’s self.

And, more importantly, seeingone’s self.

Really seeing one’sself.

That can be really hard.

For me, as I said, I find doing so very difficult.

After all, I should have it all figured out by now, right?

I didn’t think that, in my fifties, I would be forced to grow evenmore.

Isn’t there an end to growing?

My parents in their fifities seemed to having it all figured out.

Why don’t I have it all figured out?

But, no, here I am, still growing, still changing, still have toreflect on my changing self.

It’s exhausting!

There’s something both comforting and disturbing about thatrealization.

As I look back over my life, certainly I find some very solid mileposts.

I know this might come as a surprise to most of who know me, but Ihave been a bit of a rebel in my life.

No, not maybe the traditional rebel.

But I have rebelled a lot in my life.

Now, that sounds great.

Many people think the rebellious life is a romantic one.

It’s so full of challenge and adventure.

There’s never a boring day in the life of a rebel.

I know you’re all so envious of that in my life, right?

And that’s very true.

But there’s a downside to being rebellious.

What is the downside to being a rebel?

There is never a boring day in the life of a rebel!

That is one of the downsides.

There’s no resting.

There’s no day of not being a rebel.

You don’t just get to have a day off from it.

Up in the morning,--rebel.

Before bed at night—rebel.

And, let me tell you, as romantic as people might think it is, thefact is: the rebellious life can be a very lonely life.

It can be very isolating.

Rebels aren’t the only ones who get exhausted.

The people around rebels gets exhausted too.

Oftentimes, the rebel is all alone in the cause of rebellion.

There are days when it feels like one is Don Quixote fightingwindmills.

And it’s exhausting.

As I look back over the last several years or so, I realize: I’mtired.

It’s been hard at times.

And I’m not the same person I was before.

I’m definitely not the same person I was when I first came here toSt. Stephen’s all those years ago.

Maybe, to some extent, that is why I can relate so well to thestory of the Prodigal

Son.

We have all been down that road of rebellion and found that,sometimes, it is a lonely road, as I said.

Sometimes we do find ourselves lying there, hungry and lonely andthinking about what might have been. 

But for me, in those lonely moments, I have tried to keep my eyeon the goal.

I am, after all, one of those people who habitually makes goalsfor myself. 

I always need to set something before me to work toward.

Otherwise I feel aimless.

Goals are good things, after all. 

They’re essentially mile markers for us to set along the way.

The reality of goals are, however, that oftentimes—sometimes moreoften than not, I hate to admit for myself—they are not met sometimes.

It was a really growing edge moment in my life when I stoppedbeating myself up and learned not to be too disappointed in myself when certaingoals have not been met in my life.

Goals are one thing—good things.

Hopes and dreams are something else entirely.

There was a point in my life when I had one particular hope.

I wanted this particular thing to happen so badly that I almostbecame obsessed with it.

And when it finally did happen, it was fine, but then it was doneand I was on the other side of that hope.

And on the other side of hope can be desolate place.

It can feel very empty over there.

That “other side”—the other side of our goals (once we’ve achievedour goals) and our hopes and dreams (when our hopes and dreams finally cometrue) can be, I think, even more dangerous places than the place that leads upto them.

In our Gospel for today, we find the Prodigal Son have some biggoals and some pretty major hopes and dreams.

First and foremost, he wants what a lot of us in our society wantand dream about: money.

He also seems a bit bored by his life.

He is biting at the bit to get out and see the world—a place manyof us who grew up in North Dakota felt at times in our lives.

He wants the exact opposite of what he has.

The grass is always greener on the other side, he no doubt thinks.

And that’s a difficult place to be.

He only realizes after he has shucked all of that and has felt realhunger and real loneliness what the ultimate price of that loss is.

It’s difficult place to be.

 

But, I’ve been there.

 

Many of us have been there.

 

And it’s important to have been there.

 

God does occasionally lead us down roads that are lonely.

 

God does occasionally lead us down roads that take us far from our lovedones.

 

And sometimes God allows us to travel down roads that lead us even fromGod (or so it seems at times).

 

But every time we recognize our loneliness and we turn around and findGod again, we are welcomed back with open arms, and complete and total love.

 

That, of course, is what most of us get from this parable.

 

But…

There’s another aspect to the story of the prodigal son that is notmentioned in the parable.

 

The prodigal has experienced much in his journey away.

 

And as he turns back and returns to his father’s house, we know onething: that prodigal son is not the same son he was when we left.

 

The life has returned to is not the same exact life he left.

 

He has returned to his father truly humbled, truly contrite, trulyturned around.

 

Truly broken.

 

And that’s the story for us as well.

 

In my life I have had to learn to accept that person I have become—thatpeople humbled and broken by all that life and people and the Church and the governmentand society have thrown at me.

 

And I have come to appreciate and respect this changed person I’vebecome.

 

That’s the really hard thing to do.

 

Accepting the change in myself is so very difficult.

 

Realizing one day that I am not the same person I was 10 or  15 years ago  or even a year ago is very hard to do.

 

Who am I now?

 

Who is this person I look and reflect upon?

 

I sometimes don’t even recognize myself.

 

God at no point expects us to say the same throughout our lives.

 

Our faith in God should never be the same either.

 

In that spiritual wandering we do sometimes, we can always return towhat we knew, but we know that we always come back a little different, a littlemore mature, a little more grown-up.

 

No matter how old we are.

 

We know that in returning, changed as we might be by life and all thatlife throws at us, we are always welcomed with open arms by our loving God.

 

We know that we are welcomed by our God with complete and total love.

 

And we know that, lost as we might be sometimes, we will always befound.

 

And in that finding, we are not the only ones rejoicing.

 

God too is rejoicing in our being found.

 

That is the really great aspect of this parable.

 

God rejoices in us.

 

God rejoices in embracing us and drawing us close.

 

So, let us on this Laetare Sunday rejoice in who we are, even if wemight not fully recognize who we are.

 

Let us rejoice in our rebelliousness and in our turning back to what werebelled against.

 

Let us rejoice in our being lost and in our being found.

 

Let us rejoice especially in the fact that no matter how lonely we mightbe in our wanderings, in the end, we are always, without fail, embraced with anembrace that will never end. 

 

And let us rejoice in our God who rejoices in us.

 

4 Lent/Laetare Sundat

 

March 30, 2025

Laetare Sunday

 

 

Luke13.1-3,11b-32

 

+ I said it last week, but I’ll say it again today:

 

Lent is a strange time of the year.

Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this on Laetare Sunday—when things areeven stranger than they normally are.

On this day surrounded with so much rose.

Because, yes, even Laetare Sunday and the rose-colored paramentsand vestments are also even kind of strange.

Yes, we have this season to think about things like sin andrepentance.

But it is also a time for reflection.

And reflection, as serene as it might seem, can really bedifficult too.

I don’t really like doing.

Because, reflection means looking at one’s self.

And, more importantly, seeingone’s self.

Really seeing one’sself.

That can be really hard.

For me, as I said, I find doing so very difficult.

After all, I should have it all figured out by now, right?

I didn’t think that, in my fifties, I would be forced to grow evenmore.

Isn’t there an end to growing?

My parents in their fifities seemed to having it all figured out.

Why don’t I have it all figured out?

But, no, here I am, still growing, still changing, still have toreflect on my changing self.

It’s exhausting!

There’s something both comforting and disturbing about thatrealization.

As I look back over my life, certainly I find some very solid mileposts.

I know this might come as a surprise to most of who know me, but Ihave been a bit of a rebel in my life.

No, not maybe the traditional rebel.

But I have rebelled a lot in my life.

Now, that sounds great.

Many people think the rebellious life is a romantic one.

It’s so full of challenge and adventure.

There’s never a boring day in the life of a rebel.

I know you’re all so envious of that in my life, right?

And that’s very true.

But there’s a downside to being rebellious.

What is the downside to being a rebel?

There is never a boring day in the life of a rebel!

That is one of the downsides.

There’s no resting.

There’s no day of not being a rebel.

You don’t just get to have a day off from it.

Up in the morning,--rebel.

Before bed at night—rebel.

And, let me tell you, as romantic as people might think it is, thefact is: the rebellious life can be a very lonely life.

It can be very isolating.

Rebels aren’t the only ones who get exhausted.

The people around rebels gets exhausted too.

Oftentimes, the rebel is all alone in the cause of rebellion.

There are days when it feels like one is Don Quixote fightingwindmills.

And it’s exhausting.

As I look back over the last several years or so, I realize: I’mtired.

It’s been hard at times.

And I’m not the same person I was before.

I’m definitely not the same person I was when I first came here toSt. Stephen’s all those years ago.

Maybe, to some extent, that is why I can relate so well to thestory of the Prodigal

Son.

We have all been down that road of rebellion and found that,sometimes, it is a lonely road, as I said.

Sometimes we do find ourselves lying there, hungry and lonely andthinking about what might have been. 

But for me, in those lonely moments, I have tried to keep my eyeon the goal.

I am, after all, one of those people who habitually makes goalsfor myself. 

I always need to set something before me to work toward.

Otherwise I feel aimless.

Goals are good things, after all. 

They’re essentially mile markers for us to set along the way.

The reality of goals are, however, that oftentimes—sometimes moreoften than not, I hate to admit for myself—they are not met sometimes.

It was a really growing edge moment in my life when I stoppedbeating myself up and learned not to be too disappointed in myself when certaingoals have not been met in my life.

Goals are one thing—good things.

Hopes and dreams are something else entirely.

There was a point in my life when I had one particular hope.

I wanted this particular thing to happen so badly that I almostbecame obsessed with it.

And when it finally did happen, it was fine, but then it was doneand I was on the other side of that hope.

And on the other side of hope can be desolate place.

It can feel very empty over there.

That “other side”—the other side of our goals (once we’ve achievedour goals) and our hopes and dreams (when our hopes and dreams finally cometrue) can be, I think, even more dangerous places than the place that leads upto them.

In our Gospel for today, we find the Prodigal Son have some biggoals and some pretty major hopes and dreams.

First and foremost, he wants what a lot of us in our society wantand dream about: money.

He also seems a bit bored by his life.

He is biting at the bit to get out and see the world—a place manyof us who grew up in North Dakota felt at times in our lives.

He wants the exact opposite of what he has.

The grass is always greener on the other side, he no doubt thinks.

And that’s a difficult place to be.

He only realizes after he has shucked all of that and has felt realhunger and real loneliness what the ultimate price of that loss is.

It’s difficult place to be.

 

But, I’ve been there.

 

Many of us have been there.

 

And it’s important to have been there.

 

God does occasionally lead us down roads that are lonely.

 

God does occasionally lead us down roads that take us far from our lovedones.

 

And sometimes God allows us to travel down roads that lead us even fromGod (or so it seems at times).

 

But every time we recognize our loneliness and we turn around and findGod again, we are welcomed back with open arms, and complete and total love.

 

That, of course, is what most of us get from this parable.

 

But…

There’s another aspect to the story of the prodigal son that is notmentioned in the parable.

 

The prodigal has experienced much in his journey away.

 

And as he turns back and returns to his father’s house, we know onething: that prodigal son is not the same son he was when we left.

 

The life has returned to is not the same exact life he left.

 

He has returned to his father truly humbled, truly contrite, trulyturned around.

 

Truly broken.

 

And that’s the story for us as well.

 

In my life I have had to learn to accept that person I have become—thatpeople humbled and broken by all that life and people and the Church and the governmentand society have thrown at me.

 

And I have come to appreciate and respect this changed person I’vebecome.

 

That’s the really hard thing to do.

 

Accepting the change in myself is so very difficult.

 

Realizing one day that I am not the same person I was 10 or  15 years ago  or even a year ago is very hard to do.

 

Who am I now?

 

Who is this person I look and reflect upon?

 

I sometimes don’t even recognize myself.

 

God at no point expects us to say the same throughout our lives.

 

Our faith in God should never be the same either.

 

In that spiritual wandering we do sometimes, we can always return towhat we knew, but we know that we always come back a little different, a littlemore mature, a little more grown-up.

 

No matter how old we are.

 

We know that in returning, changed as we might be by life and all thatlife throws at us, we are always welcomed with open arms by our loving God.

 

We know that we are welcomed by our God with complete and total love.

 

And we know that, lost as we might be sometimes, we will always befound.

 

And in that finding, we are not the only ones rejoicing.

 

God too is rejoicing in our being found.

 

That is the really great aspect of this parable.

 

God rejoices in us.

 

God rejoices in embracing us and drawing us close.

 

So, let us on this Laetare Sunday rejoice in who we are, even if wemight not fully recognize who we are.

 

Let us rejoice in our rebelliousness and in our turning back to what werebelled against.

 

Let us rejoice in our being lost and in our being found.

 

Let us rejoice especially in the fact that no matter how lonely we mightbe in our wanderings, in the end, we are always, without fail, embraced with anembrace that will never end. 

 

And let us rejoice in our God who rejoices in us.

 

3 Lent

 

March 23, 2025

 

Luke 13.1-9

 

+It’s strange, I know, but it’s hard to believe that we are rapidly—veryrapidly—approaching the middle point of the season of Lent.

 

Forsome of us, that might be a reason to rejoice.

 

Forthose for whom this season gets a bit heavy, that is why we have our LataereSunday next Sunday, with our rose vestments.

 

Weget a little half-way break for Lent.

 

Forme, I actually don’t mind this season of Lent.

 

Itgives me the opportunity to slow down a bit, to ponder, to make a concentratedeffort to do some very specific spiritual things.

 

Andone of those things is repenting.

 

Now,I know.

 

That’ssuch a “church word.”

 Repent.

 

Imean, it’s not a word we use in our day-to-day lives.

 

Itdoesn’t come up in our lunch conversations.

 

Well,maybe in mine.

 

Butprobably not in yours.

 

ButJesus seems pretty clear on this one,

 

Intoday’s Gospel, we hear Jesus say some very stern words to us:

 

“…unlessyou repent, you will all perish [just as those poor unfortunates whose bloodwas mingled with sacrifices and on whom the tower of Siloam fell].”

 

Notpleasant talk.

 

It’suncomfortable.

 

Especiallywhen we hear words like “repent” we definitely find ourselves heading into anuncomfortable area.

 

Wefind ourselves exploring the territory of self-abasement.

 

Wefind some people lamenting and beating their breasts or throwing ashes in theair over all of this repentance talk.

 

Wehave been taught to a large extent that what we are dealing with in all of thistalk of repentance is that somehow God is angry and is going to punish us forall the wrongs we did and that is why we must repent—repent, of course, meaning“turn around.”

 

Andat first glance in our Gospel reading that’s exactly what we might be thinking.

 

Godis angry and we must repent—we must turn away from what is making God so angry.

 

Butif we look a bit closer and if we really let this reading settle in, we find thatwe might be able to use this idea of repentance in a more constructive andpositive way.

 

Inour Gospel reading, we find Jesus essentially saying to us that we are notgoing to bear fruit if we have cemented ourselves into our stubborn way ofseeing and believing.

 

Andthat’s important!

 

Astubborn way of seeing and believing.

 

Thekingdom that Jesus is constantly preaching about is not only this magical placein the next world.

 

Ifthat’s all we believe about the Kingdom, then we are not really hearing thescriptures.

 

Andbelief like that lets us off the hook.

 

Essentiallythen, all we have to do is work on getting in our magical kingdom in the sky—somecelestial Disney World.

 

Hopefullywithout all the crowds.

 

Andthe baby strollers.  

 

ButJesus, again and again, talks about the kingdom not just there, but here too.

 

It’sfluid.

 

Andour job as followers of Jesus is to make this Kingdom a reality NOW.

 

Rightnow.

 

Itis our job to allow the Kingdom into come into our midst, to give us a glimpseof what awaits us.

 

Andthe only way that happens, as we have heard again and again, is when we canlove God, love others and love ourselves.

 

AndI would add as well another aspect to that.

 

Scripturementions loving the stranger even more times that loving the neighbor, asBarbara Brown Taylor has pointed out.

 

Whenwe do—when we love God, love  ourselves,love our neighbor, love the stranger—it is then we bear fruit.

 

Itis then wthat we see the Kingdom of God right here, right now.

 

Whenwe don’t love—and it is hard to love when we are stuck in all that negativestuff like being angry or stubborn or resentful—then we are essentially the figtree that bears no fruit.

 

Andit’s important to see that this love needs to be spread equally.

 

Itis love for God, love for our neighbor, love for the stranger and love forourselves.

 

Weare not bearing full fruit when we are only doing two of the three.

 

Thelove becomes lopsided.

 

Ifwe love only God and ourselves, but not our neighbors or strangers, then we arein danger of becoming fanatical.

 

Ifwe love God and love others only and not ourselves, we become self-abasing.

 

Butif we strive to do all of it—if we strive to love fully and completely—then wefind ourselves being freed by that love.

 

Andit is freeing.

 

Whenwe talk of our stubbornness, when talking of closing ourselves off in anger andfrustration, we imagine that cementing feeling—that confinement.

 

Butwhen we speak of love, we imagine that cementing feeling being broken open.

 

Wefind ourselves freed from our confinement.

 

Weallow ourselves to grow and flourish.

 

That’sthe point Jesus is making to us in our Gospel reading today.

 

Andthat is why repentance is so essential for our spiritual growth, for the healthof our Christian community and for the furthering of the Kingdom in our midst.

 

Repentancein this sense means turning away from our self-destructive, stubborn behavior.

 

TheKingdom will not come into our midst when we refuse to love.

 

Thekingdom cannot be furthered by us or by anyone when we feel no love for God,when we feel no love for others and when we feel no love for ourselves.

 

Repentancein this sense means to turn around—to turn away from our self-destructivebehavior.

 

Repentancein this sense means that we must turn around and start to love, freely andopenly.  

 

Repentancein this sense means that by repenting—by turning around—we truly are furtheringthe Kingdom in our midst.

 

There’salso another aspect to the analogy Jesus uses in today’s Gospel reading.

 

Ifyou notice, for three years the tree didn’t bear fruit and so the man whoplanted the tree thought it was a lost cause.

 

Butthe gardener protests.

 

Hegives the tree a bit of tender loving care and the tree begins flourishing.

 

WhatI love about that is the fact that it says to us that none of us are lostcauses.

 

Weall go through times in our lives when we feel as though we are bearing nofruit at all.

 

Wefeel as though we are truly “wasting the soil” in which we live.

 

Wefeel as though we are helpless and useless and that sometimes it feels asthough the pains and frustrations of our lives have won.

 

Wehave been cemented into our negative feelings and emotions.

 

Thepains and frustrations of this life have stifled in us any sense of new lifeand growth.

 

Butthat little dose of TLC was able to bring that seemingly barren tree to newlife.

 

Alittle bit of love and care can do wonders.

 

Itcan change things.

 

Itcan change us. It can change others.

 

Itcan give life where it was thought there was no possibility of life before.

 

Itcan renew and it can revitalize.

 

Atthis time of year, we are probably made most aware of this.

 

Certainlywhen we look around at the snow we got this morning, and underneath it ourseemingly dead and barren landscape, we might think in this moment that nothingbeautiful or wonderful can come from all this mud.

 

Andin this season of Lent, when we are faced with all this language of seekingmercy, on recalling our failings and shortcomings and sins, in thisstripped-bare church season, it is hard to imagine that Easter is just a fewweeks away.

 

But,in a sense, that is what repentance feelings like.

 

Repentanceis that time of renewal and revitalization that comes from the barren momentsin our lives.

 

Repentingtruly does help us to not only bear fruit, but to flourish.

 

Repentingand realizing how essential and important love of God, love of our neighbors, loveof the stranger, love of self are in our lives truly does allow us to blossom in the way that God wants us to flourish.

 

So,as we journey together through this season of Lent, toward the Cross, andbeyond it to the Resurrection, let us do so with our hearts truly freed.

 

Letus do so with a true, freeing and healthy love in our hearts, having turnedaway from those things that are ultimately self-destructive

 

Andlet the love we feel be the guide for our actions.

 

Throughall of this, let us bring about the Kingdom of God into our midst slowly, butsurely.

 

Letthe Kingdom come forth in our lives as blossoming fruit.

 

Andwhen it does, it is then that we will truly flourish.

 

2 Lent

March 16, 2025

 

Genesis15.1-12, 17-18; Psalm 27; Luke 13.31-35

 

+All of us, I know, have been processing the election last November in our ownvarious ways.

 

Forthose of you who deal with me on a regular basis know how I have been dealingwith it in my own, very weird way.

 

Beginningshortly before the election, I started obsessively reading books.

 

Now,I have always been a voracious reader.

 

Butnot any where near the level I’ve been reading since November.

 

Iam talking about 2 books a week.

 

Ihave read 36 books already since the beginning of this year.

 

36!

 

Andall of this while doing my work here, during precious free time, as well asteaching and writing my own latest book of poems, which should be published inApril or May.

 

Ihave been getting up at 5:00 a.m. to read, that’s how obsessive this has been.

 

Ihave been obsessively following Booktok on Tik Tok or Booktube on Youtube orgoing through book recommendations on Instagram.

 

Ifyou are not my friend on GoodReads, please contact me there, and you can seethe books I’ve been reading.

 

Throughoutall of this, I have followed a few rules as well.

 

Anybook I start, I will finish.

 

Nomatter how bad that book is.

 

Andyes, I can now say, thanks to Booktok, I have read the worst novel ever written,in my humble opinion.

 

ItEnds With Usby Colleen Hoover.

 

Absolutelyterrible!

 

ButI finished it. Like having a tooth pulled without anesthesia, I finished thatdamn book.

 

Mymain obsession during this weird book reading frenzy has been binging one particularauthor: the novelist Cormac McCarthy.

 

Ihave binged every published (and a few unpublished) works of McCarthy.

 

Youprobably have read McCarthy.

 

Hewrote All the Pretty Horses and The Road.

 

Greatbooks!

 

Horriblyviolent books, but great books nonetheless.

 

Andyes, I have also read the Vanity Fair article about McCarthy published lastNovember.

 

Butin the midst of it all, just as I found the worst novel I’ve ever read withColleen Hoover, I have also read the best novel I’ve ever read.

 

Andthat is Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy.

 

Thisbook absolutely blew me away.

 

Andwhen I say obsession with this book and McCarthy’s books, I mean it.

 

Infact, when I was in Arizona last month, I made a point of visiting placesreferenced in Blood Meridian, such as the San Jose de Tumacácori Missionand the San Xavier Del Bac missions south of Tucson, the Presidio in Tucson, aswell as driving down the Miracle Mile in Tucson, where McCarthy lived on andoff over in the 1970s while writing his books.

 

Now,if you know anything about Blood Meridian, you may be asking yourselfthis:

 

“Whyis Father Jamie, a committed vegan pacifist so obsessed with a horribly violentwestern-themed novel about cowboys buying up scalps in 1849?”

 

Whywould your vegan pacifist priest find such violent books so compelling?

 

Well,I don’t know.

 

Let’sjust say my therapist is having a field day trying to unpack not only my weirdbook frenzy but especially my Cormac McCarthy obsession.

 

ButI think it’s actually quite simple.

 

Mybeing a vegan and a pacifist are my reaction to violence in this world.

 

Asany of you who have known me well have heard me say, I grew up with violence inmy world.

 

WhenI was six, a sixteen neighbor girl my family knew well, who attended my littleLutheran country parish, was brutally murdered during a home invasion.

 

Afew years after that, an older woman who was like an aunt to me moved to NewMexico, married a local man and was then killed by him in a fit of rage in therestaurant she owned there.

 

Igrew up hearing stories of my mother’s cousin and her husband who were killedin 1957 tornado that hit Fargo (I even wrote a book about it).

 

Theseevents affected me in ways I never realized then. 

 

Ithink my reaction to all of this has been purposely choosing the opposite ofviolence in my life as a way to counter the violence I experienced earlier inmy life.

 

But,at the same time, I know that ultimately, despite those decisions in my life,it’s sometimes important to face and confront things like violence, rather thanavoid it.

 

Formost of us, violence is simply something we don’t even consider in our personalday-to-day lives.

 

Itvery rarely rears its ugly head in our personal lives.

 

Atleast, I hope it doesn’t.

 

Butlet me tell you, when it does, it is terrible.

 

Andyou are not the same person afterward that you were before.

 

Andalso, very importantly, we realize that violence is not always expressedphysically.

 

Violencecan be expressed in multiple ways, including through intimidation, bullying anddownright terror.

 

Yes,our words and actions have consequences and can cause violence.

 

There’sno getting around violence in our lives.

 

Eventoday, in our scriptures readings, we get some truly violent images.

 

First,let’s take a look at the reading from Genesis.

 Init, we find God making a covenant with Abram (soon to be called Abraham).

 

Godcommands Abram to sacrifice these different animals, to cut them in half and toseparate them.

 

Violentand strange, yes.

 

Butthe really strange part of the reading is the smoking fire pot and the flamingtorch passing between the pieces.

 

Ifwe don’t know the back story—if we don’t understand the meaning of the cut upanimals—then the story makes little sense.

 

It’sjust another gruesome, violent story from the Hebrew scriptures.

 

Butif we examine what covenant is all about, then the story starts taking on a newmeaning.

 

Covenantof course is not a word we hear used often anymore.

 

Infact, none of us use it except when talking about religious things.

 

Buta covenant is very important in the scriptures.

 

Acovenant is a binding agreement.

 

Andwhen one enters into a covenant with God, essentially that bound agreement istruly bound.

 

Inthe days of Abram, when one made a covenant with someone, it was commonpractice for that person entering the agreement to cut up an animal and then tostand in the middle of the cut-up pieces.

 

Essentiallywhat they were saying by doing so was: “let this happen to me if I break ourcovenant.”

 

Letthis violence come upon me if I break what we have sworn to do.

 

Whatwe find happening in our reading this morning is that it is not Abram standingin the midst of those cut-up animals.

 

Ratherit is God.

 

Godis saying to Abram that if I ever break this covenant with you let happen to mewhat has happened to these animals.

 

Godis saying to Abram: “my word is good. If this relationship between the two ofus breaks down it is not I who breaks the covenant.”

 

Whatappears so gruesome to us, was normal to Abraham, who lived with violenceregularly in his life.

 

Itis interesting though how graphic God gets here, though.

 

Godgets very graphic in making this promise.

 

Then,we come to our Gospel reading.

 

Heretoo, we find a sense of impending violence.

 ThePharisees ominously come to tell Jesus that he is in danger from Herod.

 

Thisis real danger.

 

Life-threateningdanger.

 

Andhow does Jesus respond to this danger and impending violence?

 

Heis not concerned at all over Herod or even the danger that he himself is in.

 

Hisconcern is for Jerusalem—for the city which, no doubt, was in sight as he wasspeaking.

 

Hisconcern is for the city he is about to enter and in which he knows he will meethis death.

 

Hisviolent death. 

 

Ashe does so, Jesus does something at this moment that really is amazing.

 

Helaments.

 

Heuses words similar to those found in the lamenting psalms.

 

Heuses poetry.

 

“Jerusalem,Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent toit! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathersher brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

 

It is beautiful.

 

And it is powerful.

 

It’s incredible poetry.

 

Knowing what he knew—knowing that in Jerusalem he will be betrayedand murdered—Jesus laments.

 

He knows that what essentially is going to happen in Jerusalem iswhat happened while Abram slept.

 

In Jerusalem, God will once again stand in the midst of ashattered body, the shattered body of God’s very Son, and say to God’s people:“I will remain faithful. My word is good.”

 

But, as wonderful as that may sound to us, to Jesus it must’vebeen frightening, even though he knew full well that it had to happen.

 

And even here we see Jesus using this impending violence as ameans for us to rise above violence and fear.

 

Jesusis letting us see his fear and his sadness.

 

Jesusis letting us see the fear he has in knowing that he, in a sense, has becomethe sacrifice that must be cut in two as part of the covenant God has made withus.

 

Heis letting us see him for what he is about to be—a victim of violence.

 

Whenwe hear that phrase “Lamb of God,” we need to remind ourselves that is not somesweet sentiment.

 

Thislamb on the front of our altar is not just some sweet lamb standing on amountain.

 

Lookat that wound in the lamb’s side.

 

Seethat blood.

 

TheLamb of God is a sacrificial lamb—a lamb that is to be sacrificed.

 

Infact, Jesus lays it all out before God and us.

 

Hewails and complains and lays himself bare before God. 

 

Heis blatantly honest in his lamenting.

 

Thefact is: sometimes we too do fear and despair.

 

Sometimes,when we are afraid, we do not want to pray to God,

 

Itis in those sometimes awful moments, that it is completely all right tocomplain to God.

 

Itis all right to vent and open ourselves completely to God.

 

Because,the important thing here is not howwe are praying or even what we arepraying for.

 

Itis important that, even in our fear, in our pain, in our despair, in our horrorat the gruesomeness and violence we find in this world that we come to God.

 

Wecome before God as an imperfect person, full of insecurities, exposed andfearful and vulnerable.

 

Andwe come angry at injustice and violence.

 

Wecome angry that we still have to deal with white supremacy and blatant fascism inthis day and age!

 

Wetake what it is hurting us and bothering us and we release it to God.

 

Welet it out before God. We are, in that moment, blatantly honest with God.

 

BecauseGod knows.

 

Godhas stood in the midst of that violence.

 

AndGod still stands in the midst of the violence that we see in this world.

 

So,let us follow the example of Jesus, who even in the face of violence and death,was still able to open his heart and his soul to God in song and poetry.

 

Moreimportantly, let us, as Jesus himself did over and over again in his life,  pray when we are afraid or angry orfrustrated.

 

Letour prayers release our own anger to the God who loves us and knows us morecompletely than anyone else.

 Inthe shattered, cut-open pieces of our lives and this world, in this shatteredopen world we know that God, even here and now is a bright light, passing backand forth.

 

Evenin that “deep and terrifying darkness” God appears to us as Light.

 

Allwe have to do is recognize God in that midst of that darkness.

 

Andin doing so, all we can sometimes do is open our mouths and let them the poemswithin us sing out to our God.

1 Lent

 March 9, 2025

 

Luke4.1-13

 

+ I don’t know how you feel about it, but don’t you think Lent isa strange time?

 

I mean, stranger than usual.

 

Lent is so different than the rest of the Church year, for meanyway.

 

Because, what we’re forced to do in Lent is do something I don’tlike doing sometimes.

 

I’m not talking about fasting or confession or giving up somethingfor Lent.

 

No, what Lent forces me to do that I don’t really want to do is:look in the mirror.

 

And not just look—but really look—honestly, bluntly—in the mirror.

 

That is not fun to do.

 

It is not a pleasant experience to look at ourselves honestly andbluntly in the mirror.

 

It is not fun to confront ourselves.

 

It’s probably easier for most of us to confront Satan—however wemight view this personification of evil—in our own lives.

 

But, if you notice in our Gospel reading for today, that three-foldcommandment of Jesus is all about looking in the mirror and confronting ourselves.

 

We find Jesus repudiating Satan’s temptations with some stronglyworded quotes from Scripture:

 

“One does not live by bread alone”

 

“Worship the Lord your God, and serve only [God]”

 

and

 

“Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”

 

When we look at them, these commandments are really all about us.

 

About me—the ego.

 

Satan becomes this almost peripheral character in our reading, ifyou notice.

 

He’s kind of like a whispering shadow at the edge of the story.

 

The main characters of this story are, of course, Jesus. And us.

 

So, in our Gospel reading, we hear first that we do not live bybread alone.

 

Looking in that mirror, looking at ourselves, we find that, yes,honestly, we’ve had too much bread—too many carbs—too much of everything.

 

This season of Lent is the prime time for us to look long and hardat our eating practices.

 

For the most people, we simply eat without giving a second thoughtto what we’re eating or why we’re eating it.

 

And this goes for drinking too.  

 

Certainly we have doctors who tell us that this is one of theleading causes of a good many of our health problems in this country.

 

Nutrition. Food. And too much food. And too much bad food.

 

When we realize how high the rate of obesity and related illnessesare, we know that food really is a major factor in our lives.

 

When we look at issues like obesity and eating disorders andalcoholism and all kinds of addictions, we realize that there is often apsychological reason for our abuse of food or alcohol.

 

We do eat and drink for comfort.

 

We do eat physically or partake of others things thinking that itwill sustain us emotionally.

 

We put food or drink into that place in which God should suffice.

 

A time of fasting is a time for us to break that habit and tonudge ourselves into realizing that what should be sustaining us spiritually isthe spiritual food we receive from God.

 

Then, we hear “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only [God].”

 

Here again is a major temptation for us.

 

Let’s face it, for us: the world revolves around us.

 

Around me.

And one of the sources of our greatest unhappiness is when werealize others don’t feel that way.

We want people to notice us, to like us.

Ideally, we would like to have people fall at our feet and adoreus.

We have all thought about what it would be like to be noticed—trulynoticed—when we enter a room, like a movie star at the Oscar’s.

OK. Maybe that’s a bit extreme.

But, just think about it for a moment.

Look at how we feel when we send an email or a text message—andthere’s no response.

Or when we post something meaningful on Facebook or Instagram—andwe only a get a few likes.

I hate that!

I want lots of likes for the things I post. 

But, it’s not about others.

That’s all about me and my ego.

And I’m the only one angry or frustrated.

And I put myself in this position.

Yes, I might be mad at others, but it’s ultimately MY fault forfeeling this way.

We are all susceptible to self-centeredness, to that charmingbelief that the world revolves me—the individual.

That, we believe, will make us truly happy.

If we can be fully accepted, fully loved and fully appreciated, wewill be happy.  

But Jesus again nudges us away from that strange form ofself-idolatry and reminds us that there is actually some One who knows usbetter than we know ourselves, who knows our thoughts better than we do.

We are truly loved, truly accepted, truly appreciated—by God.

And we shouldn’t worry about the rest.

Rather than falling to the self-delusion of believing our worldrevolve around ourselves, we must center our lives squarely and surely on God.

 

Finally, we are warned not to put the Lord our God to the test.

 

We’ve all done this as well.

 

We have railed at God and shaken our fists at God and bargainedwith God.

 

We have promised things to God we have no intention of trulykeeping.

 

We have all said to God, “If you do this for me, I promise I will[insert promise here].”

 

Again, like all the previous temptations, this one also revolvesaround self-centeredness and selfishness.

 

This one involves us controlling God, making God do what we wantGod to do.

 

This one involves us treating God like a magic genie or a wishingpond.

 

I’ve done this.

 

I’ve been there.

 

I’ve shaken that fist at God and railed loudly at God.

 

The realization we must take away from this final temptation isthat, yes, God always answers our prayers.

 

But the answer is not always what we want.

 

Sometimes, it’s yes.

 

Sometimes it’s no.

 

Sometimes it’s not yet.

 

But what we fail to realize in all of this is that those moments inwhich God does grant us the answer to prayer in the way we wanted, it is onlypurely out of God’s goodness and God’s care for the larger outcome.

 

It has nothing to do what we do.

 

We cannot manipulate God and make God do what we want.

 

None of us are in the position to do that.

 

And if we had a god that we could do that to, I’m not certain Iwould truly want to serve that god.

 

These are the temptations we should be pondering during thisLenten season.

 

When I said earlier that these confessions of Jesus are the basisfor our understanding of Lent, they really are.

 

Each of these statements by Jesus are essentially jumping offpoints for us as we ponder our relationship with God, with each other and withourselves during this season.

 

What Jesus experienced in that desert, we too experience thisLent—and at many other times in our lives.

 T

he confrontation with Satan in the desert, is often aconfrontation with ourselves in the mirror.

 

It is a confrontation with that difficult and dark side ofourselves—that gossipy, self-centered, controlling, manipulative person wesometimes are.

 

These ego-centric behaviors really don’t promote our egos.

 

They actually hurt our egos in the long-run.

 

Yes, we might have full stomachs, Yes, we might be loved andappreciated and accepted, yes, we would have a fairy-godmother-God who grantsall our wishes—but we would not ultimately be very happy.

 

We would still want more and more.

 

But, in our core of cores—in our very spirits—we would still beincomplete and unfulfilled.

 

But I also don’t want to just brush Satan off here.

 

Our Gospel reading today is important for one other aspect of Lentthat is uncomfortable.

 

It is confronting Satan.

 

We are also called to confront Satan during this season.

 

Now, I’m not talking about the little red horned creature with theforked tail.

 

I am talking about the ways in which Satan confronts us.

 

We are confronted by Satan when others bully us and push us aroundand abuse us and hurt us.

 

We all have had them.

 

Bullies.

 

Mean-spirited people who truly want to do us harm.

 

Sometimes they are strangers.

 

Sometimes they are spouses, or family members.

 

Sometimes they “friends.”

 

Sometimes they are bosses.

 

Sometimes they are clergy.

 

Sometimes they are Bishops.

 

Sometimes they are government officials.

 

And sometimes it is not just Satan, but those who have allowed Satanto do Satan’s work—those complacent followers of these people who have allowedevil to go on and persist. 

 

When we are confronted by Satan, we must resist.

 

We must stand up and say no.

 

And we must expose Satan’s antics.

 

The last thing we should do is simply roll over and present ourtummies to Satan like obedient puppies.

 

And we must never blame OURSELVES for the evil that Satan does inour lives.

 

When we do that—when we roll over, when we blame ourselves, whenwe come crawling back after being abused and mistreated, attempting a one-sidedreconciliation—we are only giving more power to “Satan.”

 

It is our job as Christians, as followers of Jesus, to resist Satanagain and again and again, whenever we confront evil in this world.

 

It is our job to stand up and say “No!” to the Anti-Christ—to thatpersonification of anything that is truly anti-Jesus in this world.

 

This is also a very important part of our Lenten journey—and ourjourney in following Jesus.

 

At some point during Lent, our job is to stop gazing in themirror—to stop gazing longingly at ourselves— and to turn toward God.

 

Our job is to recognize this God who does truly grant useverything we really need and want, just maybe not in the way WE think thosethings should be given to us. 

 

It is for that realization that we should be thankful during thisseason of Lent.

 

So, let us, when we emerge from the desert with Jesus, do sore-focused—not on ourselves, but on the God who truly does provide us witheverything we need in this life, and the life to come.

 

 

Ash Wednesday

 

March 5, 2025

 

Joel  2.1-2,12-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6.1-6,16-21

+ Ionce had a parishioner tell me that they were not appreciative of me preachingto them about sin during Lent.

Thatelicited one of those looks I occasionally give—a look of absolute bewildermentat what people sometimes say to me.

Someof you have received that same look.

“I’msorry, Father,” this person said to me, “but what do you know of about my sinsand the kind of sins I have to deal with in my own life?

"You’re a celibate asexual male priest of all things!

 "

Youdon’t know the struggles I go through as a married person, as a parent, as aperson who struggles with real temptations and real frustrations and realmarital issues, for example.”

 

Granted,yes, I am that now-very-rare, almost extinct dinosaur of being a celibateAnglo-Catholic priest in the Episcopal Church (there aren’t a lot of us outthere, let me tell you)

 

Now,as you know, I also don’t make any apologies about any of that, but to saythat, because I’m celibate and asexual, I somehow don’t understand others’struggles, or, worse, that because I’m celibate I somehow seem “removed” from everybodyelse’s struggles, shocked me.

 

Iresponded to this person the only way I knew how to.

 

Isaid, “You do know that I am a sinner too, right?”

 

Iunderstand that this might not be something parishioners want to hear.

 

Theydon’t want to hear that their priest is a sinner just like them.

 

Butthe fact is, we all are sinners.

 

That’swhat Ash Wednesday is all about.

 

Thisis our time to admit God and to one another,

 

“Iam a sinner too.”

 

We’reall in this boat together.

 

Itmight be different for you as opposed to someone else who is here tonight.

 

Buteach of our dealing with our own sins, in our own ways.

 

Thatdoesn’t mean we say that so we can then whip ourselves, or bash ourselves or beself-deprecating.

 

Wesay it as a simple acknowledgment of our humanity before God, our imperfection,that none of us are perfect and that no one—not even God---expects us to beperfect.

 

Thatis exactly what we do tonight and for these next 40 days.

 

DuringLent, we will be hearing a lot about sin.

 

Wewill be hearing about repentance.

 

Wewill be reminded of the fact that, yes, we have fallen short in our lives.

 

Andtonight especially, we will be reminded that one day, each of here tonight willone day stop breathing and die.

 

Weare reminded tonight in very harsh terms that we are, ultimately, dust.

 

Andthat we will, one day, return to dust.

 

Yup.

 

Unpleasant.

 

But…

 

…sometimeswe need to be reminded of these things.

 

Because,let’s face it.

 

Wespend most of our lives avoiding these things.

 

Wespend a good portion of our lives avoiding hearing these things.

 

Wego about for the most part with our fingers in our ears.

 

Wego about pretending we are going to live forever.

 

Wego about thinking we’re not really like everyone else.

 

Wethink: I’m just a little bit more special than everyone else.

 

Maybe…maybe…I’mthe exception.

 

Ofcourse we do that.

 

Because,for each of us, the mighty ME is the center of our universe.

 

Weas individuals are the center of our own personal universe.

 

So,when we are confronted during Lent with the fact that, ultimately, the mightyME is not the center of the universe, is not even the center of the universe ofmaybe the person who is closest to me, it can be sobering.

 

Andthere we go.

 

Lentis about sobering up.

 

Itis about being sober.

 

Aboutlooking long and hard at the might ME and being realistic about ME.

 

Andmy relationship with the God who is, actually, the  enter of the universe and creation andeverything that is.

 

It’shard, I know, to come to that realization.

 

It’shard to hear these things.

 

It’shard to have hear the words we hear tonight as those ashes are placed on ourforeheads,

 

“Youare dust and to dust you shall return.”

 

Youare dust.

 

Iam dust.

 

Weare dust.

 

Weare ashes.

 

Andwe are going to return to dust.

 

Yes.

 

It’shard.

 

But…

 

Lentis also about moving forward.

 

Itis about living our lives fully and completely within the limitations of thefact that are dust.

 

Ourlives are like jazz to some extent.

 

Forpeople who do not know jazz, they think it is just free-form music.

 

Thereare no limits to it.

 

Butthat’s not true.

 

Thereis a framework for jazz.

 

Veryclearly defined boundaries.

 

But,within that framework there is freedom.

 

Ourlives are like that as well.

 

Ourmortality is the framework of our lives.

 

Wehave boundaries.

 

Wehave limits.

 

AndI am going to talk about those limits during this season of Lent.

 

Iam going to be talking throughout these forty days about a term one of my heroescoined.

 

Thathero, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the great Jesuit priest and paleontologist,talked about something called passive diminishments.

 

Passivediminishments, according to Chardin, are simply those sufferings in this lifethat we cannot avoid.

 

Theyare the limits in our lives—the hard boundaries of our existence that we cannotavoid.

 

Withinthose limits, within the boundaries of those passive diminishments, we havelots of freedom.

 

Andwe have the potential to do a lot of good and a lot of bad.

 

Lentis the time for us to stop doing the bad and start doing the good.

 

Itis time for us to store up for ourselves treasure in heaven, as we hear Jesustell us tonight in our Gospel reading.

 

Itis time for work on improving ourselves.

 

Andsometimes, to do that, we need to shed some things.

 

Itis good to give up things for Lent.

 

Thereality however is this:

 

Yes,we can give up sugar or caffeine or meat or tangible things that might not dous good.

 

Butlet me just say this about that.

 

Ifwe give up something for Lent, let it be something that changes us for thebetter.

 

Letit be things that improve us.

 

Letus not only give up things in ourselves, but also things around us.

 

Yes,we can give up nagging, but maybe we should also give up those voices around usthat nag.

 

Ormaybe confront those voices that nag too much at us.

 

Yes,we can give up being controlling and trying to change things we can’t.

 

Butwe maybe also try hard to push back and speak out against those unreasonablycontrolling forces in our own lives.

 

MaybeLent should be a time to give up not only anger in ourselves, but those angryvoices around us.

 

Lentis a time to look at the big picture of our lives and ask: what is my legacy?

 

Howam I going to be remembered?

 

Arepeople going to say of our legacies what we heard this evening from the prophetJoel?

 

“Donot make your heritage a mockery…”

 

AmI going to be known as the nag? As that angry, bitter person?

 

AmI going to be known as a controlling, manipulative person who always had to getmy way?

 

AmI going to be known as a gossip, as a backbiter, as a person who professed myfaith in Christ on my lips, but certainly did not live it out in my life?

 

Ifso, then there is no better time than Lent to change our legacy.

 

Thatis our rallying cry during Lent as well.

 

Letus choose to be a good, compassionate, humble, love-filled follower of Jesus.

 

Thatis the legacy we should choose during this season, and from now on.

 

Afterall, we ARE ashes.

 

Weare dust.

 

Weare temporary.

 

Weare not immortal.

 

Weare bound by our passive diminishments.

 

Wehave limits.

 

Butour legacies will outlive us.

 

Infact, in many ways, they are, outside of our salvation, ultimately, the mostimportant thing about our future.

 

Letus live in to the legacy that will outlive us.

 

Thisis probably the best Lenten discipline we can do.

 

Mostimportantly, let this holy season of Lent be a time of reflection andself-assessment.

Let it be a timeof growth—both in our self-awareness and in our awareness of God’s presence in thegoodness in our life.

As St. Paul saysin our reading from this evening: “Now is the acceptable time.”

“Now is the dayof salvation.”

It is the acceptable time.

It is the day of salvation.

It is time for usto take full advantage of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last Epiphany

 

March 2, 2025

 

Exodus34.29-35; Luke 9.28-43a

 

+I usually don’t preach the Last Sunday of Epiphany.

 

Iam often returning from vacation around this time of the year.

 

Thisyear, of course, I took a longer break, which I definitely needed.

 

Itwas good to have some time to travel, to visit other places and other churches.

 

Itwas good to read more than I usually do (I read 18 books during my sabbatical).

 

Ialso finished a new book of poems, this one being another project with MarjorieSchlossman.

 

Butas good as all of that was, it’s also good to get back.

 

Andit’s good to be here today, on this last Sunday of Epiphany.

 

Wayback on January 6 (doesn’t that seem like lifetime ago already?) we began thisseason with the Magi visiting the child Jesus

 

Inthat event, we had a mysterious star.

 

Then,on January 12th, we commemorated the Baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan byJohn the Baptist.

 

Thefollowing Sunday, January 19, we commemorated the Wedding Feast at Cana, inwhich Jesus turned all that purification water into fine wine.  

 

Nowwe end the Epiphany season on another glorious high note.

 

First,today, we get this reading from the Torah—from the Hebrew scriptures—aboutMoses’ encounter with the glory of God on Mount Sinai.

 

Theglory of God, we find, is so powerful that it has a kind of residual effect onthose who encounter it.

 

ForMoses, in our reading from Exodus, after encountering the glory of God,  “the skin of his face was shining.”

 

Then,in our reading from the Gospel today, we find a similar event.

 

Wefind another encounter with the Glory of God on a mountaintop: the Transfiguration.

 

Irealize that I have preached a lot about the Transfiguration in my 21 years asa priest.

 

It’san event I have explored so often in sermons and in scripture study and in myown prayer life.

 

Whyis that?

 

Becauseit really is an important event in scripture and in our lives as Christians.

 

Infact, it is such an important event that we actually celebrate it twice in our Church Year.

 

Wecelebrate today of course, the Last Sunday of Epiphany—the last Sunday beforeLent begins.

 

Andwe celebrate it again on August 6.

 

Personally,I truly appreciate that we celebrate it on this Sunday before Lent begins.

 

I’mhappy that we go into the season of Lent with this vision fresh in our minds.

 

Iam happy that we enter Lent with the glory of God shining on the skin of ourfaces.

 

Thereis no better way to enter this season.

 

Theevents of Moses’ encounter with God and the Transfiguration is what willsustain us and hold us and nourish us through these next forty days.

 

ThisTransfiguration and the glory that we see revealed on the Mount was certainly oneof the defining events in Jesus’s life.

 

Andin ours too, as followers of Jesus.

 

Forus, the glory we witness on Mount Tabor is the glory that awaits us in God’sPresence.

 

Itis the glory we see whenever we encounter God in our lives.

 

OnMount Tabor, we have seen the veil temporarily lifted that separates this worldfrom God’s world.

 

Andit is a glory that is almost too much for Jesus’ followers to comprehend.

 

Itis this glory that we glimpse today that sustains us.

 

Itstrengthens us for what we are about to participate in our following of Jesus.

 

Becausefollowing Jesus always involves this glory that we encounter on the mount.

 

FollowingJesus means recognizing in him the fulfillment of the Law (which is representedby the presence of Moses on the mount in today’s Gospel reading) and thefulfillment of the prophecies of the Hebrew scriptures (represented by Elijah’spresence on the mount)

 

Thereis no doubt, as we enter the season of Lent, that the one we follow is not justanother great teacher or leader.

 

Theone we follow is the Messiah, the Christ, the anointed One, the one promised tous in the prophecies, the one who embodies the Law given to Moses.

 

Thisis important to recognize and hold close as we enter Lent.

 

Becausefollowing Jesus also means following him down off the mountain and onto thepath that lead to another hill-top—Golgotha.

 

Itmeans following Jesus from the glory of the mount all the way to the darknessand defeat of the cross.

 

And,of course, to the eternal glory beyond the cross as well.

 

Butwe’re getting ahead of ourselves.

 

Fornow, we are here.

 

Fornow, we are encountering the glory of this moment.

 

Fornow we come down off the mountain with Jesus and his privileged threefollowers.

 

Andwe are struggling to make sense of this event.

 

Weare struggling to make sense of this moment of glory.

 

Whatdo we do when we encounter the glory of God?

 

Howdo we process it?

 

Howdo we make sense of glory?

 

Idon’t know if we can make sense of it.

 

Butwhat we can do it is embody it.

 

Whatwe can do it open ourselves to this glory of God.

 

Becauseit is a glory that is given to each of us, no matter who we are.

 

Eachof us—no matter who we are—carry within us that transfiguring glory of God—ofthe God who appeared to Moses, of the God whose glory descending upon Jesus onMount Tabor, of the God who is our God as well, who loves us and knows us andis well-pleased with each of us.

 

Andthat is what we take away from our encounter with the vision on the mount ofthe Transfiguration.

 

Itwould be nice to stay here, basking the glory of this event.

 

Itwould be nice to stay put and not come down off the mountain.

 

Becauseonce we come off the mountain, we must face some unpleasant things.

 

Forthe followers of Jesus, they must endure their own betrayal of Jesus, they mustendure the fact that their betrayal contributes to Jesus’ torture and murder.

 

Inour lives, we must come down from the mountain and face our own issues.

 

Wemust face a country in daily chaos.

 

Wemust face a lack of empathy and compassion in our society and in our government.

 

Wemust face a world in which tyrants are celebrated and dictators emulated.

 

Weface a Church that is trying hard to respond to that chaos, to the forces ofdarkness that seem, at times, to prevail.

 

Wemust come down and face whatever issues we are wrestling with our lives—issuesthat seem in many ways to detract from the glory that we have just witnessed.

 

Andas we come down and face those things, it is amazing how quickly the vision ofGod’s glory vanishes from our minds.

 

Inthat one moment, when all seemed clear, when all seemed to have come together,we find in the next instant that everything is topsy-turvy again.

 

Andthat’s this crazy thing we call life.

 

Itoften works this way.

 

Wefind that we can’t cling to these glorious, wonderful events that happen.

 

Butwhat we can do is carry them deep in our hearts.

 

Whatwe can do it not let that glory of God that dwells within us and shinesbrightly on the skin of our faces to die away.

 

Andif we recognize that, if we embrace that, we find that somewhere down that roadaway from the mount, it will still be there, borne deep within us.

 

Somewhere,when we need it the most, that comforting presence of the God of glory weencountered on the mountain will well up within us and sustain us when we needsustaining and shine brightly on our faces.

 

Ofcourse, the stickler about this is that it is not something WE can control.

 

Wecan’t make it happen.

 

Wecan’t conjure that glorious experience whenever we want it.

 

Ithappens on its own.

 

Ithappens in God’s own time.

 

Ithappens when it is needed the most.

 

Andwhen it does, it truly does sustain.

 

Inthese next forty days, we will need to be sustained by the glory we encountertoday.

 

Inthis upcoming season, we will be encountering a somewhat more dour side ofspirituality.

 

OnWednesday, we will have ashes smeared on our foreheads as a reminder that wewill all one day die.

 

We,in this upcoming Lenten season, will face the fact that we truly do have limitations.

 

Wewill remember and repent of the wrongdoings we have done in this life—to God,to others and to ourselves.

 

Andwe will fast.

 

Someof us will fast from certain physical foods or drink.

 

Someof us will abstain from certain practices.

 

Someof us will struggle to use this upcoming season to break certain dependenceswe’ve had on things and people.

 

Andin this season, we will hear in our scripture readings and participate in ourliturgies the continuing journey away from the amazing mountain-top experiencetoward the humiliation of the cross of Golgotha. 

 

Inthose moments, we will need to find an inner sustenance.

 

Inthose moments, we will truly see how far we have journeyed away from the mountof Transfiguration.

 

Wewill, at times, no doubt, feel as though we are far separated from the glory ofGod.

 

Itwill not seem that this glory will be shining on the skin of our faces.  

 

But,then, on Easter morning—there again, that glory will be revealed to us onceagain and it will all fall into place once more.

 

So,let us begin our Lenten season with our faces still aglow with this encounterwith God.

 

Letus go knowing that no matter what will happen—betrayal, physical and emotionalpain, even death—we know that what ultimately wins out is the glorious light ofGod’s loving presence in our life.

 Letus go from here carrying that glory within us, without detachment.

 

Letus go from here transfigured with Jesus—changed by this encounter with God’s gloryso that we can reflect and spread this glory even in the midst of whatever maycome to us in the days that are to come.

 

 

 

3 Epiphany

 Annual Meeting Sunday

January 26, 2025

Luke 4.14-21

 

+Thispast week was. . . well. . .it was something else.

 

Thispast week was the kind of week preachers dread.

 

Howmany times did I have to re-do my sermon for this Sunday?

 

But,despite the weirdness and bizarreness and downright insanity of this week, wewere able to hear one clear voice.

 

Theclear voice of Bishop Marianne Budde.

 

Thatvoice—that simple plea of hers—cut right through the chaos and the distractionsand the grandstanding.

 

Andit is that voice that we are listening to this morning.

 

Itis the words of that sermon that we are clinging to this morning.

 

Iposted a beautiful illustration of Bishop Budde done up in stained glass, withher words embossed on it.

 

“Bemerciful to the stranger, for we all were once strangers in this land.”

 

Thatpost generated over 460 likes.

 

Andsome lively conversation.

 

Notall of it nice or commending. 

 

Butthose words resonated with almost everyone else.

 

Evenmy atheist friends.

 

Itwas a week in which I, for one, could say that I was very proud to be anEpiscopalian.

 

AndI know many of you felt the same way.

 

Now,for many, many people, the message of Bishop Budde was seen as radical.

 

Andit was.

 

Butfor us, here at St. Stephen’s—well, it’s a message we hear almost every week.

 

Wepreach regularly here about inclusion and mercy and standing up againstinjustice and inequality.

 

Maybeso much so that we don’t even really hear it anymore.

 

Butothers do.

 

Onone local online group, people were asking where they could find a church likeBishop Budde’s church.

 

AndPastor Jessica Miller of the Neighborhood Church, who will be preaching here onFebruary 16, wrote this to the group:

 

“[I]100% recommend St.Stephen's Episcopal Church Fargo/St. Stephen's Episcopal Church - Fargo. Notjust accepting, but fully affirming. Exude love and grace. Jamie Parsley istheir priest, and the whole community is just truly lovely. You will experience what resonated from Bishop Budde.”

 

Thoseare words we need to hear on this Sunday, our Annual Meeting Sunday.

 

Forthose of us who worship here week in and week out, we sometimes take forgranted what St. Stephen’s is and what it stands for.

 

Butthis week, we were reminded that not many churches do what we do.

 

Yes,churches many “welcome” others.

 

Butnot many churches “affirm” others.

 

Notmany churches fully include others.

 

Notchurches stand for the things that Bishop Budde stood up for this week.

 

Wedo.

 

AndI think we should remind ourselves of how rare that is, especially here in thiscommunity.

 

 It is this that we need to be remindingourselves on this Annual Meeting Sunday.

 

Beingwho we are is why we’re here and not somewhere else.

 

Now,in our Gospel reading for today, we find a seed for all we do here at St.Stephen’s.

 

Wefind this story of Jesus, standing up and reading this amazing scripture fromIsaiah.

 

‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

   because he has anointed me
     to bring good newsto the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to thecaptives
   and recovery of sight to theblind,
     to let theoppressed go free, 
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’

 

Hethen, after rolling up the scroll, says,

 

‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’

 

Thosewords echo in our midst, here at St. Stephen’s this morning.

 

Doyou hear it?

 

Listen.

 

‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’

 

Because,yes, today, that scripture from Isaiah has been fulfilled in our hearing.

 

ByJesus standing and proclaiming who he is and what he has come to do, he reallysets the standard for us here at St. Stephen’s on this Annual Meeting Sunday in2025 as well.

 

Wetoo should proclaim our faith in Jesus in the same way.

 

Now,as I say that I pause.

 

MostChristians take that to mean something I did not intend it to mean.

 

WhenI say “faith in Jesus,” I don’t mean we should be obnoxious and fundamentalist orbullies in our views.

 

Youhave heard me say a million times from this pulpit that I think way too manyChristians proclaim themselves as Christians with their lips, but certainly don’tlive it out in their lives and by example (and I am guilty of this myself).

 

Andit is something at which I bristle again and again.

 

Butfor us, this Gospel reading for today speaks loudly to us and what we do asChristians, as followers of Jesus, as members of St. Stephen’s EpiscopalChurch.

 

Becausethe Spirit of God was upon Jesus, and because he was appointed to bring goodnews to the poor, that truly becomes our mission as well because we followJesus and the Spirit of God rests upon each of us as well.

 

BecauseJesus breathes God’s Spirit upon us, that same mission that the Spirit workedin Jesus is working in us as well.

 

Andwe should, like Jesus, stand up and proclaim that mission to others.

 

We,like Jesus, should breathe God’s Spirit on others.

 

Thatis our mission as followers of Jesus.

 

Howdo we do that?

 

Jesushas empowered us to do what he says in that reading from Isaiah:

 

Weare to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of the sight to theblind, to let the oppressed go free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’sfavor.

 

Well,that sounds great.

 

But…howdo I do that in my life?

 

It’seasy for priests and poets to say that, you might say.

 

Buthow do I do that in my own life?

 

Whatdoes that mean to us—to us who are here, in this place, in these mismatchedpews, who are dealing with our own doubts, or uncertainties or anxieties?

 

Itmeans that we are not to go about with blinders on regarding those with whom welive and work.

 

Itmeans that we are surrounded by a whole range of captives—people who arecaptive to their own prisons of depression and anxiety and alcohol and drugsand conforming to society or whatever.

 

Peoplewho are captive to their grief or their pain or their own cemented views ofwhat they feel the Church—or this congregation of St., Stephen’s—SHOULD be.

 

Ourjob in the face of that captivity it to help them in any way we can to bereleased.

 

Itmeans that we are not to go about blind and not to ignore those who are blindedby their own selfishness and self-centeredness.

 

Iam still so amazed by how many people (especially in the Church, amazinglyenough) are so caught up in themselves.

 

Ireally think being self-centered is a kind of blindness.

 

Oneof the greatest sins in the Church today is not all the things Bishops andpriests and church leaders say is dividing the Church.

 

Thegreatest sin in the Church today:

 

Hubris.

 

Narcissism.

 

Self-centeredness.

 

Selfishness.

 

Bullying.

 

Hubriscauses us to look so strongly at ourselves (and at a false projection ofourselves) that we see nothing else but ourselves.

 

Byreaching out to others, by becoming aware of what others are dealing with, byhelping others, we truly open our eyes and see beyond ourselves.

 

Whenwe do these things, we are essentially letting the oppressed go free.

 

Finally,we are called to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

 

Thisis simply the icing on the cake.

 

Oncewe have proclaimed that God favors us—all of us—not just the single me—that Godloves us—not just me—we must then proclaim God’s blessings on us and the workwe are called to do.

 

Andby doing so, we truly become liberated.

 

Godfavors a liberated people.

 

Goddoes so because God can only effectively work through a people who have beenliberated from captivity, blindness and oppression.

 

Thisto me is where the heart of all we do here at St. Stephen’s lies.

 

Itis not in our blind faithfulness to the letter of scripture.

 

Itis not in our smugness that I—the great and wonderful singular me—somehow knowsmore than the priest or the Church or the Bishops or our elders. Or thePresident of the United States.

 Itis in our humility and the love of God that dwells within each of us.

 

Itis the Spirit of the living God that is present with us, here, right now, inthis church.

 

Itis in the fact that even if this church building gets blown away, or even if wegloss ourselves up and match our pews and spit-shine our processional cross andpreach sermons based squarely on the correct interpretation of scripture(whatever that might be) , we would still be who we are, no matter what.

 

Weneed to be aware that the poor and oppressed of our world—here and now—are notonly those who are poor financially.

 

Thepoor and oppressed of our world are those who are morally, spiritually andemotionally poor.

 

Theoppressed are still women and LGBTQ people in the Church and in the world, orsimply those who don’t fit the social structures of our society.

 

Theyare the elderly and the lonely.

 

Theyare the immigrants and the children of immigrants.

 

Theyare those who mourn deeply for those they love and miss who are no longer withus.

 

Theyare the criminals trying to reform their lives.

 

Theyare those who are just leading quietly desperate lives in our very midst.

 

We,as Christians, as followers of Jesus, are to proclaim freedom to all thosepeople who are on the margins of our lives both personally and collectively.

 

Andoften those poor oppressed people are the ones to whom we need to beproclaiming this year of the Lord’s Favor, even if those people might be ourown very selves.

 

This is the year of the Lord’sfavor.

 

Iam not talking this particular Year of Our Lord.

 

Iam not talking about this year until our next Annual Meeting.

 

Iam talking about this holy moment and all moments in which we, anointed andfilled with God’s Spirit, go out to share God’s good news by word and example.

 

Thismoment we have been given is holy.

 

Andit is our job is to proclaim the holiness of this moment.

 

Whenwe do so, we are making that year of the Lord’s favor a reality again andagain.

 

Thisis what we are called to do on this Annual Meeting Sunday and in every day ofour lives. 

 

Andalways.

 

So,let us, like Bishop Budde, proclaim the good news.

 

Letus speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.

 

Letus do what we have always done here at St. Stephen’s.

 

Letus bring sight to the blind, mercy to those who are oppressed and hope to thosewho are hopeless.

 

Letus bring true hope in our deeds to those who are crying out (in various ways)for hope and mercy, which only Jesus and his followers can bring.

 

Andwhen we do, we will find the message of Jesus being fulfilled in our verymidst.

 

 

2 Epiphany

 

January 12, 2025

 

Isiah 62.1-5; John 2.1-11

 

+ So, if I was going to ask you to define for mewhat it means to be a Christian, what would you say?

How do you define someone being a Christian?

How do you define yourself as a Christian?

It’s a very important question when you thinkabout it.

Because many of us might have very differentanswers.

Or maybe I should ask you this:

If it was proved—beyond a doubt—that the miraclesof Jesus’ life never happened, would that change your faith?

If it was proven beyond a doubt that the virginbirth never happened, that he never walked on water or turned water into wine,or raised the dead, would you still call yourself a Christian?

Is your faith dependent upon these supernaturalaspects we encounter in the Gospel.

Or is your faith as a Christian based on somethingelse?

These are important questions to ask ourselvesoccasionally.

But, those things do not define what it means tobe a Christian.

There are many people who do not believe in thosethings, who don’t hold these things as factual, but who still call themselvesChristian.

And I really hate to break this news to you:

Believing in those things will not “save” us inthe end.

At least, not according to scripture.

And if it is proven none of those things happened(and no one will ever prove that to us, I am quick to add), will our faith asChristians is still intact?

It should.

Because our faith is based on loving God andloving others.

Our faith is based on following Jesus.

Our faith is based on living out what Jesustaught, not only on what he did (or may have done).

It is important for us to remember all of thatthat in our spiritual journey in this life.

Now, again, I’m not saying these miracles neverhappened.

And I’m certainly not saying that miracles don’thappen.

Trust me, they do.

I have experienced many miracles in this life.

As I’m sure many of you have as well.

And I do believe that miracles like this actuallycan happen.

After all, Jesus is the Messiah.

Jesus is the divine Son of God.

God worked and continues to work uniquely in thePerson of Jesus.

And if anyone could do it, Jesus could.

Miracles like the one at Cana still speaks to us,here and now.

Inour Gospel reading for today, we find one of those miracles for certain.

 

Wefind in our Gospel reading for today that there’s a problem at this weddingfeast.

 

Thegood wine has run out and the wedding feast is about to crash quickly.

 

ButJesus turns water into wine and when he does, there is a renewed sense of joyand exultation.

 

ThatI think is the gist of this experience from our gospel reading.

 

It isnot just some magic trick Jesus performs to wow people.

 

It isnot some action he performs at the whim of his mother.

 

Heperforms this miracle and in doing so instills joy in those gathered there.

 

Butmore than that, by doing this he does what he always does when he performs amiracle.

 

Heperforms miracles not just for the benefit of those at the wedding.

 

It isfor our benefit of us as well.

 

Becauseby performing this miracle, he is giving us a glimpse of what awaits us all.

 

If welook closely at the story and at some of the details contained in it, we willfind clues of the deeper meaning behind his actions.

 

Firstof all, let’s look at those jars of water.

 

Thisis probably the one area we don’t give a lot of thought to.

 

Butthose jars are important.

 

Theyare not just regular jars of water.

 

Theyare jars of water for the purification rites that accompany eating in theJewish tradition.

 

That’simportant

 

ThisJewish sense of purification is important still to us.

 

If wethink purity isn’t important to us, we’re wrong.

 

Purityis important to us.

 

Cleanlinessand purity are still a part of our lives.

 

So,those stone jars of water at the wedding feast are not just for thirst.

 

Theyare about uncleanliness.

 

Overand over again in the Gospels, if you notice, Jesus seems to have issues withthese laws of purity.

 

Orrather, he has issues with people getting too caught up in the rituals ofpurity.

 

Thosepeople who put too much emphasis on the laws, rather than spirit and heart ofthe law.

 

Whatwe see him doing is deconstructing some traditional views on purity.

 

Andwhat a way to do it!

 

He turnsthese waters of purity into wine.

 

Andnot just any wine.

 

Butabundant fine wine that brings about a joy among those gathered. 

 

In asense, what Jesus has done is he has taken the party up a notch.

 

Whatwas already a good party is now an incredible party.

 

It’sa beautiful image and one that I think we can all relate to.

 

Thebest part of this view of the wedding at Cana is that Jesus is saying to usthat, yes, there is joy here in the midst of us, but a greater joy awaits us.

 

Agreater joy awaits us when the Kingdom of God breaks through into our midst.

 

Whenit does, it is very much like a wedding feast.

 

Whenit does, the waters of purification will be turned into the best-tasting winebecause we will no longer have to worry about issues like purity.

 

InGod’s Kingdom, there is no impurity, no sin, so racism, no homophobia ortransphobia or sexism.

 

Tosome extent, the wedding at Cana is a foretaste of what we do every Sunday (andWednesday) here at this altar.

 

It isa foretaste of the Holy Eucharist—the meal we share at this altar.

 

Andthe Jesus we encounter at this feast is not a sweet, obedient son, doing whateverhis mother says, though I truly believe there is an almost playful attitudebetween Jesus and Mary in their exchange.  

 

BothMary and Jesus know who he is and what he can do.

 

Theyknow he is the Messiah.

 

Theyknow that is he is this unique Son of the Most High God.

 

Theyknow that because he is, he is able to do things most people cannot.

 

Now,to be fair to Mary, we must realize that at no point does she actually requestanything from Jesus, if you notice.

 

Allshe does is state the obvious.

 

“Thereis no wine,” she says.

 

Shethen says to the servants, “Do whatever he asks.”

 

Noone, if you notice, asks Jesus to perform this miracle.

 

Andthat is important too.

 

I willtake this one step further.

 

Ihave a standard message at most of the weddings I do.

 

It’sadapted to each couple, but the message remains the same.

 

Andthe message carries within it my own understanding of how love and marriageworks.

 

Thiscoming from your celibate/asexual priest.

 

I saythis at weddings.

 

Loveand marriage are a grace from God.

 

Butto truly understand that statement we have to understand what “grace” is inthis context.

 

Mydefinition of grace is this:

 

Graceis a gift we receive from God that we neither ask for nor even anticipated.

 

It issomething God gives us out God’s own goodness.

 

Loveand marriage are often—often, not always—signs of grace.

 

Oftentimesthe right person comes into our lives at just the right time.

 

Nomatter how much we might want to control such situations, the fact is wecannot.

 

Thatperson comes into our lives on God’s terms, not ours.

 

Oftenit happens when we least expect that person.

 

Butwhen they do come into our lives, our lives change.

 

Thatis how grace works.

 

God’sgrace changes our lives.

 

Wecan’t control God’s grace.

 

Wecan’t really even petition God and ask God for a particular grace.

 

Graceis just there because God chooses to grant us grace.

 

That’show grace works.

 

Itjust happens on God’s own terms.

 

Sometimeswe might not even deserve it.

 

ButGod—in God’s goodness—just gives us this one right thing in our lives.

 

Andall we can do, in the face of that grace, is say, “Thank you, God.”

 

Thatto me only cements the fact that what happens at Cana happens each time wegather together at this altar for the Eucharist.

 

Heretoo, at this altar, we see Jesus reflected in this wine.

 

Andin each other!

 

Justlike the wedding at Cana, this Eucharist we celebrate is a foretaste of thatmeal of which we will partake in the Kingdom.

 

Inthat meal, the words of the prophet Isaiah that we heard earlier this morningwill be spoken to us as well:

 

“forthe Lord [will delight] in you,

Andyour land shall be married.

Foras a young man marries a young woman,

Soshall your builder marry you.

Andas the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,

Soshall your God rejoice over you.”

 

Godrejoices over you!

 

In God,our truest and deepest joy will come springing forth.

 

So,as we come forward for Communion this morning, let us do so with that image ofthe wedding feast of Cana in our hearts and minds.

 

Letus look, and see the image of Jesus reflected in the Communion wine. And in oneanother. 

 

Letus know that what we experience today is not a magic trick.

 

We comeforward to a miracle.

 

Wecome forward to a sign of God’s kingdom breaking through into our very midst.

 

Wecome forward to partake of an incredible grace.

 

Andall we can do, in that holy moment, is say,

 

“Thankyou, God!”

 

Amen.