Jamie Parsley's Blog, page 6

26 Pentecost

Stewardship Sunday

 

November 17, 2024

 

Daniel 12.1-3;Mark 13:1-8

 

 

+ As you know, we originally scheduled Stewardship Sunday for lastSunday.

 

But, then the election happened.

 

Which is part of the reason we’re doing it this week and not lastweek.

 

And I have to say, I’m actually kind of all right that we aredoing it Stewardship Sunday today.

 

Because I think it’s important, as we face the realities of ourcommon future, that we realize how important our St. Stephen’s community is intimes like this.

 

This is our main point to concentrate on right now.

 

Our community.

 

Right here.

 

And how it important it is to us.

 

How vital it is to have a place to come to where we feel safe, wherewe feel included, where we feel that, whatever may come, we will have eachother.

 

This is what the Church should be, after all.

 

I think, in the face of Christian Nationalism and milquetoast statementsfrom church leader, or just the deafening silence I hear from colleagues recently,it is important for us to find our community in times like this and find outstrength in numbers.

 

Stewardship is as good a time as any to do so.

 

What do we do when we feel helpless?

 

Well, we just do something.

 

Or, when we can’t ourselves, we look to those who are close to uswho can.

 

St. Stephen’s has always been that place.

 

We have always stood up and spoken out against injustice andinequality in our world.

 

And we will continue to do so.

 

That is not limited to political parties or party lines.

 

That is just a common human experience.

 

And you would think it is something that we all would be on boardabout.

 

Sadly, we’re not.

 

As I said, I am shocked by the either the lackluster responses orjust the deafening silence of those who can and should be speaking out in the church.

 

So, it’s good to be in a community where we have the community wehave.

 

It is the time for all of us to come together, to be thiscommunity.

 

We do that by pledging.

 

We do that by our stewardship.

 

We do that by stepping up and helping out.

 

Because we NEED each other right now.

 

Desperately.

 

We need the presence of people in our midst. In the pews.

 

We need your support, financially.

 

We need your muscle and your voice to pitch in and speak out.

 

You wouldn’t think this little parish in this kind of obscure cornerof Fargo would be the place it is.

 

But here we are.

 

Just yesterday, St. Stephen’s was featured in an article on thePeople for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (or PETA) website.

 

Whatever you might think of PETA, this interview is being seen bytons of people.

 

I’ll post a link.

 

As you know, people call us on a regular basis from all over thecountry, to commend us for the stances we made in the media, or on our website,or just by our presence.

 

You may remember a few months a go a woman from the East Coastleft a message here out of the blue one day saying she wanted desperately toimplement some of the things we do here at St. Stephen’s at her parish there.

 

Those kind of comments shock me.

 

We, who are in the midst of it, we don’t feel like we’re doing anythingall that different here.

 

But we really are.

 

Sometimes just by our mere presence.

 

Most of us have come here from other congregations in which wehave experienced some hardship or oppression or some very unchristian-likebehavior.

 

For most of us, that is why we are here at St. Stephen’s.

 

Many came here because this is a refuge from the difficulties ofother religious communities.

 

And I am very grateful today for us being that place.

 

We are also a place in which people are not only welcomed butincluded because of who they are.

 

This is who we are and who we always have been.

 

We are the ones always, it seems, on the forefront.

 

We were on the forefront of women being fully included in theChurch back in the 1970s—the first parish in this diocese to have women LayReaders, women wardens, women acolytes and w0men clergy.

 

We were on the forefront of the LGBTQ+ movement, being the firstto welcome and include queer people, to marry queer people, to fight for theordination of queer people. (Sadly, we didn’t win some of those battles at thetime)

 

And we are still on the forefront.

 

This is who St. Stephen’s has always been.

 

And one area that I am very grateful for here at St. Stephen’s isour continual presence and work in the larger Diocese, now especially as wehead in our Bishop’s election in 2025.

 

We continue to be a force in this diocese—a very solid force.

 

And a much-needed (and maybe a bit too loud) voice.

 

And as we all move forward, as I said, this is why we need eachother, especially now.

 

All of this is why we need this Stewardship time.

 

It is a time for us to look long and hard at what it means to be apart of our parish of St. Stephen’s.

 

It means supporting it with our financial resources, so we cancontinue to stand up, to speak out, to be the place we have always been,especially now.

 

For some that means tithing—giving from the 10% of one’s income.

 

For others it means giving from what you can give.

 

But it is knowing full well that we can’t do these things—likebeing a vital, vibrant and outspoken parish in this community, in the Churchand the world especially in the days that are to come, without financialresources.

 

We as a parish need to be prepared for whatever that might be.

 

But it means more than that too.

 

It means giving of our time and our talents.

 

It means that we don’t just get to sit on our hands and let othersdo the work.

 

Or just let Fr. Jamie do the work.

 

It means we ALL need to stand up and speak out.

 

It means we also roll up our sleeves and make sure the day-to-daystuff still happens.

 

It means serving as an acolyte, or on altar guild, or in coffeehour, or singing as cantor, or playing music with James, or finding ways tomake the church beautiful.

 

It means giving of our artistic talents.

 

Or it means being a loud and proud representative of St. Stephen’sin the community and the world.

 

It means speaking out and protecting our gay, lesbian, bisexualand trans sisters and brothers, because they still definitely need us to do so. 

 

It means serving on our annual Pride in the Park, or speaking outagainst unfair treatment of refugees, or protesting racists and white supremacists.

 

It means going to the mosque and help clean up after hate crimesare committed against our Muslim or Jewish sisters and brothers.

It means not supporting anything that leads to further division orhate or injustice in our community and society.

 

It means literally being a follower of Jesus not only here inchurch on Sunday, but every single moment of our entire lives.

 

Because all of that is who we are too.

 

And have always been.

 

This is not rocket science.

 

This is not quantum physics.

 

This is basic Christianity that we are doing here at St.Stephen’s.

 

Basic Christianity, as we live it out here at St. Stephen’s, isnothing more than following Jesus in his commandment to love God and love oneanother as we love ourselves.

 

To love God.

 

And to love others.

 

It means living out our Baptismal Covenant.

 

It means saying that all people deserve the rites of this Churchfully and completely.

 

It is a matter of LOVE.

 

I know. I preach it all the time. And you’re probably sick ofhearing me preaching about love all the time. But…you know what?

 

That’s tough.

 

Because love DOES make a difference.

 

To love—fully and completely.

 

To love—radically and inclusively.

 

I personally don’t see that as all that radical.

 

I see that being as fairly basic.

 

In today’s Gospel, we hear Jesus saying, “you will hear of warsand rumors of wars.”

 

These words of Jesus are especially poignant for us on thisparticular Sunday.

 

There is lots of talk right now about turmoil and rumors ofturmoil.

 

Jesus uses a very interesting description of these fears andpains—images of war and turmoil and upheaval and their rumors.

 

He calls them “birth pangs.”

 

And I think “pang” is the right word to be using here, for us atthis moment.

 

Yes, it may be painful to be going through what we may be goingthrough when we face an uncertain collective future and when we stand up forwhat we believe is right.

 

The future may, at times, seem bleak.

 

There will be wars and rumors of wars.

 

But the words we cling to—that we hold on to and find our strengthin to bear those pangs—in these difficult times is in the words “do not be alarmed.”

 

Do not be alarmed.

 

There is a calmness to Jesus’ words.

 

In the midst of turmoil, we are called to be a community,together, to stand up together, to speak out, together.

 

Because in the end, God will always triumph.

 

And God always provides!

 

If we place our trust—our confidence—in God, we will be all right.

 

Yes, we will suffer birth pangs, but look what comes after them.

 

It is a loving and gracious God who calms our fears amidstcalamity and rumors of calamity.

 

Our job is to live as fully as we can right now. Right here.  

 

Our job is to simply do what we’ve always been doing here at St.Stephen’s.

 

To welcome, to accept, to love. To not judge.

 

To stand up and protect those who need us to do so for them.

 

We have this moment.

 

This holy moment was given to us by our loving and gracious God.

 

This Stewardship Sunday is about us doing our part as acongregation that does the things St. Stephen’s does.

 

Yes, it means giving money to this congregation.

 

It also means giving of our time and energy.

 

Of our very selves, even when we’re tired.

 

Evenw hen we’re drained.

 

Even when we’re ready to give up.

 

On Stewardship Sunday, we are being asked to serve as well.

 

To serve in love.

 

To serve fully as Jesus calls us to serve and love.

 

So, let us, on this Stewardship Sunday, continue to do what we’vebeen doing.

 

 Let us welcome radicallyand love radically.

 

Let us give of ourselves fully, so that we can serve fully.

 

Let us, in our following of Jesus, continue to strive to be apowerful and visible conduit of the Kingdom of God in our midst.

 

It’s already happening.

 

Right now.

 

Right here.

 

In our midst.

 

It is truly a time in which to be grateful and hopeful.

 

Stewardship Letter

 November 17, 2024

26 Pentecost

 

Dear St. Stephen’s family,

 

Today is, of course, Stewardship Sunday—the day when we pray aboutand ponder our financial pledge cards and our pledge of time-and-talent. As wedo so, it is good to ask: “whatis this pledge package we are receiving?”

            Myanswer is a fairly simple one. Your pledge is a way to say,

 

“St. Stephen’sis important to me. I love what it stands for. I love its uniqueness. I lovethat St. Stephen’s has accepted me when I needed acceptance. I love that itaccepts others who need acceptance. I love that St. Stephen’s offers me acommunity at time when ‘community’ is uncertain, when many of us feel ostracizedand marginalized.  St. Stephen’s is so importantto me I am willing to support it with my creativity, my energy and my financialresources.”

 

Everyone knows weat St. Stephen’s are welcoming. But there are many “welcoming” churches. Wehowever, work hard to be fully-accepting. We are a fully-inclusive congregationin a community in which fully-inclusive churches are few and far-between.  To be this kind of a congregation, we are definitelynot push-overs. We are also very committed to our being who we are and what weare. And when we stand up for something, we truly STAND UP. And speak out.Which is needed in this time and in this place.  

This is how wefollow Jesus. This is how we live as children of God in this sometimes scaryand uncertain world that needs radical goodness, radical acceptance, radicallove.

Your pledgemakes sure we continue to be the congregation we have always been. Your pledgehelps us to continue to be a radical, loving and safe place for all. 

I have said it manytimes before: if you want to see the Episcopal Church of the future—it is righthere. We are it. St.Stephen’s is what it means to be alive and vital as Christians. We are what itmeans to be all-inclusive, even if that means being inclusive to a fault. Weare what it means to accept everyone—no matter their sexuality, their color,their gender, their political party, no matter if they are spiritual skeptics-- everyone is welcome here and fully ACCEPTED here. This is who we are.

And in the faceof whatever may come, socially, government-wise, if the skies turns dark andthe moon falls into the ocean, it is vital for all of us to have a safecommunity, in which we can find a safe place where we know we can still be whowe are and what we are, without fear. St. Stephen’s is always going to be thatplace.  

That is what yourpledge supports—providing a safe community for everyone in uncertain times.  

Please return your pledge package anytime before Sunday, December 8 for our ingathering.

Your financialoffering is essential for us to continue to be who we are. We cannot be the inclusive,outspoken, accepting congregation we are without your help and support.

Morethan anything, please know how grateful and humbled I am to be serving as yourpriest. I am truly blessed by God to be serving a congregation that is genuinelyexcited about what it is doing, that is renewed by its energy and committed toits following of Jesus. Thank you for all you have given to me.

 

-peace,

Fr. Jamie+

 

Prayerfor St. Stephen’s during Stewardship Time

Lord God, surround us with your love. Be present in thiscongregation of St. Stephen’s as you have been since our beginning. Let us knowyour presence among us—in the sacrament, in your Word and in those who havegathered here in your name. Let your Spirit be present with us and in all wedo. Open our hearts and our minds to the goodness you are doing here throughus. And let us respond appropriately. Bless St. Stephen’s with abundance andwith the resources needed to do the ministries we do here.  Let us, inturn, do good. Let peace reign here with us, even as wars and rumors of warsrage about us. And let your words of assurance to us to not fear anything calmour hearts and souls so that we can do what you have called us to do.  Inthe name of Jesus your Son, we pray in confidence. Amen.

A Prayer to get through this Monday

 

By Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber, ELCA

 

Dear God,

There’s so much to fear right now thatI’m sort of losing track of what to worry about most.

 

So I’m gonna need some help focusing.

 

Show me what is MINE to do.

 

Then grant me the strength to do it,and the humility to rest knowing it is enough.

 

Help me remember that even if there ismore to worry about in life right now, it does not mean that there is less tolove in life right now.

 

So protect every inch of our joy,Lord.

 

And if you could help me stop readingshit on the internet, that might really help too.

 

Amen.

 

25 Pentecost

November10, 2024

1 Kings 17:8-16; Psalm 146; Mark12.38-44

+There was a meme going around later last weekthat said:

GOD HELP THE PREACHERS WHO HAVE TO PREACH THIS SUNDAY.

That’s the truth!

God, help me today.

So, originally we planned Stewardship Sundaytoday.

But when I realized that it was the Sunday after the election,I didn’t feel right about doing it on this day.

I wasn’t certain how things would go.

And now I’m happy we’re not doing it today.

For many here at St. Stephen’s,  it been a difficult week, a week ofdevastating loss.

It has been a  week offear and shock and anger and disillusionment.  

I have been listening and sitting with many of you who are whoare feeling very helpless.

People feel as though there is nothing we can do.

People feel as though we are at the whim of whatever mayhappen.

It’s hard to face that fact that we can’t change the biggerthings—the things beyond our reach or control.

But we have lots of control in our own orbits, in our ownspaces—to some extent.

There are things we can do here and now.

And there are certain things we can do here.

We can do what we’ve always done here at St. Stephen’s.

It is moments like this I hope you’re as grateful as I am thatwe have a place like St. Stephen’s, a place where we are safe and sound andloved and included.

And inspired by that, we can choose certain things.

We can choose compassion.

 We can chooseselflessness.

We can choose personal decency.

We are, after all, Children of God, and as children of God weare called to live life differently than the majority of the world.  

We can choose to do what we have always done, as Christians,as followers of Jesus, as members of St. Stephen’s.

And we will.

In the face of whatever life or governments may do, we canstand up, we can stand firm and we can not only profess our faith, we can liveit out.

And we can speak out.

And we can stand up, as we always have, and do everything wecan to fight injustice.

As we always have.

We can still work diligently to bring in the kingdom of God inour midst, in our own ways.

Bravely and surely.

Without fear.

I know fear is a potent force right now in our lives and inour country.

In the history of St. Stephen’s ministry, things have come andthings have gone.

In just the time that I’ve been there, we have experienced somuch.

Presidents and governments have come and gone.

There have been bleak times and there have been very goodtimes.

I am not going to say to those who feel fear or anger over thepresidential race to buck up, to get over it.

But this is one thing I do know: St. Stephen’s will continueto be a place of openness and acceptance, no matter what.

We will still befollowers of Jesus in this world.

 

We will still work tofurther God’s Kingdom of justice and equality in our own way, as best we can.

 

The scriptures we heartoday, speak very clearly to us today as well.

 

We  find a pure and most poignant voice in thewords from today’s Psalm:

 

“The Lord raises upthose who are bowed down.”

 

“Bowed down”

 

That is a beautifullypoetic understanding of what many of us are feeling today.

 

This is what it feelslike when we have been knocked down or disillusioned.

 

Certainly, inbiblical times, no one was more bowed down than the widows we meet in ourreadings today.

 

Marginalized women.

 

Some things never change.

 

In our reading fromthe Hebrew scriptures, we find a widow who visits the prophet and who, out of adesperate situation—she and her son will no doubt starve soon—she gives fromwhat she has.

 

She, bowed down andhelpless, gives from what she has.

 

In our Gospel, wefind a widow who is giving two small coins—money that, no doubt, could havegone for food.

 

Now, the stories seembasic.

 

OK.

 

So they’re poorwomen.

 

But there’s more toit than that.

 

Being a widow thenand there was different than being a widow now. 

 

We oftentimes missthe real meaning behind these stories of the poor widows.

 

A widow in thosetimes was very much a person “bowed down.”

 

Women, for the mostpart, at that time were defined by their men.

 

Men took care ofwomen—whether it be the father, the husband, the brother or the son— and whenthere were no men to look after the woman, she was left to her own devices,which were—in that time and in that place—extremely limited.

 

So, when we look atit from this perspective, for these widows, to give anything at all, is prettyamazing, since they probably had very, very little to give in the first place.

 

And yet they, intheir poverty, gave abundantly.

 

These widows, thesebowed down people, these marginalized and ignored people, are the people we arecalled—no, that we are commanded—tonot forget about or turn away from.

 

 Over and over again in both the Hebrewscriptures and in the New Testament, we are commanded to not neglect those whoare lacking.

 

We are not to neglectthose among us who are being “bowed down”

 

We are beingcommanded by God again and again to never turn away from the poor, from themarginalized, from those who are sick, from those who are being oppressed.

 

Governments may dothat.

 

Political systems maydo that.

 

But we---we do nothave that option.

 

The reason behindthis is that we—as believers in God, as children of God and followers ofJesus—are not to look at the world as those “of the world” do.

 

How are we to seethis world?

 

We are to see thisworld with the “eyes of God.”

 

We are to see—and totruly see— as God sees.

 

And not just see asGod sees.

 

But to act as Godacts.

 

We are to showcompassion on others as God shows compassion on us.

 

When we do so—when wedon’t turn away from those who are being unjustly treated in our midst—we aredrawing close to the presence and the love of God.

 

But more so than eventhat, oftentimes when we act as God acts in this world, we are actually beingthe embodiment of God to those who need God in their lives.

 

And most importantly,when we refuse to turn away from the oppressed in our midst, we are beingmirrors of that compassion and love of God to others.

 

But I am going totake this even one more step further.

 

Yes, we are not toturn away from those who are oppressed, but we are also called, in those momentswhen see, as God sees, oppression and injustice in our midst to stand up andspeak out against oppression and injustice.

 

And through all ofthis we need to remind ourselves that we too are lacking.

 

We too are not fullycontent, not fully rich, not fully whole, not fully in control.

 

Even those of us who“have,” know what it means, at times, to be out in the fringes.

 

We too who dress inour “long robes,” sometimes know what it means to be “bowed down” by injustice.

 

When we read thesestories of the poor widows—we can, in all honesty, put ourselves in the placeof the widow.

 

No, we are notnecessarily hungry, or poor, or dependent upon someone else for our financialwell-being.

 

But we may have knownoppression in our lives.

 

We may have knownwhat it feels like to be marginalized, to be treated as someone less in thisworld just because of who we are.

 

We too know what itis like to be ignored and seen as unimportant.

 

I personally haveknown this profoundly in my own life many, many times.

 

I have known it bythe society in which I live.

 

I have most certainlyknown it by the Church in which I serve, and by the leaders of that Church.

 

And any of us whohave been truly “bowed down” can tell you: being “bowed down” is awful.

 

Truly and terribly awful!

 

No one strives to beone of the bowed down in our society.

 

No one wishes to betreated that way in this world.

 

So, what do we do inthese situations?

 

Well, when it happenswe recognize our dependence on that One who truly does feed us who are hungry,on the One who raises up us who are bowed down

 

Because God is withthose who are oppressed.

 

And in thisworld—this world that is at times so ugly and unfriendly and so mean-spiritedand so violent and so full of deceit—we too know what it means to be on thereceiving end of those things.

 

We too know what itmeans, at times, to be hurt and burdened.

 

And it is veryimportant for all of us who are bowed down to remember.

 

Those who are lackingare not only to receive justice.

 

We cannot just hoardjustice or demand it only for ourselves. 

 

We are to showjustice as well in our own lives.

 

And that it is why itis important to identify with the widows.

 

We—fractured humanbeings that we are—must show the justice we expect for ourselves.

 

Even in our lacking,even bowed down as we might be, even ostracized and marginalized from the worldand the Church and society, we must live out our lives with integrity andmeaning.

 

We must emanatejustice in all we do and say.

 

And we must fightagainst injustice whenever we see it.

 

And trust me, we willget through this.

 

We will emerge fromthis.

 

There will be betterdays.

 

For now, despite whatwe may find around us, let each of us bear within ourselves the love andcompassion of God to others.

 

Let us reflect itwith our very lives and actions.

 

Let us live God’sjustice out in our very lives and in all of our actions.

 

Let us love others, eventhose we really do not right now want to love, as God loves us.

 

Let us becompassionate to others, as God is compassionate to us.

 

And when we do, onlythen will injustice finally begin to cease.

 

Only then will weknow that, yes, truly God does raise up those who are bowed down.

 

 

 

My Letter following the Election

 Dear St. Stephen’s Family---

 

In the wake of last night’s election results, I have already heard from several people who are devastated and numb with shock. Some of us feel helpless today. Some of us simply feel numb.

 

Once these initial emotions start to fade, please remember that now is not the time for hand wringing. It is a time to do what we always do when difficulties befall us: we square our shoulders. We recommit ourselves to doing what we feel is right. And we move forward.

 

Having said that, it is important to remember (this being a paraphrase of something I found this morning on social media):

We are awakening to the same country we fell asleep to. The very same country.

Let us pull ourselves together.

How do we get through the next four years?

Continue to do the good work.

Continue to build bridges not walls.

Continue to lead with compassion.

Continue the demanding work of liberation for all.

Continue to dismantle the broken systems, large and small.

Continue to set the best example for the children and others.

Continue to be a vessel of nourishing joy.

Continue to support your gay and lesbian sisters and brothers. 

Continue to hold up your transgender companions.

Continue to support educators.

Continue, right where you are. 

Continue to stand up and speak out.

Right where you live into your days. 

Do so in the name of our God who expects nothing less form each of us. And if we are "continuing" ALL of the above, in community, partnership, collaboration? 

What is it we have been doing?

What is it we are waiting for? 

Please also be assured: St. Stephen’s will remain a place of inclusion and safety. It will be a place in which the love of God and of one another is upheld.

 

We must continue to strive to uphold this radical inclusiveness. We must strive to be living, breathing presences of God’s love and acceptance of all. We must strive to be the hands, feet, face and heart of Christ in a world that truly needs Christ’s all-accepting love.

 

Please pray for our nation.

 

Please pray for our leadership.

 

Please pray for our future.

 

And let us not let our fears and anxieties defeat us.

 

O God, you have bound us together in a common life. Help us,  in the midst of our struggles for justice and truth, to confront one another without hatred or bitterness, and to work together with mutual forbearance and respect; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

--peace,

Jamie+ 

On the Eve of Election Day

 

Dear St. Stephen’s family--

I am hearing from so many people expressing their anxiety,their fear and their “nauseous optimism” as we approach Election Day. I too amfeeling all of those emotions at any given moment.

        If you’reanything like me, when there is nothing more to do, I just try to do “something.”Let us channel our emotions into constructive endeavors.

Let us remain steadfast in our prayers and inserving others.

If you have not voted, PLEASE do so.

And please keep our nation and each other inyour prayers as we head into the big day.

                                                -peace,

                                                Jamie+

 

Everlasting God, source of all liberty, beforewhom every earthly ruler must bow and bend the knee, we lay our nation beforeyou as we prepare for an election. Breathe upon us your Spirit of wisdom anddiscernment. Grant all who seek public office the mind of Christ, who came notto be served but to serve, and to give his life for the freedom of theoppressed. Hold before us those who face uncertain futures, or who have novoice in our political process. Uphold and safeguard poll workers and electionofficials in their work. Spare us from the crushing weight of cynicism. Give usgrace to speak courageously, but with love, without which our words are noiseand we are nothing. Gather us together under the cross, where, in all of ourdifference, we can stand as one people, redeemed in Jesus Christ, our Saviorand Lord. Amen.

 

All Saints Sunday

 

November 3, 2024

Revelation21.1-6a

+ You’ve heard me say it before andI will no doubt say it again.

I certainly don’t make any secretabout it.

But, I LOVE the feast day of AllSaints.

After all, from the very earliestdays of the Church, this has been one of the highpoints of the Church year.

It’s an important feast.

And it’s important not just becausewe honor saints like St. Stephen, or Mary the mother of Jesus, or any of theother saints.

It’s an important days because itis a day in which we honor also those loved ones in our own lives who have gonebefore us.

This feast and the one we commemorateyesterday on November 2, All Souls, are very important feast days for me.

And because both of them came this pastweek, I am going to touch on both.

Actually, I’m kind of guilty ofcombing the two.

One is about the SAINTS.

One is about all the rest.

I’m just going to talk abouteveryone because, let’s face it: you know I’m an unapologeticUniversalist. 

I do not believe in hell, orpurgatory.

Though I would be more willing tobelieve in purgatory than hell any day.

So, this is a time for us to honorour departed loved ones, as well as those we might not know about.

Honoring and praying for those whohave departed this life has always been an important part of the Church.

But, there are some branches of theChurch that do not honor saints or our departed loved ones in this manner.

Being brought up Lutheran, wedidn’t make a big deal about the saints.

If you come from a Methodist or aPresbyterian background, there have been some honoring of those who have gonebefore, but prayers are usually not prayed forthem.

After all, the departed are wherethey are, and our prayers aren’t going to make much of a difference.

But, for us, as Anglicans andEpiscopalians, honoring saints and praying for those who have died has alwaysbeen a part of our tradition.

You will hear us as Episcopaliansmake a petition when someone dies that you won’t hear in the Lutheran Church,or the Methodist Church or the Presbyterian Church.

When someone from our parish dies,you will probably get a prayer request from me that begins, “I ask your prayersfor the repose of the soul of…”

Praying in such a way for peoplewho have passed has always been a part of our Anglican tradition, and willcontinue, I hope, to be a part of our tradition.

And I can tell you, I  like that idea of praying for those who havedied.

But, and this is important: wedon’t pray for people have died for the same reasons other branches ofChristianity do, like Roman Catholicism.

In other words, we don’t pray tofree them from “purgatory,” as though our prayers could somehow change God’smind.

(Prayer does NOT change God’s mind)

So, why do we Episcopalians prayfor the departed?

Well, let’s see what the Book ofCommon Prayer says.

I am going to have you pick up yourtrusty old Prayer Books and look in the back, to the Catechism.

There, on page 862 you get the very important question:

Why do we pray for the dead?

The answer (and it’s verygood answer): We pray for them, because we still hold them in our love, andbecause we trust that in God's presence those who have chosen to serve [God]will grow in [God’s] love, until they see [God] as [God] is.

Now, that is a great answer.

We pray that those who havechosen God will to grow in God’s love.
So, essentially, just because we die, it does not seem to mean that we stopgrowing in God’s love and presence.

But, if you’re still notconvinced, here’s an answer from no greater person than one of the treasures ofthe Anglican Church—none other than C.S. Lewis.

Lewis wrote,

"Ofcourse I pray for the dead. The action is so spontaneous, so all butinevitable, that only the most compulsive theological case against it woulddeter me. And I hardly know how the rest of my prayers would survive if thosefor the dead were forbidden. At our age, the majority of those we love best aredead. What sort of intercourse with God could I have if what I love best wereunmentionable to [God]?”

I think that is wonderful andbeautiful.

And certainly worthy of ourprayers.

But even more so than thisdefinition, I think that, because we are uncertain of exactly what happens tous when we die, there is nothing wrong with praying for those who have crossedinto that mystery we call “the nearer Presence of God.”

After all, they are still ourfamily and friends.

They are still part of who we are.

This morning we are commemoratingand remembering those people in our lives who have helped us, in various way,to know God.

What this feast shows me is whatyou have heard me preach in many funeral sermons again and again.

I truly, without a doubt, believethat what separates those of us who are alive here on earth, from those who arenow in the “nearer presence of God” is truly a very thin one.

And to commemorate them and toremember them is a good thing for all us.

I do want us to think today long and hard about the saints we have known in ourlives.

And we have all known saints in ourlives.

We have known those people who haveshown us, by their example, by their good, that God really does work throughus.

And I want us to at least realizethat God still works through us even after we have departed from this mortalcoil.

Ministry in one form or the other,can continue, even following our deaths.

That quote from Lewis is a primeexample.

Even now, 61 years after his death,Lewis can still preach to us.

His words still reveal God’s truthsto us.

He is still doing ministry, evennow through his words.

Hopefully, we can still, even afterour deaths, do good and work toward furthering the Reign of God by the examplewe have left behind.

For me, the saints—those people who have gone before us—aren’t gone.

They haven’t just disappeared.

They haven’t just floated away anddissipated like clouds out of our midst.

No, rather they are here with us,still.

They join with us, just as theangels do, when we celebrate the Eucharist.

For, especially in the Eucharist,we find that “veil” lifted for a moment.

That belief comes to us from theEastern Orthodox Church.

In this Eucharist that we celebratetogether at this altar, we find the divisions that separate us are gone.

We see how thin that veil truly is.

We see that death truly does nothave ultimate power over us.

That is the way Holy Communionshould be.

It’s not just us, gathered here atthe altar.

It’s the Communion of all thesaints.

In fact, before we sing thatglorious hymn, “Holy, Holy Holy” during the Eucharistic rite, you hear me say,“with angels and saints and all the company of heaven we sing this hymn ofpraise.”

That isn’t just sweet, poeticlanguage.

It’s what we believe and hope in.

In these last few years, after losing so many people in my family and among my closefriends, I think I have felt their presence most keenly, at times, here at thisaltar when we are gathered together for the Eucharist than at any other time.

I have felt them here with us.

And in those moments when I have, Iknow in ways I never have before, how thin that veil is between us and “them.”

You can see why I love this feast.

It not only gives us consolation inthis moment, separated as we are from our loved ones, but it also gives ushope.

And let me tell you, hope,especially now, is vitally important.

We know, in moments like this,where we are headed.

We know what awaits us.

No, we don’t know it in detail.

We’re not saying there are streets actuallypaved in gold or puffy white clouds with chubby little baby angels floatingaround.

We don’t have a clear vision ofthat place.

But we do sense it.

We do feel it.

We know it’s there, just beyond ourvision, just out of reach and out of focus.

And “they” are all there, waitingfor us.

They—all the angels, all thesaints, all our departed loved ones.

So, this morning—and always—weshould rejoice in this fellowship we have with them.

In our collect this morning, weprayed that “we may come to those ineffably joys that you have prepared forthose who truly love you.”

Those ineffably joys await us.

They are there, just on the otherside of that thin veil.

They are there, in that place weheard about in our reading today from Revelation.

That place in which God “will dwell with them as their God;”
Where we will be God’s peoples

They are there were God wipes “every tear fromtheir eyes.”
Where “Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away."

This is our hope.

 

This is our future.

Let us, with all those who dwell there now,rejoice in thanksgiving for that glorious place.

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

23 Pentecost

 

October 27, 2024

 

Mark 10.46-53

 

+ You have heard me preach again and again about this, but Ifirmly believe that, without a solid foundation of personal prayer, all that wedo in church on Sundays is without a solid base.

 

As I said last week in my sermon, those of us who are ordained arenot the only ones who are “ministers” in the Church.

 

All of us who have been baptized are actual ministers of theChurch.

 

And for our ministry to be effective, we need to have a strong andvery solid prayer life to support that ministry.

 

I, of course, highly encouraged people to pray the Daily Officesof Morning and Evening Prayer from the Book of Common Prayer every day as thefirst foundation.

 

From the offices and from the Mass, our prayer life as followersof Jesus flourish.

 

Now for many of us, the Daily Offices are not something we can fitinto our busy lives.

 

But, no matter how busy our lives are, we must always have astrong foundation of prayer. 

 

Regular prayer.

 

 And that prayer life can bevery simple.

 

This morning, in our Gospel, we find a very little, but it seems,very effective prayer, very much in the spirit of Centering Prayer. 

It is a story that at first seems to be leading us in one direction, thensomething else happens.

 

We find Jesus at Jericho, which reminds us, of course, of thestory from Joshua and the crumbling walls.

 

We then find this strangely detailed story of Barthemaeus.

 

It’s detailed in the sense that we not only have his name, butalso the fact that he was the son of Timaeus.

 

That’s an interesting little tidbit.

 

And we also find of course that he is blind.

 

Now, it’s not a big mystery what’s going to happen.

 

We know where this story is going.

 

We know Bartimaeus is going to be healed.

 

We know he is going to see.

 

But the real gem of this story doesn’t have to do with Jericho, orthe fact that we will never again hear about Bartimeus son of Timaeus.

 

The real gem of this story is that little prayer Bartimaeus prays.

 

There it is, huddled down within the Gospel, like a wonderfullittle treasure.

 

“Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!”

 

Now that designation of Jesus as the “Son of David” is interestingin and of its self.

 

By identifying Jesus as the Son of the David, Bartimaeus is essentiallyidentifying Jesus as the Messiah, the anointed one sent by God.

 

So this man, Bartimaeus, is praying to the Jewish Messiah, to theOne God sent, to have mercy on him.

 

And what does the Son of David do?

 

He has mercy on Bartimaeus. 

 

It’s beautiful!

 

It’s perfect!

 

And in that simple prayer, we find the kernel of all prayer tosome extent.

 

At first, it doesn’t seem like much.

 

It’s so deceptively simple.

 

But, obviously, according to our Gospel for today, the prayer isimportant.

 

Jesus does what he is asked.

 

He has mercy on this man and heals him.

 

So why is this prayer so important?

 

Well, for one thing, we get a glimpse of how to pray in thiswonderfully simple little prayer.

 

Jesus occasionally gives us advice in the Gospels on how we shouldpray.

 

The first one that probably comes to mind probably is the Lord’sprayer.

 

But today we find a prayer very different than the Lord’s prayer.

 

The Lord’s prayer is very structured.

 

It covers all the bases.

 

We acknowledge and adore God, we acknowledge and ask forgivenessnot only for our sins, but for the sins committed against us by others.

 

And so on.

 

You know the prayer.

 

The prayer we hear this morning cuts right to the very heart notonly of the Lord’s prayer but to every prayer we pray.

 

It is a prayer that rises from within—from our very core.

 

From our heart of hearts.

 

It is truly the Prayer of the Heart.

 

The words of this prayer are the words of all those nameless,formless prayers we pray all the time—those prayers that we find ourselveslonging to pray.

 

Here it is, summed up for us.

 

More often than not, our prayers really are simple, one wordprayers.

 

And the one word prayer we probably pray more than anything—I doit anyway—is:

 

 “please.”

 

“Please!” I pray so often.

 

Or sometimes it’s: “please, please, please!”

 

Poor God! Having to listen to that all day!

 

The one word prayer I should be praying more than anything is:“thanks.”

 

Meister Ekhart once wrote:

 

“If the only prayer we ever say in our life is ‘thank you’—that willbe enough.”

 

Here are the words we long to use in those prayers without words.

 

“Have mercy on me!”

 

But if we were to pare it down, if we were to go to the heart ofthe prayer, what word from that prayer would be the heart of the whole prayer?

 

It would, of course, be “mercy.”

 

Mercy.

 

Mercy.

 

And, for many of us, this is the heart of our prayer.

 

This is what we desire from God.

 

Mercy.

 

Please, God, we pray. Have mercy on us. 

 

Using words like this, praying like this, simply sitting quietlyand just being in the presence of God is a kind of “prayer of the heart.”

 

That’s a perfect description of the prayer we heard in today’sGospel.

 

“Mercy.”

 

Like Bartimeaus, we can simply bring what we have before God inprayer, release it, and then walk away healed.

 

There is no room for haughtiness when praying this prayer.

 

The person we are when we pray it is who we really are.

 

When all our masks and all our defenses are gone, that is when prayerlike this comes in and takes over for us.

 

This is the prayer we pray when, echoing Thomas Merton, we“present ourselves naked before our God.”

 

And this prayer does not even have to be about us.

 

We can use this prayer when praying for others.

 

How easy it is to simply pray:

 

Mercy.

 

God, have mercy on her, or him, or them.

 

It’s wonderful isn’t it? how those simple words can pack such awallop.

 

We don’t have to be profound or eloquent in the words we addressto God.

 

We don’t need to go on and on beseeching and petitioning God.

 

We simply need to open our hearts to God and the words will come.

 

“Mercy.”

 

So, like Bartimaeus, let us pray what is in our heart.

 

Let us open ourselves completely and humbly to God.

 

And when we do we will find the blindness’s of our own liveshealed.

 

We will find taken from us that spiritual blindness that causes usto grope about aimlessly, to ignore those in need around us, to not see thebeauty of this world that God shows us all the time.

 

Like Bartimaeus, we too will be healed of whatever blinds us tothe Light of God breaking through into our lives.

 

And when that blindness is taken from us, with a clear spiritualvision granted to us, we too will focus our eyes, square our shoulders andfollow Jesus on the way.

The Memorial Service for Delbert Moen

 Del Moen

August 18, 1925-October 18, 2024

October 26, 2024

+ AsI said at the begging of our service, I am so very honored to officiate at thisservice for Del.

 

Delwas essentially my great-uncle.

 

Hiswife Mercille was married to my mother’s uncle.

 

Butthis complicated family connections never mattered for any of us.

 

Wewere always family.

 

And Ialways saw Del as my great-uncle.

 

Itruly admired him.

 

Hewas such a good and gracious person.

 

Ithink fondly about the deep love he had for Mercille, and the care he gave her throughher last years.

 

Ithink often of his quiet, gentle ways.

 

Inthe memories that were shared about Del on the Hanson-Runsvold website, Del wasreferred to as a “quiet hero.”

 

Ilove that.

 

Ithink that captures perfectly who Del was.

 

Icertainly always looked forward to seeing him and talking with him.

 

And everytime I saw him, he was always so happy to see me.

 

Andas sad as I am today to say goodbye this really wonderful person, I am alsovery grateful.

 

I amgrateful for Del and for all he was.

I amgrateful for the strong faith in God he had.

 

I amgrateful for his presence in my life.

 

I amgrateful for his presence in the life of Mercille and Jackie and his whole family.

 

I amgrateful for what he meant to you, those of who came today to remember Del.

 

Andeven though we are sad today, we also able to rejoice.

 

Werejoice in Del.

 

Werejoice in all that was good and kind and gentle in Del.

 

Andas we gather today, as we remember Del, as think of who he was to each of us,please think about who he was and what makes you grateful for having knowinghim.

 

Andas you do so, remember this.  

 

Todayis not the end of anything.

 

Yes,we are saying goodbye.

 

Butit is only a temporary goodbye.

 

It isa goodbye until we see him again.

 

Fornow, we are not going to stop remembering him, or thinking of him.

 

Hispresence will certainly stay with us as long after we have left here and goback to our own lives.

 

Now,I have no doubt that Del is with ushere this afternoon, celebrating his life with us. 

 

I amof the firm belief that what separates us who are alive and breathing here onearth from those who are now in the so-called “nearer presence of God” isactually a very thin division.

 

So,yes, right now, I think we can feel that that separation between us here andthose who have passed on is, in this moment, a very thin one.

 

Andbecause of that belief, I take a certain comfort in the fact Del is close to usthis afternoon. 

 

He ishere, in our midst, celebrating his life with us.

 

Andwe should truly celebrate his life.

 

It wasa good life.

 

Itwas long, full life.

 

And inthat life, he did a lot of good.

 

Hemade a difference.

 

And Ican tell you that I will never forget that strong and gentle presence.

 

Thatpresence is here with us today as we remember him and give thanks for him.

 

And,for those of us who have faith, we know that where Del is now there is onlylife there.

 

Eternallife.

 

WhereDel is now, he is complete and whole.

 

He iswith Mercille.

 

Andhe is happy.

 

Andhe will never again shed another tear.

 

Becausewe know that Del and all our loved ones have been received into God’s arms ofmercy, into the “blessed rest of everlasting peace.”

 

This is what we cling to on a daylike today.

 

This is where we find our strength.

 

This what gets us through thistemporary—and I do stress that it is temporary—thistemporary separation from Del.

 

Weknow that—despite the sadness we may feel—somehow, in the end, God is with usand Del is with God and that makes all the difference.

 

Certainly,Del believed in that and hoped in that.

 

Del’sdeep faith sustained him again and again through his life.

 

And thegreat example of his faith helps us now as we move forward.

 

For Del,sorrow and pain are no more.

 

Del,in this holy moment, has gained life eternal.

 

Andthat is what awaits us as well.

 

Wemight not be able to say “Alleluia” with any real enthusiasm today.

 

Butwe can find a glimmer of light in the darkness of this day.

 

It isa glorious Light we find here.

 

And for that we can rejoice and be grateful.

And we can celebrate.  

We will miss you, Del.

We will always be grateful for you.

May angels welcome you, Del.

May all the saints come forward to greet you.

And may your rest today and always be one of unending joy.

 

The Memorial Eucharist for M. Lavonne Marubbio

 St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

Fargo, North Dakota

October 21, 2024

+ As sad as I am today, asdifficult as it is to gather here this morning to say goodbye to VonnieMarubbio, I will also say that I am very grateful as well this morning.

I am very grateful for Lavonne.

I am grateful for her life.

I am grateful for her wonderfulpresence in this world, in this community, I n this church.

And I am very grateful for herpresence in my life.

And I’m sure most of here today arefeeling very much the same way.

We are all grateful for all that Lavonnewas for us.

Her presence in our lives made adifference.

We are all better people today forhaving known Lavonne.

As you might know, I knew Lavonnefor many years.

She was a very important person inthe life of St. Stephen’s.

She was, in addition to being along-time devoted and committed parishioner here, also a very dear personalfriend.

I was very honored to be herpriest.

And even more honored to be herfriend.

And in the years we knew eachother, we got to know each other well.

We shared many of the sameinterests.

We were both passionate about booksand poetry and art.

And we both had a deep love for theEast, for Japan and China.

We had fascinating conversations onBuddhism in particular, and we both firmly believed that Buddhism actually wasmore of a philosophy than a religion.

She always appreciated andunderstood when I said that Buddhism made me a better Christian.

Not a lot of people—certainly not alot of Christians—understood that.

But Vonnie definitely understood thatand appreciated that and engaged me in that conversation.

Because her friendship wasimportant to me and her presence here at St. Stephen’s, her final illness was ablow to  all of us.

I took it particularly hard.

And when I came to anoint her andpray with her that last time, we talked about many things, just like we did inthe past.

We talked about her views aboutwhat happens after we die.

We talked about rebirth and renewal.

We talked about God and herrock-solid faith

We talked about her past.

We talked about current events,especially the current election.

And she talked about St. Stephen’s,and how important it was to her.

She shared with me her desire tohave her ashes buried in our memorial garden, and we went over this service weare celebrating today.

As I was leaving her room, she saidto me, “Tell everyone that I will be back at St. Stephen’s soon.”

I paused and looked back at her confused.

She just winked and smiled.

And I realize what she was saying.

Well, Vonnie is back at St. Stephen’s,a place that was important to her and her relationship with God.

And I am grateful that she is hereagain.

And I can say, this morning, that,like everyone here,  I will miss Vonniedearly.

I will miss her presence at St.Stephen’s.

I will miss the strength andkindness and fortitude she carried with her.

I will miss her strength and gentlenessand her warm presence.

And I will miss her wonderful grace.

I had had enough discussions with Lavonneover the years that I knew she had deep faith in where she was going—and thatshe would, in the end, be all right.

She knew she would be taken care ofby the God whom she loved and in  whomshe believed so firmly.

She knew there was a place awaitingher, where she would not suffer any more pain.

And we too can rejoice, thismorning, in the fact that she is there in that place at this moment.

Still, that doesn’t make it anyeasier for those of us who are left behind left behind.

But we can take consolation in the faith that gave strengthto Vonnie in her own life.

A faith that she would want all of us to cling to as we goon from here.

A faith that it alldoes, somehow, work out in the end.

 

And it all really isbeautiful and good.

 

Today we are saying goodbye to Lavonne.

But it is only a temporary goodbye.

It is a goodbye until we were togetherin some way on the other side of the thin veil that separates us from those whohave gone before us.

She had a deep faith in her God,who was with her and remained with her until the end.

And because of herdeep faith in God and in what awaited her following this life, she would notwant us to despair today.

 

Because Vonnie knewthat, although we can’t fully understand things now, we will one day.

 

And that when we do,it will be beautiful.

 

So, today, althoughwe might be tempted to give into our sadness, we really cannot.

 

She has been relievedof her pain and suffering.

 

And she has nowbecome fully and completely herself.

 

Yes, we are sad forthis temporary separation.

 

But we are notdespairing.

 

Because we know that itwill all be well.

 

It will all be well.

 

Today, all the good things that LavonneMarubbio was to us—this wife and mother and grandmother, this friend and advocateand champion for justice, this woman of amazing strength and character, of amazingintegrity and grace—this lover of animals and justice and books and art, thisloving, caring person—all of that is not lost.

It is not gone.

Death has not swallowed that up.

Rather all of that is alive anddwells now in Light inaccessible.

All of that dwells in a place ofpeace and joy, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but lifeeverlasting.

In a place in which, there neveragain will be any more tears.

Except, maybe, tears of joy.

And for us who are left, we knowthat that place awaits us as well.

That place of light and joy awaitseach of us as well.

And we to will have the opportunityto dwell there.

I will miss Lavonne.

We will all miss her and will feelher loss for a long time to come.

But, on this day in which we bidher this temporary goodbye, let us also be thankful.

Let us be thankful for this womanwhom God has been gracious to let us know and to love.

Let us be thankful for all she wasto us—this strong, caring and loving presence in our lives.

Let us be thankfulthat even in those moments, when life throws ugly things we don’t understand atus, we can still cling to hope and know that we will not, in the end, bedefeated.

 

And, most of all,  let us be grateful for all that love and thecare Vonnie has given us in our own lives.

Before I close I am going to sharea poem.

Vonnie loved good books and goodpoetry.

And there was a poem that I rememberwe once discussed because I mentioned it in a sermon many years ago.

 

It was a poem by the Vietnamese Zenmaster and peace activist, Thich Nhat Hanh.

It was a poem that resonated withher.

And it is a poem that speaks loudlyto us today, as we remember and give thanks for all that Vonnie to us.

The poem is called  Samsara

Samsara is, in Eastern thought, the cycle of death and rebirth.

 

“Samsara”

If I am not to be flunginto chaos,

If I am not to bescattered

in the whirlpool ofgrief,

if my days are tocontinue to count,

you must know something:

I have not becomenothing. 

 

Things are foreverforming

and reforming,

taking on newincarnations,

but it is not possiblefor a thing

to turn into no thing.

 

Nothing is containedwithin everything,

every atom, every star,every cell.

Everything is containedwithin nothing.

 

This is not a matter ofbelief.

This is science, a matterof matter.

This is the story of lifeon earth.

 

My body was never all ofme.

Part of me has alwaysbeen free,

composed of wide oceans

and many galaxies.

And we were alwayschanging,

you and me.

 

So now, smile to me, singto me,

call me by my name, inour old easy way.

My death, like my birth,

was only an opening,allowing

a slip of my immensitythrough.

 

Wherever you go, now, letme be there,

present forever in you.

 

----------------------------

Into paradise may the angels leadyou, Vonnie.

At your coming may the martyrsreceive you, and bring you into that holy city Jerusalem.

Amen.