Jamie Parsley's Blog, page 7

The Requiem 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.

 

 

22 Pentecost

October 20, 2024

 

Isaiah 53:4-12; Mark 10:35-45

 

+Sometime in our lives, as much as we hate to admit it, we needpeople who  rile us up.

 

We sometimes need people who can get under our skins.

 

We might not like it when we encounter people like that.

 

But it is important to have people around us at times who cannudge us out of our complacency.

 

Certainly, we find some of this happening in our Gospel readingfor today.

 

Today’s Gospel story is one that I think we can all somewhatrelate to.

 

We have all had our own Jameses and Johns.

 

We’ve all had them as co-workers, or students, or simply fellowparishioners.

 

I’ve definitely known some priests like this.

 

They are the ones who—while we quietly labor, quietly do ourduties—they sort of weasel their way up the ladder.

 

They jockey for position.

 

They are the ones who try to get a better place in line by buttingin front of everyone else.

 

They are the ones who drive us—who work and sacrifice and try todo the good thing—they drive us crazy.

 

Or maybe…and maybe none of us want to admit it …maybe, they arethe ones that we relate to the most in this morning’s Gospel.

 

Maybe we are ourselves at times are the James and the Johns.

 

Maybe we ourselves are the Sons or Daughters of Thunder.

 

Whatever the case may be, the fact is James and John are reallymissing out.

 

Like some of the other apostles, they just don’t get it.

 

They don’t quite understand what Jesus is getting at when he istalking about the last being first.

 

They don’t understand him when he says that we are called to serveand not be served.

 

They just don’t understand that simple virtue of humility.

 

Their view of following Jesus—their view of where they stand inrelation to Jesus—is a constant jockeying for position.

 

And many of us to this day feel the same way in our own lives, inour work and in our faith lives.

 

There are many people who look at the Church in this way.

 

For many people in the Church, the Church  is simply a place that is here to serve them.

 

They feel that Christianity is all about being served by theChurch.

 

Guess what?

 

I hate to break the news to you.

 

It is not.

 

It is our duty as followers of Jesus, as members of the Church, toserve.

 

What today’s Gospel shows us is that Jesus is calling us tosomething much bigger than we probably fully understand.

 

I think a lot of us—even those of us who come to church everySunday—sometimes look at Christianity as a somewhat quaint, peace-lovingreligion.

 

We dress up, we come to church on Sunday, we sing hymns, we hearabout God’s love, we receive Body and Blood of Jesus in the Bread and Wine, andthen we go home and…and we don’t think about it again until the next week.

 

But the Christianity of Jesus is not soft. It is not just awhitewashed, quaint religion.

 

The Christianity of Jesus, as we hopefully have all figured outhere at St. Stephen’s, is a radical faith.

 

It is a faith that challenges—that makes us uncomfortable when weget comfortable, that riles us when we have become complacent.

 

It is a faith that works well here in church, on Sunday morning,but also should motivate us to get up from these pews and go out into the worldand live out the faith we have learned here by serving others.

 

And it is this fact that many of us might find a bit frightening.

 

Like James and John, we all want to gain heaven.

 

We all want a nice place beside Jesus in that world-to-come.

 

I want that place!

 

But few of us want to live out our faith in all that we do and sayright now. And even fewer of us are ready to be servants—to be slaves forothers.

 

We don’t always want to serve the lowliest among us.

 

We don’t want to suffer like Jesus suffered.

 

We don’t want to taste from the same cup of anguish that Jesusdrank from on the night before he was murdered.

 

And we sure don’t want to be humble sometimes.

 

I will admit, I am in that boat a lot.

 

 I sometimes don’t want tobe a servant or slave to others.

 

I don’t want to suffer like Jesus suffered.

 

And although I might try—and not always that hard—I am not so goodat being humble sometimes.

 

But we all, I think, at least here at St. Stephen’s, are trying.

 

We are all making the effort in some way.

 

As followers of Jesus, we are reminded that we are called truly tobe servants to each other and especially to those who need to be served.

 

We are asked as followers to do something uncomfortable.

 

We are asked to take a long, hard look at the world around us andto recognize the fact that there are people living in need in our midst.

 

And we are called to serve them.

 

And in those moments when we ourselves may need to be served, manyof us have discovered that serving others is sometimes the best antidote forthat need.

 

What we cannot do is ignore those in need.

 

When I ignore those in need, when I don’t serve, when I don’tstand up against injustice—I am made very aware that in that moment, I am notfollowing Jesus.

 

If I don’t do those things, but I still stand up here and callmyself a Christian, then I have truly become a “Son of Thunder.”

 

And, for most of us, that is exactly what it sounds like when wewant the benefits of our faith, without making the sacrifices of our faith.

 

In those instances, we truly do sound like a low, distant thunder.

 

We cannot bulldoze our way into heaven by riding roughshod overthose we should be serving along the way.

 

For us, as followers of Jesus, our job is simply to love God andlove our neighbor as ourselves—and when we do, in our lives, in our work, inthe way we perceive the world around us, then a natural humility will come overus.

 

In those moments, we do recognize that God is in control.

 

Not us.

 

What is more humbling than that realization in our lives?

 

We are not in control of anything ultimately!

 

Again, here is another example of this radical Christianity.

 

It carries through in how we serve each other. Christians are notexpected to bring anyone to God through an arrogant attitude.

 

We are not expected to come charging into people’s lives, makingthem tremble before us in fear.

 

We are not expected to thump our Bibles and wave the Words ofJesus before people in a desperate attempt to win souls for God.

 

We aren’t forcing God on anyone, nor should we.

 

In doing so, we dominate people.

 

We coerce them into believing.

 

But if we simply serve those Jesus calls us to serve, with loveand charity and humility, sometimes that says more than any Sunday sermon orcurbside rant.

 

Think of the words Jesus could use.

 

He could use, “power” to mean “dominance,” or “oppression” or“force.”

 

But he doesn’t.

 

Rather, Jesus uses the words “serve” and “servant”

 

In all of this, Jesus is telling us that we are to beservants—servants not only to God, but to each other as well.

 

I, as a priest, who stands here at this altar at each celebrationof the Eucharist —I am not the only one called to be a minister of God.

 

We are all called to be ministers of God.

 

By our very baptism, by the Eucharist we share at this altar eachSunday, we are called by God to serve each other.

 

We are not here on Sunday morning to be served—to be waited upon,to be lavished with gifts.

 

We are here to serve.

 

And it is this sense of service that we must take with us out ofhere into the world.

 

James and John eventually figured this out.

 

They went on from that day and served Jesus in the world.

 

Eventually , they would both die for Jesus as martyrs—as verywitnesses to Christ by their deaths.

 

So, for those of us who get angry at the daughters and sons ofthunder in our lives—let us be patient.

 

For those of who recognize ourselves as a son or daughter ofthunder—just relax.

 

God always finds a way to break through our barriers—if we let God.

 

It is this breaking through, after all, that makes ourChristianity so radical.

 

So, let us serve God.

 

Let us serve each other in whatever ways God leads us to serve.

 

By the very fact that we are baptized and fed with Jesus’ Body andBlood in the Eucharist, we live out our service in the world.

 

And when we do, we just may find that the thunder we hear is thethunder not of arrogance or pride, but rather the thunder of the kingdom of Godbreaking through into our midst.  Amen.

21 Pentecost

October 13, 2024

 

Amos5:6-7,10-15; Hebrews 4:12-16; Mark 10.17-31

 

+ Last Sunday, poor Dan Rice had to read through our reading fromGenesis, which made him and others—including Amy Phillips his wife—a bituncomfortable.

 

Sometimes, that’s exactly what happens.

 

We are made uncomfortable by the scripture readings we encounter.

 

As Episcopalians—as liturgical Christians—we have advantages anddisadvantages.

 

Just like anything else in life.

 

And, depending on where you stand, our lectionary—our assignedscripture readings for Sunday morning, is either an advantage or adisadvantage.

 

I, as the Priest or anyone who preaches here, do not just get torandomly pick whatever scripture I want on a given Sunday.

 

There are assigned readings.

 

And we have no real choice in those readings.

 

So, the congregation sometimes has to sit through readings thatare sometimes not readings we might want to hear for a particular Sundaymorning.

 

And let me tell you, sometimes those scriptures are not easy topreach.

 

Sometimes, I just simply choose not to preach about them, which isexactly what I did last Sunday.

 

I can do that at this stage in my career.

 

Today, we get the full range of scriptures.

 

We first of all get this beautiful poetic gem in our reading fromthe Hebrew scriptures.

 

I love the prophet Amos.

 

“Seek good and not evil,” he tells us this morning.

that you may live.

And so the Lord, the God of hosts, will be with you…

hate evil and love good,

and establish justice at the gate…”

 

Beautiful!

 

That could be the motto for us here at St. Stephen’s.

 

Our reading from Hebrews also is just lovely:

 

“Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, sothat we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

 

I could preach a couple sermons just on that one alone.

 

But then…

 

Then!!!!

 

Our Gospel reading for today.

 

Did you listen closely to this morning’s Gospel?

 

Were you uncomfortable with it?

 

I was uncomfortable with it.

 

We should be uncomfortable.

 

We all should be uncomfortable when we hear it.

 

Jesus is, quite simply, telling it like it is.

 

It is a disturbing message—at least, on the surface.

 

I stress that: on the surface.

 

He makes three hard-hitting points.

 

First, he tells the rich man who calls Jesus “good” to selleverything he has and give the money to the poor.

 

Second, he compares wealthy people getting into heaven to a camelgoing through the eye of a needle—a great image really when you think about it.

 

Finally, he tells his disciples that only those who give up theirfamilies and their possessions will gain heaven, summarized in thatall-too-famous maxim: “the first will be last and the last will be first.”

 

For those who have—who have possessions, who have loved ones, whohave nice cars and houses and bank accounts and investments,--these words ofJesus should disturb us and should make us look long and hard at what we haveand, more importantly, why we have them.

 

But…is Jesus really telling us we should give up these things thatgive us security?

 

Does it mean that we should rid ourselves of those things?

 

Should we really sell our cars and our houses, empty out our bankaccounts and our savings and give all of that money to the poor?

 

Does it mean, we should turn our backs on our families, on ourspouses and partners, on our children and our parents?

 

Does it mean that we should go poor and naked into the world?

 

Well, we need to look at it a little more rationally.

 

We’re Episcopalians, after all. We’re rational!

 

Because, when Jesus talks about “riches” and giving up our lovedones, I don’t think he’s really talking about what he seems to be talkingabout.

 

I don’t think that when Jesus talks of these things, he’s reallytalking about what we think he talking about.

 

He’s not really talking about the securities we have built up forourselves.

 

What Jesus is talking in today’s Gospel is about attachments.

 

Or more specifically, unhealthy attachments.

 

Having “things” in and of themselves are, for the most part, fine,as long as we are not attached to them in an unhealthy way.

 

Jesus knew full well that we need certain things to help us liveour lives.

 

But being attached to those “things” is a problem.

 

It is our attachments in this life that bind us—that tie us downand prevent us from growing, from moving closer to God and to one another.

 

Unhealthy attachments are what Jesus is getting at here.

 

And this is why we should be disturbed by this reading.

 

Let’s face it, at times, we’re all attached to some things wehave.

 

We are attached to our cars and our homes.

 

We are attached to our televisions and computers and ourtelephones.

 

Some of us are attached to our mid-century furniture.

 

(Did you hear about that 1959 Lane coffee table I picked up lastweekend in Brainerd?)  

 

And, even in our relationships, we have formed unhealthyattachments as well.

 

Co-dependence in a relationship is a prime example of thatunhealthy kind of attachment that develops between people.

 

We see co-dependent relationships that are violent or abusive ormanipulative.

 

People, in a sense, become attached to each other and simplycannot see what life can be like outside of that relationship.

 

And as much as we love our children, we all know that there comesa point when we have to let them go.

 

We have to break whatever attachments we have to them so they canlive their lives fully.

 

It is seems to be part of our nature to form unhealthyrelationships with others and with things at times.

 

Especially in this day and age, we hear so often of people who areafraid to be alone.

 

So many people are out there looking for that “the right one”—asthough this one person is going to bring unending happiness and contentment toone’s life.

 

Some people might even be attached to the idea of a relationship, rather than the relationship itself.

 

We’ve all known people like that—people who are afraid becausethey are getting too old to settle down and still haven’t found that rightperson in their lives.

 

It seems almost as though their lives revolve around finding thisideal person when, in fact, no one can live up that ideal.

 

See, attachments start taking on the feeling of heavy baggageafter so long.

 

They do get in the way.

 

They weigh us down and they ultimately make our life a burden.

 

And they come between us and our relationship God and our serviceto others.

 

The question we need to ask ourselves in response to thismorning’s Gospel is this: if Jesus came to us today and told us to abandon ourattachments—whatever it is in our own lives that might separate us fromGod—what would it be?

 

And could we do it?

 

Because Jesus is telling us to do that again and again.  

 

What the Gospel for today hopefully shows us that we need to beaware of our attachments.

 

We need to be aware of anything in our lives that separates usfrom God.

 

Jesus today is preparing us for the Kingdom of Heaven—the Reign ofGod.

 

We cannot enter the Kingdom of God and still be attached to thoseunhealthy things in our lives.

 

Because as we enter the Kingdom, we will be distracted, lookingback over our shoulders.

 

The message is clear—don’t allow your unhealthy attachments tocome between God and you.

 

Don’t allow anything to come between God and you.

 

If Jesus came to us here and now and asked us to give up thoseattachments in our lives, most of us couldn’t to do it.

 

I don’t think I could do it.

 

And when we realize that, we suddenly realize how hard it is togain heaven.

 

It truly is like a camel passing through the eye of the needle.

 

For us, in this moment, this might be a reason to despair.

 

But we really don’t need to.

 

We just need to be honest.

 

Honest with ourselves.

 

And honest with God.

 

Yes, we have attachments.

 

But we need to understand that our attachments are only, in theend, temporary.

 

They will pass away.

 

But our relationship with God is eternal.

 

This is what Jesus is getting at in today’s Gospel.

 

So, we can enjoy those “things” we have.

 

We can take pleasure in them.

 

But we need to recognize them for what they are.

 

They are only temporary joys.

 

They come into in our lives and they will go out of our lives, likeclouds.

 

All those things we hold dear, will pass away from us.

 

Let us cling instead, to God and to the healthy bonds that we’veformed with God and with our loved ones—with our spouses or partners, ourchildren, our family and our friends.

 

Let us serve those whom we are called to serve.

 

And let us serve them fully and completely, without hindrance.

 

Let us truly see that what we have is temporary.

 

Let us be prepared to shed every attachment we have if we need to.

 

And when the day comes when Jesus calls us by name, we can simplyrun forward and follow him wherever he leads us.

 

Amen.

20 Pentecost

October 6, 2024

 

Mark 10.2-16

 

 

+ As some of you know, I have been going through a strange kind ofdeconstruction in my own spiritual life.

 

I have been having lots of struggles about where I fit in in theChurch as a whole and the whole spectrum.

 

So, I’ve been doing a bit of deconstruction in my own life, which,as you’ve heard me say many times, I think is very important for all of us.

 

Deconstructing our faith life, our identify as Christians, is alwaysa good thing, as long as we don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.

 

It’s always good  (anddifficult) to burn away the spiritual “fluff” of our lives and really get tothe meat and bones of our faith.

 

Well, recently, as I’ve been doing this, I have found myselftaking a break from it by exploring a  Protestant sect that has always appealed to me(and this might come as a surprise to many of you): the Quakers, or the Societyof Friends.

 

You would not think a denomination that is completely and totallynon-sacramental and non-liturgical would hold any appeal to someone like me,—anEpiscopalian who loves liturgy and the sacraments!

 

But, I really love the simplicity of Quakerism.

 

In fact, I learned to love Quakerism through a dear Quaker friendof mine.

 

Mary Gardner was a very wonderful and accomplished novelist whowas a dear, dear friend of mine.

 

She, for many years, was a Quaker, though she was also a prettysolid skeptic on most supernatural issues.

 

Mary taught me so much about Quakers and how to live a trulyQuaker life.

 

And through Mary I came to love the silence and contemplativeaspects of Quakerism.

 

I love their pacifism.

 

I love the fact that, historically, they were on the forefront ofso much social change in society.

 

I love how they strive for a truly experiential and relationalconnection with God—with the Light within, as they call God.

 

And I love how the Quakers embody in their faith and in theirlives a very simple, child-like faith.

 

It’s this last point that is especially appealing to me.

 

And I also personally find it difficult.

 

To me, cultivating such a relationship with God without thestructure of liturgy and the sacraments seems particularly daunting.

 

But there are days when I want that Quaker-like faith.

 

I want that simplicity.

 

I want that silence.

 

I want that child-like relationship with God.

 

And it is this child-like relationship with God that Jesus iscommending to us in our Gospel reading for today.

 

Our Gospel reading for today is wonderful.

 

As people are bringing children to Jesus, he says,

 

“Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it isto such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoeverdoes not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

 

So, what does Jesus mean when he talks about the Kingdom of heavenand children?

 

Well, he is talking quite bluntly, I believe.

 

He is making it clear that we need to simplify.

 

We need to simplify our faith.

 

We need to clear away all the muck, all the distractions, all thatspiritual “fluff,” all those negative things we have accumulated over the yearsregarding our relationship with God.

 

Now, to be fair, the Church and Religion in general have piledmany of this negative things on us.

 

And that is unfortunate.

 

Too often, as believers, we tend to complicate our faith life andour theology.

 

We in the Episcopal Church get caught up in things like Dogma andCanon laws and rules and Rubrics and following the letter of the law, andgetting caught up in committees and sub-committees and sub-sub-committees.(Episcopalians love to micro-manage)

 

In many Protestant churches,  we find that the Bible itself is held up as akind of idol, it is held up in such a way that it eclipses the fact that we arecalled to live out what we learn scripturally and not just impress one anotherwith our scriptural prowess and knowledge.

 

All the churches get so caught up in doing what we are told is the“right thing,” that we lose sight of this pure and holy relationship with God.

 

We forget why we are doing the right thing.

 

For Jesus, he saw what happened when people got too caught up indoing the right thing.

 

The scribes and Pharisees were very caught up in doing the rightthing, in following the letter of the Law.

 

I actually like talking about these two groups of people—thescribes and the Pharisees.

 

They have received a very harsh judgement in the long arc ofhistory.

 

But we need to remind ourselves that, at their core, these werenot bad people.

 

They were actually well-intended people, trying in their own wayto live out the Law, as they were taught.

 

It was the job of the scribes to write down and copy thescriptures, a daunting job in those pre-printing press days.

 

As a result of copying scripture again and again, they of coursecame to see themselves as experts of the scriptures.

 

And they were.

 

The Pharisees saw their job as interpreting the Law and thescriptures for people.

 

They tried to make sure that the letter of the law was followedand that all those complicated rules we find in the Levitical law were followedto a T.

 

They did this because they thought it was what was supposed to bedone.

 

In the course of their trying to do the right thing, they ended uplosing sight of the heart of the Law and Scriptures and only concentrated onthe letter of the Law and scriptures.

 

But in doing so, they lost sight of God, which is easy to do whenyou’re so caught up on the dots and dashes of the words, and not on what thosewords actually mean.  

 

They lost sight of the meaning behind the Law.

 

Jesus is telling them—and us—that we need to simplify.

 

We need to refocus.

 

We need to de-construct.

 

We need to become like children in our faith-life.

 

Now that isn’t demeaning.

 

It isn’t sweet and sentimental.

 

Becoming children means taking a good, honest look at what webelieve.

 

As followers of Jesus, it does not have to be complicated.

 

We just need to remind ourselves that, if we keep our eyes onJesus, he will show us God.

 

Following Jesus means knowing that God is a loving, accepting andalways-present Parent.

 

God is our “Abba.”

 

Our job as followers is to connect with this loving Parent, with“Abba,” to worship and pray to God.

 

Our job is to be an imitator, like Jesus, of this loving,all-accepting God in our relationship with others.

 

When we do that—when we become imitators of our loving God, whenwe love as God loves us—the Reign of God becomes present in a very real andprofound way.  

 

But the fact is, the Reign of God is not for people who complicateit.

 

God’s Reign is one of those things that is very elusive.

 

If we quantify it and examine it too closely, it just sort ofwiggles away from us.

 

If we try to define what the Reign of God is, or try to explain itin any kind of detail, it loses meaning.

 

It disappears and become mirage-like.

 

But if we simply do what we are called to do as followers ofJesus—if we simply follow Jesus, imitate our God and love one another—God’sReign becomes real.

 

It becomes a reality in our very midst.

 

And whatever separations we imagine between ourselves and God andone another, simply disappear.

 

This is what I love about being a follower of Jesus.

 

I love the fact that despite all the dogmas and structures andrules the Church might bring us, following Jesus is simply that—followingJesus.

 

It is keeping your eyes on the one we’re following.

 

It means doing what he did and trying to live life like he livedlife.

 

It means worshipping like him a God of amazing and unlimited love.

 

Yes, that sounds so very simple.

 

But it can also be very difficult, especially when we still getcaught up in all the rules and complications of organized religion and theletter of the law of the Bible.  

 

And we do get caught up in those things.

 

Because following Jesus can be so basic, we find ourselves oftenfrustrated.

 

We want order.

 

We want rules.

 

We want systematic ways of understanding God and religion.

 

Simplicity sometimes scares us.

 

Becoming childlike means depending on God instead of ourselves.

 

Becoming childlike means shedding our independence sometimes, andwe don’t like doing that.

 

Sometimes complication means busywork.

 

And sometimes it simply is easier to get caught up in busywork,then to actually go out there and follow Jesus and be imitators of God and loveothers.

 

Sometimes it is easier to sit and debate the fine points ofreligion, then it is to go out and actually live out our faith in our lives,and to worship God as our Abba.

 

But, as Jesus shows us, when we do such things, when we becomecantankerous grown-ups, that’s when the system starts breaking down.

 

We when get nitpicky and bitter, we have lost sight of what itmeans to be like Jesus.

 

That’s when we get distracted.

 

That’s when we get led astray from following Jesus.

 

That is when we “grow up” and become cranky, bitter grown-upsrather than loving, wonder-filled children.

 

It is good to be wonder-filled children.

 

It is good to look around us at the world and see a place in whichGod still breaks through to us.

 

It is good to see that God lives and works through others.

 

So, let us be wonder-filled children.

 

Let us truly be awed and amazed at what it means to follow Jesus.

 

Let God be a source of joy in our lives.

 

And let us love each other simply, as children love.

 

Let us love in that wonderfully child-like way, in which ourhearts simply fill up to the brim with love.

 

Let us burn with that love in a young and vibrant way.

 

Being a Christian—following Jesus—means staying young andchild-like always.

 

Following Jesus is our fountain of youth, so to speak.

 

So let us become children for the sake of the Kingdom.

 

And when we do, that Reign of God will flower in us like eternalyouth.

 

Amen.

 

St. Michael and All Angels

September 29,20214

+ Well, a fewweeks ago we stepped out of our regular Ordinary green on Sunday morning whenwe celebrated the feast of the Holy Cross.

Today, we’redoing it again.

As I saidthen, I repeat now: we’re not really supposed to do this, but I really think it’simportant to celebrate some of these feasts that many of you don’t get to celebrateregularly.

But now we’restepping into the .

And we aredoing so to celebrate the feast of St. Michael and All Angels, or as it iscommonly known, Michaelmas.

Why? You mayask.

Well, we arebecause let’s face it: we don’t really give angels a lot of thought.

We justdon’t.

And, fromwhat it seems, the angels themselves would be just fine with that.

They don’tseem like they want a lot of attention brought to themselves.

But whetherthey like it or not, we are going to commemorate them today.

But first,let’s talk about our scripture readings for today.

We have thesethree very familiar stories featuring angels this morning.

Our first isthe really wonderful story of “Jacob’s ladder” (one of my favorites).

The second isthe story Michael, leading the “good” angels, who battle and then  beat “the dragon” (we know dragon as “theDevil or Satan”) and his “bad” angels.

Finally, inour Gospel reading, which echoes our reading from the Hebrew scriptures, wefind Jesus telling Nathanael that he will see something like Jacob’s ladder,  with angels “ascending and descending upon theSon of Man.”

Lots ofangels.

But let’s askourselves: what are angels?

I meanhonestly.

Angels, as weunderstand them, based on Scripture and tradition, are spiritual beings whointeract with humans—sometimes as servant and sometimes as messengers of God.

The word “angel”comes from the word angelos, which means messenger or envoy.

In Hebrew,angels are referred to mal’ak elohim (“the messengerof God”), or  mal’ak YHWH (“messenger of theLord”) or  bene elohim (or children ofGod”).

StephanieGarcia and I have a shared interest in something biblically correct angels, atrend on social media in which angels are depicted as we encounter them in theHebrew scriptures.

 

These are notsweet, nice, chubby little cherubs, or stoic, blond, white men or women withwings.

 

Biblicallycorrect angels are frightening—wheels with wings and eyes and a frighteningall-seeing eye at their center, which we find in the prophecies of Isaiah andEzekiel.  

 

Angels are nothumans.

 

And we don’tbecome angels when we die, despite what popular culture says.

 

They aredifferent than us.

 

They aresomewhat divine—somewhat above us and beyond us.

 

But theproblem for us, good, rational progressive Christians that we are, is that allthis sems a bit fantastical, doesn’t it?

It’s like listeningto someone talk about the Game of Thrones or Dungeons and Dragons.

It’s seems tomythical. Or mythological.

And most ofus have a very hard relating angels to our own lives.

After all,WE’ve never encountered angels, right?

Well, we mayhave.

Sometimes,the right people come into our lives at just the right time.

And there wasone time in my own life when I think I actually did in fact encounter an angelin human form.

Way back inApril of 2002, I was recovering from cancer.

It was a darktime in my life.

I was sick.

And weak.

And about asdown and out as a person can be, emotionally and spiritually.

Well, one dayearly in that month, I finally finished my round of radiation for cancer.

I wasexhausted, but I was also relieved.

I decided,following that final treatment, to take a drive.

For somereason I don’t remember anymore, I was driving my father’s pickup.

Anyway, I hada fairly nice morning driving around in Minnesota in the cold spring weather.

I was lookingforward to healing and getting beyond my cancer.

Well, as Iwas driving home on a highway between Halstad, Minnesota and Hillsboro, NorthDakota, I hit a rock on the road that had been dragged there by some tillers,who were tilling the fields for planting.

It destroyedthe tire.

And I pulledover alongside the road in the middle of nowhere.

And I meannowhere.

Although itwas April, it was still bitterly cold.

And to makematters worse, the cellphone I had the time, which was not a very good one,died on me.

I had no oneto call.

So, I got outand was going to change to tire.

But I didn’tknow where the spare tire was on my father’s pick up.

Besides, Iwas sick.

And weak.

And I wasn’tcertain I would’ve even been able to physically manage it.

I panicked.

There was afarmstead a few miles away.

But I decidedto stay put and see if anyone stopped.

And no onedid.

No one.

Cars drove by,back and forth, but no one stopped, even when I got out and waved at them.

Finally, aftersome time, a car did pull over.

In it was amiddle-aged woman.

She asked ifI needed help.

I told herabout the rock and the tire and that I didn’t know where the spare was becauseit was my dad’s pickup.

She offeredto drive me to Hillsboro.

I wasgrateful and got in, but I did tell her that she should probably be carefulgiving rides to strangers.

“It’s allright, “ she said. “I have a gun under my seat.”

We madesmall-talk on the ride and it came out that I was studying to be an Episcopalpriest and that she was Jewish.

I thenconfessed to her that even if I had found that tire I wasn’t certain I wasgoing to be able to change it since I had just had my last radiation treatmentthat morning for cancer.

She said,“Oh, I have cancer too.”

She thenoffered me her cellphone and I called my mother to tell her what happened.

We then madeit into Hillsboro and she dropped me off a Goodyear Tire store there.

Weirdly, thenext time I was in Hillsboro after that, that tire store had closed.

I asked hername so I send her a thank you.

She said, no.that’s all right.

We bid eachother farewell. I thanked her again.

And off shewent into the snow.

I later foundout that she called my mother, since the number was on her phone, to tell mymom that I was all right and that she should be proud of me for some reason.

This namelessJewish woman, in the middle of nowhere between Halstad and Hillsboro.

What are thechances of that?

For me, thisis what angels are.

For me, thisis all the proof I need that angels exist.

For me, that’sexactly what angels would do.

I hope wehave all experienced angels among us in some way in our lives.

These angelsamong us remind us that we are not alone, that we are, ultimately, taken careof.

They remindus that God does care for us—that we are important to God.

Even in themiddle of nowhere between Halstad and Hillsboro.  

But, itdoesn’t end there.

The messagefor me—and for all of this morning—is that sometimes, we too are called to beangels for others.

We too are,like angels, called to embody God’s goodness, God’s grace, God’s love in ourservice of others.

We are calledto be angels in this world for those who need angels in this world.

So let us dojust that.

Let us bethose angels.

Let us embodythe goodness and love of God in our service of each other.

Let us reachout in mercy and compassion for those around us.

By doing so,we become angels in our midst to those around us.

By doing so,we embody God’s goodness and love.

By doing so,we glimpse God’s reign, present here on earth as tiny glimpses.

By doing so,we truly will see angels ascending and descending among us.

Amen.

 

The Requiem Eucharist for Sharon Remmen

 

Gethsemane Episcopal Cathedral

September 24, 2024

 

+ As I stand here, I think the only word I can useto describe this moment is: surreal.

It’s surreal to be here, commemorating the life ofSharon Remmen.

It’s surreal to be saying goodbye to Sharon whowas just with us, full of life, o recently.

It’s surreal to realize that Sharon is not herewith us today as we always knew her always to be with us.

Sharon—who was always present.

Sharon—who was the one we all leaned on forsupport

Sharon—who kept everything together and movingforward.

Sharon—who left us so suddenly, so withoutwarning.

It’s surreal.

I was actually thinking of Sharon on Monday,September 16, because it was on that day, in 2010, I stood right here with manyof you and said goodbye to Sharon’s mother, Florence.

Florence was my beloved parishioner for manyyears.

And it was a truly surreal day that day as well.

I actually don’t remember a whole lot from thatday.

I was still in shock over my father’s sudden deathtwo days before.

I don’t know how I preached that sermon that day.

But I was thinking about it a week ago lastMonday.

And I was thinking about how Sharon, even in hergrief, comforted me and was present for me that day, when I should’ve beencomforting her.

But that was the way Sharon was.

I am so grateful for Sharon and for her amazing presencein my life.

There weren’t a whole lot of people quite like SharonRemmen.

She was always so kind and so good not just to me,but to so many other people.

And to most of you, as well.

She was a loyal wife, a loving mother andgrandmother and sister and friend.

But beneath that nice, sweet exterior, behindthose twinkling eyes, we all knew that you never wanted to cross Sharon Remmen.

She could be fiercely defensive of those sheloved.

And I count myself lucky that I was on the side ofthose she loved and not on the side of one of those who crossed her.

I knew of a couple of those people.

God help them!

But I am grateful to have been on the receivingend of her love and care and support over these many years.

The last time I saw her was a few months at the celebrationfor the twentieth anniversary of my ordination to the Priesthood at my parishof St. Stephen’s in north Fargo. .

It was so good to see her and Dave that day.

We saw each regularly over the years.

Back in the summer of 2020, I officiated at Sharonand Dave’s renewal of wedding vows.

Sharon often reached out to me.

Or we just often saw each other around town, or atother events.  

And it was always a time of joy.

Now, I have to be careful in what I say today.

I know for a fact that Sharon would not want me toget up here and say sweet, nice things about her.

Still, despite the fact that it might sound sweetand nice, I do have to say this: Sharon was a genuinely good person.

That goodness exuded from her.

She just carried her goodness with her wherevershe went.

Which makes all of this today so much harder.

I know priests are probably not really supposed tosay things like this, but I will because I feel it:

It all seems to unfair.

This is the not way it should have been.

It shouldn’t have been this sudden.

It shouldn’t have happened without those finalgood-byes.

I don’t know exactly how it SHOULD have been.

But this doesn’t seem like it was it.

There should have been more time.

But, as Sharon would no doubt tell us, this iswhat have.

And so, we must bear what we must bear.

Still, this world is a so much more empty today without Sharonin it.

But for us who are left, we have our consolations today.

We know that we are all better off because of Sharon and allshe was to us.

She made a difference in our lives.

It is also vital to remember that this goodbye we make today isonly a temporary goodbye.

All that we knew and loved about Sharon is not gone for good.

It is not ashes.

Is not grief.

It is not loss.

Everything that Sharon was to all of us who knew her and lovedher is now with the God she knew and loved and served.

All we loved, all that was good and gracious in Sharon—allthat was gentle and loving and fierce and strong and amazing in her—all of thatgoes on.

It lives on with all of you who experienced the kindness and generosityand love in your lives.

And for those of us who have faith, faith in more than thisworld, we know that she is in a place of light and beauty and life unending.

And I do believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that we will see heragain.

And on that day every tear will truly be wiped from our faces.

And there will be no more tears.

And it will be beautiful.

Later in this service, we will hear these powerful words,  

 All of us go down
to the dust; yet even at the grave we make oursong: Alleluia,
alleluia, alleluia.

Sharon knew those words in her life.

She believed in those words.

She knew how powerful that word, Alleluia, was in her life.

And how even more powerful that word is when we stand at thegrave, when we stand in the face of death, and defiantly proclaim, “Alleluia!Alleluia!”

She knew what it meant to be here today, numb withgrief, and still sing praise to God, even despite the pain, even despite theloss.

Today, we sing hymns.

And we sing our praises to God.

This is where we find our strength today.

This is where find our comfort and courage to move forward.

So, let us do just that.

Today, let us sing our hymns, ourAlleluias defiantly.

Let us face this day and thedays to come with gratitude for Sharon, for this incredible person God let usknow.

Let us be truly grateful forher and all she was to us.

Let us be sad, yes.

But let us also remindourselves: death has not defeated her.

Or us.

Knowing that, let us singloudly.

Let us live boldly.

Let us stand up defiantly.

Let us embody courage andstrength.

That is what Sharon would wantus to do today, and in the days to come.

I am so grateful I knew Sharon.

I am grateful for her presencein my life.

And I am very grateful that wewill all one day see her again.

Into paradise may the angels leadyou, Sharon.

At your coming may the martyrsreceive you.

And may they bring you with joy andgladness into the holy city Jerusalem.

Amen.

 

The Memorial Eucharist for Sharon Remmen

 

Gethsemane Episcopal Cathedral

September 24, 2024

 

+ As I stand here, I think the only word I can useto describe this moment is: surreal.

It’s surreal to be here, commemorating the life ofSharon Remmen.

It’s surreal to be saying goodbye to Sharon whowas just with us, full of life, o recently.

It’s surreal to realize that Sharon is not herewith us today as we always knew her always to be with us.

Sharon—who was always present.

Sharon—who was the one we all leaned on forsupport

Sharon—who kept everything together and movingforward.

Sharon—who left us so suddenly, so withoutwarning.

It’s surreal.

I was actually thinking of Sharon on Monday,September 16, because it was on that day, in 2010, I stood right here with manyof you and said goodbye to Sharon’s mother, Florence.

Florence was my beloved parishioner for manyyears.

And it was a truly surreal day that day as well.

I actually don’t remember a whole lot from thatday.

I was still in shock over my father’s sudden deathtwo days before.

I don’t know how I preached that sermon that day.

But I was thinking about it a week ago lastMonday.

And I was thinking about how Sharon, even in hergrief, comforted me and was present for me that day, when I should’ve beencomforting her.

But that was the way Sharon was.

I am so grateful for Sharon and for her amazing presencein my life.

There weren’t a whole lot of people quite like SharonRemmen.

She was always so kind and so good not just to me,but to so many other people.

And to most of you, as well.

She was a loyal wife, a loving mother andgrandmother and sister and friend.

But beneath that nice, sweet exterior, behindthose twinkling eyes, we all knew that you never wanted to cross Sharon Remmen.

She could be fiercely defensive of those sheloved.

And I count myself lucky that I was on the side ofthose she loved and not on the side of one of those who crossed her.

I knew of a couple of those people.

God help them!

But I am grateful to have been on the receivingend of her love and care and support over these many years.

The last time I saw her was a few months at the celebrationfor the twentieth anniversary of my ordination to the Priesthood at my parishof St. Stephen’s in north Fargo. .

It was so good to see her and Dave that day.

We saw each regularly over the years.

Back in the summer of 2020, I officiated at Sharonand Dave’s renewal of wedding vows.

Sharon often reached out to me.

Or we just often saw each other around town, or atother events.  

And it was always a time of joy.

Now, I have to be careful in what I say today.

I know for a fact that Sharon would not want me toget up here and say sweet, nice things about her.

Still, despite the fact that it might sound sweetand nice, I do have to say this: Sharon was a genuinely good person.

That goodness exuded from her.

She just carried her goodness with her wherevershe went.

Which makes all of this today so much harder.

I know priests are probably not really supposed tosay things like this, but I will because I feel it:

It all seems to unfair.

This is the not way it should have been.

It shouldn’t have been this sudden.

It shouldn’t have happened without those finalgood-byes.

I don’t know exactly how it SHOULD have been.

But this doesn’t seem like it was it.

There should have been more time.

But, as Sharon would no doubt tell us, this iswhat have.

And so, we must bear what we must bear.

Still, this world is a so much more empty today without Sharonin it.

But for us who are left, we have our consolations today.

We know that we are all better off because of Sharon and allshe was to us.

She made a difference in our lives.

It is also vital to remember that this goodbye we make today isonly a temporary goodbye.

All that we knew and loved about Sharon is not gone for good.

It is not ashes.

Is not grief.

It is not loss.

Everything that Sharon was to all of us who knew her and lovedher is now with the God she knew and loved and served.

All we loved, all that was good and gracious in Sharon—allthat was gentle and loving and fierce and strong and amazing in her—all of thatgoes on.

It lives on with all of you who experienced the kindness and generosityand love in your lives.

And for those of us who have faith, faith in more than thisworld, we know that she is in a place of light and beauty and life unending.

And I do believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that we will see heragain.

And on that day every tear will truly be wiped from our faces.

And there will be no more tears.

And it will be beautiful.

Later in this service, we will hear these powerful words,  

 All of us go down
to the dust; yet even at the grave we make oursong: Alleluia,
alleluia, alleluia.

Sharon knew those words in her life.

She believed in those words.

She knew how powerful that word, Alleluia, was in her life.

And how even more powerful that word is when we stand at thegrave, when we stand in the face of death, and defiantly proclaim, “Alleluia!Alleluia!”

She knew what it meant to be here today, numb withgrief, and still sing praise to God, even despite the pain, even despite theloss.

Today, we sing hymns.

And we sing our praises to God.

This is where we find our strength today.

This is where find our comfort and courage to move forward.

So, let us do just that.

Today, let us sing our hymns, ourAlleluias defiantly.

Let us face this day and thedays to come with gratitude for Sharon, for this incredible person God let usknow.

Let us be truly grateful forher and all she was to us.

Let us be sad, yes.

But let us also remindourselves: death has not defeated her.

Or us.

Knowing that, let us singloudly.

Let us live boldly.

Let us stand up defiantly.

Let us embody courage andstrength.

That is what Sharon would wantus to do today, and in the days to come.

I am so grateful I knew Sharon.

I am grateful for her presencein my life.

And I am very grateful that wewill all one day see her again.

Into paradise may the angels leadyou, Sharon.

At your coming may the martyrsreceive you.

And may they bring you with joy andgladness into the holy city Jerusalem.

Amen.

 

18 Pentecost

 

September 22, 2024 

 

Jeremiah 11.18-20; Psalm 54; James 3.13-4,7-8a;

 

+So, I’m going to ask you a question.

 

When, I ask, take a moment, to really think about it.

 

OK.

 

Do you have anyone your life you consider an enemy?

 

Someone when you hear the word “enemy” you actually think of immediately.

 

Just take a moment and think about it.

 

I’m not going to ask you to name them.

 

But certainly feel free to privately name them before God.

 

[Name them before God]

 

Now, I have a few.

 

I have a few people who, for whatever reason, despise me for notbeing who they need me to be for them.

 

It’s hard.

 

It’s painful.

 

It’s extremely painful.

 

And sometimes, when those people are people you care for or whowere close friends or family, it is even more painful.

 

But, let me tell you this: we don’t make it through this lifewithout a few enemies, without a few people who just not going to like us.

 

Richard Nixon, someone you probably never thought you would hear referencedin one of my sermons, was notoriously known to have a list of enemies.

 

Well, I, like Richard Nixon, I actually write the names of myenemies down as well.

 

But unlike Nixon I do so not to keep up on them and persecute.

 

I keep a list of my “enemies” so I can pray for them on a regularbasis.

 

I’m not saying that so I sound pious and holy (I’m not)

 

When I say “pray for them” I sometimes honestly can’t do more thanthat.

 

Sometimes those people have hurt me enough that I can’t say I prayfor really great things to happen to them.

 

But, I also don’t pray for bad things to happen to those peoplewho I view as my enemy.

 

Do I kind of secretly wish that bad things would happen to them?

 

Well…

 

…

 

…ok…

 

…maybe…

 

…secretly…

 

 

But…more than anything, I just wish they would see the error oftheir ways, as I perceive it.

 

Which is arrogant of me, I know.  

 

But it’s honest.

 

Ok, yes, for one or two, maybe I did kind of wish bad things forthem.

 

You know, like a canker sore or a stubbed toe or something likethat.

 

I don’t wish for illness or death or really bad things to happento them.  

 

Enemies in the Bible were dealt with differently, as we no doubthave discovered.

 

And often times, some harsh language was directed at those peoplewho were considered enemies.

 

On those occasions, we do sometimes come across language in theBible that we might find a bit—how shall we say—uncomfortable.

 

The language is often violent.

 

It is not the language good Christian people normally use.

 

We get a peek at this language in our scriptures readings fortoday.

 

Our reading from the Prophet Jeremiah is a bit harsh, shall wesay?

 

“Let usdestroy the tree with its fruit,

let us cut himoff from the land of the living,

so that hisname will no longer be remembered.”

 

For many us, as we hear it, it might give us pause.

 

It SHOULD give us pause.

 

This is not the kind of behavior we have been taught as followersof Jesus.

 

After all, as followers of Jesus, we’re taught to love and lovefully and completely.

 

We certainly weren’t taught to pray for God to destroy ourenemies, to “cut them off from the land of the living.”

 

And not just destroy our enemies, but our enemy’s children (thatwhole reference to the fruit of the tree).

 

We have been taught to pray for our enemies, not pray against them.

 

None of us would ever even think of praying to God to destroyanyone. I hope!

 

But the fact is, although we find it hard to admit at times, we doactually think and feel this way.

 

Even if we might not actually say it, we sometimes secretly wishthe worse for those people who have wronged us in whatever way.

 

I like to think that, rather than this being completely negativeor wrong, that we should, in fact, be honest about it.

 

We sometimes get angry at people.

 

We sometimes don’t like people.

 

And sometimes WE are the enemy to other people.

 

And let’s truly be honest, there are sometimes when we mightactually just hate people.

 

It’s a fact of life—not one we want to readily admit to, but it isthere.

 

Sometimes it is very, very hard to love our enemies.

 

Sometimes it is probably the hardest thing in the world to prayfor people who have hurt us or wronged us.

 

So, what do we do in those moments when we can’t pray for ourenemies—when we can’t forgive?

 

Well, most of us just simply close up.

 

We turn that anger inward.

 

We put up a wall and we swallow that anger and we let it festerinside us.

 

Especially those of us who come from good Scandinavian stock.

 

We simply aren’t the kind of people who wail and complain aboutour anger or our losses.

 

We aren’t ones usually who say, like Jeremiah, “let us cut [thatperson] off from the land of the living!”

 

I think we may tend to deny it.

 

And I think we even avoid and deny where the cause of that angercomes from.

 

Certainly, St. James, in his letter this morning, tries to touchon this when talks about these violent “cravings” which are “at war within us.”

 

It’s not pleasant to think that there is warfare within us.

 

For me, as a somewhat reluctant pacifist sometimes, I do not likeadmitting that there is often warfare raging within me.

 

I want peace within and without!

 

But it is sometimes.

 

So, what about that anger in our relationship to God?

 

What about that anger when it comes to following Jesus?

 

Well, again, we probably don’t recognize our anger before God nordo we bring it before God.

 

We, I think, look at our anger as something outside our followingof Jesus.

 

And that is where scriptures of this sort come in.

 

It is in those moments when we don’t bring our anger and ourfrustrations before God, that we need those verses like the ones we encounterin today’s readings.

 

When we look at those poets and writers who wrote thesescriptures—when we recognize them as a Jew in a time of war or famine—werealize that for them, it was natural to bring everything before God.

 

Everything.

 

Not just the good stuff.

 

Not just the nice stuff.

 

But that bad stuff too.

 

And I think this is the best lesson we can learn from thesereadings than anything else.

 

We all have a “shadow side,” shall we say.

 

I preached about this a few weeks back.

 

We all have a dark side.

 

We have a war raging within us at times.

 

And we need to remember that we cannot hide that “shadow side” ofourselves from God.

 

Let me tell you, if you have war raging inside you, you definitelycannot hide that from God.

 

Sometimes this dark self, this war, is something no else has everseen—not even our spouse or partner.

 

Maybe it is a side of ourselves we might have not evenacknowledged to ourselves.

 

It is this part of ourselves that fosters anger and pride and lustand an unhealthy ego.

 

It is this side of ourselves that may be secretly violent or meanor unduly confrontational and  gossipy.

 

Sometimes it will never make an appearance.

 

It stays in the shadows and lingers there.

 

But sometimes it actually does make itself known.

 

Sometimes it comes plowing into our lives when we neither expectit nor want it.

 

And with it comes chaos

 

As much we try to deny it or ignore it or hide it, the fact is; wecan’t hide this dark side from God.

 

It’s incredible really when you think about it: that God, whoknows even that shadow side of us—that side of us we might not even fully knowourselves—God who knows us even that completely still loves us and is with us.

 

Few of us lay that shadow self before God.

 

But the authors and poets of our scriptures this morning do, infact bring it ALL out before God.

 

These poets wail and complain to God and lay bare that shadow sideof themselves.

 

The poet is blatantly honest before God.

 

Or as St. James advises,

 

“submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil and he willflee from you. Draw near to God, and [God] will draw near to you.”

 

When these ugly things crop up in our lives, bring them beforeGod.

 

Let us deal with them in humility before God.

 

The fact is: sometimes we do secretly wish bad things on ourenemies.

 

Sometimes we do wish God would render evil on those who are evilto us.

 

Sometimes we do hope that God will completely wipe away thosepeople who hurt us from our lives.

 

It is in those moments, that it is all right to pray to God insuch a way.

 

Because the fact is—as I hope we’ve all learned by now—justbecause we pray for it doesn’t mean God is going to grant it.

 

I say this over and over again: God answers all prayer, correct.

 

But there are three possible answers to prayer.

 

Yes.

 

No.

 

And not yet.

 

And if you pray for bad things to happen to your enemies, God isprobably gonna answer with a big fat “NO.”

 

But that doesn’t invalidate the prayer.

 

God knows what to grant in prayer.

 

And why.

 

The important thing here is not what we are praying for.

 

What is important is that, even in our anger, even in ourfrustration and our pain, we have submitted to God.

 

We have come before God as this imperfect person.

 

We have come to God with a long dark shadow trailing us.

 

I have heard people say that we shouldn’t read these difficult onSunday morning because they are “bad theology” or “bad psychology.”

 

They are neither.

 

They are actually very good and honest theology and very good andhonest psychology.

 

Take what it is hurting you and bothering you and release it.

 

Let it out before God.

 

Be honest with God about these bad things.

 

Even if your anger is directed at God for whatever reason, behonest with God.

 

Rail and rant and rave at God in your anger if you have to.

 

Trust me, God can take it.

 

God is not going to smite you for being emotionally honest with God!

 

But, these scriptures teach us as well that once we have donethat—once we have opened ourselves completely to God—once we have revealed ourshadows to God—then we must turn to God and turn away from that shadow self.

 

We must, as St. James says, “resist the Devil.”

 

Hatred and anger and pain are things that, in the long run, hurtus and ultimately destroy us.

 

At some point, as we all know, we must grow beyond whatever angerwe might have.

 

We must not get caught in that self-destructive cycle anger cancause.

 

We must not allow those negative feelings to make us bitter.

 

So, when we are faced with these difficult scriptures and we comeacross those verses that might take us by alarm, let us recognize in them whatthey truly are—honest prayers before God

 

Let these scriptures—these lamenting and angry, as well as thejoyful, exultant scriptures—be our voice expressing itself before God.

 

And in the echo of those words, let us hear God speaking to us inturn.

 

When we do, we will find ourselves in a kind of holy conversationwith God.

 

And, in that holy conversation, we will find that, even despitethat shadow side of ourselves, God, who is Light, who is love, accepts us fullyand completely for just who we are.

 

 

 

My Induction into the West Fargo High School Hall of Fame

 

Induction into the West Fargo HighSchool Hall of Fame

September 20, 2024

 

The other day I posted a question on my special media:

 

If your 17 year old self could see you now would they behappy or disappointed?

 

For me, my 17 year old self, way back in 1987, would beshocked, I think, to know that the 2024 me would be standing here, in thisauditorium (that would not yet have been built in 1987) and be receiving thishonor.

 

Considering who I was then, I don’t know if I could’ve evenimagined anything like this.

 

Teenagers like I was then, didn’t imagine honors like this inthe future.

 

I wasn’t a typical West Fargo teenager.

 

I wanted to be a priest since I was 13 years old (eventhough I was a Lutheran at the time).

 

And I wanted to be a poet since I was 16 years old.

 

These were not “normal” things teenagers in the 1980s inplaces like West Fargo aspired to be.

 

And I still am amazed that my poor parents, for whom such thingsas priests and poets were things they didn’t experience very often (or at all)in their lives, supported their strange teenage son so fully and completely.

 

(I’m sure there were many discussion between them about me)

 

But I realize that without them, without the opportunities Ihave had in my life, I would not have been able to live this strange, unusual,but absolutely amazing life that I have lived.

 

As grateful as I am for being what I aspired to be evenback then, I will admit that for many ears, I envied my "normal"friends, who lived normal lives, who got married, who settled down, who hadnormal jobs and normal schedules.

 

I envied them.

 

But I never wanted their lives.

 

Finally, one day somewhere along the way, I just started toembrace this unique life that I lived –this life of poetry and faith and booksand service to others.  

 

One of my favorite quotes is by the writer Edna Ferber.

 

Ferber, who was the author of books like Giant(which was later made into a film starring James Dean), struggled for yearsover the fact that she never wanted to get married and settle down in a timewhen those things were expected.

 

Later in life, she wrote, "Being an old maid is likedeath by drowning, a really delightful sensation after you cease tostruggle."

 

My life has been so much more delightful as soon as Iceased to struggle and just embraced this life I have lived. 

 

I now wear my life as a poet and priest as a badge of honorthat I've rightfully earned through a lifetime of learning. And struggle.

 

My life has been a rich one.

 

I have known truly good friends.

 

I have traveled widely.

 

I have delighted over amazing things and seen things notmany other people have ever seen.

 

My only regret is that I didn't figure it out earlier.

 

But then, I wouldn’thave had the great experience of finding myself in the process.

 

I wish my parents were here to see this day.

 

They would be so proud of this.

 

And they would be so proud of me.

 

And they were proud of me. I know that.

 

But I am happy my friends and family who are here today arecelebrating this honor with me.

 

I want to thank especially Cindy Bleier, who was my JuniorYear English teacher.

 

She was the one who introduced me to contemporary American Poetry.

 

I remember as clearly as if it happened yesterday the momentwhen poetry just sort of “clicked” in my head in that class, while reading WaltWhitman and William Carlos Williams.

It was in that moment that I knew I was going to be a poet.

 

I will always be grateful to her for making poetry come alivefor me.

 

She wanted to be here today, but she called this morning toinform me she was sick. But I will visiting her later this week.

 

I want to thank my best friend in high school, who is still mybest friend, Greg Bachmeier, who is also not here. He’s not sick, but in truebest friend fashion, he just thought it was ridiculous that I’m being inducted.

 

I thank my good high school friends who are here, whoalso probably think this is crazy—Paul Naseth (who I've known since the seventh grade) and Mike Pulcinski (who I've known since Kindergarten).

 

I thank my aunt uncle, Rhoda and Herm Rabans, and my  dear cousin, Renaye Clemenson, who with her familyhave been my biggest supporters over these last years.

 

I thank my many friends who are here today, especially my parishionersfrom my eclectic parish of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in north Fargo.

 

Thank you to the West Fargo Area Education Foundation for thishonor.

 

Thank you especially to Nancy Peterson, who has been wonderfulto me.

And thank you to Angela Otteson for walking me through thiswhole process as well.  

 

I have had many opportunities to live elsewhere, and I havetraveled far and wide, but I always, always come back to West Fargo. This will alwaysbe home for me.

 

Thank you again!   

 

 

Holy Cross

 

September15, 2024

 

John 10: 11-16

 

+ This morning, we have the red on.

 

It’s on the altar.

 

Deacon John and I are in the red.

 

We usually put the red on for the Feastof Pentecost.

 

Or for the feast of a martyr.

 

But no, we’re not commemorating amartyr.

 

But, sadly, we are commemoratingsomething not all that pleasant either.

 

This morning we are commemoratingprobably the one most important symbols of who we are as Christians.

 

We are commemorating the feast of the HolyCross.

 

Actually, yesterday was the Feast ofthe Holy Cross.

 

But we transferred it to today.

 

We’r enot really supposed to do that.

 

But, my thinking is this: if we don’t,most everyone will miss this important feast, since we don’t have a Mass onSaturday here.

 

This isn’t the first time we’vetransferred a feast like this.

 

The last time it happened, someone scoldedme on Facebook, referencing a priest who is somewhat well-known on Episcopalsocial media, who in a post went on and on and on about how clergy who transfera feast like this are in danger of violating their ordination vows.

 

Clergy, of course, promise to confirm tothe doctrine, discipline and worship of the Episcopal Church.

 

So, according to this priest’sargument, any clergy who transfer the feast is in violation of rubrics (those italicizedinstructions we find in the book of Common Prayer)  which, as we all know, must be faithfullyfollowed to the letter since they are obviously commandments from God on high.

 

(They are NOT).

 

The priest referenced was actually someoneI once knew and actually admired at one time.

 

But a few years ago he decided to cullhis expansive Facebook friends list and. . .well. . .guess who didn’t make thecut (though about 200 of our mutual friends did)

 

I responded to the person whoreferenced this priest by saying that if I wasn’t good enough to be this priest’sFacebook friend any more, his opinion on this issue meant nothing to me.

 

Besides, I went on, he wasn’t my bishop—oranyone else’s for that matter, though it seems anytime there’s a bishop’ssearch in the Church, this guy’s name appears on the list.

 

So, I really don’t care what thatpriest thinks about this or any other issue.

 

But. . .you all get to benefit fromyour heretical priest’s flagrant “breaking” his ordination vows. . .though, whoknows? I may get defrocked for it.

 

The late , great Father John-Julian ofthe Episcopal religious order, the Order of Julian or Norwich, wrote about thisvery important feast in his wonderful book, Stars in a Dark World, whichwe occasionally use at our Wednesday evening Eucharist. .

 

He writes:

 

“It is noteworthy, I think, to see thatthe Church celebrate the Exaltation of the Holy Cross not with the penitentialpurple of Lent or the mortal black of Good Friday, but with the brilliantpassion red of celebration and honor! And the propers of this feast do notdwell on the bloody death of Christ but on rather upon the wonder of theutterly holy [instrument], because the executioner’s instrument has beenexalted as the means of the salvation of the world. The salvic resurrection ofChrist transformed the gross and ugly Cross of death into the most enduringsymbol of life and hope.”

 

Now, we probably don’t really thinkabout the Cross as an object too often.

 

We find of take it for granted.

 

We see it every Sunday.

 

We see the cross on the churches wepass every day.

 

We probably wear the cross around ournecks or hang it on the walls of our homes.

 

For us, of course, the Cross is morethan just two pieces of wood bound together.

 

For us the Cross is our symbol.

And more than that.

 

We have essentially been branded withthe cross.

 

Each of us were marked by the Cross inour baptism.

 

And as a result, it is ingrained intoour very souls.

 

And we have been told by the One wefollow that to truly follow him, we must take up our own cross.

 

Again, not pleasant to do.

 

But it is essential.

 

Look athow deceptively simple it is.

 

It’ssimply two pieces, bound together.

 

Forsomeone who knows nothing about Christianity, for someone who knows nothingabout the story, it’s a symbol they might not think much about.

 

And yetthe Cross is more than just another symbol in our lives.

 

The Crossis what truly defines as Christians.

 

We arefollowers of Jesus.

 

And to bea follower of Jesus means to follow him not only in the nice, sweet times oflife.

 

But italso means following him to the very darkest shadows of Golgotha.

 

And likehim, following him, we too need to take up our crosses.

 

The Crossis what gives our faith its very essence.

 

TheCross, as much as it defines us, as much as it is symbol of our faith, is also,sadly, an instrument of torture and death.

 

To takeup a cross means to take up a burden that we must bear, even though we don’treally want it.

 

To takeit up is torturous.

 

It hurtsto take up the Cross.

 

When wethink of that last journey Jesus took to the place of the skull, carrying thatheavy tree on which he is going to be murdered, it must’ve been more horriblethan we can even begin to imagine.

 

And,without the resurrection, it would have been.

 

But thefact is, what Jesus is saying to us is: carry your cross now.

Carryyour burden—whatever issues you have in this life--with dignity and innerstrength.

 

Becauseif you carry you cross, then you are truly following Jesus.

 

Bycarrying our cross, we are following Jesus to the place he leads.

 

Thatplace, is of course, the joy of Resurrection and Life.

 

Thatplace is our eternity with the God of Jesus.

 

But theroad there leads first through the place of the skull.

 

To facethis reality, we find ourselves facing our fear of pain and death.

 

Wesometimes allow ourselves to slip deeply into fear and despair in our lives.

 

As we allknow, fear can be crippling.

 

It candevastate us and drive us to despair.

 

But, asFather John-Julian says,

 

“In asense, the Cross underwent the first transformation of the Resurrection; andthat same transformation has been part of the salvation offered by theCrucified and Resurrected One. Pain and death became resurrection andexaltation—and that has never changed. The sign of the Christian’s salvation isnot some giddy, mindless, low-cost bliss, but rather an entry into the deeperparts of the reality of pain and death [and I would add, fear], soaked, as wasthe Holy Cross, with the blood of sacrifice and finally emerged, brought by Godon the other side, resurrected, exalted whole, and in heaven.”

 

If wetake the crosses we’ve been given to bear in this life and embrace them, ratherthan running away from them, we find that fear has no control over us.

 

The Crossdestroys fear and pain and death.

 

The Crossshatters pain and death into a million pieces.

 

And whenwe do fear, we know we have a place to go to for shelter.

 

When fearencroaches into our lives—when fear comes riding roughshod through ourlives—all we have to do is go to the Cross and embrace it.

 

Andthere, we will find our fears destroyed.

 

Becauseof the Cross, we are taken care of.

 

Becauseof the Cross, we know, all will be well.

 

The crossJesus asks us to bear is not a frightening and terrible thing.

 

It was,at one time.

 

It was asymbol of defeat and death and pain and torture.

 

It was,for the people of Jesus’s day, what the electric chair or the hangman’s nooseor even the lethal injection table is to us this day.

 

It was,for the people of Jesus’s day, a symbol of ultimate defeat.

 

On it,hung criminals.

 

On it,hung those who, by society’s standards, deserved to hang there.

 

On ithung the blasphemer, the heretic, the agitator.

 

But now,for us, it is a symbol of strength and joy and unending eternal life.

 

Throughit, we know, we must pass to find true and unending life.

 

Throughthe Cross, we must pass to find ourselves, once and for all time, face-to-facewith God. 

 

It is areminder to us that God, in the end, always, always, always brings victory outof what seems like defeat.

 

Godalways turns around what seems like something terrible and transforms it into somethinglife-affirming.

 

So, letus notice of this great symbol in our lives.

 

As wedrive along, let us truly notice the crosses on the churches we pass.

 

Let us noticeall the crosses that surround us.

 

When wesee the Cross, let us remember what it means to us.

 

Look toit for what it is: a symbol of the power of God to overcome terror and death.

 

Let us lookat the Cross and, when we see it, let us see it for what it truly is: a triumphover every single fear in our lives.

 

And moreimportantly, let us continue to bear those crosses of our life patiently andwithout fear.

 

If we do,we too will be following the way of Jesus, and that Way doesn’t end at theCross.

 

Ratherthe Way of Life unending, Life Everlasting, really and truly begins at theCross.