Jamie Parsley's Blog, page 8

Dedication Sunday

 

September 8, 2024

1 Kings 8:22-23,27b-30;

+ Today, we are celebrating ourDedication Sunday.

 

We are commemorating 68 years ofservice to God and others.

 

We are blessing backpacks.

 

We are retiring our 100 year oldprocessional cross.

 

We are welcoming new members.

 

It’s all very exciting.

 

And I especially love ourscripture readings for today.

 

I love all this talk of abuilding being God’s house.

 

I think we sometimes forget thatfact.

 

We forget that this is God’shouse.

 

God, in a very unique ways,dwells with us here.

 

But this is Sunday is more thanall these physical things.

 

It is about than just a building,and walls.

 

It about us being the House ofGod.

 

It is about us being thetabernacles in which God dwells.

 

It is about us and our service toGod and others.

 

And you know what it’s really allabout.

 

It is about LOVE. 

 

Yup, it’s gonna be another lovesermon.

 

Years ago, I read an amazingbiography of the American poet Denise Levertov, I came across this wonderfulquote, from another poet, St. John the Cross:

 

“In the evening of our lives, wewill be judged on love alone.”

 

Later I heard a friend of minecomment on that quote by saying

 

 “we will be judged BY love alone.”

 

I love that!

 

That quote has been haunting mefor years.

 

And it certainly has beenstriking me to my core in these days leading up to our Dedication Sundaycelebration.

 

If this congregation could have amotto for itself, it would be this.

 

“In the evening of our lives, wewill be judged by love alone.”

 

Because this, throughout all ofour 68 year history, is what we are known for at St. Stephen’s.

 

Love.

 

We are known for the fact that weknow, by our words, by our actions, by our faith in God and one another, thatit is love that makes the difference.

 

And by love we will, ultimately,be judged.

 

That’s what the Church—thatlarger Church—capital “C” Church— should be.

But sometimes we forget what the Church should be.

This morning, there are manypeople here who have been wounded by that Church—the larger Church.

I stand before you, having beenhurt be the larger Church on more than one occasion.

And for those of us who are here,with our wounds still bleeding, it is not an easy thing to keep coming back tochurch sometimes.

It is not any easy thing to be apart of that Church again.

It is not an easy thing to callone’s self a Christian again, especially now when it seems so many people haveessentially highjacked that name and made it into something ugly and terrible.

 

And, speaking for myself, it’snot easy to be a priest—a uniform-wearing representative of that human-runorganization that so often forgets about love being its main purpose.

 

But, we, here at St. Stephen’s,are obviously doing something right, to make better the wrongs that may havebeen done on a larger scale.

 

We, at St. Stephen’s, (I hope)have done a good job I think over these last 68 years of striving to be apositive example of the wider Church and of service to Christ who, according toPeter’s letter this morning, truly is a “living stone”—the solid foundationfrom which we grow.

 

We have truly become a place oflove, of radical acceptance.

 

As God intends the Church to be.

In these last 68 years, thiscongregation has done some amazing things.

It has been first and foremost inthe acceptance of women in leadership, when women weren’t in leadership.

It was first and foremost in theacceptance of LGBTQ people, when few churches would acknowledge them, much lesswelcome them and fully include them. 

Certainly in the last fewyears,  certainly St. Stephen’s has donesomething not many Episcopal Churches are doing.

It has grown.

And that alone is something weshould be very grateful to God for on this Dedication Sunday.

Seeing allthis we need to give the credit where the credit is truly due:

the Holy Spirit.

Here.

Among us.

In our reading from First Kings today, we hearSolomon echoing God’s words, “My name shall be there.”

God’s Name dwells here.

As we look around, we too realize that this istruly the home of God.

We too are able to exclaim, God’s name dwells here!

And, as I said at the beginning of my sermon, by“the home of God”  I don’t mean just thisbuilding.

After all—God is truly here, with us, in all thatwe do together.

The name of God is proclaimed in the ministries wedo here.

In the outreach we do.

In the witness we make in the community ofFarg0-Moorhead and in the wider Church.

God is here, with us.

God is working through us and in us.

Sometimes, when we are in the midst of it all, whenwe are doing the work, we sometimes miss that perspective.

We miss that sense of holiness and renewal and lifethat comes bubbling up from a healthy and vital congregation working together.

We miss the fact that God truly is here.

So, it is good to stop and listen for a moment.

It is good to reorient ourselves.

It is good to refocus and see what ways we can moveforward together.

It is good to look around and see how God isworking through us.

In a few moments, we will recognize and give thanks for now only our newmembers but for all our members and the many ministries of this church.

Many of the ministries that happen here at St.Stephen’s go on clandestinely.

They go on behind the scenes, in ways most of us(with exception of God) don’t even see and recognize.

But that is how God works as well.

God works oftentimes clandestinely, through us andaround us.

This morning, however, we are seeing very clearlythe ways in which God works not so clandestinely.

We see it in here at St. Stephen’s.

We see it in the vitality here.

We see it in the love here.

We see it in the tangible things, in our altar, inthe bread and wine of the Eucharist, in our scripture readings, in our windows,in the smell of incense in the air, in our service to9ward each other towardothers.

In US.

But behind all these incredible things happeningnow, God has also worked slowly and deliberately and seemingly clandestinelythroughout the years.

And for all of this—the past, the present and thefuture—we are truly thankful.

God truly is in this place.

This is truly the house of God.

WE truly are the house of God.

This is the place in which love is proclaimed andacted out.

So, let us rejoice.

Let us rejoice in where we have been.

Let us rejoice in where we are.

Let us rejoice in where we are going.

And, in our rejoicing, let us truly be God’s ownpeople.

Let us be God’s people in order that we mightproclaim, in love, the mighty and merciful acts of Christ, the living andunmovable stone, on whom we find our security and our foundation.  

 

 

15 Pentecost

September 1, 2024

 

James 1.17-27; Mark 7.1-8, 14-15, 21-23

+ I have been at St. Stephen’s for a very long time now.

 

And in that time, you have seen Fr. Jamie in various moods.

 

Jovial.

 

Frustrated.

 

Sad.

 

But one that you have not seen very often is Fr. Jamie angry.

 

Some of you have.

 

But it’s very rare and far between.

 

But truth be told: I can be angry.

 

I have been angry about many things—especially the larger Churchand the how people in the Church and in society are treated unfairly.

 

I get very angry about injustice and inequality.

 

My sister and I were talking about our anger the other day, and weboth realized we get our bouts of anger from our mother.

 

My mom could get truly angry.

 

As she would say, when she was mad, “I’m seeing red.”

 

So do I!

 

When I am mad, I literally see red.

 

It’s the Irish in us I guess.

 

And when I do I always try to keep it myself.

 

But sometimes, I can’t hide it.

 

And it can unpleasant.

 

Of course, I’m human too.

 

We’ve all done this in our lives.

 

We’ve all been angry.

 

We’ve all lost it.

 

We’ve all been our worst.

 

We’ve all shown our shadow side, shall we say.

 

And we all have one—a shadow side, a dark side of our veryselves.    

 

In today’s Gospel reading, we get a list from Jesus of some thingsthe shadow sides of people do.

 

This list that Jesus lays out is a pretty strong andstraightforward one.

 

And an uncomfortable one.

 

And most of us can feel pretty confident we’re free and clear forthe most of the ones he lists.  

 

After all, most of us don’t steal, don’t murder, don’t commitadultery, aren’t purposely wicked, are deceitful, don’t slander

 

A few we might not really understand: avarice (which is justanother word for greed)? licentiousness (which just means immorality, beingimmoral)?

 

Yes, we’re not guilty of these!

 

Then there’s folly? Folly? What’s so horrible about folly?

 

Folly could be seen as being frivolous or ridiculous.

 

But then, there are a few we find might actually hit home a bit,such as Envy and Pride.

 

For me, these two are the two that stumble me up the most.

 

These are the two of this whole list that I struggle with andfight against and try to overcome in my life.

 

Yes, I have been envious of others.

 

And, on occasion, I have been prideful.

 

What is especially apt about this morning’s Gospel reading is thatJesus takes these ugly things—these things from our shadow side—and uses themto engage fully the Pharisees and the scribes.

 

Now again, Pharisees and scribes were the righteous religious onesof Jesus’ Jewish world.

 

The Pharisees followed very strictly the Law.

 

And the Scribes were the ones who meticulous copied out thescrolls of the Law.

 

These were the experts of the Law of their age.

 

Jesus takes their condemnation of him about cleanliness and keepsthe conversation going regarding cleanliness.

 

He simply takes their conversation up a notch.

 

He says, You are worried about what defiles the hands.

 

I am concerned with what defiles the heart.

 

The heart, for Jewish people of Jesus’ day, was truly the centerof one’s being.

 

From the heart everything emanated.

 

The heart directed the mind.

 

It directed our thoughts.

 

If your heart was pure, then you were pure.

 

If your heart was evil, then you did evil.

 

Because where your heart leads, your actions follow.

 

Hence, his list of things that reveal the shadow side.

 

If our heart is full of pride, or envy, or lust or frivolousfolly, then our hearts are not filled with God and love. 

 

But one that I am surprised Jesus did not list here is “anger.”

 

And if we did that to the list, then this would win the prize withme.

 

As I aid at the beginning of my sermon, know me as a prettylaid-back kind of person for the most part.

 

I don’t seem to fly off the handle very often.

 

I don’t think there have been too many people who have actuallyseen me completely lose it with anger.

 

OK. Some of the wardens may have seen it.

 

And maybe James saw once or twice when I have been angry oversomething.

 

And to be fair, it doesn’t always explode to the surface (whichcan either be a good thing or a really bad thing).

 

But it’s there and every so often I am forced to confront it.

 

When I do, I find myself experiencing this terrible anger in allits force.

 

And I don’t like it.

 

And I don’t like me when I am the throes of that kind of anger.

 

Anger can be all consuming.

 

When it boils up from within, all other senses seem to shut off—orangers shuts them off.

 

It rages and roils and knocks me—and anyone else around me—around,and in the midst of it, I find I am not only angry, but almost scared by theintensity of my anger.

 

Which only, of course, leads us to our reading from James for thismorning.

 

Now, I LOVE the Epistle of James.

 

And I have never understood why people like Martin Luther feltthat it should be excluded from the Canon of Scripture (along with Hebrews,Jude and Revelation).

 

His reasons for doing so were because they were against Luther’sdoctrines of sola gratia (or grace alone) and sola fide (faith alone).

 

Luckily, we’re Episcopalians and we are not bound by Luther’sdoctrines.

 

Grace alone and faith alone are not doctrines of Anglicanism.

 

Luther very famously called the epistle of James an “epistle ofstraw.”

 

But, what a waste if James was not a part of our scriptures!

 

And let me tell you, it is no “epistle of straw.”

 

It is a beautiful book.

 

And I am especially grateful for the scripture we get from Jamesthis morning:

 

“…be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger.”

 

What a wonderful world this would be if we all did just that.

 

Anger is something that needs to be confronted and dealt with.

 

It needs to be systematically phased out, because it is likepoison in our systems.

 

It can destroy us and those around us.

 

And, as James says, “anger does not produce God’s righteousness.”

 

If we think about our heart being the center of our being—as thecenter of ourselves— we find that anger truly does poison the heart and thereforethe whole system.

 

When we harbor anger in our hearts, we are a slave to anger.

 

And if we are a slave to anger, we cannot let love flourish. Andif we cannot let love flourish, God cannot come and dwell within us.

 

We block out God and we block out the Reign of God.

 

Anger does not help the Reign break through into our midst.

 

We are not helping build up the Reign when anger rules us.

 

In fact, we hinder the Reign of God when we are angry.

 

So, these words of James speak strongly to us this morning. “Bequick to listen, be slow to speak, slow to anger.”

 

We know how speaking sows the seeds of anger.

 

And if we’re speaking, we are not listening.

 

And sometimes, when we listen, we find that anger can be defused.

 

“Be slow to anger”.

 

I have come to the conclusion that, like despair (as you heard mesay again and again), anger is simply not an acceptable Christian response.

 

Like despair, which squeezes out all hope, anger squeezes out hopeand love.

 

It is simply impossible to love God and to love our neighbor asourselves when we are filled with anger, when the storms of anger are ragingwithin us.

 

Anger prevents love.

 

It stifles love.

 

It kills love.

 

And yet, it is such a human response.

 

The fact is,  we will feelanger.

 

And sometimes, the anger we feel is a righteous anger—an anger atthings like injustice and racism and homophobia and sexism.

 

We should feel a righteous anger about those things.

 

It’s just that we should not let anger consume us.

 

But let us be clear about what James is saying to us.

 

He isn’t saying that we shouldn’t get angry on occasion.

 

He is simply saying we should be slow to anger.

 

We don’t need to fly off the handle.

 

We should not react inanger.

 

There are times when we may simply need to walk away from somethingthat makes us angry.

 

This is how being slow to anger sometimes works.

 

Sometimes we just need to recognize anger and what it is in ourlives.

 

But we don’t always have to engage it.

 

And we should never let it be the driving force of our lives.

 

So, let us listen to James.

 

Let us use his words as our own personal motto.

 

Let his words speak in us.

 

Let love squeeze out all anger from our lives.

 

Let us banish from our hearts—the center of our verybeing—anything that prevents love from reigning there.

 

Let us banish from it those vices—both easy to banish anddifficult to banish—so that pureness can exist within us.

 

And if we do that, God’s love will settle upon the very center ofour being.

 

And in that moment, God’s love will give us an everlasting peacethat no anger can destroy.

 

 

14 Pentecost

August 25, 2024

 

Ephesians 43.15-22; John 6.56-69

 

+ Unless you’re living under a rock, you may have noticed that weare living in the last weeks of a very contentious presidential election.

 

And during this election season, we find that certain words takeon new meanings.

 

Words like weird.

 

Remember when not that long ago weird meant something differentthan it does right now in the political scene.

 

Sometimes words we once thought was a nice, quaint word getshijacked and all of a sudden the word becomes—and means—something else.

 

Certainly, we Christians have experienced this often in our lifetime.

 

To some people Christians are seen as close-minded, bigoted andjudgmental.

 

We all are seen as terrible people because of a few very loud andvocal ones.

 

Which is a shame.

 

But one word that has been hijacked is one that what we often hearabout.

 

It is the term “Evangelical Christians.”

 

Evangelical Christians, even among other Christians, have beendemonized.

 

I have done it myself.

 

Being Evangelical in this day and age is equivalent to being a“Pharisee” in Jesus’ day.

 

It is synonymous with hypocrisy and close-mindedness.

 

And in most cases, you know wat: that’s kinda correct.

 

Have you listened to some of those so-called self-professedEvangelical Christians?

 

Many are just that, hypocritical and close-minded.

 

Many of them have a sense of righteous entitlement.

 

Many of them carry around a sense of rightness in being able tojudge others.

 

A sense of we’re right and you’re wrong.

 

A sense of God is on OUR side.

 

A sense of: I know what the real interpretation of scripture is.

 

These pharisaical evangelicals have actually done just that.

 

They have hijacked Christianity.

 

They have hijacked the Bible.

 

And they have hijacked the very term “evangelical.”

 

And those things make me very angry.

 

They feel they are the standard bearers, the guardians of biblicalpurity.

 

And very rarely do they see that what they are really doing is infact being embodying the very people Jesus preaches against again and again.

 

And we’ve all been on the receiving end of evangelical ire.

 

Sadly.

 

But…my anger about evangelicals isn’t even about their puritanicalstance, their sense of rightness.

 

As I said, my anger has to do with their hijacking of both theBible and the name “evangelical.”

 

Now, in the Anglican tradition, evangelical means something else.

 

And for those of us who were Lutheran, it means pretty much thesame thing as it does for Anglicans.

 

For us, evangelicals are simply people who strive to make surescripture continues to be the basis for our Christian faith.

 

There is a long and fruitful Evangelical history in Anglicanismand the Episcopal Church.

 

In fact, one of my personal heroes in the Episcopal Church was thegreat Evangelical writer, William Stringfellow, who along with his long-timepartner, poet Anthony Towne, wrote several amazing books on scripture.

 

I talk about Stringfellow a lot! Because he deserves to be quotedand remembered.

 

Now, personally, I have always been a bit wary of identifyingmyself as an Evangelical.

 

Probably my reason for doing so has to do with the fact that weall know: being an Evangelical in our recent history means something I don’twant to be associated with.

 

But I am Evangelical in the sense that scripture is vital to myfaith and my understanding of God, Christ and the Church.

 

I am Evangelical because I do believe in the authority ofscripture.

 

And I am Evangelical in the sense that scripture is the basis formy faith life, every sermon that I preach, how I see the world around me andhow I view my own place in this world.

 

I love the Bible! And I say that without fear. I say it proudly.Because I do love the Bible!

 

I have spent my entire faith life so-far, studying, pondering andwrestling with scripture.

 

In fact, when I was ordained a priest, the bishop asked me,

 

Will you be diligent inthe reading and study of the Holy Scriptures, and in seeking the knowledge ofsuch things as may make you a stronger and more able minister of Christ?

 

And my answer was: I will.

 

I took that “I will” very seriously!

 

For me, that means reading scripture on a daily basis.

 

Which I have done almost every day since I was ordained.

 

(there were a few days when I was sick or in the depths of griefor pain when I simply couldn’t).

 

But even on those days when I didn’t read it or study it, I cansay in all honesty that scripture was still there, still guiding my life andsustaining me in illness or grief.

And I hope that, just as that vow promised, such daily study of scripture hasmade me a stronger and more able minister of Christ.

 

I am an Evangelical because I believe in Scripture.

 

Now, I know that is loaded statement.

 

Do I believe literally in everything in the Bible?

 

That is not what I said.

 

But I do believe that God speaks to me through scripture.

 

And because God does, I believe scripture to be the Word of God.

 

To go back to my ordination day, both as a deacon and priest, I kneltbefore the bishop, and said before God, the Bishop and the Church, thispromise:

 

“…I solemnly declare that I do believe the holy Scriptures of theOld and New Testaments to be the Word of God, and to contain all thingsnecessary to salvation…”

 

Now, that vow is good for all of us who are ministers, not justordained ministers.

 

And, if you really listen, it’s a statement packed with meaning.

 

I believe the scriptures to be the Word of God, and to contain allthings necessary for salvation.

 

All of it? You may wonder.

 

We may interpret that statement, what we are really professinghere is that through the scriptures God does speak to us.

 

God’s very Word comes to us through these scriptures.

 

Which makes these scriptures incredibly powerful.

 

We get an echo of this importance of the Word of God in our Gospelreading for today.

 

In it, we find Simon Peter answering that question of Jesus, “Do you wish to go away?” with strangelypoetic and vibrant words.

 

Peter asks, “Lord, to whomcan we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

 

For all of us as followers of Jesus, who is the incarnate Word ofGod (which we find contained in scripture)—the Word of God made flesh, this is essential.

 

And powerful.

 

This Word not only directs our lives, it sustains us, and feeds usand keeps us buoyant in the floods and tempests that rage about us.

 

The Word is the place to which we go when we need direction, whenwe need comfort, when we need to be reminded that we are deeply loved childrenof our God, when we need hope as followers of Jesus.

 

The Word is essential to us because, through it, God speaks to us.

 

The Word is essential to us because it is there that we hear God’sSpirit directing us and leading us forward.

 

The irony for me, however, is most poignant when I listen to thoseEvangelicals (and others) who use the Word in cutting ways.

 

We of course hear them all the time.

 

People who use scripture to support their homophobia or their racismor their blatantly anti-Christian political beliefs or their condemnation ofothers.

 

Because scripture is so powerful, people who do so are playingwith fire.

 

Or maybe dynamite might be the better image.

 

Now, any of you who have heard me preach for any period of timehave heard me say this same things over and over again.

 

And I will continue to say it over and over again.

 

I said it again and again:  be careful of using Scripture as a sword,because, I say: remember.

 

It is a two-edged sword.

 

If you use the Word to cut others, trust me: it will come back andit cut you as well.

 

It is just thatpowerful.

 

And frightening.

 

It can destroy, not in just the way those the one who wields itwants to destroy, but it can also destroy the one who wields it.

 

However—and this is a big however—if we use the Word to affirm, tobuild up the Reign of God, if we allow the Word to be, in our lives, the voiceof God, the mind of God, hen we in turn are affirmed.

 

As Paul says in his letter to the Ephesians that we heard thismorning: “take…the sword of the Spirit,which is the word of God.”

 

That sword of the Spirit is an amazing weapon.

 

That sword of the Spirit is essential for all of us who areministers.

 

It is a powerful device that carries more strength and influencethan any of us probably fully realize.

 

And because it is so powerful, we need to use it very, verycarefully.

 

It  needs to be handled likea loaded, very sensitive machine gun.

 

We need to use it not in anger, not in hatred, not in oppression,but always in love.

 

When we wield this sword of the Spirit in love, we find love beingsown.

 

When we wield this sword of the Spirit of God in compassion, wespread compassion.

 

When we wield this sword to shatter injustice and oppression, wefind justice and freedom.

 

When we wield this sword as a way to clear the way for the Reignof God, we find that we too become a part of that building up of the Reign.

 

We too are able to clearly hear Jesus’ voice in our lives.

 

Those words of eternal life that Jesus speaks to us again andagain in scripture truly do break down barriers, build up those marginalizedand shunned and, in doing so, we find the Reign of God in our midst.

 

When a Benedictine monk or nun makes a profession of vows theypray a wonderful prayer.

 

Their prayer is: “Accept me, Lord, according to your word, and Ishall live. Do not disappoint me in my expectation.”

 

I love that.

 

“Do not disappoint me in my expectation.”

 

This is our prayer as well as loved children of God and followersof Jesus.

 

This is the prayer of all of who are called to beministers—whether as lay people or as clergy.

 

“Accept me, Lord, according to your word, and I shall live. Do notdisappoint me in my expectation.” 

 

We too have prayed to be accepted according to God’s Word.

 

The sword of the Spirit has swiped the veil of separation from usand has made us one.

 

And none of us, in this oneness, in this Reign of God in ourmidst, is disappointed in our expectation.

 

When all are seen as one, when all are accepted, when we see eachother as loved and fully accepted children of a loving and merciful God, thenour expectation will be fulfilled.

 

But we need to keep listening, to keep straining our ears for God’sWord to us.

 

We need to keep listening so God can speak to us—so the Word canspeak to us.

 

And that Word needs to be spoked just as importantly, throughus.

 

When God speaks to us, we respond.

 

When the Word comes to us, we then need to engage it.

 

This is what prayer is—holy conversation.

 

And as the Word is spoken to us, as we hear it and feel it, ourresponse is the same as those who heard the Word spoken to them by Jesus.

 

“Yes, Lord, you have the words of eternal life. We have come tobelieve and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

 

So let us hear those words of eternal life.

 

Let us embody that Word in our lives.

 

Let us share that Word through the good we do in this world.

 

Let us take back that word “Evangelical” and make it our ownagain!

 

Let us be good and accepting and inclusive and radicalEvangelicals!

 

And when we do, people will know.

 

People will know we are children of God.

 

People will know who we follow.

 

People will know that the Word we embody in our very lives is theWord of that Holy One of God.

 

 

 

13 Pentecost

 

August 18,2024

 

John 6.51-58

 

+ Forty years ago, I saw a film that has stuckwith me through the decades.

 

It was a well-known film, Places in the Heart.

 

The story takes place in west Texas in the1930s, during the truly terrible, darkest days of the Depression.

 

Sally Field plays a housewife, whose husbandis the sheriff of their local town.

 

At the beginning of the film, her husband isjust sitting down to eat with his family when he is called away to deal with ayoung drunk black man wielding a gun.

 

As he gets up from the table, he puts thedinner rolls in his pockets.

 

While he is confronting the young man on therailroad tracks (who is, incidentally drinking wine), the young man’s gunaccidentally goes off and kills the sheriff.

 

The young man is eventually horribly lynchedfor the murder.

 

Sally Field’s character then takes over herhusband’s cotton farm.  Hardships endure.But she overcomes, with the help of her hired hand and a blind man who comes tolive with her.

 

At the end of the film, we find Sally Field,Danny Glover, John Malcovitch and Sally Field’s children gathered at theBaptist Church with the rest of the congregation.

 

As the old hymn “In the Garden” plays, thereis panning shot as the bread and the communion juice is passed along the pewsfrom one person to the other.

 

As we follow the bread and the drink beingpassed from person to person, we suddenly start realizing that some of thepeople are people we saw earlier in the film who have died.

 

For instance, we see a family who as died intheir car during a tornado.

 

Finally, the camera stops on Sally Field’shusband and the young man who shot
him.

 

As the scene fades, they are seated side byside, sharing Communion.

 

That film is haunting in many ways.

 

But it is also one of the most “eucharisticfilms” I have ever seen.

 

For any of you who know me and know me well,you know that the Eucharist is the center of my entire life.

 

It is everything to me.

 

Spiritually, of course.

 

But also it is the lens through which I seethis created world in which we live.

 

We are—all of us—fallible human beingsdependent on the sustenance we receive from God, which we find most clearly andvisually experienced in the Eucharist.

 

And, in this Eucharist, those of us who arealive and well are joined, for one moment, with those who now participatewithout end in the celestial worship.

 

I believe this with every ounce of my being.

 

I have experienced this again and again.

 

And for me, the Eucharist is not symbol, notsome quaint dinner party we participate in here.

 

For me, the Eucharist is a truly mysticalexperience.

 

It is an instance in which we and God arejoined together, and fed, and sustained, and strengthened to go out and do thework we have been called to do as Christians.

 

Today, in our scripture readings, for thethird week in a row, we have heard Jesus expand on his image of seeing himselfas the Bread of Life.

 

Now, for some preachers, this might bedownright daunting.

 

After all, how many times can one preach aboutthe Bread of Life?

 

Well, I’ll be honest, I actually don’t have aproblem with this.

 

If I could preach about the connectionsbetween Jesus’ message that he is the Bread of Life and the holy Eucharistevery Sunday I probably could do it.

 

You probably wouldn’t enjoy it that much.

 

I realize sometimes that I don’t think I haveeven scarped the surface on understanding the mystery of the Eucharist or themystery of Jesus’ message to us concerning this Bread of Life.

 

But, I think it’s important that, on occasion,we look a bit at what it is the we Episcopalians actually believe about theEucharist.

 

 Andit’s important for us to be reminded sometimes of this event we come togetherto share every week.

 

And because the Eucharist is so important tous, its’ vital to remind ourselves of its importance because, since we do itevery week, we might easily become somewhat complacent about what we are doing.

 

Habits are easy for us to fall into.

 

And sometimes we simply go through the motionsof the Eucharist, without considering the importance of our actions.

 

It is also good for us, as we hear thissomewhat blunt language about flesh and blood to actually consider for a momentwhat we believe happens in this Eucharist we celebrate each Sunday and eachWednesday at this altar.

 

Over the years, Anglicans have debated aboutwhat actually happens in our Eucharist.

 

Some have been uncomfortable with the idea ofthe so-called “real Presence” of Jesus in the Bread and Wine of Holy Communion.

 

And to some extent, we still do debate theseissues.

 

The Anglican view has taken a decided (andcharacteristically) middle road between the definitions maintained by the Romanchurch—which believed in Transubstantiation—and the various Protestantdenominations—which ranged from the Lutheran “in, with and under” view to theCalvinist belief that Christ is not present at all in the Eucharist—it’s purelysymbolic.

 

I think one of the best Anglican summaries ofhow Christ might be present in the Bread and the Wine was written by CharlesPrice and Louis Weil in their book Liturgyfor Living:

 

“…in thequestion of how Christ is present, Anglican churches have maintained theircharacteristic agnosticism.”

 

 

I’m going to pause there for a second.

 

I love that that Price and Weil reference our “characteristicAnglican agnosticism.”

 

How many times over the years have I said thatultimately, we are all agnostics to a large extend?

 

And there is nothing wrong with that.

 

Some day I want to write a book about holyagnosticism.

 

But to return to Price and Weil:

 

 “When the Christian community meets to do thewhole eucharistic action in obedience to the risen Lord, he comes. He giveshimself to us, again and again. It is part of the mystery of time.”

       

Price and Weil then add a statement thatsummarizes perfectly the Anglican stance on Anglican Eucharistic theology:

“To sayanything more than this in the name of the church would, we believe, transgressAnglican restraint.”

Or to quote Queen Elizabeth I, as   was famously quoted by Dom Gregory Dix,O.S.B., 

 

"He was the Wordthat spake it;

He took the bread andbrake it;

And what that Word didmake it,

I do believe and take it."

 

Whatever the case might be, the fact is thatin the majority of Anglican churches, we believe in the Eucharistic Presence inthe Bread and Wine.

We reserve the Eucharist here in thistabernacle, with a light always shining before it to remind us of the Divine Presencein the Bread and the Wine that we reserve there.

In those cases in which it is not reserved, itis a universal understanding in the Anglicanism, that left-over bread and/orwine is reverently consumed or properly disposed of, rather than simply beingdiscarded or reused.

This reverence only goes to show that we dobelieve Christ, in some way or form, is present in a distinctive way and thatthe elements we have—the bread and the wine—are more than just ordinary breadand wine.

Christ is somehow, in some very real way,presence in this sacrament.

We don’t know why.

And we don’t know how.

And that is just fine.

But it can set us on slippery road we mightnot want to travel.

If we think about it too much, we startgetting nit-picky.

We start worrying about little things, such asdropped hosts or the crumbs from broken bread.

The important thing about the Eucharist is notthose nit-picky little things.

The importance of the Eucharist is that, atthis altar, we celebrate Christ’s presence.

We take Christ’s presence.

And we then share Christ’s presence withothers.

The is the real meaning of Eucharist and thatis what Jesus is getting at in today’s Gospel.

The Christ we encounter in the Eucharistbreaks down our barriers.

The Christ we encounter in the Eucharist bindsus all together.

In a sense, this is where our beliefs aboutthe Eucharist come together.

Sharing the Christ whose Presence sustains usand feeds us also binds us together.

In the Eucharist, divisions are broken down.

Old wrongs are made right.  

Whatever problems we might have with eachother out there have vanished because here, at this altar, we are sharing thismeal and partaking, in a real way, of Christ.

“I am the living bread that came down fromheaven,” Jesus, in today’s Gospel says.

“Whoever eats of this bread will live forever;and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

 What weeat here at this altar is the living Bread of heaven that has come down to us.

And in this bread and in this wine we havefound life.

We have the eternal life he talks about intoday’s Gospel.

What we do here at this altar is not a privatedevotion.

It is not just some warm, sweet “Jesus and me”moment.

Yes, it sustains and feeds us in our spiritson an individual basis.

Yes, we experience Jesus on an individualbasis in the Eucharist

But what we do here is more than just for usas individuals.

It is about us as a whole.

I, as a priest, cannot celebrate the Eucharistalone.

What we do here, we do together.

We come together, we celebrate, we affirm, weconsent.

We come forward of to feed and then we go out,fed, to feed.

Just as the Eucharist is not something we doas individuals, it is also not something that just stops happening once weleave this church building.

The Eucharist sustains us to do the workChrist calls us to do as Christians.

The Eucharist gives us life so we can helplife to others.

What we share here isn’t just dead bread andcrushed, fermented grapes.

What we share here is living flesh, the livingBody of Christ.

And this living, holy Presence drives us andprovokes us and causes us to go out and share what we experience here withothers.

So, let us accept our characteristic Anglicanagnosticism in which we can accept that somehow, in some way more powerful andmysterious than we can even possibly imagine, Christ does give himself to ushere at this altar again and again in a very real and living way.

Let us eat and drink.

And, fed, let us go out to feed others.

Let us embody Christ within us and be Christto those who need Christ in this world.

And, by doing so, let us be what we are calledto be now and always.

Amen.  

Price and Weil, Liturgy for Living. p.219

Ibid.

The Funeral Eucharist for LaRoy Baird

 

St. George’s EpiscopalChurch, Bismarck, ND

Saturday  Aug 17, 2024

 

+It is a true honor for me to officiate at this service today.

 

Iam very grateful that John asked me to come to Bismarck to lead this service inwhich the life of LaRoy is celebrated .

 

AndI have to say this was a life that needs to be celebrated.  

 

AsI read that incredible obituary, I was impressed.

 

LaRoyled an amazing life!

 

Heseemed like some kind of renaissance man!

 

Studyingzoologoy.

 

Becominga forensic chemist

 

Thenlaw school.

 

Adistinguished legal career

 

Helpingthose who truly needed help.

 

Adevoted Democrat!

 

Howmany people would have dreamed to have lived a life like his!

 

Itwas truly a blessed life!

 

Thereis no doubt that he was someone who made a major impact in so many people’slives.

 

Tohear all these stories and to hear the wonderful things people have to say is abig sign that a person made an major impact in people’s lives.

 

AndLaRoy did that.

 

Thiswas a man who made a difference in this world and in the lives of his family,whom he loved deeply, and for all the people who knew him.

 

Andin countless people’s lives that we will never know about.

 

Andit is this that we celebrate and remember today.

 

Itis important to remember that success is not just something that just happens.

 

Oneworks hard to succeed.

 

Onesacrifices and struggles.

 

Fewpeople know how much sleep a truly successful person loses in their lifetime.

 

Itis important to remember that, to hold that close and to celebrate those sacrifices LaRoy made in his life.

 

Andthe fact that he did so not only for himself, but for his family, for thosewhom he loved the most.

 

 Andbecause he did, this world is a bit more empty today without LaRoy in it.

 

Thelives of everyone who knew him and experienced that love and generosity andcaring is emptier because LaRoy is not there to share that.

 

But,it is vital to remember that all this reminds us that our goodbye today is onlya temporary goodbye.

 

Allthat you knew and loved about LaRoy is not gone for good.

 

Itis not ashes.

 

Isnot grief.

 

Itis not loss.

 

Everythingthat LaRoy was to those who knew him and loved him and now miss him is not lostforever.

 

Allyou loved, all that was good and gracious and amazing in LaRoy—all that was fierceand strong and amazing in him—all of that lives on.

 

Itlives on with all of you who experienced the kindness and generosity and loveof LaRoy in this life.

 

Andfor those of us who have faith, faith in more than this world, we know that itgoes on too.

 

Idon’t claim to know how.

 

Idon’t claim to know for certain what exactly awaits us in the next world.

 

Ido believe that all that is good and gracious and loving in LaRoy now dwells ina place of light and beauty and life unending.

 

Ibelieve it will be very much like the vision we see shown to us in our readingtoday from the prophet Isaiah.

AndI do believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that you will see him again.

 

Aplace of rich food and well-aged wines.

 

Aplace in which every tear will truly be wiped away for good.

 

Aplace in which there will be no more tears.

 

Andit will be beautiful.

 

Ofcourse that doesn’t make any of this any easier for those who knew him andcared for him.

 

Wheneveranyone we love dies, we are going to feel pain.

 

That’sjust a part of life.

 

Thatis the price we pay for love.

 

Weall know that love is not free.

 

Itcomes at a very costly price.

 

Weall run the run therisk when we love that one day that those we love may not be with us for all ofour lives.

 

Andthe more pain we feel, we know the greater the love we had.

 

Andthat’s all right.

 

Thereis nothing wrong to know that accept that.

 

Becausethe really important thing to realize, in the end, is that it was worth it.

 

Everysingle bit of it was worth the price.

 

So,yes, there are tears today.

 

Yes,there is a feeling of separation and loss.

 

Butlike the hardship in this life, our feelings of loss are only temporary aswell.

 

Theytoo will pass away.

 

Realizingthat and remembering that fact is what gets us through some of the hard momentsof this life.

 

Thisis where we find our strength—in our faith that promises us an end to oursorrows, to our loss.

Itis a faith that can tell us with a startling reality that every tear weshed—and we all shed our share of tears in this life—every tear will one day bedried and every heartache will ultimately disappear.

AndI can also tell you that he will not be quickly forgotten.

LaRoy Baird is not someone who will be easilyforgotten.

He is not someone who passes quietly into themists

His fierce determination lives on in us.

His strength, his dignity, his love lives on inhis family and his friends and in all those who knew him.

His strength and his compassion, his sense ofjustice and dignity lives in those he helped and encouraged and led and was anexample to. 

Sothis morning and in the days to come, let us remember LaRoy with joy in ourhearts.

Letus hold him close in our memories and celebrate his life with a sense ofgratitude for all he was.

Letus truly be thankful for LaRoy.

Andlet us be glad that one day we too will be sharing with him in that joy he nowlives in, and joining him in that place of light and beauty and unending happiness, where there are no more tearsand no sadness, but life unending.    

Into paradise may the angels lead you, LaRoy.

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

12 Pentecost

 August 11, 2024

I Kings 19.4-8; Ephesians 4.25-5.2; John 6.35,41-51

 

+ We’re going to do it again.

 

We’re going to go back in time, for a moment.

 

Well, not all that far back, anyway.

 

We’re going to back to 1994.

 

Sunday, August 14, 1994, to be exact.

 

It was on that Sunday, 30 years ago this coming Wednesday, that I preachedmy very first sermon at Maple Sheyenne Lutheran Church.

 

And here I am, 30 years later, preaching still. And on the samescripture I preached 30 years ago.

 

Now, I will say this about my 30 years as a preacher.

 

As most of you know, I am fairly confident in my vocation as a priest.

 

I love being a priest.

 

I have wanted to be a priest since I was 13 years old.

 

I knew this was what I wanted to do.

 

And I have loved it.

 

I am pretty confident in who I am a priest.

 

However, I have never—not once—been confident in my vocation as apreacher.

 

I have never felt like I was a very good preacher.

 

And, to be brutally honest, I still don’t.

 

There are days I get up here in this pulpit and think to myself or toGod, “What am I doing?”

 

Now over the years, I have worked hard to gain some confidence in my preachingskills.

 

I have taken classes.

 

I have read countless books of homiletics.

 

But it has always felt like a burden I have to bear and a cross I haveto carry.

 

Donna Clark often shares the story about how on her first Sunday visitingSt. Stephen’s, she went downstairs at coffee hour and was shocked to hear oneof our parishioners exclaim at the table, “That was one of the worst sermons I’veever heard!”

 

Yes, that would’ve been one of MY sermons.

 

And of course this was a running gag from this particular parishioner (whohas since moved away to another state). I am still actually fairly close tothis parishioner and their family.

 

It was a joke.

 

Kinda.

 

*Ha.* *Ha.*

 

But, for me, sometimes, as much as I smiled and chuckled, I will admit: itwasn’t always a joke.

 

It was sometimes very painful to hear that.

 

Again and again.

 

Which is just the way it is sometimes.

 

There are certain burdens we just simply must bear in our lives of followingJesus.

 

And God never, ever expects any of us to be perfect.

 

I have known good preachers who have been not such good people.

 

I would rather be a good priest and not-such-good preacher.

 

Any day.

 

And if, at my funeral, someone says, “Now that was a good priest!” itwould mean more to me in whatever celestial afterlife I may at that time beingliving within.

 

More so than being a good preacher.

 

And I am sure someone at that funeral will say, “He wasn’t that great ofa preacher.”

 

God, as I said, doesn’t call perfect people.

 

God calls fractured human beings, with various and very limited talents,to do what they can with that they’ve been given.

 

And to do the best they can within those limitations.

 

Now, our response to that can either be despair or acceptance.

In our reading from 1 Kings, we find theprophet Elijah in the wilderness.

And his response to hardship is. . .despair.

In that wilderness, after traveling aday’s journey, he asks God to let him die.

In fact, we find him praying a verybeautifully profound prayer, despite its dark tone.

Elijah prays, “It is enough: now, O Lord,take away my life…”

And you think I’m dramatic!

But, if we’re listening closely, thatprayer should actually cause us to pause uncomfortably for a moment.

It’s actually quite a shocking prayer.

But it is brutally honest too.

Anyone who has been in the depths ofdepression or anxiety or despair knows this prayer.

Anyone who has been touched with thedeep, ugly darkness of depression has probably prayed this prayer.

“It is enough. Now, O Lord, take away mylife.”

Now, some people would be afraid to praythis prayer.

Why?

Because they’re afraid God might actuallyanswer their prayer.

Well, in the case of Elijah, God actuallydoes.

Wait, you’re probably saying.

No. God didn’t answer Elijah’s prayer.

Elijah lived.

Ah, yes, but actually, God did answer theprayer.

In the midst of his depression, in themidst of his anguish, in the midst of the wilderness of not only hissurroundings, but his own spirit, God really does answer the prayer of Elijah.

But…it is not answered in the way Elijahwants.

The prayer is answered with a beautiful“no.”

And we all have to understand and acceptthat sometimes “no” is the answer to whatever we might be praying for.

But before you think this is cruel—beforeyou start saying that God’s “no” is a cruel no, follow this short, short storyof Elijah all the way through.

Yes, God answers Elijah with a non-verbalno.

But God still provides even after the no.

For Elijah, an angel appears and feedshim in his anguish and in that wilderness.

Elijah is not allowed to die.

But he is sustained.

He is refreshed so that he can continuethis journey.

This is a beautiful analogy for us, whoare also wandering about in the wilderness.

I think many of us have probably come tothat time in our lives when we have curled up and prayed for God to take ourlives from us, because living sometimes just hurts too much.

We too, more often than not, in our despair and pain, cry out to God.

 

We ask God to relieve us of this anguish.

 

“Take this away from me, God,” we pray.

 

Or, on really bad days, we pray, “Take me away from this pain, God.”

 

“Let me die.”

 

When that happens, God’s no is not the final word.

 

The final word is God’s sustenance.

 

The final word is that fact that, even in our anguish, even in our wilderness,even when we are exhausted and worn out and so depressed we can’t evenfunction, God still provides us with Bread.

 

Maybe not actual bread.

 

But with the Bread of Life.

 

The same bread we heard Jesus tell us he in our Gospel reading fortoday.

 

A Bread that truly sustains, that truly refreshes.

 

A Bread that give sus life!

 

God provides us with what we need.

 

As much as we may relate to this story of Elijah in the wilderness, wealso have this reading from Ephesians this morning

 

Now, I will say this about our reading from Paul’s Letter to theEphesians: it is one of the most difficult scriptures I have ever had to dealwith in my life as a Christian.

 

Every time I have heard it or read it, I feel myself sort of (and thisis a very evangelical term)…convicted.

 

In the mirror of this scripture, I feel inadequate.

 

I see my own guilt staring back at me.

 

St. Paul lays it on the line.

 

“Be angry,” he says. “But do not sin.”

 

Trust me, I’ve been angry plenty.

 

But be angry, without acting maliciously in your anger.

 

“Let no evil talk come out of your mouth...”

 

“Do not grieve the Holy Spirit…”

 

We grieve the Holy Spirit when we let those negative, angry words out ofour mouths.

 

When we backbite and complain.

 

When we bash others when others aren’t there.

 

What harm can it do? we wonder.

 

They can’t hear it.

 

But the Holy Spirit hears it.

 

And those negative words do make a difference.

 

They make a difference with God. 

  “Put away from you all bitternessand wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice and bekind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ hasforgiven you.”

 

But, then, as though to drive home his point, he puts before us achallenge like few other challenges.

 

“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love,as Christ loved us and gave himself for us, a fragrant offering and sacrificeto God.”

 

“Be imitators of God,” Paul says to us.

 

Be imitators of the God of love we worship.

 

Be imitators of the God of love who loves each of us fully andcompletely.

 

Be imitators of the God of love who loves us for who we are, just as weare, even when we lash out with our angry words at others.

 

Be imitators of the God who hears our prayers and answers us by feedingus with a life-giving bread in the wilderness of our lives.

 

For me, this has to be the most difficult thing about being a followerof Jesus.

 

There are days when I want to be angry at those people who have wrongedme and hurt me.

 

There are days when I want to get revenge on them and “show them.”

 

There are days when it feels almost pleasurable to think about “gettingeven” with those people and “putting them in their place.”

 

It’s so easy and it feels so good.

 

And it makes the pain of betrayal less.

 

That is certainly the easier thing to do—at least for me.

 

But driving that anger and hatred and frustration from me is so muchharder.

 

Being an imitator of God—a God of radical acceptance—is much harder,much more difficult.

 

To be an imitator of the God of love takes work. Hard, concentratedwork. 

 

But, in the end, it’s better.

 

Life is just so much better when the darkness of anger is gone from it.

 

Life seems so much less dangerous when we realize everyone is not ourenemy.

 

Life is so much sweeter when we refuse to see a person as an enemy whosees us as their enemy.

 

Life is just always so much better when peace and love reign.

 

Yes, I know. It seems so Pollyannaish.

 

It seems so naïve.

 

It seems as though we are deceiving ourselves.

 

But, the fact is, it takes a much stronger person to love.

 

It takes a very strong person to act in peace and love and not in angerand fear.

 

It takes a person of radical strength to be an imitator of a God ofradical love.

 

We, as followers of Jesus, as imitators of God, need to rid ourselves ofthe thorns and brambles of hatred and anger so we can let the flowers of peaceblossom in our lives.

 

But it begins with us.

 

It begins with us seeing ourselves for who are—loved children of Godattempting to imitate that God of love.

 

So, let us be true followers of Jesus in all aspects of our lives.

 

Let us strive to imitate our God of peace and love in everything we do.

 

Let us, in imitating our God, also reach out and feed those who are intheir own wilderness.

 

Let us let peace and love reign in our hearts and in our lives.

 

And when we let peace and love reign, we will find that it permeatesthrough us.

 

Everything we do is an act of peace, is an act of love to others.

 

And that is what being a follower of Jesus in this world is.

 

That is the sermon we preach to others, even if we’re not that great ofa preacher.

 

That is the message of God’s love that we proclaim in our very lives, evenwhen we’re depressed and anxious.  

 

That is true evangelism.

 

And that is what each of us is not only called to do by Jesus, butcommanded to do by him.

 

When we do, that love will change the world.

 

 

11 Pentecost

 

August 4, 2024

 

Exodus 16.2-4,9-15; Psalm 78.23-29; John 6.24-35

 

+ Last Monday, we celebrated the 50th Anniversary ofthe first women ordained to the Priesthood in the Episcopal Church by watching anamazing documentary about the trials and struggles of those first eleven women,the so-called Philadelphia 11.

 

The documentary was, at turns, shocking, sobering and frightening,but also inspiring and affirming.

 

As I said on Monday evening, I can’t even imagine where we as a Churchwould be without our women clergy.

 

But what really inspired me about the whole documentary was howthese women, despite being blamed and ostracized and made fun of and snubbed,were somehow sustained in their calling by their faith in God and their commitmentto their calling.

 

God provided for them, even against the odds.

 

And they were able to persevere.

 

It reminded me in many ways of our scripture readings for today.

 

In our reading from the Hebrew Scriptures, we find the Israelites,in their hunger, complaining and grumbling.

 

In some translations, we find the word “murmuring.”

 

Over and over again in the Exodus story they seem to complain andgrumble and murmur.

 

To be fair, complaining and grumbling would be expected frompeople who are hungry, who are feeling abandoned and left to their own devices inthe wilderness.  

 

But in their hunger, even after they have complained and murmured,God does something for them:

 

God provides for them.

 

God provides them this mysterious manna—this strange bread fromheaven.

 

It’s the manna itself that has always confused me.

 

In my mind, I still don’t have a very clear image of what it couldpossible have been.

 

In fact, nobody’s real clear what this mysterious manna actuallywas.

 

It’s often described as flakes, or a dew-like substance.

 

(It does not sound very appetizing)

 

I wonder if it was vegan?

 

But one thing we do know: it was miraculous.

 

Now, in our Gospel, we find the same story of the Israelites andtheir hunger, but it has been turned around entirely.

 

As our Liturgy of the Word for today begins with hunger and allthe complaining and murmuring and grumbling and craving that goes along withit, it ends with fulfillment.

 

We find that the hungers now are the hungers and the cravings ofour souls, of our hearts.

 

Now, this kind of spiritual hunger is just as real and just asall-encompassing as physical hunger.

 

It, like physical hunger, can gnaw at us.

 

We too crave after spiritual fulfillment.

 

We mumble and complain and murmur when we are spirituallyunfulfilled.

 

We too feel that gaping emptiness within us when we hunger from aplace that no physical food or drink can quench.

 

In a sense, we too are like the Israelites, wandering about in ourown wilderness—our own spiritual wilderness.

 

Most of us know what is like to be out there—in that spiritualwasteland—grumbling and complaining, hungry, shaking our fists at the skies andat God.

 

We, like them, cry and complain and lament.

 

We feel sorry for ourselves and for the predicaments we’rein. 

 

And we, like them, say to ourselves and to God, “If only I hadn’tfollowed God out here—if only I had stayed put or followed the easier route, Iwouldn’t be here.”

 

We’ve all been in that place.

 

We’ve all been in that desert, to that place we thought God hadled us.

 

Last Lent, Dan Rice led a class on the Lamenting psalms inscripture.

 

 

Lamenting is a word that seems kind of outdated for most of us.

 

We think of lamenting being some overly dramatic complaining.

 

Which is exactly what it is.

 

It was what we do when we feel things like desolation.

 

Like hunger, few of us, again I hope, have felt utter desolation.

 

But when we do, we know, there is no real reason to despair.

 

As followers of Jesus, we will find our strength and consolationin the midst of that spiritual wilderness.

 

We know that manna will come to us in that spiritual desert.

 

God always provides.

 

We must always remind ourselves of that simple fact.

 

No matter how terrible the desert experience may be, God willprovide.

 

In whatever terrible situation we may find ourselves in—even oneswe have brought upon ourselves, God will rain manna down upon us.

 

God will shower us with grace and goodness.

 

For us, manna has come many times in our lives.

 

And I am not talking about flaky bread falling from the sky.

 

I am talking about sustenance.

 

Real sustenance.

 

This is how God works in our lives.

 

Yes, we might complain.

 

Yes, we might shake our fists at God, and say, “this is unfair!”

 

We might lament and complain about being hungry in the wildernessof our lives.

 

But God, we find, is not distant.

 

God is right here. In the wilderness.

 

Right here, with us.

 

After eating our fill of manna in our lives, we no longer canaccuse God of being distant.

 

Because, God has come to us.

 

And the sign that God is with us?

 

God has fed us.

 

Look at all the ways in our lives in which God has truly fed us!

 

Again and again.

 

In those moments when God has provided for us, when God has drawnclose and given us all we needed (and didn’t even know we even needed in in thefirst place) that is when we know we have truly eaten the Bread of angels.

 

It is then that we have had the grain of heaven.

 

In our hunger, God always feeds us.

 

In our grumbling and complaining, God quiets us.

 

After all, when we are eating and drinking, we can’t complain andgrumble.

 

And unlike the food we eat day by day, the food God provides uswith will not perish.

 

God sends us the bread of life.

 

“I am thebread of life,” we heard Jesus say in our Gospel reading. “Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in mewill never be thirsty.”

 

In the echo of that statement, we are silenced.

 

Our grumbling spiritual stomachs are silenced.

 

Our spiritual loneliness is vanquished.

 

Our cravings are fulfilled.

 

In the wake of those powerful words, we find our emptinessfulfilled.

 

We find the strength to make our way out of the wilderness to thepromised land.

 

And, we who eat of this bread, of this manna from heaven, we inturn become the bread of life to others. 

 

“Whoever comesto me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

 

So, let us be thankful for the manna we have received—in whateverform that manna has come to us in our lives.

 

Let the One who feeds us take from us our gnawing hunger and ourcraving thirst, once and for all.

 

And when God does, it is then that we will be given what we havebeen truly craving all along.

 

 

 

 

 

 

10 Pentecost

 

July 26, 2024

 

2 Kings 4.42-44; John 6.1-21

 

+  The life of a someone whopreaches as profession is often a strange one.

 

Certainly, this past “week”---has it been a week? It feel like amonth considering all that has been happening in our current political climate—hasgiven preachers a lot to speak about.

 

For me, however, I’m kind of a lazy preacher, I will admit.

 

I don’t usually preach about anything that doesn’t interest me ormotivate me.

 

Well, today, I get to preach about something I really LOVE topreach about.

 

I love to preach about the that one event that holds us togetherhere at St. Stephen’s, that sustains us and that, in many ways, defines us.

 

Yes, I am talking about the childless cat ladies of St. Stephen’s!

 

Thank you to all of our childless cat ladies.

 

You are what holds us together here.

 

And we are grateful for you.

 

And for the fact that you, right now, have the ability to changethe world for the better.

 

Actually, I am speaking the REAL thing that holds us together, thatsustains and defines us: the Holy Eucharist—Holy Communion.

 

I LOVE to preach about and explore and talk about the Mystery thatis the Eucharist.

 

I love pondering the beauty of why what we do with bread and winehere at this altar is so important to us, to vital to us.

 

I love thinking about all the ways God works through this meal weshare here.

 

But, I also really like the “symbolism” of the Eucharist, and Iuse that word  “symbol” very carefully.

 

If we were going to look at the Eucharist from the perspective ofthose first Jewish followers of Jesus, we would see that this bread we share atthis meal is essentially the Lamb that was offered on the altar, and this cupis the blood that was shed from that lamb.

 

For those of us who saw the documentary together last springcalled Christspiracy, we were confronted with something certainly I hadn’treally thought about:

 

The fact that Jesus’s introduction of the sacrificial bead andwine was a radical alternative to the bloody temple sacrifices of animals toGod.

 

Jesus’ use of bread and wine was, it can be argued, a non-violent,bloodless sacrifice to God.

 

This is something I have pondered and prayed about studied deeplysince I saw that documentary.

 

 Jesus also saw it as a wayfor us to remember him.

 

Jesus, as we all know, saw himself as the Lamb that was offeredand slain on that altar as a sacrifice.

 

So, what we do today and on every Sunday and Wednesday is acontinuation of what was offered by Jesus as a non-violent, bloodlessalternative to what was done in the Temple in Jesus’ own day.

 

We tend to forget this important fact in our Christian life.

 

We forget that this is a meal we share with one another.

 

We often come to Communion without really thinking about it.

 

We often think of Communion as a quaint little ritual we do, sortof like a Church-version of a tea party.

 

But when we put the Eucharist in the larger perspective of ourhistory as the people of God, we realize that every time we partake of thebread and wine of the Eucharist, we are joining in at that sacrificial worshipthat has gone for thousands of years.

 

This is the sacrifice of wine and wheat we hear about in the bookof Joel.

 

Now, I know some of you immediately find yourselves bristling whenyou hear the word “sacrifice” here.

 

Sacrifice and the Mass seem a bit too…Catholic..for some.

 

But it is a sacrifice.

 

What we do here is sacrificial.

 

 

And just to make sure you don’t think this is one of Fr. Jamie’sweird, quirky takes on what we do here, I would like to draw your attentiononce again to the Book of Common Prayer, in the back, in the Catechism.

 

On page 859

 

The second question under “The Holy Eucharist” is,

 

 

Q.

Why is the Eucharist called a sacrifice?

A.

Because the Eucharist, the Church's sacrifice of praise and 
thanksgiving, is the way by which the sacrifice of Christ is 
made present, and in which he unites us to his one offering 
of himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, the Eucharist is this incredible thing really.

 

It is a meal.

 

It is a “symbol” of the sacrifice of Jesus.

 

It is a way to remember Jesus and all he has done.

 

And it is a non-violent, bloodless sacrifice of praise andthanksgiving to God.

 

All this just goes to show us this wonderful way in which Godworks through something very basic in our lives to make something deep andmeaningful.

 

Namely, I am talking about food.

 

Nothing draws us closer to each other than food.

 

Food is an important way to bond with each other.

 

And food a great reminder of how God truly does provide for us.

 

Our scriptures for today give us some interesting perspectives on foodas well.

 

In today’s reading from the Hebrew Scriptures, we find Elishafeeding the people.

 

We hear this wonderful passage, “He set it before them, they ateand had some left, according to the word of the Lord.”

 

It’s a deceptively simple passage from scripture.

 

But there’s a lot of depth to it too if you really ponder it.

 

In our Gospel reading, we find almost the same event.

 

Jesus—in a sense the new Elisha—is feeding miraculously themultitude.

 

And by feeding, by doing a miracle, they recognize him for who heis.

 

For them, he is “the Prophet who has come into their midst.”

 

For us, these stories resonate in what we do here at the altar.

 

What we partake of here at this altar is essentially the sameevent.

 

Here we are fed by God as well.

 

Here there is a miracle.

 

Here, we find God’s chosen one, the “Prophet come to us” Jesus—thenew Elisha—feeding us.

 

We come forward and we eat.

 

And there is some left over.

 

The miracle, however, isn’t that there is some left over.

 

The miracle for us is the meal itself.

 

In this meal we share, we are sustained.

 

We our strengthened.

 

We are upheld.

 

We are fed in ways regular food does not feed us.

 

There is something so beautiful in the way God works through theEucharist.

 

This beautifully basic act—of eating and drinking—is so vital tous as humans.

 

But being sustained spiritually in such a way is beyond beautifulor basic.

 

It is miraculous.

 

And as with any miracle, we find ourselves oftentimes eitherhumbled or blind to its impact in our lives.

 

This simple act is not just a simple act.

 

It is an act of coming forward, of eating and drinking, and thenof turning around and going out into the world to feed others.

 

To feed others on what we now embody within ourselves—this livingsacrifice to God.

 

And how do we do that?

 

We do that by serving others by example.

 

By being that living Bread to others.

 

The Eucharist not simply a private devotion.

 

Yes, it is a wonderfully intimate experience.

 

But it is so more than that.

 

The Eucharist is what we do together.

 

And the Eucharist is something that doesn’t simply end when we getback to our pews or leave the Church building.

 

The Eucharist is what we carry with us throughout our day-to-daylives as Christians.

 

The Eucharist empowers us to be agents of the Incarnation of God’sSon.

 

We are empowered by this Eucharist to be the Body of Christ toothers.

 

Through the Eucharist, we become God’s anointed ones in thisworld.

 

And that is where this whole act of the Eucharist comes together.

 

It’s where the rubber meets the road, so to speak.

 

When we see it from that perspective, we realize that this reallyis a miracle in our lives—just as miraculous as what Elisha did and certainlyas miraculous as what Jesus did in our Gospel reading for today.

 

So, let us be aware of this beauty that comes so miraculously tous each time we gather together here at this altar.

 

The Eucharist is an incredible gift given to us by our God.

 

Let us embody God’s anointed One, the Christ, whom we encounterhere in this Bread and Wine.

 

Let us, by being fed so miraculously, be the actual Body ofChrist to others.

 

Let us feed those who need to be fed.

 

Let us sustain those who need to be sustained.

 

And let us be mindful of the fact that this food of which wepartake has the capabilities to feed more people and to change more lives thanwe can even begin to imagine.

 

Let us pray.

Holy God, you sustain us. You give us manna from heaven eachtime we come before your altar—food that sustains our souls, food that makes uswhat we eat—the Body of your Christ in this world. Help us to go out from hereto feed others with this manna, this Bread of heaven you have given us, so thatthe world may be truly fed. We ask this in the name of Jesus, our true Bread.Amen.

 

 

 

9 Pentecost

 

July 21, 2024

 

Psalm 23

 

+ Isn’t it sometimes strange the things you take for granted?

 

For me, one of the things I have long taken for granted is the 23rdPsalm.

 

If I had a dollar for every time I have heard the 23rdPsalm in my life, I would sunning it up right now at my villa in Cap d’Antibes.

 

But, just think for one moment.

 

Think about all the times you have heard, throughout your life,the 23rd Psalm.

 

Think of all those funerals.

 

Think of all those times when you have heard it and you couldrecite it by heart.  

 

Or think of all those films you may have watched in which the 23rdPsalm was recited.

 

I remember well, in the original film of In Cold Blood, how the 23rd Psalm is read in the powerfulclosing scene as the murderers are hanged.

 

Or in the film Titanic,how the psalm was recited as the ship went down.

 

Or, in the great Clint Eastwood Western, Pale Rider (a film full of Christian symbolism), how there was agreat dialog version of the 23rd Psalm in which a girl whose dog waskilled by marauders recites the psalm, but then responds to the verses with commentslike “But I DO want” and “But I AM afraid.”

 

In fact, that dialog version from Pale Rider is what the Psalms are all about.

 

Now as most of you know, I pray the Psalms every day—at leasttwice a day—when I pray Morning and Evening Prayer from the Daily Office fromthe Book of Common Prayer.

 

And there are times ways in which those psalms, or other scripturesspeak to where I am in my life just at that moment.

 

When you pray the psalms in such a way, day in and day out, trustme, you often find yourself in a dialog form of prayer with them.

 

We find God speaking to us, sometimes in mysterious ways, in thesepsalms.

 

For me, that’s the correct way to pray the psalms.

 

If the psalms aren’t used as a kind of dialog—if they don’t becomeour prayers—then they’re being used incorrectly.

 

But, even for me, for someone who prays the Psalms on a dailybasis and has for over twenty-five years, I also have taken the 23rdPsalm for granted.

 

Oftentimes when something becomes so ingrained into our culture,we don’t even give it a second thought.

 

We find ourselves missing its nuances, it beauties, itsdepths. 

 

Because it is so popular, because we have heard it so much in ourlives, we really do take the 23rd Psalm for granted.

 

We don’t really think about it and what it means.

 

So, this morning, let’s take a close look at this psalm to which wehave paid so little attention.

 

We’re going to do something this morning that we haven’t done in awhile, but it’s fun to do on occasion.

 

We are going to take a line-by-line look at Psalm 23.

 

If you want to follow along, you can do so on page 612 in the BCP

 

Of if you want to the traditional KJV of it, you can find that onpage 476 in the BCP.

 

(And I apologize for the all masculine language for God in thequote here, but I’m trying to use a version close to that which we are all mostfamiliar)

 

OK. I know you might be inwardly groaning at such a prospect.

 

But bear with me.

 

Sometimes it’s good to have a poet for your priest.

 

Sometimes.

 

So, let us take a good, in-depth look at this psalm.

  

And there’s no better to begin, than the beginning.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall notwant. 

There’s an interesting choice of words here.

Want.

I shall not be in want.

Why?

Essentially, this line is perfect, really.

Why would I need to want anything, with God asmy shepherd, as the One who leads me and guides me and provides for me.

If we are being shepherded, if we are beingwatched over and cared for, there is no need to want to for anything.

We are provided for by our God.

We are taken care of.

And want is just not something we have.

   [TheLord]  makes me lie down in greenpastures;
[you] lead me beside still waters; 
   [you] restore my soul.

So, here we have sort of this idyllic image.

Green pastures.

Still waters.

The sense here is calmness.

For all those funerals at which this psalm hasbeen recited, this image no doubt calls to mind images of heaven.

But, for us, right now, this image isimportant too.

God’s presence in our lives essentially stillswhatever anxieties we might have.

God, who is our shepherd, will only find thechoicest places for us, the best places.

Just as we don’t want, just as we are takencare of and cared for, so we  are led to aplace of safety and beauty, because God loves us just that much.

And we will be well.

[The Lord] leads me in right paths
   for [your] name’s sake. 

Again, God the Shepherd leads.

And where does God lead?

God leads us on the right path, through theright way.

But then we come across this strange wording,

For God’s name’s sake.

Again, notice at this point how often we havetaken this psalm for granted.

How many times have we recited or prayed thesewords?

But without asking, what does that mean?

“For his name’s sake?”

Well, for us, it shows that God’s reputationis one of goodness and mercy and rightness.

For God’s Name’s sake, in this sense, meansthat it is God’s will, God’s purpose, God is known for doing good things forus, for leading us on those right paths.

Even though I walk through the valley ofthe shadow of death,
   I fear no evil;
for you are with me;

Those are iconic lines if there ever were any.

Now, this is not bragging mind, you, but I,for one, know what the valley of the shadow of death is.

I have been there.

I have ventured through it more than once.

I went through it when I was diagnosed withcancer.

I went through it during my various seasons ofgrief.

But the valley of the shadow of death isdifferent of each us.

I remember well my mother saying that givingbirth, for her, was like walking through the shadow of death.

The shadow of death for us is the darkest,most horrendous place we can think of in life.

And for us, we know that even there we are notalone.

God is with us even in that darkness, eventhat close to death.

And not only with us, vaguely hovering overus.

No.

God is there to support us, to hold us, toguide us forward

Hence,

   your rod and your staff—
   they comfort me. 

God’s strength holds us up and sustains useven then.

But then, we come to this strange verse,

Youprepare a table before me
   in the presence of my enemies;

Didn’t I just talk about how God only leads usinto places of beauty and light?

And now, here we have God preparing a tablefor us in the presence of our enemies.

At first glance, this seems like somethinghorrible, like a cruel joke.

Why would God put us at a table with ourenemies?

But, if you notice, there is a bit of defiancein this verse.

Go ahead and sit with your enemies, God seemsto say to us.

You can’t be protected from all harm.

There are dangers out there.

There are bad things in this world.

There is a valley of the shadow of death!

There are people who don’t like us.

Yes, we may very well have real enemies.

But don’t fear, God says in this psalm.

I am with you.

And because I am, you can even sit down at thetable with your enemies and you will be fine.

Even there, in the presence of our enemies,

Our heads are anointed with oil—we are blessed and consecrated by our God,

And there, at the table in the presence of ourenemies, our cup overflows withGod’s goodness.

Even there, we will be all right.

Because we are following the right path.

And on that path, there is goodness and mercy following us.

Not just today.

Not just tomorrow.

But allthe days of our lives.

This how God rewards those of us who arefaithful in our following of God.

And at the very, we know what awaits us.

We know what the ultimate goal is in followingGod our Shepherd.

We know where God will lead us.

God will lead us to that place in which we dwell in the house of God, our whole lifelong.

See, this psalm really is amazing!

No wonder this psalm has been so important toso many people over so many years.

This psalm is our psalm.

It is a wonderful microcosm of our faithjourney.

And it is a beautiful reminder to us of God’scontinued goodness in our lives.

So, when we are at a funeral and we hear the23rd Psalm or we hear it being recited in a film, let us truly hearit for what it is.

Let it speak to us anew.

And most importantly, let it be a reminder tous of God’s goodness and mercy, of God’s care for each of us.

God is our shepherd.

God leads us and guards us and guides us.

We have nothing to fear.

And, one day, we will dwell in the house of ourGod forever.

 

 

 

7 Pentecost

July 7, 2024

 

2 Corinthians 12.2-10; Mark 6.1-13

+ Sometimes, when you engage Scripture on a daily basis, whenengagement with scripture is a big part of your job, like it is to me, Isometimes don’t give things a second thought.

 

I’ll give you an example.

 

Prophets.

 

We hear a lot about prophets and prophecy in Scripture.

 

We read from their prophecies, we hear the stories of how prophetswere often despised and hated.

 

And we heard about the danger of false prophets.

 

And if we think prophets—legitimate or false—are things of thepast, we are happily living in our wonderful Episcopal bubble, because in theworld of American Nationalist evangelicalism, there are so-called “prophets”out there right now, claiming lots of prophecies about our country, our country’sleadership and the world.

 

Look them up only for entertainment value.

 

Because it’s pretty easy to see how false prophets are alive and well,here in the United States right now.  

 

But I have always found prophets interesting.

 

I find it fascinating that God chose particular people, to speakto in a very clear and distinct way.

 

And how, as wonderful as that may sound, being a prophet is aninglorious profession.

 

In our Gospel reading for today, wefind Jesus coming to his hometown and people taking offense at him because theyknow he is special, he is different, because he has a special communicativerelationship with God.

 

He seems to shrug that off with asimple, “‘Prophets are not without honour, except in their home town, andamong their own kin, and in their own house

 

And to a large extent, that is thetruth.

 

Legitimate prophecy can be a goodthing, or it can be a bad thing.

 

It depends on where you end up on thereceiving end of prophecy.

 

But we need to be very clear here:

 

Prophets are not some kind of psychics or fortune tellers.

 

Yes, they see things and know things we “normal” people don’t seeor know.

 

They are people with vision.

 

They have knowledge the rest of us don’t.

 

But, again, prophets aren’t psychics or fortune tellers.

 

Psychics or fortune tellers tend to be people who believe they havesome kind of special power that they were often born with (if we believe insuch things)

 

Prophets, as we see in scripture again and again, aren’t born.

 

Prophets are picked by God and instilled with God’s Spirit.

 

God’s Spirit enters them and sets them on their feet.

 

And when they are instilled with God’s Spirit, they don’t justtell us our fortunes.

 

They don’t just do some kind of psychic mumbo jumbo to tell uswhat our futures are going to be or what kind of wealth we’re going to have orwho our true love is.

 

What they tell us isn’t just about us as individuals.

 

Rather, the prophet tells us things about all of us that we mightnot want to hear.

 

They stir us up, they provoke us, they jar us.

 

Maybe that’s why we find the idea of prophets so uncomfortable.

 

And that’s what we dislike the most about them.

 

We don’t like people who make us uncomfortable.

 

We don’t like people who stir us up, who provoke us, who jar usout of our complacency.

 

Prophets come into our lives like lightning bolts and when theystrike, they explode like electric sparks.

 

They shatter our complacency to pieces.

 

They shove us.

 

They push us hard outside the safe box in which we live (andworship) and they leave us bewildered.

 

Prophets, as much as they are like us, are also unlike us as well.

 

The Spirit of God has transformed these normal people intosomething else.

 

And this is what we need from our prophets.

 

After all, we are certain about our ideas of God, right?

 

We, in our complacency, think we know God—we know what God thinksand wants of us and the world and the Church.

 

Prophets, touched as they are by the Spirit of God in that uniqueway, frighten us because what they convey to us about God is sometimessomething very different than we thought we knew about God.

 

The prophet is not afraid to say to us: “You are wrong. You arewrong in what you think about God and about what you think God is saying toyou.”

 

Nothing makes us angrier than someone telling us we’rewrong—especially about our perception of God.

 

And that is the reason we sometimes refuse to recognize theprophet.

 

That is why the prophet is not often accepted in their home town oramong their own kin.

 

That is why we resist the prophet, and resist change, and resistlooking forward in hope.

 

We reject prophets because they know how to reach deep down withinus, to that one sensitive place inside us and they know how to press just theright button that will cause us to react.

 

And the worst prophet we can imagine is not the one who comes tous from some other place.

 

The worst prophet is not the one who comes to us as a stranger.

 

The worst prophet we can imagine is the one who comes to us fromour own neighborhood—from the very midst of us.

 

The worst prophet is the one whom we’ve known.

 

Who is one of us.

 

We knew them before the Spirit of God’s prophecy descended uponthem.

 

And now, they have been transformed with this knowledge of God.

 

They are different.

 

These people we know, that we saw in their inexperience, are nowspeaking as a conduit of God’s Voice.

 

When someone we know begins to say and do things they say Godtells them to do, we find ourselves becoming very defensive very quickly.

 

Certainly, we can understand why people in Jesus’ hometown hadsuch difficulty in accepting him.

 

We would too.

 

We, rational people that we are, would no doubt try to explainaway who he was and what he did.

 

But probably the hardest aspect of Jesus’ message to us is thesimple fact that he, in a very real sense, calls us and empowers us to beprophets as well.

 

As Christians, we are called to be a bit different than others.

 

We are transformed in some ways by the presence of God’s Spirit inour lives.

 

In a sense, God empowers us with the Spirit to be conduits of thatSpirit to others.

 

If we felt uncomfortable about others being prophets, we’re evenmore uncomfortable about being prophets ourselves.

 

Being a prophet, just like hearing the prophet, means we must shedour complacency.

 

If our neighbor as the prophet frightens us and irritates us, weourselves being the prophet is even more frightening and irritating.

 

The Spirit of prophecy we received from God seems a bit unusual tothose people around us.

 

Loving God?

 

Loving those who hate us or despise us?

 

Being peaceful—in spirit and action—in the face of overwhelmingviolence or anger?

 

To side with the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized when it ismuch easier and more personally pleasing to be with the wealthy and powerful?

 

Or BE the wealthy and powerful!

 

To welcome all people as equals, who deserve the same rights wehave, even if we might not really—deep down—think of them as equals?

 

To actually see the Kingdom of God breaking through in instanceswhen others only see failure and defeat?

 

That is what it means to be a prophet.

 

Being a prophet has nothing to do with our own sense of comfort.

 

Being a prophet means seeing and sensing and proclaiming thatKingdom of God—and God’s sense of what is right. 

 

For us, as Christians, that is what we are to do—we are to striveto see and proclaim the Kingdom of God.

 

We are to help bring that Kingdom forth and when it is here, weare to proclaim it in word and in deed.

 

Because when that Spirit of God comes upon us, we become acommunity of prophets, and when we do, we become the Kingdom of God presenthere.

 

Being a prophet in our days is more than just preaching doom andgloom to people.

 

And let me tell you; we’re hearing plenty of doom and gloom rightnow.

 

It’s more than saying to people: “repent, for the kingdom of Godis near!”

 

Being a prophet in our day means being able to recognize injusticeand oppression in our midst and to speak out about them.

 

And, most importantly, CHANGE those things.

 

Being a prophet means we’re going to press people’s buttons.

 

And when we do, let me tell you by first-hand experience, peopleare going to react.

 

We need to be prepared to do that, if we are to be prophets inthis day and age.

 

But we can’t be afraid to do so.

 

We need to continue to speak out.

 

We need to do the right thing.

 

We need to heed God’s voice speaking to us, and then followthrough.

 

And we need to keep looking forward.

 

In hope.

 

 And trusting in our God wholeads the way.

 

We need to continue to be the prophets who have visions of howincredible it will be when that Kingdom of God breaks through into our midstand transforms us.

 

We need to keep striving to welcome all people, to strive for theequality and equal rights of all people in this church, in our nation and inthe world.

 

So, let us proclaim the Kingdom of God in our midst with thefervor of prophets.

 

Let us proclaim that Kingdom without fear—without the fear ofrejection from those who know us.

 

Let us look forward and strive forward and move forward in hope.

 

I don’t know if we can be truly content with weaknesses, insults,hardships, persecutions, and calamities, as we heard from Paul’s in his epistletoday.

 

But having endured them, we know that none of these thingsultimately defeat us.

 

And that is the secret of our resilience in the face of anythinglife may throw at us.

 

Let us bear these things.

 

With dignity.

 

With honor.

 

Let us be strong and shoulder what needs to be shouldered.

 

Because, we know.

 

In that strange paradoxical way we know thatwhenever it seems that we are weak, it is then that we are truly strong.