On the Edge of Advent with Mary
| The Rev. Brandon AshcraftOn the Edge of Advent with Mary
For starters, we are still – for a few more hours at least – in the season of Advent, and Advent is a liminal season. It locates us on a threshold between two ages: the age of Christ’s first coming in the manager at Bethlehem, and the age of his future coming in great glory. Based on your presence here this morning, you are truly committed Advent people! And you have arrived at a uniquely liminal place within this liminal season. A place we only encounter every seven years or so, when the Fourth Sunday of Advent and Christmas Eve collide on the same day. The liminality of this moment is apparent when we consider our surroundings. Looking around, we discover that we are on the edge of Advent, because we can see, quite literally, the arrival of Christmas in the distance [gestures to the Nave that is elaborately decorated for the Christmas services later in the day]. And yet, in here, in this chapel, our “Kyrie eleisons” has not yet given way to “Gloria in execelsis”; the vestments are still purple, not white; and the Christ candle of the Advent wreath remains unlit. Our feet are firmly planted in Advent, but our eyes can behold Christmas in the distance. It does not get more liminal than this.
And every year, on this fourth and final Sunday of Advent, we meet the Blessed Virgin Mary. The vessel of the Incarnation. In whose womb humanity and divinity will meet for sake of the world’s redemption. No one denies that Mary is a central figure in the biblical narrative, but she is also a subject of some controversy. Christians of different traditions hold wide-ranging views about Mary’s importance and make conflicting theological claims about her. When the angel Gabriel greets Mary as “favored one,” does that mean, according to Roman Catholic doctrine, that she is an extraordinary human who is without sin? Or, as most Protestants suggest, is she an ordinary, sinful human being whose role in God’s drama of salvation reminds us that we, too, have important roles to play in God’s mission? As Anglicans, I invite us to be true to our identity as people of the “middle way” in our contemplation of Mary this morning. To put aside questions of dogma, or questions about the historicity of the Virgin birth, in favor of living in the grey. In favor of embracing the mystery. I invite us to assume a posture of awe and wonder at this incredible story we just heard.
Today, our gospel recounts the Annunciation: the event that informs Mary that she – of all the women in the world and across the ages – is the one on whom God has bestowed the singular vocation of giving birth to the Savior of the world. This incredible story has captivated imaginations across the centuries: memorialized in paintings, frescoes, stained glass windows, and mosaics in museums, cathedrals, and parish churches around the world. Although the story is brief, its characterization of Mary is rich and complex. In 12 verses of scripture, Mary is described as favored, perplexed, thoughtful and afraid. She begins in a posture of confusion and reticence, but by the end, she humbly submits herself to God’s call.
In his telling of this story, the evangelist Luke paints a rich and detailed scene, but he also leaves much to our imagination. We are left to wonder: what was Mary doing when the angel Gabriel arrived? Was she reading and meditating on scripture, as some artistic renderings would have us believe? Or was she engaged in some mundane, domestic chore? Did Mary heed the angel’s salutation to “not be afraid”? Did she come near to Gabriel, as if they were two old friends sharing a secret? Or did she prostrate herself at a distance in fear-gripped submission? When Mary inquired of Gabriel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” was her tone one of genuine curiosity, or indignant protest? Our capacity to imagine this story in different ways becomes evident when we survey artistic renderings of this scene, several of which I have included in your bulletins.
I wonder what moment in this story most captures your imagination? For me, it is one particular liminal moment. That precise moment after Gabriel reveals the full extent of God’s plans for Mary. I am fixated on the moment between Gabriel’s answer to Mary’s question, and Mary’s response: “Let it be with me according to your word.” Before she utters those faith-filled words, I imagine a pregnant silence, while she contemplates the magnitude of what has been asked of her. And in that silence, I imagine that all of creation, across time and space, is holding its breath, as it waits for Mary’s answer. Was there ever a moment when more was at stake? After all, the world’s redemption hinges on Mary’s answer. The God of all creation, the God who put the stars in the sky and breathed life in the dust to create mankind – that same God chose this singular moment 2,000 years ago and this singular young woman in a backwater Galilean town for this pivotal role in his plan of salvation. And it was Mary’s singular response that forever altered the course of human history.
The medieval monk and mystic, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, describes this moment in a beautiful homily entitled “The whole world waits for Mary’s answer.” I invite you to listen to his description of this poignant moment. To the Virgin Mary, St. Bernard says:
The price of our salvation is offered to you. We shall be set free at once if you consent. In the eternal Word of God we all came to be, and behold, we die [in our sin]. In your brief response we are to be remade in order to be recalled to life. Tearful Adam with his sorrowing family begs this of you, O loving Virgin, in their exile from Paradise. Abraham begs it, David begs it. All the other holy patriarchs, your ancestors, ask it of you, as they dwell in the country of the shadow of death. This is what the whole earth waits for, prostrate at your feet.
I wonder…when will your moment come to answer God’s invitation? To become a participant in God’s divine plan? In this liminal moment on the edge of Advent, with the feast of our Lord’s Nativity on the horizon, I invite you to linger for a moment with this story. To behold with wonder that God’s plan for salvation hinged on the cooperation of a lowly peasant girl in Galilee. Mary’s “yes” gave birth to the world’s redemption. What new thing might God birth through us, if we but have the willingness to say, with Mary, “Let it be with me according to your will.”
Who Are You?
| The Rev. Gabriel LawrenceWho Are You?
This idea that God calls people to service who we might least expect is common. While we don’t know any of John the Baptist’s call story, I do wonder how John may have responded the first time God called him. “John, I am calling you to baptize and call people to repentance. This work will prepare the way for my son who will come into the world, a person who is greater than you.” I imagine John may have told God “No!” a few times himself, or said “Please let me do anything else!” After all, John had his life planned out. He would spend his days eating locust and honey and sew his own clothes made from camel hair. These days, we might call John “crunchy”. He’d probably be wearing socks with his Birkenstocks. I wonder how John might have wrestled with God when God called him to wilderness work.
Whether or not, we know how John initially answered God’s call to baptize and preach repentance, we know that John did answer the call. And we hear in the gospel this morning, not John questioning his own call, but the crowd. They ask him “Who are you?’’ And the real questions behind the question is “Where are your credentials?” “What gives you the right to baptize and teach and preach repentance?” “Are you the prophet?” “Are you Elijah?” You see, the priests and Levites sent to question John did not expect someone like him to be performing rites of purification and teaching. These were jobs left usually to Temple professionals like themselves. John’s type was the last kind of person they expected to be doing the holy and important work of God.
And John answers them, “I am not the prophet. I baptize with water, but the one coming after me, (who John already knew to be the Christ), is someone you won’t recognize either. If we go back a few verses in John from the ones we heard in our Gospel today, we read “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own,and his own people did not accept him.” God sent God’s son into the world, and the world did not know him. The world did not recognize God made known to us in the person of Jesus. In the person of Jesus, God did something new. God is always doing something new. God is always challenging our perceptions. God is always asking us to find God’s self in places we don’t expect.
And God is always stirring. The collect for today, the Third Sunday of Advent, begins “Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us.” And I can’t think of a text that embodies this stirring up more than the Song of Mary. She says that God has shown God’s strength, but not how we might expect. He has scattered the proud in their conceit and honored those who are humble. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones of power and saved and given special place to those who are usually left out. He has sent the rich away empty and given the resources of the rich to those in need. In all of this, God has flipped the world as we know it upside down. And God did this in the person of Jesus, who John the Baptist points to as the one who will come after him.
Part of our work in this season of Advent is to prepare our hearts to be stirred by God’s power so that we may receive Christ when he comes- so that we don’t miss Christ at Christmas when we might be looking for someone or something else. So, where do we find God? We look to the places that make us wince. The places that stand out. The places that are different. Next week, we will find God on a cold, silent night in a trough made to feed barn animals, wrapped in strips of spare fabric. We will find God in Christ not in strength, but in the weak, helplessness of a newborn child. God will come to us in our beautiful church, yes, but also in a barn, bugs flying around, mice nesting in the corner. We will find God tended to not by hired help, but by shepherds- field hands who have heard the call of God to come and find God’s self in a place they least expected. God’s love drew them to that place on that holy night, and God’s love still draws us go to places where we might at first say no.
As we prepare for Christmas, are we open to finding Jesus in a stinky, bug-infested barn? Are we prepared to answer God’s call to us even if we feel unprepared? Are we prepared to allow God’s spirit to call us and equip us for the work to which we are called?
Stir up your power, O Lord, and come among us. Transform our hearts and help us to receive you in places where we expect, and in places where we least expect. Call us to those places and save us in those places. Amen.
The Advent Frontier
| The Rev. Brandon AshcraftThe Advent Frontier
Sunday Sermon
| The Rev. Jeanne LeinbachSunday Sermon
Back in the 1800’s, the Millerites, followers of a farmer named William Miller, decided that the world would end on April 23, 1843, based somehow on an interpretation of Scripture. Many gave away their possessions. When the day arrived and Jesus didn’t, the group disbanded. More recently, scientist Richard Noone decided that May 5, 2000 would be the day that the alignment of the planets and the thickness of the Antarctic ice mass would lead to global icy destruction. In 2006, minister Ronald Weinland, self-described as the end-time prophet of God, proclaimed the second coming would happen by the end of 2008. We don’t know the-when and that is precisely how it is laid out in Scripture. Jesus is not telling us when. Rather, we are being encouraged to live as though Christ’s return is imminent.
When the Gospels were written, people did expect Christ to return any day. We just heard in the Gospel of Mark, “Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.” Now, it’s been 2,000 years. It’s easy to see how most of us have moved on from this prospect of completion – not in any way a part our everyday awareness. But, what if it was? What if we lived our everyday lives expecting Christ’s imminent return?
In the passage from Isaiah this morning, the people are crying out to God, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence.” Do you hear the desire for God in these words? This Scripture passage is set in the time after the Israelites have returned from being in exile in Babylonia, but while the temple in Jerusalem still lies in ruins. They are trying to cope with the devastation. They cry out to God, “Please come.” The passage concludes with the people acknowledging their dependence on God. “O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” In other words, we know we need you. This passage points to the power in weakness because when we acknowledge our dependence on God, our need for God, we open ourselves to God inspiring our lives; we open ourselves to God’s desire for our lives.
I love the metaphor of the clay and the potter. I read an article about pottery explaining the time and patience it takes to craft a piece of pottery (https://en.vogue.me/culture/therapeutic-pottery/). A ceramicist covered in the article says, “It’s taught me a lot about letting go a bit and not expecting perfection.” God, our potter, has infinite patience with our imperfections, actively waiting for us, always ready to inspire us as we are able to open are hearts to God. In this season of Advent, we are encouraged to be actively waiting for God, full of expectation for the gift of God living among us.
Just as God has infinite patience, so we need to be patient in crafting our relationship with God through prayer. “Leo Tolstoy tells the story of three hermits who lived on an island. Their prayer [to God] of intimacy and love was simple like they were simple: ‘We are three; you are three; have mercy on us. Amen.’ Miracles sometimes happened when they prayed in this way. The bishop, however, hearing about the hermits, decided that they needed guidance in proper prayer, and so he went to their small island. After instructing the monks, the bishop set sail for the mainland, pleased to have enlightened the souls of such simple men. Suddenly, off the stern of the ship he saw a huge ball of light skimming across the ocean. It got closer and closer until he could see that it was the three hermits running on top of the water. Once on board the ship they said to the bishop, ‘We are sorry, but we have forgotten some of your teaching. Would you please instruct us again?’ The bishop shook his head and replied meekly, ‘Forget everything I have taught you and continue to pray in your old way’” (Richard J. Foster, Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home, New York; HarperCollins Publishers, 1992, p. 80).
There is no right or wrong way to pray and there are no quick paths to developing our relationship with God. We need to give time to our prayer life. Advent lends itself to contemplative prayer, sitting quietly and simply being present to God. Desiring God is a part of our nature. But, we have to make the space to recognize our connection to the Divine. When sitting quietly before God, we are acknowledging our dependence on God, our need for God. We are desiring God to be our Savior, our source of comfort, mercy and inspiration – our perfect Love.
We don’t know when the Second Coming will happen, what it will look like, or what will come next. But, we know it will be Good News. As we heard in the Gospel passage, “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near.” If we live thinking that the Second Coming might happen at any time, might we be inspired to focus on developing our relationship with God, so that we come to that day without regret for what we squandered – time, talent, treasure, relationships, priorities – but rather we come to that day with hearts filled with joy for the love coming among us. After all, in that moment, it will be crystal clear what actually matters in life. Amen.
Sunday Sermon
| The Rev. Gabriel LawrenceSunday Sermon
On this day, we gather in time on a threshold: the last Sunday of the Church year, the feast of Christ the King. We end today what we began a year ago on the first Sunday of Advent 2022, and we prepare to begin again next week on the first Sunday of Advent 2023. In this last year, we have walked through the story of salvation. We heard the prophets call us to repentance and then celebrated the birth of God into this world in the person of Jesus. We heard stories about Jesus healing the sick and even raising the dead. This past spring, we walked with Jesus through the week of his Passion- Holy Week- that lead to his death and then resurrection and then ascension. We celebrated the arrival of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, and all summer and fall, we have continued to hear about the love of God made known to us in Jesus that still lives and moves in our hearts through the Holy Spirit. And today, on the last day of our journey, before we begin again, we celebrate Christ the King. It is a feast that ends our journey and begins a new one. The feast acts as a threshold to bridge us from what was to what will be.
But lest we are tempted to think that the Kingdom of God, ruled by Christ the King himself, looks like a familiar earthly Kingdom with all the trappings of a royal court, an army, a castle, crowns, fine robes, and power, we are given stories today in our texts that include sheep and goats. Kind of startling, isn’t it? On a day when we celebrate the Kingdom of God and the reign of Christ, the Church gives us barn animals.
In Ezekiel, we hear that God will search for God’s own sheep and will sort them out-- sort here meaning that God will count the sheep, see who is missing, and check on sheep that might need special attention. “I will bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak.” God will also not only sort and help the sheep, God will also supply all of the needs of the sheep. “I will feed them with good pasture. There they shall lie down.” God’s promise here is that God’s sheep will live from a place of abundance. And then my favorite part- “I will feed them with justice.” God’s will make things right. God will rescue the sheep from all harm. “I will save my flock, and they shall no longer be ravaged.”
If we turn to the Gospel, we hear Jesus using sheep and goats to further talk about God’s will and work in the world. He tells us that those who give of themselves to take care of the least among us- the hungry, thirsty, sick, imprisoned, estranged- will be rewarded with eternal life. And in a dramatic act, Christ the King, will separate the sheep from the goats. He will separate those who helped and those who didn’t. (Something to note here: there are only two options. Either we help those in need or we don’t. Jesus doesn’t give us an option to be passive. Either we are serving him by serving others or we aren’t. These words can be tough to hear. Brandon reminded us in his sermon last week of the risky business of discipleship. Jesus doesn’t mince words here about our work as his disciples.)
But this parsing out is not a condemnation- even if Jesus’s words here are pointed and may feel harsh. This parsing out is an invitation to dream about a different kind of Kingdom, one very different from the kingdoms of this world- a Kingdom that is reimagined. If we look closely enough, these texts about sheep and goats- barn animals- are actually perfect assignments for today’s feast of Christ the King. Jesus is not giving us a list of who’s in and who’s out- who makes the cut and who doesn’t. Jesus is rather giving us a list of the citizens of the Kingdom of God- who the people are that make up the rule and reign of God. He is telling us what the Kingdom of God looks like and who the Kingdom of God looks like. And in stern words, Jesus tells us that the Kingdom of God is made up of folk who took the time to feed the hungry, quench the thirst of the thirsty, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned, and heal the sick.
In this invitation to dream, to hope for a new world in which all are fed and clothed and healed, Jesus asks us “Who among you are hungry? Thirsty? Naked? Imprisoned? Sick?” He is asking us to take care of these people, yes, but he is also inviting us to ask ourselves who else is hungry and thirsty? Perhaps hungry and thirsty for justice and peace and an end to war and conflict. Who else is naked? Perhaps the unhoused in need of a home, house, to cover their life and provide them with safety and security. Who else is imprisoned? Perhaps a prisoner to addiction because addiction to something external is the only way they know how to cope with the pain this cruel world has dealt them. Who else is sick? Perhaps those with little or no access to healthcare, victims of a system that often only serves those who can afford care.
Today, we will baptize Chloe into the Body of Christ, the Church. And in this act of baptism, we will invite Chloe into this dreaming with us about what is possible in the Kingdom of God. Chloe’s parents and godparents, affirmed by our support, will take vows on her behalf to make sure she is raised up in the faith and joins in on God’s work already happening around us in the world. Into this imagined Kingdom that is not fully here, but to which we continue to strive and work toward, we baptize Chloe.
And here is the good news—it is by taking care of Christ by taking care of the most vulnerable, the sheep, we have eternal life. We experience an encounter with Jesus in the eye of the hungry, in the handshake of the thirsty, in meaningful conversation with the lonely, in the liberation of the prisoner. This imagining rests on the threshold of a feast- a feast that leads into our hope: the season of Advent, a season of preparation as we wait for the coming of Jesus at Christmas. For we are not left to imagine this Kingdom into being on our own. Jesus walks with us. We are not left to building this Kingdom on our own. Jesus picks up the hammer and nails and invites us to dream and work this Kingdom into being alongside him.
The Risky Business of Discipleship
| The Rev. Brandon AshcraftThe Risky Business of Discipleship
Sunday Sermon
| The Rev. Jeanne LeinbachSunday Sermon
Today, we hear the verses following the Seven Brothers story. Jesus has silenced the Sadducees and now the Pharisees are trying again. Jesus stumps them with a line of questioning about the Messiah being both the son of David and the one that David calls Lord. “The Messiah is both in the line of David and transcends his lineage” (Tim Beach-Verhey, Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 4, p. 216). The passage concludes, “No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.” First, last week, the Pharisees were amazed. Then, the Sadducees were astounded. Now, the Pharisees are speechless and done asking questions. Jesus has made his point. He is saying, “Listen to me. I speak with ultimate knowledge and authority. I am offering you Good News. Love your neighbor as yourself.” It’s not a new message for Jesus’ antagonists, nor for his followers. The Old Testament passage this morning from Leviticus ends with these words: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself; I am the Lord.” God’s loving message is as old as time. We are not fully loving God if we are not loving what God loves. God wants us to know that the path forward to healing this broken world is loving our neighbor as our self.
We can be overwhelmed by the divisiveness in Washington – the lack of moral character – the thirst for power that voids all desire to collaborate in decision-making. We can be overwhelmed by the wars in the Holy Land and Ukraine, the animosity, the depravity. Yet, we need to remind ourselves that living in the light of Christ has always been countercultural. The arc of the moral universe is long. Just as Paul encouraged the Thessalonians to remain faithful, we encourage one another to live as we are meant to live, cultivating the Kingdom of God, trusting that when we love our neighbor as ourselves, the seeds will grow, however long it might take to come to fruition.
I am serving on the Board of Trustees for Bexley Seabury Seminary. I was at a Board meeting a couple of weeks ago. Bishop Doug Sparks, Bishop of the Diocese of Northern Indiana, who is the President of the Board, told a story from his childhood. He is a twin. When he and his sister were four years old, their father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and was placed in an institution where he lived for the next ten years until his death. Doug and his sister attended a Catholic School. He remembers the sadness and trauma of being teased about not having a Dad. Of course, his Dad couldn’t show up for any of those parent-child events at school. One day, when Doug and his sister were in 3rd grade, the priest came into the classroom and announced that he was taking Doug and his sister to see their Dad. Bishop Sparks talked about how amazing that moment was for him, the moment the priest named his Dad in front of the whole classroom. He made his Dad known. That’s how we love as Christ loves us. Upholding the dignity of every human being. Even more broadly, putting ourselves in the other person’s shoes. Always remembering that a person’s life experiences is the context for their beliefs and actions today.
Loving our neighbor as our self is not always easy. We have different personalities, different perspectives - at times strikingly different points of view. We come together in this faith community to support one another. We come together for forgiveness, renewal, refreshment, and inspiration to live our everyday lives in the light of Christ. Well, I do need to shake my head just a bit that after nine months of raising money to support the Walking in Love Capital Campaign, and just one week after a wonderful celebration of a successful campaign, I now have the privilege of kicking off the Annual Campaign. Just as a reminder, a capital campaign focuses on the longer-term needs of the church. With the proceeds of the Walking in Love Campaign, we will be able to address major infrastructure needs that come around once every 20, 50, or even 100 years. In addition, we will grow the church’s endowment funds to ensure the long-term health of the parish by generating investment income that will sustain the ministries of the parish for generations to come.
Though annually, we receive investment income from the endowment, and we have a few other sources of other income, 70% of our annual budget comes from our annual pledges. Our pledges ensure that worship, music, pastoral care, education, outreach, and fellowship will continue to thrive throughout the coming year. This is a pivotal year for us at St. Paul’s because we are losing two of our largest pledges due to life transitions, which amount to more than 10% of total pledges. I ask that you prayerfully consider your annual pledge this year to help us cover our annual operating needs: all ministries and programs, clergy and staff salaries, outreach to our community and the wider world, facility maintenance and utilities, and Diocesan and wider church support. We come here seeking God, desiring to understand how to live our lives with God, how to live as we are meant to live, loving our neighbor as our self. Living in gratitude for God’s love in our lives, we give to support the ministries, which nourish us individually and as a community. As always, I am so grateful for your gifts of time, talent, and treasure, and so grateful to be on this journey with you. Amen.
The Currency of God’s Kingdom
| The Rev. Brandon AshcraftThe Currency of God’s Kingdom
In our Gospel passages the last few weeks, this tension between Jesus and his adversaries has been building. Remember, today’s scene takes place only days after the events of Palm Sunday. When Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey and was greeted with cries of “hosanna,” as the crowds proclaimed him the long-awaited Jewish Messiah. From there, Jesus moves to the Temple, where we find him today – at the very center of Jewish religious life and power. Teaching and telling parables, about a kingdom where the last will be first, and the first will be last. Understandably, those in positions of power are starting to feel threatened. So threatened, in fact, that an unlikely alliance has formed between the Pharisees (the religious elite), and the Herodians (friends of the emperor). Opposition to Jesus, it seems, turns enemies into friends. In only a matter of days, they will arrest Jesus and put him to death. But today, they test Jesus with cunning words in the form of this question: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”
If he answers “yes,” Jesus will appear sympathetic to the Roman Empire. That would alienate his Jewish followers, who are the victims of Roman oppression. If he says “no,” he’ll expose himself to charges of sedition. And that would give the Roman authorities a reason to arrest him. Jesus appears to be trapped. Except, Jesus refuses to play by his questioners’ rules. He declines to answer yes or no, and instead asks them a question: “Whose head and title is found on coin used to pay the tax?” “The emperor’s,” they reply. “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s,” Jesus says, “and to God the things that are God’s.”
Jesus successfully evades their trick question. But what does his answer mean for us? For a long time, Jesus’ answer has been used to justify the separation of our lives into two distinct spheres: the civic realm and the spiritual realm. By calling us to “render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God,” Jesus clarifies the relationship between obedience to the state and obedience to God. Many argue that his response suggests you and I have a dual allegiance: “to the teaching and commands of God, on the one hand…and to the government…on the other."
But if I’m honest, I find this interpretation deeply unsatisfying. It’s too simple and tidy. And Jesus was neither of these things. If we cling too tightly to a separation between our civic and spiritual lives, we deny God’s claim on the entirety of our lives. It’s true, we live now as citizens of an earthly kingdom governed by earthly laws. But as citizens of God’s kingdom first, our work is to bear the fruit of his kingdom even now, during our sojourn on earth. And this is a timely topic for us today, as we are weeks away from an election. And in that election, I trust that we, as people of faith, will cast our votes in a way that reflects our most authentic understanding of how best to love God and our neighbors, which is our highest spiritual calling.
Our participation in civic systems is not removed from our spiritual lives or divorced from the convictions of our faith. It is a place where we can become instruments of God’s peace, God’s justice, God’s righteousness, and God’s love. We see this clearly in our work with Greater Cleveland Congregations, where we work alongside other communities of faith for positive social change, often through engagement with those in positions of political power.
So, if this passage is not about bifurcating our spiritual and civic lives, what is its message for us today? Well, let’s go back to where we started – with Jesus’ obsequious opponents. Before Jesus even attempts to respond to their question, he calls out their hypocrisy, as he does over and over throughout the gospels, particularly in his ongoing disputes with the Pharisees. Contrary to a common misperception, Jesus is not here or elsewhere criticizing the Pharisees for their religious beliefs. Jesus was a faithful Jew and no doubt had great sympathy for the Pharisee’s devotion to Torah and its teachings. He condemned them not for their beliefs, but for their hypocrisy. For their false righteousness. For their false persona. For coming to him under the false pretense of being concerned about matters of faith when they just wanted to get rid of Jesus and preserve their own power. The intentions of the Pharisee’s hearts did not match the faith they professed.
Jesus calls us to different way of living. He calls us lives of integrity. Lives of authenticity. Lives of wholeness. Jesus denied any claim on that coin because it bore the image of Caeser. Instead, Jesus claims us as the currency of his kingdom because we bear the image of God. We are God’s currency of peace, justice, and love, in a world torn asunder by the evil fruits of war, hatred, and violence. Indeed, we are gathered here today to be nourished by God’s Word and sacrament to cultivate lives of faith that lead to good works. May we leave here today, renewed for the work of building God’s kingdom on earth. Amen.
Sunday Sermon
| The Rev. Jeanne LeinbachSunday Sermon
“The one who judges us most finally will be the one who loves us most fully," Frederick Buechner.
Frederick Buechner, the beloved writer and theologian, gets us started this morning with our reflection on Scripture. “The one who judges us most finally will be the one who loves us most fully.”
Running After God's Promises
| The Rev. Brandon AshcraftRunning After God's Promises
“O God: Grant us the fullness of your grace, that we, running to obtain your promises, may become partakers of your heavenly treasure.”These words from today’s opening Collect are prayed every year on this Sunday. It’s one of my favorite collects in the entire Prayer Book because I love the imagery of running to obtain God’s promises. And friends, let me tell you, I am not a runner. At all. But, abundant and eternal life in the Kingdom of God? Heavenly treasure? I’d like to think these are promises I’d be willing to run after.
I’ve been thinking a lot about God’s promises lately because in just the last week at St. Paul’s, we held three funeral services. Three beloved members of the St. Paul’s community – George Shook, Gary Mitchener, and Bob Emmet – were celebrated and commended to God’s eternal safekeeping from this sacred space. Even if you did not have the privilege to know these men during their lifetimes, we are all impacted by their deaths as members with them of the Body of Christ. The grief that accompanies their loss, and the joy at their entrance into the nearer presence of God, are present with us in this moment in the life of St. Paul’s.
Funerals are powerful reminders to us of God’s promises. The burial liturgy of our Prayer Book finds all its meaning in the hopeful promise of resurrection to eternal life. It reminds those of us still on our earthly pilgrimage that Jesus has conquered death forever, which frees us to live with confidence and boldness now. We are emboldened to embrace the abundant life that Jesus promises us even now, in this life. Most of us think of eternal life in terms of time: as life that never ends. And, indeed, it is that. But eternal life, as it is described in scripture, refers not only to never-ending life with God on the other side of the grave. Eternal life refers also to a quality of life that is available to us even now. A participation in God’s divine life that is available to us in this life, through Jesus. In the gospel of John, Jesus says, “This is eternal life, that [you] may know…the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom [he] has sent.” Each Sunday celebration of the Holy Eucharist is an opportunity to renew our commitment to know Jesus and to seek this eternal life. Each Sunday we are invited to live deeper lives of faith. To live as more intentional followers of Jesus. To make an honest appraisal of our lives and consider whether we are running or simply ambling along on our journey of faith.
Today is a particularly good Sunday to consider this, because it is the last Sunday of our Capital Campaign. And as this critical chapter in our communal life comes to an end, we are reminded of the incredible generosity of this community. It’s a powerful testament to this generosity that we’ve raised almost six million dollars, and this moment in our lives together is indeed something to celebrate. It’s also a moment to renew our commitment to living lives rooted in Jesus and seeking the kingdom of God. To live more deeply into our baptismal vows to follow Jesus as Lord, to proclaim the Good News of God in Christ, to love our neighbor, and to work for justice and peace.
Indeed, today’s Gospel passage points us to this choice. In it, Jesus tells us a parable about two sons whose father sends them to work in his vineyard. The first son refuses to heed his father’s command, but in the end, he changes his mind and goes to work in the vineyard. The second son responds favorably to his father’s command but then never follows through. As far as the parables of Jesus go, this is a blessedly simple one. The first son says the wrong thing but does the right thing; the second son says the right thing, but his actions fall short of his words. The moral of the parable can be summarized rather succinctly with this common expression: actions speak louder than words.
When Jesus told this parable, he was speaking to the Pharisees and religious leaders. The insiders. The people who were adjacent to wealth and power. People, let’s be honest, who are more like us than we might care to admit. So, we would do well to hear Jesus’ parable as not only an invitation, but also a warning. As we steward this wealth we have so quickly amassed, we should ask: will we be like the son who talks the talk, but doesn’t walk the walk, or will we go to labor in the vineyard with renewed fervor? Will we embrace the values of Jesus’ kingdom not only with our lips, but in our lives? Will we, the stewards of great wealth, confront social and economic inequities and other injustices and do our part to build the kingdom of God? Will we say yes to God’s promise of eternal life? Faithful stewardship of our financial resources is the ongoing, never-ending work of the faith community. Fortifying our buildings and replenishing our endowment is something we do first and foremost so we can participate in God’s mission. So the question our Gospel poses to us this morning is this: which son will we be?
Joseph’s Hopeful Word of Providence
| The Rev. Brandon AshcraftJoseph’s Hopeful Word of Providence
As people of faith, the tough question we might ask ourselves is this: Why does God allow these messages to be proclaimed? Why does God permit voices that deny the very personhood of God’s precious creation? Particularly when these messages have real, tragic consequences, including an increase in depression and self-harm among young people? Put another way: If God is control of our lives and the events of human history, why does God – the God of love – allow people to speak oppressive messages in his name?
I don’t have a simple answer for you, but I suggest our reading from Genesis has something to say in response to these questions. I invite you to listen again to the words that Joseph spoke to his brothers in this morning’s passage: “Even though you [my brothers] intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good…” With these words, Joseph declares that God has taken the evil actions of his brothers and used them to achieve God’s purposes. To better understand how God has done that, we need to know more about Joseph’s story because this morning’s passage comes at the end of a long, colorful saga.
You may remember, either from the Bible or Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical, that Joseph was one of the 12 sons of Jacob, the great patriarch of Israel. And many years earlier, Joseph’s brothers, in an act of jealousy and hatred, sold him into slavery. But God rescued Joseph from slavery and made him a prominent official of the Pharoah. And in this position, Joseph used his power to rescue the people of Israel by feeding them during a great famine. And now, all these years later, these brothers have been reunited. And, in a highly emotional, dramatic moment, they have been reconciled to each other.
In today’s passage, Joseph weeps over the sin of his brothers, but he offers them forgiveness, and even promises to care for them and their families. In the end, their flagrant disregard for their brother’s life did not have the final word. Their hateful intention for Joseph’s life could not prevent God from using Joseph to preserve a great nation. “Even though [they] intended to do harm to [him], God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people…”
Joseph’s words point to a concept in theology known as providence. Providence is the belief that God has a grand plan for the world and for each one of our lives. Providence declares that by God’s power and sovereignty, God is actively at work in human affairs every day. Providence is the belief that God orders all things and that the events of human history somehow fit together to accomplish God’s glorious purpose. What makes this complicated, of course, is we still must account for the harmful and evil events our world. If God is a loving God, and God is in control, we naturally wonder why these things need to happen at all. If we had more time this morning, we’d now turn our attention to topics such as sin and free will, but suffice it to say, this tension is not easily to resolve. God’s ways are simply beyond our understanding. But Jospeh’s statement – “Even though you intended to harm me, God intended it for good” – suggests that God can and does take the evil perpetuated by sinful humans to achieve good. Scripture’s message to us this morning, quite simply, is that God can always, in the end, wrestle good out of bad. And in that – God’s providence – we can put our hope.
So back to this policy that has Cleveland in the headlines. It would be easy for us to turn this into quarreling between Christians of different dominations. I want to be clear that my point in focusing us on this policy is not to encourage an “us” versus “them” debate. St. Paul warns us in today’s passage from Romans not to “pass judgment on [our] brother or sister,” reminding us that judgment is in the hands of God. I was grateful for the words of our Bishop Anne Jolly this week who, when commenting on the policy, said this: “While this news…has a deep emotional and real impact in our communities, I personally prefer to make statements about who we are and what we believe rather than pitting us AGAINST someone or something." Which is to say that our response, rather than a condemnation of the messenger, should be to love larger and louder. In response to a message that seeks to deny the innate goodness of God’s creation, we should be inspired to preach our message of inclusion, wholehearted embrace, and unconditional love with voices more resounding, as we affirm the diversity of the human family in all its forms.
Bishop Anne went on to say, “Our hearts break when people are hurt by the church, marginalized by the church, and told they are not worthy of God’s love as they are." So let us continue to preach love and put our trust in the God of resurrection. Because it is in the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ that we see most clearly and most profoundly that God can indeed transform the evil, death-dealing ways of humanity into a proclamation of good news. Amen.
Sunday Sermon
| The Rev. Jeanne LeinbachSunday Sermon
The Church has an important mission: working with God to transform the world in the light of Christ. Jesus tells us that all commandments are-summed up in these words: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Loving our neighbor - friend, colleague, stranger - is vital to a just society, and, yet, loving is not a simple task. You have to watch the news only for a short time to know that we, as a society, have a whole lot of work to do in learning how to love one another. And, we can be real with our selves individually. For our own well being, let’s stop long enough to reflect on our own behaviors and recognize that we come up against disagreement regularly in our everyday lives. Animosity has creeped into our culture. Let’s be aware of our emotions, so that we can be deliberate in listening, and learning and collaborating and caring; so that we are deliberate in loving.
And, so, we come together in this faith community to support one another in deliberate loving, to inspire one another to live the lives we are meant to live, in relationship with one another, in the light of Christ. We are-invited to cast off the yoke of individualism and enter into a profound commitment to others, a discipleship of fellowship. This fellowship will not always be easy. At times, we will disagree. At times, we will be offended. But, our faith does not prioritize right vs. wrong. Our faith prioritizes relationship. So, here, in this faith community, we commit ourselves to forgiveness and reconciliation, so that we keep our hearts open to one another, so we can faithfully collaborate in ministry. Life is challenging for any number of reasons. And, at this point in time, we have an added layer of divisiveness pervading our culture. We are frustrated. We are disappointed. We are tired. The rest you are looking for is in Christ. The hope you are looking for is in Christ. A discipleship of fellowship in the light of Christ is life-giving.
We learn about God’s covenant with God’s people, God’s promise of love, throughout Scripture. We hear in Isaiah (54:10): “For the mountains may depart and the hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed, says the Lord.” Every Sunday, in Eucharist, we receive the “Blood of the New Covenant.” We enter into Christ’s covenant, who forgives our sins and offers us new life. Covenant is deeply rooted in our faith. As we kick off a new program year, let us enter into covenant with one another to create a discipleship of fellowship.
I offer five elements for our covenantal life together. First, let us worship together, and as much as possible, in person. There is synergy in coming together. Relationships among us deepen as we recognize our common desire to love God, and our dependence on one another. We are supporting and inspiring one another on our faith journeys. Second, let us assume the best in one another and trust that we can be authentically ourselves with each other. Every-one-of-us is-loved by God in our uniqueness. Third, let us forgive one another. We all need forgiveness. God forgives us, and so we forgive. Fourth, let us give ourselves to this community, sharing with each other our talents and resources. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Luke 12:34). Fifth, in gratitude for being-nurtured in our faith, let us share Christ’s love in the world. Worshipping, trusting, forgiving, sharing, loving.
Loving is no small matter and not a simple task. Let us remember these words from John’s Gospel (15:11), when Jesus is urging us to abide in his love. Jesus says, “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” Discipleship does ask something of us, being deliberate in loving. Within a discipleship of fellowship, we share the journey, we lighten the load for another, we inspire one another, and come to the joy that is God’s peace. Through a discipleship of fellowship, we bear witness to the world of Christ’s love. What a respite from the divisiveness. What a gift to the world. Amen.
The Rock of True Prosperity
| The Rev. Brandon AshcraftThe Rock of True Prosperity
This past Monday, I went for a long, meditative walk around the grounds of St. Paul’s. I savored each of our gardens in all their splendor. I paused at each memorial tree and read the names of the beloved departed in whose memory they had been planted. I lingered in the memorial garden to honor those who have been laid to rest there. I meditated in the courtyard, at the statue of St. Francis, also erected in loving memory of a parishioner. I perused the exhibit in the South Wing that tells the story of our 175-year history. As I came back out onto the lawn, I beheld the majestic stone belltower soaring high above the neighborhood. And in that moment – in a most profound way – I felt the weight of St. Paul’s legacy.
My Monday evening stroll was inspired by these words we just heard from the prophet Isaiah: “Look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug.” With these words, Isaiah calls us to remember our history. To remember our ancestors. To remember where we have come from. “The rock from which [we] were hewn and the quarry from which [we] were dug.” Isaiah first spoke these words to the Jewish people living in exile. To a people whose present condition made it hard to see their future. To a people most likely convinced that God had forgotten them. Isaiah implored this captive people to hold firm in their faith by looking back at their history. To their ancestors, Abraham, and Sarah: a once-hopeless, elderly, barren couple who miraculously conceived a child, and gave birth to a great nation. Isaiah wanted to remind these weary exiles that their origin story pointed to a promise – a promise that they would one day be numerous and prosperous again.
Against this backdrop, we are taking prudent steps, and there is a campaign well underway to safeguard what our ancestors built. As Jeanne announced weeks ago, when the capital campaign went public, $4 million had already been raised. And now, we’re further along toward our goal of $6 million. You could say we’re taking the words of the prophet Isaiah quite literally! We have looked to the rock from which our community was hewn, and we are working hard to preserve that rock. The very rocks in whose shelter we gather week after week to be nourished by Word and sacrament, so we can participate in God’s mission.
There is a different kind of rock, however, that features prominently in our scriptures today. And this rock comes from our gospel passage. According to Jesus, it is the true rock on which his Church is built. And, in case you missed it, this rock is not a building. As they are walking in the district of Caesarea Philippi, Jesus confronts his disciples with these arresting questions: “Who do people say that I am?” And, more importantly, “Who do you say that I am?” The apostle Peter – always the first to speak – gets the answer correct for once, offering this confident reply: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” And this, Jesus reveals, is the rock on which his Church is built. A confession of faith. A personal testimony about Jesus. A declaration of Jesus’ identity. This does not diminish the importance of our buildings. But it clearly suggests that as we shore up our coffers, as we work to preserve our building, as we strive to build a rock-solid financial foundation, we must always keep our focus on the rock of the Gospel: our confession of Jesus as the Messiah and Son of the living God. All the financial capital in the world cannot ensure our future and cannot guarantee our flourishing unless we live daily in the light of this question from the lips of Jesus himself: Who do you say that I am?
We are a community of good students, and many of us might be tempted to answer this question by quoting a creed, or by pointing to a page in the Prayer Book. But as one writer points out, “we cannot build our faith lives on hearsay alone. At some point, the question of who Jesus is, must become personal.” We should each hear Jesus speaking directly to us this morning: “Who do you say that I am?” The truth is, you don’t have to be like Peter and give the perfect answer. We’ll soon discover – next Sunday in fact – that Peter isn’t the A+ student for very long. Answering Jesus’ question is the work of a lifetime. But you do have to be willing to live the question, and to answer it for yourself. To be willing to encounter Jesus in the words of Holy Scripture. To seek him in service to the poor and the oppressed. To take his broken body into your hands, week after week in the sacrament of the Eucharist.
Thanks to ministry of those who maintain the St. Paul’s archives, the wisdom of our forebears is now available to all of us. And as I was combing through those archives this past week, I discovered a sermon delivered by a former rector many years ago, on the eve of another capital campaign. To the faithful gathered here on that day, he said this: “Our vision for St. Paul’s is that this will be a parish of seekers…[Seekers] after the truth of God’s love for his creation as perfectly revealed in Jesus Christ. If you are not at that point in your faith, stick around...” May God give to us – the faithful gathered here today – the strength and courage to continue living into this vision. And may God bless us with the willingness to live Jesus’ question. For in seeking to answer it – in seeking to know him – we are sure to find true prosperity. Amen.
Sunday Sermon
| Bill PowelSunday Sermon
This the first of two Gospel readings about Jesus and a boat in stormy weather. The other one has Jesus on the boat with the disciples and he’s asleep and then wakes up and calms the waters. This is the other one: Jesus is NOT on the boat with the disciples. Why? Because he has just fed the 5,000 with five loaves and two fishes. Our reading today refers to it briefly— “Jesus dismissed the crowds” and went up to pray. He was probably protecting the disciples from the many who may have wanted more miracles. So he “made” the disciples get on a boat and go “on ahead” to the other side.
While Jesus is praying, a storm comes up on the Sea of Galilee, and the disciples are in the boat “battered by the waves,” “far from the land,” and “the wind was against them.” A trifecta of maritime misery—no wonder the disciples are afraid.
My newest son-in-law grew up in Erie, Pennsylvania and Sandra and I had the pleasure last week of spending time in the place where Brandon grew in a family of sailors. I asked his uncle – who’s sailed throughout the Great Lakes -- what’s is like to be on Lake Erie in rough weather. He said that it’s very treacherous because of the relatively shallow water of Lake Erie that creates a higher frequency of waves. When a storm kicks up, the distance between the wave crests is shorter and creates steep troughs--unlike rolling ocean swells, or even the wave action on the deeper Great Lakes. He described a particularly difficult night sail from Buffalo to Erie against the wind during a storm. Lake Erie is 100 times larger than the Sea of Galilee, but has about the same average depth as Lake Erie, so I can imagine what that might be like, and some of you may have had the same experience.
The point is that the disciples were in a tight spot—they were scared and full of doubt. Peter, Andrew, James, and John were all experience fishermen, however, and they would probably not have been out on the water when a storm was brewing—especially at night. So no wonder that they thought they saw a ghost when Jesus comes towards them on the water. But when the ghost speaks, the disciples realize that it’s Jesus and he tells them: ”take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” So what is Peter’s reaction? He says “Lord, IF it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Notice the “IF”-- Peter seems to be asking for Jesus’ credentials. He’s still afraid. As we approach the Scripture today, I wonder how we might feel in a similar situation and how might this story speak to us, especially if we find ourselves in a period of chaos and instability.
Peter is indeed the focus of this story—just as he was last week with the Transfiguration. He often seems to be the one who says or does the most human things, as he did on the mountaintop when he said the first thing we need to do is to build three tents. Or here, when he says to Jesus: “Command me to walk across the water to you.” Why does he respond that way?
Consider these observations about Peter from two Luther Seminary professors. Rolf Jacobson suggests that, instead of leaving the boat, why wouldn’t Peter just have asked Jesus to perform another miracle? Like calm the storm? Remember--they had all just seen him with 5,000 dinner guests a few hours earlier. Instead, Peter says “ Command me to walk across the water to you.” Having been sent on the boat by Jesus, and perhaps feeling abandoned by Him, Peter’s first desire; his first response to the crisis, says Jacobson, is to want to be close to Jesus.
Professor Karoline Lewis says that the absence of Jesus from the boat causes the disciples to be terrified because they may be asking: “Is Jesus going to leave them?” We can imagine ourselves on a boat during an actual storm, or being buffeted by another kind of uncertainty from job insecurity or a health challenge. We may be fearful that Jesus is going to abandon us in our time of distress.
So Peter does step off the boat towards Jesus, starts to sink, and cries out “Lord save me!,” and Jesus immediately catches him and calms the waters. “You of little faith,” Jesus says, “why did you doubt?” All the disciples worship Jesus at that point, saying: “Truly, you are the Son of God.” Peter and the others learn that Jesus didn’t abandon them.
Bishop Jake Owensby of the Diocese of Western Louisiana, observes that this experience teaches Peter “that Jesus is with him in the storm” and is also with us “in the midst of things-- even our worst things.” We are not alone in those times.
Let’s turn to the Elijah, who finds himself in a dire situation on dry land. He is very much alone and uncertain about the future because he has just defeated many false prophets who were loyal to Queen Jezebel, and he is on the run, fearing for his life. Queen Jezebel wants to take her revenge on him.
He is by himself, in distress, and is told by the Lord to stand on the mountain “for the Lord is about to pass by.” There follows a great wind, an earthquake, and fire, but the Lord is not there in any of these. It’s only in the “sound of sheer silence” that causes Elijah to cover his face—he is overwhelmed by the presence of God…..”
For those of us at a certain age, it's hard not to hear the phrase “sound of sheer silence” without thinking of Simon and Garfunkel, their iconic song, and the initial lyric: “Hello, darkness, my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again…” But here, Elijah is in listening mode.
I found it helpful to learn that there are several other less distracting translations to that phrase. In several versions, the scripture reads: “a still small voice” (King James and Revised Standard Versions). Others use the phrase “a sound of a low whisper,” a “gentle whisper,” “a soft breath,” or even “a gentle blowing.”
These other translations help me understand that God is not only in the powerful forces of nature, but also is in the gentle presence of a still small voice or a gentle blowing. Elijah eventually received his instructions from God, but he needed to wait for the wind, earthquake, and fire to pass.
The common thread running through these translations is the presence of God that we can discern when we pray or when we are still. My predecessor as Canon to the Ordinary, the Rev. Alan James, once preached a children’s sermon – which obviously resonated with this adult -- when he said that praying is like using a walkie-talkie. You press the button to talk, but, you have to release the button to hear God’s response. We don’t always get an immediate response when we release the button, but it’s important to listen in order to hear the still small voice.
Dire situations will come again to us in each of our lives. Perhaps you find yourself in one this very day. Our Scripture speaks to these moments.
Wherever we may find ourselves in need, we can realize and take comfort that God is always with us; we are never alone -- whether in the storm or in the still small silence. Amen.