Resting from Heavy Burdens

 

I realize I do a lot of critiquing of our lectionary diviners, but I do have to say, God must have had a hand in the decision to include the conclusion of Matthew 11 for the Sunday that would fall the closest to the Fourth of July celebration. 

And with this year being the 250th, it might have felt a little bit off to talk about "heavy burdens." But this semiquincentinnel has, regretfully, been like nothing I would have ever anticipated. I have vague memories of the things that happened in my hometown for the bicentennial in 1976. And the thing I remember most was that despite any misgivings in the larger culture, there was some sense of resilience and purpose and excitement about marking this moment.

None of that seemed to be anywhere this year. Most of my friends didn't even really want to acknowledge the holiday...not even with a cook out. Even the fireworks, which typically are obnoxiously loud and are going off at all hours of the day and night for weeks and days before and after the holiday were not all that this year. 

Groceries are too expensive. We're in a war nobody wanted that is driving up the cost of gasoline at the pump. And people are getting killed and disappeared off the streets of American cities in this horrible and insane crackdown on immigrants, regardless of their documented status (which, by the way, their undocumented standing doesn't make killing them warranted!) We're being lied to daily about the health and whereabouts of Republican U.S. Senator Mitch McConnell. Our president is unhinged and wanting people prosecuted for touching the algae-riddled waters of the Reflecting Pool at the Lincoln Memorial in DC. Nothing, just nothing, feels good about the USA right now.

So maybe Matthew 11 was the perfect passage for THIS Independence Day. See what you think.

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Text: Matthew 11:16-19; 25-30

 

 

“Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

This particular Gospel passage from Matthew always shows up on the Fourth of July weekend every three years.

I don’t know if the lectionary diviners did that on purpose…or if they even had the holiday in mind as they pulled together the readings we’ve heard this morning.

But on this weekend…where we’ve marked the 250^th birthday of the United States of America…this reading from the eleventh chapter of Matthew is timely and relevant.

Because it offers words of comfort to a people living in an uncomfortable time.

And if we’re being honest… that’s where we are right now…as we mark this milestone in our nation’s life story.

The community that first was reading and hearing these words from Matthew’s Gospel were a people who had been through war and the second destruction of their Temple in Jerusalem.

That loss had left them beleaguered and feeling unmoored. The whole point of Matthew’s Gospel was to give this remnant of the Jewish Christians of that time a sense that they still had a place…that God had not forgotten them…even as they saw the world around them seeming to be on fire.

This morning’s reading follows upon Jesus’s calling and sending out of the disciples.

He’s given them their marching orders…cautioning them that they won’t always be received well…but they must go anyway.

If the people will listen to them…welcome them…great. Even a cup of cold water…counts as welcome enough.

But Jesus doesn’t simply talk the talk.

He’s walking the walk…he’s on the move.

And he’s traveled to more places…continuing to preach and teach.

And…just as he had warned the disciples…he was encountering those who didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

These are people who had rejected John the Baptist because he was too demanding.

It probably didn’t help that John had called them a “brood of vipers”…basically accusing them of being people who would kill their own mother if it meant keeping their power and status.

But they don’t like Jesus either because…oh my goodness…he’s too welcoming…too inclusive…breaking bread with the despised and disinherited.

 

Now…the lectionary skips over some verses.

And that’s too bad because Jesus had some specific words for three ancient cities:…Chorizin…Bethsaida and Capernaum.

Jesus blasts the people of these three places for their unwillingness to listen and their inhospitable behavior.

These were cities of great wealth…and that excessive wealth had led to greed…and that greed had infected their hearts.

They didn’t care that Jesus was there curing their sick…and preaching God’s Love.

In fact they resented it…because it brought them up short.

Just like places such as Sodom…they had become hard-hearted and unwelcoming.

Too full of themselves.

Too proud of their own wisdom.

So self-satisfied and wanting to hoard what they had.

Too caught up in having power over others and they had no need or love for anyone different…the foreigners.

Sadly…this is a critique that could be laid on our society today.

There are those in our country who are happy to ignore the suffering and the hardships of others.

They can’t be bothered with what’s happening to the so-called “little people.”

They’ve got their affairs in order and they don’t care what happens to the next generation.

From courtrooms to state Capitols…all the way up to the highest levels of government…we’ve been witnessing the stripping away of the dignity of those seen as “other.”

We’re even now questioning who belongs…to whom of those born here do we guarantee the inalienable rights of life…liberty…and pursuit of happiness?

The powerful have been flexing their muscles against the immigrants…the working class…the elderly…and the minorities…many who are the descendants of the very people who have helped build this country for 250 years.

What has become of a country…with a landmark such as the Statue of Liberty…emblazoned with words,

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free….”?

Have we become the new Chorizin…Bethsaida…and Capernaum…having accumulated so much wealth that we have grown so proud and cold too?

In this land of E Pluribus Unum…we seem to be less “unum” and more siloed into our own tribes…viewing each other with suspicion if not outright hostility.

This separation is contributing to the loneliness in society.

And the loneliness leads to us feeling wearier and more worn out than ever.

Jesus not only has some words for those who are pulling us apart… but he also has something to say to those who are struggling.

 “I will give you rest.”

He’s not telling us to ignore the exhaustion we might be feeling.

He’s not asking us to make excuses or apologies for the load we’re bearing.

He’s not telling us to avoid it… nor is he giving us a magic pill to make it all better.

Instead… he names it.

He acknowledges what it is: heavy burdens.

He knows that the attitude of those who think they have it all…the ones who say they have no need to live into the mission of loving the stranger…visiting the friendless… and caring for the vulnerable…these are the ones who have made our lives harder.

He sees our struggles and says, “Let me give you rest.”

“Come to me” with your worries.

“Come to me” with your pressures.

“Lay these things on me…let me help carry this load.”

“I will meet you in this place of your inner turmoil and tiredness…and I will show you kindness…rest and renewal.”

This invitation to rest is Jesus’s way of reaching out to us and reminding us that none of us has to nor should we try to do this life journey alone.

He’s prompting us to lean into our faith…and not stiffen our backs hoping to grit things out during trying times.

Name this weight…these burdens…and say, help.

And we know this is the way.

These are the things that we all know and have done before.

Think of how we respond in times of crisis.

When the recent hurricanes tore up sections of Lowndes County…restaurants responded with preparing and serving food…and neighbors checked on neighbors.

When the medical students from Georgia universities come to this area to offer clinics for the migrant farm workers… our Episcopal churches help to feed these up and coming healthcare professionals and we send them off with the leftovers to share with their clients.

I think about the way that sports help to pull people together…perfect strangers…setting aside differences as we cheer on our team and celebrate accomplishments.

I’m a Boston Celtics fan…and yet I couldn’t help but smile and rejoice with New Yorkers when their Knicks won the N-B-A Championship for the first time in 53 years.

When we remember that we are all one…brought together into a human family in Christ…and all children of a loving…life-affirming…and liberating God…that’s when the heavy burdens we bear become lighter.

Together…we can learn from each other…lean on each other…and grow together…rejoice when things go well…and give aid in times when we need help.

That’s how Love works wonders in the world.

I want to leave us with these words by James Weldon Johnson from the hymn “Lift every voice and sing.” It’s the third verse of the hymn and captures the spirit of this Gospel message:

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears

Thou who has brought us thus far on the way

Thou who hast by Thy might led us into the light

Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,

Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world we forget Thee,

Shadowed beneath Thy hand, may we forever stand

True to our God, true to our native land.

In the name of Our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

Centering in Love Amidst the Storm: A Sermon for Independence Day

Ever since I started as a deacon in Valdosta back in August 2021, I have been wanting the three Episcopal Churches in the city to find a way to come together and do some activities together for the benefit of the larger community. Part of what I've been waiting on is the arrival of a rector at Christ Episcopal Church, the largest of the three congregations. That happened...finally...this spring. And the Rev. Hal Weidman made a way for us to start combining our efforts by inviting St. Barnabas, Christ the King, and St. James Quitman to participate in a joint service in celebration of Independence Day.

Hal asked me if I had people at St. Barnabas who would want to participate. I quitely inquired at my church to see if I could get at least one person from our congregation to serve on a federal holiday. Then another heard about it and offered that she would be happy to do something. So we had a psalmist...and an intercessor. 

"What would you like for me to do?" I inquired of Hal.  The rector was leaving the field wide open, so I said, "Well, why don't I preach." 

"OK, good." 

That was all determined mid-June. Then, last week, the U.S. Supreme Court wrapped up its most current session, releasing a series of opinions that were hard for me to stomach.

• Race can no longer be used in university admissions because students should demonstrate their merit. Never mind the racial disparities that have been compounded since the days the country reneged on the "Forty acres and a mule" promise made to blacks freed from slavery! Legacy admissions...those ones where having had family members attend the school...wasn't touched. Having parents educated at certain colleges must be merit enough for some kids.
• President Biden's student loan forgiveness program was found unconstitutional. Now thousands of college graduates are again saddled with paying back loans to lenders such as Sallie Mae, which (from experience) jacks up the interest rates midway through your payments.
• And the most egregious case: a web page designer named Lorie Smith in Colorado didn't want to have to design web pages for same-sex couples getting married. The 6-3 ruling from the Court said she doesn't have to and dealt a blow to all states and municipalities that have adopted anti-discritmination laws applied to businesses doing business with the public. What makes this case so bad (besides the obvious discrimination): Ms. Smith filed this case seven years ago when her "business" was a mere dream that she had. Then she and her lawyers claimed in court filings that she was approached by a couple...Stewart and Mike...who wanted her to design their same-sex wedding site. Trouble is "Stewart" is a straight cisgender man, happily married and living in California where he has a web site designing business. He doesn't know who "Mike" is and he didn't even know he was named in her complaint until reporters started calling him for comment on the case!! So the whole thing was built on a lie to allow Justice Neil Gorsuch, a Federalist Society-approved justice from Colorado, to write an opinion taking a swing at hard-earned civil rights for the LGBTQ community.

So...with that as a back drop...and news of anti-semitism on the rise in Georgia...and more mass shootings over the past few days in Baltimore, Fort Worth and Philadelphia....I had to write a sermon for a mixed congregation of four churches. One that didn't betray my hurt and anger, and also didn't alienate those who don't hold my same beliefs when it comes to the church being a beacon for social justice.

A tightrope. Here's what I said. See what you think.

Texts: Deut. 10:17-21, Ps. 145:1-9, Heb.11:8-16, Matt 5:43-48

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I realize that it feels like it’s about 100 degrees outside…and that this is the 4^th of July.

But as I was sitting down to write this sermon… I found myself thinking about a scene from the Christmas holiday classic…that Claymation story…Rudolf the Red-nosed Reindeer.

It’s the scene after Hermie the Elf decides to runaway from Christmas town…and Rudolf has just been revealed to be different…and can’t play with the other reindeers.

Hermie pops up from the snowbank…much to Rudolf’s surprise.

Hermie declares, “I don’t need anyone. I’m independent!”

Rudolf…feeling the power of that word…declares that he’s also “independent.”

And Hermie offers: Whaddya say we both be independent together?

And a couple of misfits head off to start a new life away from bullies and the tyranny of conformity.

Call it Christmas in July…but that’s what came into my head.

We’ve named this day Independence Day.

A time to celebrate our liberty and freedom from what was the oppressive rule of King George the Third.

In our national celebrations…this is the day of hamburgers, hot dogs, apple pie and fireworks that blow up real good.

In our culture…as articulated by Hermie and Rudolf…independence is a virtue.

It’s that whole idea that we’re able to make it on our own…

Be our own person…

stand on our own two feet…

rugged individualism…

and as the old Burger King slogan says…we can have things our way.

Interestingly…the Scripture lessons appointed for this day point to a different idea.

It seems that liberty and freedom are found in our INTERdependence.

A sense that we are to look to God as the supreme source…the centerpoint… from which everything else flows.

And then live with each other…helping each other…loving each other.  

The reading from Deuteronomy makes no bones about reminding us that…like our biblical ancestors…we live in a land of great riches…a land where we…too…were once strangers.

The land belongs to God; we’re just the stewards…the caretakers of it.

It’s a land where God shows no partiality…takes no bribes… executes justice for the orphaned and widowed…and feeds and clothes the stranger.

And God commands us to love those who aren’t our kinfolk.

In the Gospel…Jesus reinforces this same message…taking it one step further:

“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

Really?

Yes…he says. Really.

Because the sun rises and the rains fall on both those who we like…and those who we wish would go away…leave us alone…quit getting in our faces.

I think these words from Deuteronomy and Matthew’s Gospel…are prescient readings to have on a national holiday where we’re celebrating our United States…at a time that feels tense and fraught.

Anger seems to be in the air everywhere.

Too many people think the way to solve a disagreement is to pick up a gun.

We’ve seen in local communities here in Georgia… Macon and Warner Robins specifically…neo-Nazis protesting outside a Temple during their Shabbat evening service…and a spate of anti-Semitic threats.

There are those manufacturing culture wars…provoking fear of anyone who might be considered “other.”

Our E Pluribus Unum…isn’t feeling particularly “unum.”

Our sense of our interdependence…our need to see and love one another… seems more frayed than ever.

I was listening to an interview with Presiding Bishop Michael Curry from back in November 2020.

Bishop Curry noted that the phrase E Pluribus Unum…From Many One…comes to us from the philosopher Cicero.

The idea of it being that when each person makes a commitment to care about the other as much as they care about themselves…that’s when true unity happens.

Hmmm. Sounds like “love your neighbor and your enemy”…what Jesus said.

And Jesus sounds like Deuteronomy.

The vision articulated by the Founders of this country…imperfect men as they were… was the noble and desired mission of creating a country where all men are endowed with the inalienable rights of the Creator to enjoy life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness.

Did I mention that these were imperfect men who penned these words?

Because of course we know that while they expressed an ideal that is wonderful and worthy…how it manifested has not always been as wonderfully realized.

Men…meant white northern European men.

Black men…indigenous men…and women of any sort…weren’t part of the equation.

Some may still think they aren’t part of that grand vision.

But we should remember that God is a God of resurrection. 

And that God will use and take every misstep…every promise left waiting…and will provide a way.

Just as Abraham and Sarah and their descendants died in faith without having received all that was promised…God did create from them nations as many as the stars of heaven.

They saw the promises of God in the distance…and kept going…moving forward in a Godward direction.

We…too… must keep working toward what is in the preamble of our U.S. Constitution: that effort to create a more “perfect” union.

And we might want to be mindful of what “perfect” means.

The perfection Jesus commands of us…his followers…is not about being flawless.

It’s about loving God with all our heart, mind, and strength so that we can remain centered in love even when…and especially when… we’re living in tumultuous times.  

We must stick to love…and not turn away from each other in some sort of self-centered act of protection.

Because true love is about being willing to risk being hurt.

It’s about trusting in God enough that we seek to serve and care for each other.

It’s about listening to each other’s stories…even the difficult and painful ones…because this is how we help to bind up the brokenhearted and build a community of love and justice for all.

More than 100 years ago…Florida natives James Weldon Johnson and his brother John Rosamond Johnson gifted us with the hymn “Lift Every Voice and Sing.”

The final stanza works as a prayer for this Independence Day:

God of our weary years

God of our silent tears

Thou hast brought us thus far on the way;

Thou hast by thy might

Led us into the light;

Keep us forever in the path we pray.

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee;

Lest our hearts drunk with the wine of the world we forget thee;

Shadowed beneath thy hand may we forever stand

True to our God, true to our native land.

In the name of God…F/S/HS.

 

The Unseen Body: A Sermon for All Saints Sunday, St. Barnabas, Year B

 

I have to admit I was afraid going into today's All Saints service that I was being a little too ambitious for someone who is still feeling my way into life as an ordained minister. We not only were doing a service for All Saints. We dedicated our columbarium and then interred the ashes of the Senior Warden's husband in the top niche. Fortunately, I am tall and strong, so I had no problem slipping the canister into place. What I didn't know was how the light was hitting that spot right at that moment. 

Our supply priest had asked me to preach the sermon, and so I put the emphasis on the unseen body. The light bathing that niche was the visual evidence of the presence of what I was talking about. I couldn't have scripted this moment if I tried!

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I think most of you know that besides splitting my time between here and Christ the King downtown…I spend at least half of my week as a massage therapist in Tallahassee.

One of the techniques I learned while I was in massage school is called polarity. It’s a type of touch therapy that is very light and involves the therapist placing her hands at two points on the body, possibly doing some rocking motions, often we’re just holding still.

The client’s experience of this work can be any range of sensations with the hope being that it will bring release of tension or pain they might be holding.

For the therapist…we feel the energy pulsing and moving back and forth between our hands. Unlike other types of massage…where we are actively sinking into the muscle tissue with our fingers or knuckles or elbows…polarity work involves engaging with energy that surrounds the body and all its muscles, the joints, and ligaments. When my hands…and my energy…meet the client’s field of energy…it’s something like when you hold two magnets with the same poles facing each other. It feels like a very lively force field.

This magnetic energy is the unseen body.

Whether we’re conscious of it, we can sense and feel that energy as it swirls up and down and all around a person’s physical frame.

As I sat with our first reading from Wisdom…I kept thinking about the experiences I’ve had feeling and sensing that energetic body of a client: There’s this unseen dimension that also has a presence. And it’s that something more which I think gets captured in the poetic words of the Wisdom writer when we hear about that part of us which will “shine forth and will run like sparks through the stubble.”

It’s that same idea that Paul writes about in his First Letter to the Corinthians, when speaking about the mystery of God that passes human understanding. Death is not a finality.

Skeptics tend to say that once the person is dead, that’s it. They’re gone.

But while that physical body is gone from this world, the spirit of a person, that energetic body is what continues on…free from the physical limitations of time and space that exist in our here and now. This energy is beyond our flesh and blood version of reality (see 1Cor. 15:51-53).

This reading from Wisdom is among the choices the church gives for use at the time of a funeral and so it makes sense that as we celebrate All Saints that we have this reading.

This time of All Saints marks a period of liminal space.

Here in the northern hemisphere, the light dims earlier in the day and the temperatures…finally!...start to cool off. There is a thinning of the veil between the worlds of physical and spiritual living…which lends itself to feeling the closeness of our loved ones who have transitioned and… in the words of Shakespeare’s Hamlet…“shuffled off this mortal coil.” Many cultures particularly in Latin communities are keenly aware of this thinning of the space between the living and the dead.

The two-day celebration of Dia de los Muertos is a time of food and drink and dancing as families feel that energetic presence of their ancestors being close to them. It’s not a time of weeping but rejoicing. And in this way…death isn’t an ending; it’s another leg of the soul’s journey.

So it seems only fitting that on this day, we are dedicating our columbarium which shares this sacred space with the two major visual cues of our Christian heritage: the baptismal font and the Eucharistic table.

We come into our faith in Jesus through the font. As we note in the service of baptism, it is through those waters that we are buried with Christ and risen again into his life everlasting (BCP, 306).  To be brought into the body of Christ means to be brought into the mission of Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world. And spending just a few minutes listening to the nightly news, there is a lot of work to do in these times of polarized politics. Seems like there is no time like the present to give sight to the blind, good news to the poor, free the captives and liberate the oppressed (Luke 4:18).

The font is in line with our altar…the gathering place where we put aside all labels and pretenses about ourselves…to be re-membered with Christ. Living into the promises of our baptismal covenant…particularly the promise to seek Christ in all persons and respect the dignity of every human being…is a struggle. As Christians, we are called to resist the powers that want us to assert dominance over other people…or even to tell the driver in the other car who cut us off what we think of them…in sometimes very colorful language.

This table is where we come to be nourished and fed so that we can get back out there and keep striving to bring about a kingdom where we live as a beloved community of God.

And now we have added this columbarium. This is the place where we enter our final rest, freed from our physical bodies, and yet that energetic spirit dwells just on the other side of the veil. Having the columbarium in this space is a reminder that our mortality does not cut us off from being in communion…and is part of the journey of life.

We are changed in death…but life continues.

Our energy lives on in that great cloud of witnesses who keep watch over the work we must continue to do in our realm…as we live into our own versions of sainthood.

These saints may be at rest from their labors, but God is continuing to work in and through us, perfecting us, coaxing us, bugging us until we can’t ignore God any more. Their work is done. But ours is just beginning.

Time to shine forth like sparks running through the stubble.

In the name of God…F/S/HS

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seeing God in the Other: a sermon at United Church Tallahassee

Scripture used:

1 Kings 8:22-23; 41-43;  Psalm 96 1-9; Luke 7:1-10

This past week, I had the opportunity to attend the Naturalization Ceremony at the United States Federal Courthouse. I was there to show support for my friend, Beatrice, who after living in the country for thirty years was finally becoming a citizen. She didn’t want anyone to come and, of course, my wife and I, being her friends, heard this request…and ignored it. This was a big deal…and we were going to be there whether she wanted us to or not! That’s what friends are for, right?

Not only was this a big deal, it was a HUGE deal. Seventy-one people….from France, England, Spain, Colombia, Mexico, Nigeria, Vietnam, Palestine, Iraq, China…and so many other countries were taking an oath and pledging their allegiance to the United States of America. They were smiling (how many people are happy to be in a federal court room?) Family members and friends were snapping photos. Each of the petitioners was given a short moment to express the meaning of this day to them. Over and over we heard “thank you!” “What a privilege!” “I am so happy to become an American!” As a native of this country, I was in awe to witness this joy, and to hear people with various lilts and accents speaking with pride about becoming one with me as a citizen of this nation.

I don’t often think about what it means to be an American, let alone think about citizenship as a privilege or something that makes me feel grateful and happy. More often than not, I see America’s flaws and where we have failed to be a great nation that takes care of its poor, its hopeless, and its lost and lonely people.  I sat next to a woman wearing a hijab. She was there because her husband was becoming a citizen. She pledged allegiance to the flag. She recited the oath of citizenship along with everyone else.  And, as we stood and listened to a man with a magnificent baritone voice belt out the national anthem, I felt myself overcome with the emotion of this moment. We were welcoming the foreigners into our land of the free and home of the brave.

Welcoming, and including foreigners is a central tenet of our Judeo-Christian tradition. We hear that clearly in the reading we had from First Kings. Solomon has just finished building the Temple and in his prayer of dedication he calls on God to hear the prayers of the foreigner “who is not of your people Israel” when they come to this house and call upon God.  Jewish law required them to show hospitality to the strangers in their midst, and Solomon went so far as to intercede to the God of Israel to pay attention to the foreigners and give heed to their pleas in the same way that God would hear the prayer of an Israelite. In this way, the foreigner might come to know the God of Israel and become part of the crowd.  The ceremony on Tuesday reflected that same generosity of spirit toward these newest citizens. Besides all the documentation that they now possess that proves their citizenship (and their desk-sized American flags) the presiding judge and speakers could not emphasize enough that the most important right of citizenship was to register to vote. And don’t you know that our Supervisor of Elections had three members of his staff on hand ready to help sign them up! Many of the petitioners mentioned how excited they were at this opportunity to vote in the upcoming election. And those of us in the room contemplating the current political state of affairs in the country likely all had the same collective thought of, “Oh, I bet you are happy to vote!”

Which brings me to the Gospel lesson we heard this morning from Luke about the Roman centurion seeking help from the Jewish Jesus. Remember that in this time, Rome was an occupying force and the Jews felt under the thumb and oppressed by the presence of the Roman soldiers. This centurion, however, was viewed a little differently. He had been kind to the Jews and had even built their synagogue. He petitions Jesus to please heal his sick servant. When Jesus comes, the centurion, aware that Jewish law forbids Jesus from entering the house of a Gentile, urges Jesus not to come under his roof.  Just say the word…he pleads…and heal my servant. And I can almost picture this moment: Jesus…stunned by what this Gentile Army General has said and just how deeply this man “gets it”…turns around to the people following Jesus and says…to take some liberties with text…,“Whoa! Now THIS is what faith looks like!”

I go back to that Naturalization Ceremony and all those people who desired to become part of our country and take part in our right to vote. Even my friend made her first act as a citizen registering to vote so she could have a say in the governance of this state and the nation.  Think about that for a moment. People…who have had to jump through hoops and drive to Jacksonville and Miami and swear an allegiance to the United States…are relishing this opportunity to vote. They believe and have faith in this as a democratic society where voting does matter and does make a difference. And then consider the conversation---if you can even call it that—that seems to be happening on social media sites such as Facebook. I don’t know what you’re seeing and reading from your friends, but on my timeline it seems everything about the system is rigged and the will of the people is being thwarted. Democracy is a sham.

I don’t believe that. Democracy is messy. Democracy means that I win sometimes and I lose sometimes. If there is anyone who has cause to feel that the system is rigged, it’s those for whom guarantees of access through the Voting Rights Act are being threatened. And, despite the undue influence of money in our political system, I still have faith that my vote…and the votes of real people and not corporations…matters.

Now…before you think this is only a sermon on voting...let me bring this back to the matter of faith and the foreigner. Because just like the messiness that is our Democracy…this idea of who is a beloved child of God is also not so clean cut. It would be so much easier and convenient if we could say that if you look like me, talk like me, and worship in the same church as me…then you’re “of God” and everybody else…is not. But that certainly isn’t what Solomon was saying in his prayer of dedication of a temple he built to the glory of God. And it isn’t the lesson we’re getting from Jesus this morning about the one who is outside of his own flock of followers, and yet had more faith in Jesus’ healing powers than what the Son of God had found in all of Israel. Perhaps what we’re called to hear in all of this is that God’s grace is abundant, God’s mercy is everlasting, and God’s faithfulness can be found in those who are “the others” in our society. It could be that God is calling us to see in those who are not just like us the hope and the joy of what it means to be citizens not only of a country on earth but a country on earth as it is in heaven. Embrace the faith. Be kind to one another. And let us all say, “Amen.”

Reflecting on Independence Day

Off in the distance, I can hear the fireworks already going off as the heavens are preparing a different kind of fireworks show as is typical of our North Florida summer afternoons. I have already had my own little bit of patriotic fun, waving a couple of rainbow flags that were gifted to me as I hummed a Sousa march.

Indeed, this year's Independence Day is a little bit different. This is the first time I have truly felt that my country of origin has made a real statement that I, as a lesbian, am entitled to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. "Happiness" in this case is the fundamental civil right to be married and have my marriage recognized in all 50 states and not just a bizarre patchwork of local county ordinances and such. That "happiness", by extension, goes to those LGBT people who choose not to marry. It is now a choice. This is wonderful, and a bit bizarre, given the long period of "outlier" status we've had as gay people. You start to grow kind of accustomed to that place, creating your own rules and reality. But now our reality is being brought into the fabric of the nation for real. I'm OK with this.

At the same time, as I consider closely where we are with our many intersections of identities in this nation, I'm still unsettled and troubled. Lots of people have been sharing the words of Frederick Douglas about what Independence Day means to a slave. Believe me, I can't help but be reminded that we still have not guaranteed life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness when people are killed for their skin color. When the fact that your skin contains more melanin than mine means that you are denied access to a job or housing, how in the world can that leave you happy? I'm not happy, and I'm the one who has the privilege that affords me those things which are denied to black and brown people. Add to the mix the intersection of skin color and sexual or gender identity and watch the disparity grow. Where is the happiness and the fireworks in that?  I know this type of discrimination exists. And it must end.  

The United States, like any other nation on earth, will only be made stronger when all its people are treated with respect and dignity. As I think about purple mountain majesties and amber fields of grain, I think about the vast and amazing beauty that can be seen in all of our people. And I think that we have failed to lower those mountains and lift up those fields, so that we're all walking together on the same plain. This is the desire for justice that has been with me all my life, and is my ongoing commitment to all my brothers and sisters. In my world, and my vision, all means all. Liberty and justice for all. That is the pledge I will make to my country and its citizens.

The Drum Major Instinct

It was a cold and windy mid-November morning when I walked from a hotel in downtown Atlanta through the Sweet Auburn neighborhood. I kept my pace brisk as I crossed street after street, even walking under a major interstate. I passed by many a closed business, and bars advertising prizes for twerking. This was definitely out of my element. But I was on a mission: I wanted to go to Ebenezar Baptist Church, the church that launched the career of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 

I was not disappointed. The docent at the desk informed me that, in the church basement, there was a video playing of one of Dr. King's siblings telling the story of her brother and her family's involvement in the life of Ebenezer Baptist. King's father was the pastor and his mother was the organist and choir director. When Martin Luther King, Jr. was a child, he used to love to sing. He would grow up to be the co-pastor of the church with his father from 1960 to his death in 1968. The video also told the story of how violence rocked their church about six years after Rev. Dr. King's assisination. It was a Sunday morning. Dr. King's mother had just finished playing and they were starting prayers in the church when a man stood up on one of the pews, announced he was taking over, and began shooting. King's mother was killed in the melee along with a deacon. The 23-year-old who did the shooting said he did it because he was opposed to Christianity.

With that in my head, I ascended the steps to the sanctuary. There was only me, and one other couple. They left fairly soon after I got there, which gave me the entire space to myself. Me, an empty sanctuary with flowers and an old-fashioned microphone on the pulpit and the recording of the Rev. Dr. King's sermon, "The Drum Major Instict." 

I was deeply moved as I sat and listened to his voice filling the air. I knew the Scripture passage well, the moment in which the brothers are arguing and asking Jesus to give them the seats of honor on his left side and the right side. It is a moment in Jesus' ministry where I often wonder, "Did these guys who were following him here, there and everywhere have a clue as to what he was doing?" The presumption of these two guys, John and James, that they could ask Jesus to make them first ahead of the other disciples is pretty amazing, and yet, pretty typical of so many of us. That's what Rev. Dr. King referred to as "the Drum Major instinct."  I sat at times with eyes closed as I took in how Dr. King put this tale into his modern day situation in 1968. People putting themselves into financial crises by attempting to live beyond their means. Nations putting themselves and their people at-risk by asserting that their way is superior to the way of other nations. Racism, and how poor whites had deluded themselves into believing they are superior to blacks while suffering under the same oppression and injustice plaguing communities of color. And he turned his own sights back to Jesus for the role model of what real leadership looks like. I wept as I heard Dr. King say of himself that at his funeral he didn't want anyone to go on and on about him. He didn't want to be known for the many accolades he had accumulated. He didn't want them to talk about his Nobel Peace Prize. 

"Tell them I tried to love and serve humanity." 

Little did he know, he was preaching his own eulogy. His wife requested that this sermon be played at his funeral.

Little did I know this mission to find and visit his church would leave such an impression on me. I heard in his sermon many things I have felt for myself as one who has kept plugging away at the struggle for equality particularly for LGBTQI people. I don't work for justice so that I can get awards. I work for justice because I can't feel comfortable knowing that others are struggling. Yes, we have finally achieved marriage equality in Florida. But people are still able to be fired from their jobs if they get married to their same-gender partner. The Roman Catholic diocese in South Florida has made it clear to all its employees to "beware" of making public comments on social media about the marriage issue that might "contradict" traditional Roman Catholic doctrine. The Episcopal diocese of Florida has not even acknowledged that there has been this sea change in the civil marriage laws. We have made progress. But this march is far from over. And so I'm lacing up my shoes, ready to walk the path that is laid before me.  

The Martyrdom of St. Stephen

We give you thanks, O Lord of glory, for the example of the 
first martyr Stephen, who looked up to heaven and prayed 
for his persecutors to your Son Jesus Christ, who stands at 
your right hand; where he lives and reigns with you and the 
Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

The first few days of the Christmas season are, well, gruesome. It's as if the church hired the Grimm Brothers to lay out the lectionary so that we won't forget that amidst the joy and celebration of the birth of Christ, we are never without those stories of death, especially violent death. The story of Stephen's martyrdom is that this young man was among the true believers, and an early deacon, spreading the news of Christ. He was unwilling to back down from his convinction in Christ, and, like Jesus, he found himself brought up on trumped up charges because he was calling out fellow Jews. The end for Stephen wasn't pretty. He was dragged out into the street and stoned to death, while Saul (later to be St. Paul) looking on.

On this night, perhaps it is best to take a moment to remember all those who are killed for conscience or have their lives cut short because they are following their call. For all those willing to put their lives on the line, we give thanks. We remember you, and we pray for those who persecute others that they may be delivered from their cruelty, hatred and revenge as we also ask that our hearts not turn to stone in the face of violence.

If Christ is the King, then....

We've reached the end of the season of Pentecost and have arrived at the date that is commonly known throughout the Episcopal Church as "Christ the King" Sunday. To punctuate the moment, we hear the famous words from Matthew's Gospel:

Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Matt 25:34-39).

We also know what follows this. Those who don't feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, take care of the sick or visit the prisoner are the ones who have not done the will of the king...and they will not inherit eternal life.  To put this all in simpler terms, when we take care of each other, look out for each other, recognize our selves in the "other", this is when we have made earth more like heaven. It's when we do the simple things of paying attention to the people we encounter and treat them with the respect and dignity afforded every human being that we put the Christ back into Christianity and He can reign as king.

Just saying, "Oh, yes, I will take care of the poor and the needy," doesn't cut it. To actually achieve "earth as it is in heaven" entails a lot of work and it isn't for the feight of heart. It means entering into the messiness of humanity and sitting with the stranger in the dark and daring to touch their hand or their shoulder to remind them that they are not alone.

We've had some terrifying events lately in Tallahassee which sadly are the same terrifying events that happen in cities and towns all over this country every day. A person with a gun opens fire on people who are unarmed or responding to others in need of help. It happened twice in less than three days. On the Florida State University campus, a young man who had graduated from FSU and gone on to law school and had a career as an attorney in New Mexico returned to his alma mater, to the library where he used to love to study as an undergraduate, and shot three people. When the police arrived and ordered him to drop his weapon, he fired off shots at them. They killed him. Myron May wasn't the smiling student and promising young lawyer he'd been. Friends report that he had been on a terrifying downward spiral of mental illness and a belief that the police had bugged everything from his car to his sneakers. We won't know why he felt the need to go back to the campus he loved to inflict pain and terror. But it seems he is yet another victim of a mental healthcare system that has too many gaps in which very sick and troubled people continuously fall and their families and friends are powerless to do much more than watch. When one has to "do something" in order to get help, it can lead to them "doing something," that harms themselves or others. That seems to have been the case with Myron May. And how sad is that. It wasn't that his friends didn't attempt to go sit with him in his dark place, to get him the help he needed. They did. But the gaps that have been allowed to grow in the system, the inability due to bureaucracies to get people help conspired against their efforts. And so a campus and its police officers got pulled into his hell. And we, again, are left with questions: why can't someone with a mental illness get proper treatment? And how in the world are they able to purchase a gun?

Another man, with a gun, took aim this morning at Leon County Sheriffs deputies and Tallahassee firefighters responding to a house fire on a normally quiet cul-de-sac. Details are still sketchy, but it seems this guy was someone with a record and known to be trouble. He may have set fire to the home as a way of drawing out the first responders, and then he ambushed the first deputy on the scene, killing him and taking his gun. An off-duty TPD officer who happened to live in the neighborhood and was preparing to work a shift at the FSU football game, heard the melee outside and was the one who ultimately ended up shooting and killing the guy. A neighborhood was terrified and shaken. And more lie dead from gunshots. Many are quick to note that it could have been worse. But that is small consolation to those mourning the dead. All day on Facebook, as the story of this latest shooting unfolded, I would learn that one friend may have known the perpertrator; another lives only a few houses away from the dead deputy. The violence ripples out from the crime scene and touches us all. 

If Christ is King, then surely he must be like the man who returned from his journey in last week's Gospel parable only to find that the person given the one talent (which was actually a huge amount of money in those days) had buried it because he knew the man was greedy. What will this King have to say about how we've been doing, as a human race, to make earth resemble heaven? Will he note how we throw our hands up and say, "We can't do anything about XYZ because... (fill in the list of excuses)?" Perhaps as we prepare for the return of the King in these coming weeks of Advent, we might begin with looking at our unwillingness to tackle the tough issues every single day, and demand better of our leaders and our selves when it comes to the lack of adequate resources for mental health care. Maybe now is the time to ask the harder questions about the easy access to guns, and for those with the power to change laws to worry more about the public good than the next election cycle. The "least of these" are really any of us and all of us. Our refusal to see that and respond in Love to one another through doing the hard work of making earth like heaven is when we fail the King.

When Will The Angel Save Us From Destruction: a Rosh Hashanah Reflection

It is the tradition on Rosh Hashanah to hear the chanting of the Torah portion from Genesis which is that terrifying moment when Abraham takes Isaac up the mountain and lays him on an altar to sacrifice him only to have the intervention from an angel of The Lord to stop him from plunging a knife into his only son. I knew this was the reading we'd hear. I've been hearing it every year that I have attended this service with my partner. So, it should be no surprise that when I woke up this morning, I was thinking about this very complex and troubling story.  And I was thinking about this world, the events happening at a global and local level with politics, wars, sports.  A responsive prayer at the beginning of the service summed up my thinking:

When will redemption come?

When we master the violence that fills our world.

When we look upon others as we would have them look upon us.

When we grant to every person the rights we claim for ourselves.

Which brings me back to seeing the story of Abraham and Isaac in light of today's world.  It's not uncommon for the generation that comes before to look at the ones coming up behind them with a bit of disdain and dismissiveness. Even as the older grumbles that the younger is lazy or immature or reckless, they also look to the younger to fix the problems the older generation is currently immersed in creating.  I thought it was rich when I was a senior in prep school that my sociology teacher lectured us about the proliferation of nuclear weapons and that it was up to us, the ones on the cusp of gaining the right to vote, to save the country and the world from this threat.  Outspoken student that I was, I approached her after class and told her that since I had no right, at that time, to vote perhaps it was really up to her generation to not saddle mine with this problem. The older generation posseses the power in the moment and has the knowledge that the younger generation does not. Why wait for the younger generation to come of age and then expect them to fix the mess?

This is where I see the intersection with the story of Abraham and Isaac. The story in Genesis begins with God putting Abraham to the test:

"He said, ‘Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt-offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.’ So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt-offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, ‘Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.’Abraham took the wood of the burnt-offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, ‘Father!’ And he said, ‘Here I am, my son.’ He said, ‘The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt-offering?’ Abraham said, ‘God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt-offering, my son.’ So the two of them walked on together."

 Abraham knows what has been asked of him, a terrible and terrifying reality that he's been asked to kill his son. He lays the burden of carrying the wood on Isaac.  Isaac, a simple young man, asks a straight forward question, "If there's going to be a sacrifice, where's the lamb?" And Abraham, rather than giving him the hard truth, gave him an answer to hold off any further questions.  And they kept walking together.  The truth may have been more than Abraham could handle himself. The truth may have been so disturbing that he couldn't say anything more than what he said.  And the truth is, as it will turn out later in the story, that he wasn't lying: God would eventually provide the lamb.  But not before Abraham had bound poor Isaac and stood over him with a knife.  

Abraham represents the older generation or, more accurately, the baby boomers and the Gen-Xers who are holding the positions of authority and are the ones "in charge" of our worldly affairs at the moment. Isaac are those who are coming up behind us from the 20-somethings all the way down to the infants and yet to be born. Like Abraham, we presently face many tests: 

Are we going to get serious about climate change and our dependence on fossil fuels?  

Are we going to think it is acceptable to beat women? 

How about the shooting of unarmed black men and women?  

Will we scream at immigrant children on buses? 

Will we refuse to pay people a living wage?

Will our universities go to the highest bidder?

Or allow gangs of people to gang up on gay people walking at night? 

How long can we stand politicians who refuse to fulfill their duties to lead and hold our government hostage? 

Will we drop bombs on ISIS or start fighting another war? 

Can there ever be peace in the Middle East?  

These are just some of the questions that we Abrahams have before us in the perpetual journey of discerning how to choose life over death.  Our decisions are in our hands in the same way that the knife was in Abraham's.  And we, like Abraham, are standing with these questions, these important questions, that will determine the future and fate of our Isaac generations.  We are holding that knife and there are some who seemingly are ready to make the sacrifice of our future generations while daring to praise God as they do it. There are also some of us who are listening for the voice of the angel to tell us to put the knife down, and find that God is providing, through the voices of scientists and climatologists and peace makers and lovers of justice and men and women of many colors, orientations, creeds, who are saying, "Don't sacrifice the future! Listen!"  We have voices of angels calling to us to take on these difficult and seemingly impossible tasks of doing what is right for our world now, and not slough it off onto the next generation. Because to slough it off may be like plunging the knife into Isaac's chest.

When will redemption come?

When we listen for that voice that says, "This is the way. Walk in it."