Pilgrims in the Borderlands

 

Pilgrims in the Borderlands

Authored by The Rev. Clelia Pinza-Garrity, LCSW

By situating ourselves within concrete experiences, by being with the people there where they live, with caring and fraternal attitudes, as virtuous beings, we expose ourselves to the richness and to the limits of their human and social experience. We are transformed in our way of looking at the world. We are strengthened in what makes their lives and our lives meaningful. (Andrea Vicini, S. J. in Scharen and Vigen, Ethnography as Christian Theology and Ethics. P. 180)

Early this fall, the Diocese of the Central Gulf Coast engaged in a partnership agreement with the Rio Grande Border Ministries, a program of the Diocese of the Rio Grande. The agreement aims to create ways in which pilgrims from the Diocese of the Central Gulf Coast can journey to the Rio Grande Borderlands. A journey of listening and learning – of seeing and hearing – of being present with the people of the Texas, Arizona, and Mexico border communities – the Borderlands.

Most importantly, it will be a journey in which we see God Incarnate at work in and through the people who are struggling mightily to escape poverty, oppression, and fear; to find a place of safety and peace. And it will be a journey in which we develop relationships with clergy and lay leaders in Texas, Arizona, and Mexico who need our hearts, hands, and feet to assist and support them in their various borderlands ministries. Rio Grande Borderland Ministry Opportunities

As I reflect on my many years of work in Haiti and my most recent project in the desert bush of Zambia, Africa I can safely say that those of us who travel to the Rio Grande Borderlands will be transformed in our understanding of the complex immigration situation imposed on this area and the people who are struggling mightily to reach safety and peace. I am also quite certain that as Christians we will be transformed as we experience God Incarnate through the stories, the hearts and souls, and the work of those who inhabit this amazing and sacred place.

Our work will begin in earnest in early 2022. We have already had one extremely informative meeting with the U.S. Border Patrol at the El Paso bridge. We intend to schedule other Zoom meetings in January and February, with an in-person pilgrimage in the spring.

If you are interested in joining the Diocesan Borderlands group email list and perhaps volunteering when opportunities arise, please contact Deacon Clelia at garritycpg@gmail.com (561-271-2890)

God from God...

 

Sermon – 12-05-21

Luke 3:1-6

Former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, opened a lecture on his thoughts about the meaning of Christmas by referring to the second verse of the popular Christmas Hymn, O Come All Ye Faithful.

The second verse he claimed gets, decisively, at the question, "Who is it that is at the center of the Christmas story?"

"God from God…Light from Light eternal, lo! He abhors not the Virgin's womb; only begotten Son of the Father." Hymnal #83, v. 2

Williams goes on to say, "It is the King of Angels, it is God who is at the center of the [Christmas] story. But not simply God as such, but God from God. God's life boiling over from eternity into time. And when we've sung God from God, we go on to use one of the most ancient and powerful images for what that means, Light from Light…The light of God truly flows out into the world and yet leaves God undiminished, like a candle lighting another candle…Action, energy that flows out from God and is no less than God, and yet does not diminish God… the God we believe in, as Christians, is a God who holds nothing back. That is the Divine nature. God gives what God is." Rowan Williams - Christmas

God from God. God's life boiling over from eternity into time. The image is of God flowing from God. God steadily infusing us with the light and the love that is only his to give, while remaining, in all ways, undiminished, fully God. God from God. Light from Light.

Centuries earlier the Medieval Desert Father, Meister Eckhart, one of the most brilliant and controversial mystics in the history of Christianity, in his densely packed writings alluded to the very same concept of the “boiling over of God into humanity.” He wrote, “The created world is a ‘boiling over’, spilling out from God’s inner ‘boiling.’…God finds delight and satisfaction where he finds sameness. He finds it a joy to pour his nature and his being completely into the sameness, for he is this sameness itself.” (Harmless, W. Mystics; pp.116-117)

As we journey through this Advent season these are important theological musings. Musings that envision a God who so delights in our being that he continually ‘boils over’ with Light and Love. Unceasingly it pours into the world and thus into our lives. This interpretation of God’s continual offering of Light and Love is central to the soul-healing and faith-healing that must take place in today’s world. A world deeply wounded, traumatized, and, sadly, questioning of their faith, of God.

I say this as a preface to thinking about what Christmas means for all of us – the St. Simon’s family – as we hope, cautiously, to emerge from almost two years of Covid 19 inflicted trauma; yet, not knowing at all what is “around the next corner.”

Indeed, even as I wrote this homily the day after Thanksgiving 2021 the trauma continued. News outlets were delivering reports of a new Covid variant – one perhaps more contagious and deadly than its predecessor. The financial markets reacted to this news with a massive plunge. Travel restrictions were once again put into place. Suddenly the future looked more ominous than it did just the day before when we were enjoying our Thanksgiving holiday.

The trauma to our souls continues, unceasingly.

I do not use the word trauma lightly. Trauma is real. It results from exposure to an incident or series of events that are emotionally disturbing and potentially life-threatening. Trauma has lasting adverse effects on one’s functioning. On one’s mental, physical, social, economic, emotional, and spiritual well-being.

Covid19 and its variants were, and still are, for us and for all the world an ongoing traumatic event. Our ways of functioning have been, and in many cases still are, being massively disrupted and severely compromised by the ongoing trauma imposed by the presence throughout the world of a rapidly spreading, potentially deadly illness. Trauma that has deeply affected our mental, physical, social, economic, emotional, and spiritual well-being.

Trauma is the root cause of the anxiety, depression, panic, and fear of death that many in our community and in the world have and are continuing to experience.

The antidote to trauma is often referred to as post-traumatic care. Central to this care is a stable, caring, inclusive, and trustworthy environment that provides a community focused on healing. The kind of community that God envisions for his loved ones, his children.

This is where St. Simon’s and its thoughts on Christmas enter the picture.

On Christmas Eve through the birth of his Son Jesus, “God’s giving to us what God is”, our Christian faith takes on a new dimension. God enters our lives in a new way. With the arrival of Jesus, God chooses to be among us. God choses to live as fully human. Human in every way, just like you and me.

As the carol Hark the Herald Angels sings out, God is “Pleased as man with man to be.”

And in Jesus, God with us, we begin to see new and expanded ways in which we can exist in the world. Ways that are filled with divine love and deep compassion for the entirety of humankind. Ways in which every citizen of the world is recognized as God’s beloved child. Everyone equal in the eyes of God. Ways that have the possibility of creating stable, loving, and life-giving communities both at St. Simon’s and throughout the world.

Advent is a time to empty our minds of daily confusions and to spend time in prayerful reflection. It is a time to reflect on, to contemplate the meaning of God’s incredible gift of Christmas. Advent is a time to discern how to prepare for the arrival of ‘God from God, Light from Light’ into our lives.

The gift of God from God; Light from Light is our call to lay aside beliefs and behaviors that lead us away from the Light and the Love that will arrive on Christmas Eve. It calls us to grow as compassionate human beings, as loving healers, and as faithful disciples. It calls us to create stable and caring communities that offer a place for those who suffer from the effects of this traumatized world.

Through the gift of Christmas, we are called to love each other as God loves us, with a ‘boiling over’ love filled with action and energy.

The Apostle Paul lived his life spreading the word of this gift throughout the Roman Empire. In his Letter to the Philippians he wrote, “For God is my witness, how greatly I long for you all with the compassion of Christ Jesus. And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow still more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.” (Phil. 1:8-11)

In this passage, Paul prays that the Philippians might be filled with the fruits of righteousness - be acceptable to God. He goes on the say that it is only through experiencing God IN us that we are equipped to bear the gifts of these fruits– to walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. (Rom. 8:4)

Paul prays that his followers in Phillipi will be filled with a love that overflows. A love through which they produce 'the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.'  A harvest of light and love that brings to the world the Light and Love of God that is present in Christ.

As usual, definitive marching orders from Paul. As Christians we are to walk not according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit. According to God’s way of loving us. According to the way of Jesus.

In light of all these thoughts, today’s passage from Luke’s gospel pops out with new meaning and incredible power as we hear John the Baptist cry out:

"Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight, every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways be made smooth, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’ (Luke 3:5-6)

‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’

Get ready for Christmas. Clear ample space in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul to be amazed at the incredible arrival of God from God, Light from Light. Get ready for the arrival of God made man – Jesus and all that his birth as our human savior means.

Christmas is thrilling, amazing – but it is only a beginning. The beginning of a journey in which we as Christians, disciples of Christ, are formed by and must act according to the reality and the theology of Christmas.

As we gather each week at St. Simon’s, as we interact with family and community, will we open our hearts and minds, recognizing the trauma that all have suffered? Will we work together to create a stable and caring community in which all are equally valuable in the eyes of God – in which healing, compassion, love, and forgiveness are a priority?

Advent is the time to think about all of this. Christmas is the time to joyfully receive our gift and allow it to boil over into the world through the King of Angels – God – in us. AMEN

 

The Priests of Haiti

 

The Priests of Haiti

"We are alive, but we are still fighting for [our] life. Even though the situation is very, very difficult, we continue to work very hard. Perhaps another time I might have more to say to you, but for now the shaking continues. The buildings shake. The shaking is everyplace. That is why it is difficult to stay in one place. Right now, I stay under this tree. My bed and my car stay here. But God knows everything. We always, always have hope. The situation in Haiti should be changed. I don't know how long, but we [can]not continue, continue the life like that. It is not a human life. I think it is very difficult…but we continue to work. We continue to pray…we are all one in Jesus Christ." Jean Berthold Phanord, Episcopal Priest, Bondeau, Haiti. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pr6XTeQjOMw

I first traveled to Haiti in 1999. It was a spur of the moment trip. I was working in Palm Beach County as the HIV/AIDS clinical program manager and was increasingly curious about the Haitian culture and Haitian attitudes regarding healthcare. One afternoon I said to my husband, "I need to go to Haiti", and literally overnight, I found a group that was headed there the following week. I booked my flight, met them at the airport, and was in Haiti the following Thursday afternoon. 

As our plane sped down the runway for the brief 90-minute flight to Port au Prince, the tiny nation's capital, I was blissfully ignorant of what was about to happen to me. To say that I fell in love with Haiti would be doing an injustice to the complex feelings that welled in my heart and in my head throughout five brief days of meeting, visiting, and caring for countless souls -all of whom welcomed us with open arms, loving hearts, and incredible hospitality. 

I returned home stunned by all that I had encountered – the crowds, the poverty, the lack of infrastructure, the absence of medical care…the list went on and on. And yet, despite conditions in what was most clearly a "third world" country, a people so vibrant, so talented, and so in love with God. Perhaps to say that I fell in love with Haiti would be far too simplistic. Perhaps, more accurately, I could say that Haiti entered my soul, and it has never left.

I write this little piece two weeks following the devastating 7.2 earthquake Haiti experienced on August 18, 2021, only 11 years after the 2010 7.0 earthquake that leveled much of Port au Prince and Leogane, Haiti's two largest cities. Although political unrest and Covid 19 have prevented me from traveling to Haiti since the fall of 2019, I have not ceased to care deeply for the many friendships and projects that were an integral part of my life for 20 years. And so, uppermost in my mind and central to my prayer life these days are these relationships and projects.

And, while I pray for all of Haiti, today it strikes me that it is the priests of Haiti - men and women whose commitment to their vocation is without parallel – for whom I am the most concerned as I write this brief reflection.

Paul in his Letter to the Ephesians writes, "Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." (Eph 6:13-17) 

I do not believe that one can know or understand the life of a Haitian priest without having had the honor and the opportunity to work closely with them over an extended period of time. To be embedded among them if you will. I was so blessed with that opportunity and today as I read Pere Phanord's comments and I await word from my good friend Pere Kesner Ajax I find myself overwhelmed with grief as I think of the grief and trauma that these souls have endured over the years and their commitment to never question God, but rather to always, with the armor of God, to live in hope and faith.

I remember Pere Kesner who several weeks after the 2010 earthquake stood beside me at the collapsed cathedral in Port au Prince. He was pointing to a small cross in what appeared to be a newly cleared area beside the rubble of the cathedral. He said, so quietly, "This cross is for the children who died here. I listened to them crying for help, but we could not reach them." (Personal communication) I take a look a Pere Kesner's Facebook page this morning and watch him in a series of photos standing straight and strong as he hands out food and water to hundreds amidst the rubble of Les Cayes, his home, a smile on his face and I would bet love in his heart.

Pere Phanord sent out a short video this morning, the opening quote above is extracted from his recorded comments. In the video he is seated in a plastic chair under a tree, his car behind him. His entire community, including his house, is now rubble. Many people have died. There is no food or water. They are miles from anywhere that might offer significant help. Yet he continues to hold services to which many people flock, in the hope that God will bring relief to a life that, as Pere Phanord says, "is not human." 

It is clear from the video that Pere Phanord is not well. He is struggling to breath. Perhaps he had Covid and is suffering aftereffects. I will have to ask him when we next communicate. But despite it all, there he is in his collar, ministering to his flock and advocating for their needs. 

Paul encourages us to be warriors in a battle to remain steadfast in our love of Christ. I can think of no greater example of what these warriors might look like other than the priests of Haiti. Let us keep them in our prayers.

 

 

 

Promises...

 

SERMON

August 15, 2021

St. Simon's on the Sound -John 6:51-58

In reading today's lectionary passages from both Ephesians and John I was reminded of a colleague of mine and his emphasis on the critical, but complex, vows taken during a marriage ceremony.

 I know that may sound a bit strange, but bear with me.

My colleague, once a priest and now a bishop, has, of course, performed many marriages and always using the Celebration and Blessing of a Marriage liturgy found in our Book of Common Prayer. Obviously, performing marriages is a normal and usual part of a priest's daily life. However, the unusual aspect of my colleague's marriage ceremonies is that in each and every homily he focuses on one particular phrase in the prayer offered by the celebrant directly after the Vows of Consent, "O Gracious and everliving God…. assist them with your grace, that with true fidelity and steadfast love, they may honor and keep the promises and vows that they make…" (BCP, 425)

My colleague's emphasis is always on the word "promises." The focus of his wedding day homilies always centers on that one word as he reminds the newlyweds that their promise to love each other will span the course of each and every day of the many years that they will spend together. With compassion but authority he urges them to consider that looking forward they have no way of knowing what this promise to love each other made now in these few moments of joy and excitement would entail as time passes. The future was not theirs, or ours, to know.

Each time I listened to the homily I was struck by its deep, multilayered truth. My own marriage, I am quite sure just like most marriages, began in a flight of love and excitement. As I repeated my vows, following the priest's prompting, the word "promise" did not in any way stick out as something to seriously consider. Of course, I promised to love my new husband. I loved him, didn't I?

Well, everything was fine and dandy back in 1980 when we married. Who could know what the ensuing years would bring and how that word "promise" would more and more become a word to seriously keep in mind and reflect on as our lives together went through some significant ups and downs. In the end, it was this one simple but yet complex word that was the word that not only gave me direction, but also comfort. I had made a promise to love my husband before God – God was both my witness and my partner in this promise and therefore, my stronghold, in every sense of the word.

Paul's words to the Ephesians today were spot on, "Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people…do not be foolish…understand what the will of the Lord is…be filled with the Spirit." (Eph 5:15-20) Increasingly, as the years flew by, I understood that within the context of my wedding promises I had a mandate to "understand the will of the Lord." The meaning of the word "promise" took on a sacred nature. It was not to be defiled.

I bring these thoughts on promises up because I was struck by the fact that in today's gospel passage Jesus, being heckled by the crowd and questioned as to the validity of his words, his authority, takes a stance not of defensively giving directives, but of compassionately offering promises. His complex message about bread has many layers, but its essence is one of promise. A promise of life lived under the protective wings of a love that only God can give us.

Jesus describes himself as the living bread – the lifegiving bread from heaven. He promises that "Whoever eats of this bread will live forever." He goes on in his dialogue to promise, "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them." He concludes by promising, "…the one who eats this bread will live forever." Jesus makes no demands. He imposes no conditions. Jesus simply promises the way to a life lived as a child of God.

However, the promises if they are to be realized, point to a way of action. We are to eat and drink – to consume. We are to incorporate this bread of life, this gift of Jesus into our beings. If we are to live as beloved children of God, we must incorporate Jesus, the bread from heaven that God has given us, into the fabric of our lives. We must experience Jesus as the essential and ultimate guidepost to our very way of being.

This passage of course predates the Last Supper as it is described later in John's gospel, but it is most certainly a foretaste of the Eucharist that is, and always has been, central to our liturgy. The language of all our Eucharistic prayers is lifted directly from these passages in John.  

However, the Eucharistic prayers as we know them are centered not only on Christ and the sanctification of the bread and wine to be for God's people the Body and Blood of his Son, the holy food of new and unending life in him. The prayers are also focused on sanctifying us that we may faithfully receive the holy Sacraments, and serve God in unity, constancy, and peace. This is the part where we promise. Promise that as we consume the holy food from heaven, we open our hearts, our minds, and our souls and allow Jesus to become the core, the essence of our very being.

At the Eucharistic table we enter into a partnership of promise with God. We actively receive the gift of his Son as our savior, our bread from heaven, as the promise of our salvation and we give our promise to take this sacred bread and wine as sustenance to fuel our promise to serve him as we go into the world seeking to heal its brokenness.

Walter Brueggemann, as usual, has something to say on this subject. He offers this brief thought, “To participate in the Eucharist is to live inside God’s imagination. It is to be caught up into what is really real, the body of Christ.”

By accepting Jesus’ promises and offering our own promises in response we are "caught up into what is really real, the body of Christ."

These are difficult times – really, really difficult times. As I wrote this homily, I thought back to just a few short weeks ago when we were all un-masked, the cup was offered in addition to the bread at the Eucharist, and coffee hour was in full swing. Now, as a result of the Delta variant and a surge in new covid cases, we have been asked, wisely, by our bishop to return to the previous protocol of masks indoors, no coffee hour, etc. That brief time of little or no worry about the pandemic seems more like a dream than a reality.

Certainly, a dream at least on hold at this particular moment in time. Also on hold are the many plans to bring our St. Simon's community together again after the prolonged separation imposed by Covid 19.

Each day countless covid-related reports from multiple sources, pandemic related media sensationalism, talk show arguments, political grandstanding, and personal fears all blend together to produce a powerful formula for becoming lost in a world changing more rapidly that one could have ever expected. The confusion and unknowingness being generated breeds anxiety, fear, and anger. Painful feelings that confuse us and obscure our way.

Who to believe; what to do; how to live what is quickly becoming an unrecognizable lifestyle – all questions that are completely legitimate, and I would imagine shared by many if not all of you.

I cannot think of a more critical time in our lives to re-hear the promises made by Christ – promises to lead us, promises to be our light, promises to be our sustenance, promises to be our savior. And, of course, in turn to hear our promises made to him each and every week as we receive his body, the bread of heaven. Our promises to faithfully serve God in unity, constancy, and peace.

Unity, constancy, and peace – take a moment to reflect on these three simple words that are the core of our promise to Jesus.

We promise unity – that means quite literally that we are all on the same page as we move through the tangle of today's world with all its many voices competing for power and authority. We must strive to "tune out" those voices, consider them unwelcome distractions from the voice that dwells within us – the voice of Jesus. We must allow ourselves to be led by the Holy Spirit, our advocate, our direct link to God.

We promise constancy – that means a commitment to times of quiet reflection in which we can re-focus our thoughts, separate fact from fiction, and remember that the promises made by Jesus are contingent on our staying steady on the path that he has shown us. To be constant means that we must not be distracted by the complexity of life around us. We must proceed calmly, always aware of what we are saying and doing and why. Always keeping our hearts and our minds focused on Jesus and his promises as our guideposts.

We promise peace – that means that the outcome of our commitment to unity and constancy is a life of peace. A life centered in and grounded by the love and compassion that is the gift of our promise. Peace - our bread from heaven, our promise from Jesus. Our vow before God.

Our eucharistic promise is our vow to live a life that is caught up into what is really real, the body of Christ.

 

 

 

 

 

Our Great Power

 

Sermon

July 11, 2021

Mark 6:1429

 I want to begin by saying how wonderful it was to see you all at the Fourth of July picnic last Sunday. It was truly a time of joyful re-gathering after more than a year-long separation. An isolating time during which we were connected only by YouTube and Facebook. Thank you to the many people who made the picnic possible and thank you all for coming to this important re-building of our community event. I trust it will be the first of many opportunities to gather, catch-up, tell stories, and break bread together throughout the coming year. If you have ideas of what you might like to have us schedule, please see me – anytime. We want to hear from you.

 Now on to today’s Good News…

 Stanley Hauerwas, an American theologian and ethicist, speaks and writes extensively about what it means to be a Christian in the post-modern world. A post-modern world for Hauerwas, and many others, is one in which Christianity is no longer THE religion. Christianity is no longer the religion of the state; the religion that drives the values and decisions of society. It is but one of several world religions that co-exist in an increasingly secular world impacted by ever-expanding globalization and the assimilation of myriad cultures.

 To quote Hauerwas, “From my perspective, 'postmodernism' merely names an interesting set of developments in the social order that is based on the presumption that God does not matter.”

 Hauerwas makes the point that in order to preserve Christianity – in order to sustain the church as we know it - it will be increasingly important to identify ourselves as Christians through ways of being that inspire others to say, "They seem so joyful and at peace with one another, I wonder what makes them tick?" To quote Hauerwas once again, "We must remember that these days not everyone knows what Christianity is – we need to inform them…The heart of the gospel is that you don't know Jesus without the witness of the church. It, [the gospel] is always mediated.”

In other words, in order for the world to know Jesus, to know Christianity, we – you and I – have the mandate to accomplish that task, and importantly, we have the power to do so.

 Hauerwas is a complex but invaluable voice. We should pay attention to his commitment to Jesus – to Christianity. It is no secret the percentage of people in the United States who self- identify as Christians has declined dramatically. Protestants and Catholics comprise the greater share of that declining number. A 2018 Pew Research Center survey found that only 1% of Americans were Episcopalians and that nine out of ten self-identified as white.

 In order for us to be known, we must have a voice that transcends many competing voices. In many instances voices that are loud, angry, challenging, and not infrequently intimidating. Voices that are not the voice of Jesus.

 It was Hauerwas' voice I heard last week as I read today's rather gory account of the beheading of John the Baptist. Interestingly a gospel passage in which Jesus is absent. Rather the story centers around a key figure in the unfolding story of Jesus' birth, baptism, and ministry – John the Baptist.

 You will remember that John was the son of Elizabeth, Mary's relative, who was also pregnant. The angel Gabriel instructed Mary to visit Elizabeth. "Mary went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country…and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the child leaped in her womb." (Lk 1:40-42) Even when in Elizabeth's womb, John was touched by the Holy Spirit. Years later he would emerge from the desert announcing Jesus' arrival as the Lord. "…John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 'Repent for the kingdom of heaven has come near.'" (Mt: 3:2-3)

 Before Jesus began his ministry, John was already baptizing, but with water. "I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. (Mt 3:11-12)

 In today's passage from Mark, we find John the Baptist imprisoned by the Romans. John in his ministry of repentance had been an insistent and public voice that denounced Herod Antipas’ marriage to Herodias, Herod’s brother's wife. (If you recall, marrying your brother's wife was an illegal act according to Jewish Law.)

 John's condemnation of the marriage infuriated Herodias, and after her young daughter Salome had charmed Herod with her dancing at a large gathering of his court and his friends, Herodias urged Salome to demand John the Baptist’s head on a platter – immediately. The bewitched Herod, who had promised Salome anything she wanted, complied with her request and John the Baptist’s head was produced – immediately.

 This story of John the Baptist’s capture and ignominious death foreshadows Jesus' arrest in the garden, his questioning by the Roman authorities, and his crucifixion. It is also a story that alerts us, graphically, to the reality that speaking up, or speaking out, can be dangerous. And that, of course, brings us back to Stanley Hauerwas, and others who insist that this is a time in which we as Christians must speak up and speak out. We must be witnesses of Jesus’ good news.

 The past 18 months have taken a toll, a big toll on everyone and everything. The extent of that toll is still emerging. It may be years before we really understand the impact of the Covid 19 pandemic.

 Countless men, women, and children have experienced severe economic challenges. There has been a continuing confusion and resulting suspicion and mistrust of scientific information regarding masks, vaccines, and all other aspects of life with Covid 19, and there has been sadly an outgrowth of people with long-term after-effects of the virus.

 I just learned from a friend who had Covid early on, that as a result of oxygen deprivation he had a stroke, with resulting brain damage. His ability to drive and do other activities of daily living essential to his work is now severely compromised. My friend is by one of the 33.6 million people in the U.S. who lived through Covid-19 infection, while another 604,000 people lost their lives to the virus.

 Daily, articles that discuss the emerging long-term effects of Covid appear throughout the various media platforms. New strains of the virus have appeared. Many states remain vulnerable to infection due to low vaccination participation. The nagging question of mask or no mask, even for those vaccinated, continually lingers in the scientific conversations, leaving us in a continuing state confusion, suspicion, and anxiety. Meanwhile, many businesses have failed, and millions of people are still dependent on a soon expiring rent payment moratorium.

 We live in a world overflowing with anxiety, anger, unknowing, and a whole host of other emotions. A world that desperately needs God’s love; and, thanks be to God, we have the power to bring that love to our little corner of the world.

Lessons learned from John’s beheading and Jesus’ crucifixion are clear. Speaking up, speaking out – being witnesses to the gospel can be a dangerous business. It can have serious consequences. But, if we are to pay attention to Jesus’ commandment to “go forth and make disciples of all nations,” and Hauerwas’ observation, The heart of the gospel is that you don't know Jesus without the witness of the church”, we must be willing to be a member of what Presiding Bishop Michael J. Curry has identified as the Jesus Movement. We must commit to following Jesus into a loving, liberating and life-giving communion with God, with God’s creation, with each other and with the world.

 Our church is faced with many financial and societal challenges that threaten its longevity. The general public is increasingly secular and largely unwilling, or uninterested, in considering God as a force in their lives. Speaking up as Christians in this environment can be harrowing.

 However, and perhaps most importantly, our church, along with many other institutions, stands on the threshold of a world emerging from the incredibly far-reaching destruction of Covid 19. By our own admission we are “in the dark”, stunned, confused, frightened, and anxious.  Can we as a church overcome these difficult feelings and cross the threshold into a world re-building itself? Can we become John’s voice in the wilderness and Jesus’ voice from the cross? Can we muster the courage and the commitment, despite the many challenges that face us, to be present in the world as the voice of Jesus; a voice that points us to an alternative way – a way in which God directs us on the path of love, peace, and justice?

 We need not solve the problems of the world, but we can most certainly bring Jesus into the lives of those whom we encounter. That is no small gift to our neighbor and that is our great power.

 

We are Jesus' Family

 

Sermon

June 6, 2021

A few weeks ago, during one of the classes I teach, I recalled a time in the early 1980s when HIV/AIDS was still an unnamed, and frighteningly fatal disease. It had emerged seemingly, out of nowhere. Those who were suffering and dying from this new illness and those who were their friends or family were all shunned. Treated like lepers. Categorically refused access to hospitals, and doctor's and dentist's offices; and all too frequently rejected by families, lovers, friends, and employers. They were alone - hidden away in their homes, rejected by their communities, dying in isolation.

There were very few of us who remained in their midst. It was a tragic time that once lived through will never be forgotten.

As I recalled this segment of our nation's history with my class, I suddenly found myself saying, "And you know what? I can say that I am really proud of the Episcopal Church. During this time, its Red Doors remained open to all. Many Episcopal Churches created feeding and home care programs for those who had been abandoned. They conducted funerals for lives tragically lost, and they prayed by the side of those who were dying and those who mourned." 

Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians, "For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." During this painful period, the Episcopal Church continued to be a house built by God. A house that was open to all and filled with compassion and caring. A house that was open to all in love, agape love; to all - all - of God's children.

I think that many times we either lose sight of or just remain in the dark when it comes to all that our church, both historically and in the present, has done and is doing to meet the challenge of bringing into the lives of the suffering the love and compassion God intended. And when that happens, we also lose sight of who we are and where and how we fit in the larger family of our church's voice in a world filled with chaos and suffering.

As I read through today's gospel passage from Mark it occurred to me that in this story Jesus was being treated as a leper, not unlike those living with AIDS in the 80s and early 90s. The crowd was demeaning him, calling him demented, crazy, dangerous to have around. They declared his teaching unacceptable. Even his family was ashamed, indeed mortified by what he was proclaiming. They urged him to flee – to hide. To "get out of Dodge."

But Jesus did not flinch. He stood alone amidst jeering voices of rejection, firmly planted. Alone, but loved by God. Alone in God's house. The house that he had brought to the world, to give to the world. A house built on agape love for all.

"Who are my mother and my brothers?" he questioned those who sat around him. And, answering his own question, he continued, "Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother." Those who do God's will – his will only – those are members of God's family. It is those who live in God's house. 

And so today my message is that we must never forget that by the grace bestowed on us through our baptismal covenant we are all members of God's house. All members of Christ's family. All his mother, his brothers, his sisters.

And we who have committed ourselves to be members of Christ's family must never forget that we do not exist unto ourselves. We are part of a larger family – our church in the world. To be a faithful House of God is to remain in fellowship with all of our brothers and sisters, and to be an active member of the family that proclaims God's agape love to a world of chaos and suffering.

And so, I want to share with you, my house of God family, why I continue to be proud of the of the Episcopal Church. I want to let you in on some of the work that goes unnoticed, unseen, unacknowledged by most of us. Work that is carried out by the Episcopal Public Policy Network (EPPN) and Episcopal Migration Ministries (EMM). Two programs that are charged with carrying forward the mandates of the National Convention’s resolutions on social justice. Of which, by the way, there are many.

Now I do not want to lose you here. The acronyms and the term social justice may have caused you to put in your ear plugs and take a little nap while I finish my homily. But this is important information. Information that should excite your spirit, stir your imaginations, inspire you to learn more about our extended family's work in the world. Work that is essential to the church’s continuing as a House of God.

There is little need to discuss initiatives such a racial reconciliation, creation care, and immigration reform. Those initiatives are well publicized throughout each of the dioceses and addressed by diverse trainings, programs, and services.

But there is more – much more. Here are a few that you may not have heard of. They may surprise you. You, like I, may end up saying, “Wow, I really am proud of the Episcopal Church.”

The Black Maternal Health Momnibus Act of 2021. The Momnibus is a suite of twelve bills addressing a wide range of issues related to maternal health, from growing the perinatal health care workforce and funding community-based organizations that work on health equity, to improving maternal health care for those who are incarcerated and those with mental health issues.

The Keeping Women and Girls Safe from the Start Act of 2021 (S. 765) expands the ability of the U.S. government to prevent gender-based violence and provide early interventions at the onset of humanitarian emergencies. The legislation will help strengthen staff training and integrate important interventions to mitigate risks for gender-based violence in all humanitarian sectors and will enhance partnerships with local organizations to strengthen capacity and update objectives for the protection and empowerment of women and girls.

Sen. Tammy Duckworth’s Martha Wright-Reed Just and Reasonable Communications Act (S.1541), and Rep. Bobby Rush’s the Martha Wright Prison Phone Justice Act (H.R. 2489), would restore the Federal Communication Commission’s authority to regulate all prison and jail phone call rates. The legislation carries forward Ms. Wright-Reed’s decades-long fight for affordable prison phone rates. Phone calls were the only way she could stay in touch with the grandson she raised and loved during his incarceration.

A lease sale has opened the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge to oil and gas drilling in January 2021. The EPPN is working with multiple other organizations to help stop the progression of oil and gas exploration in the critical ecosystem of the Arctic Refuge in Alaska. Drilling in the Arctic Refuge would devastate one of the most diverse Arctic ecosystems. Noise pollution and oil spills resulting from exploration and drilling could imperil wildlife  and prove fatal for already endangered species.

Finally, I would be painfully remiss if I did not highlight the incredibly brave work of our Presiding Bishop, The Most Rev. Michael Curry. He leads by example offering insight, reflection, and prayer on all fronts. Whenever God calls the church to have a voice, Bishop Curry responds publicly and without hesitation. His brave voice upholds the integrity of our House of God, and he invites us to join him.

Two weeks ago, during his Pentecost sermon at the National Cathedral Bishop Curry told listeners that the Way of Love the apostles spoke of on Pentecost transcends all societal boundaries and unifies people across cultures. "This Way of Love, this is not the province of any religion in particular," he said. "There's no copyright on love. Love is completely ecumenical. Love is completely interfaith. Love is bipartisan. Love is diverse. Love is multiethnic…The way of unselfish, sacrificial love is the way to heal our land and to heal the world."

Everyone is challenged right now. The present moment can be overwhelming, frightening, and depressing. We are all struggling to figure out who we are – where we are – how do we find the path forward? The credibility of information, any information, is suspect. Our family ties have been weakened by political divisiveness and Covid isolation. Uncertainty surrounds us.

But the good news is, despite it all, Jesus is still with us, and we are still his family – we are still a House of God. It is in this house that we meet Jesus as his mother, his brothers, his sisters. It is here that we make the commitment to be a family member. A commitment to work as family members whose goal is to love – agape love. To welcome the stranger. To heal the afflicted. To affirm, "Here I am Lord." To be able to say, “Yes, I am a member of Christ's family and, yes, I am proud of the Episcopal Church.”

A Mighty Fortress is Our God

 

SERMON

April 18, 2021

"A Mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; our help amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing…"

Hopeful, and I believe courageous, words written by Martin Luther, the German theologian and religious reformer who was the catalyst of the 16th-century Protestant Reformation. Luther taught that salvation was not earned by good deeds but was received as the free gift of God's grace through the believer's faith in Jesus Christ as redeemer from sin. His theology challenged the authority and office of the pope by teaching that the Bible is the only source of divinely revealed knowledge, and that God alone has the power to bestow salvation.

Luther did not come to his belief that salvation was freely given through God's good grace easily. He began life as a Catholic and spent many years in a monastery where he struggled, continually, with the painful thought that his tendency to sin was far greater than any repentance he could offer God. Despite regular confession and acts of repentance, he despaired that he would never be worthy of God's heavenly Kingdom.

 It was only when Luther, after many years, read Paul's Letter to the Romans; specifically, Chapter One: verse 17, that he shifted to the belief that it was, and is, through faith, not good works, that we are recipients of God's grace; his gift of salvation.

 In this verse Paul wrote, "For I am not ashamed of the gospel; it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. For in it the righteousness of God is revealed through faith for faith; as it is written, ‘The one who is righteous will live by faith."

 It was upon hearing those words that Luther's Reformation was born and the journey to our Anglican and Episcopal tradition was initiated.

 With this brief piece of history in mind, the opening phrase of this morning's gospel hymn is given a context and a link to the theology of salvation that is both ancient and now ours. A theology that offers us peace of mind, and a theology that gives us courage to go into the world as bearers of the Christian faith as a way of life. The way of life…

 "A Mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; our help amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing…"

 As we slowly emerge from a long, long struggle against the effects of a frightening and deadly disease, we are all exhausted. Many of us are numb, stuck, unable to concentrate, bewildered, traumatized. Hours, days, weeks, and months have been spent in isolation. Unremitting time during which we were afraid to touch anyone, afraid to get too close to anyone – anyone, even family members. An unending string of days, during which we were shut-ins. Prisoners in the solitary confinement in our homes.

 And now, here we are slowly, ever so slowly, crawling out of isolation and onto the banks of the "other side." Grasping at hope – the hope of an effective vaccine and a return to "normal." Grasping in faith at hope. Hope in God's grace. Exhausted but alive.

 "A Mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; our help amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing…"

 In this covid time, Fr. David and I have been focusing on the psalms as inspiration for our sermons. Today's psalm, once again, is especially relevant. The psalmist is crying out to God, "Answer me when I call, defender of my cause…have mercy on me and hear my prayer." Have we also not been crying out to God? "God, are you there? If so, hear us, please. We are asking for your mercy, your intervention in this bewildering and frightening time."

 The psalmist continues. He reassures us "…the Lord does wonders for the faithful; when I call upon the Lord, he will hear me." But the psalmist also understands that this assurance is based on God's expectation of faithfulness to his sovereignty. He says, "Tremble then, and do not sin…offer the appointed sacrifices (worship) and put your trust in the Lord."

 We are told that, "Many are saying, "Oh that we may see better times!" But despite the voice of the doubters, the psalmist trusted in the Lord. He cried out to the Lord, "You have put gladness in my heart…I lie down in peace; at once I fall asleep; for only you Lord, make me dwell in safety."

 "A Mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; our help amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing…"

My question to all of us today is are we among the doubters or are we among those who trust in the Lord. Do we lie down in peace, or are we simply too numbed by our Covid 19 trauma to recognize God at work in our midst? Are we too numbed to experience the peace that God's continual outpouring of grace in our everyday lives should bring us? In our numbness, are we, like the disciples in Luke's gospel, unable to recognize the risen Christ's presence among us? Are we too numbed to experience the power and the peace of Martin Luther's revelation, "A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing?"

 I ask these questions in light of the fact that there are dramatic changes taking place in our lives and in the world. Changes that began long before Covid 19, but changes that were amplified with an accelerated and terrifying speed during this past year. In just 12 short months, the world, including the church, has changed in ways that have yet to be understood. Changed in ways that have yet to be revealed.

 But now that God is bringing us to the other side of the Covid 19 pandemic we need to wake up. We need to emerge from our benumbed state of being. We need to live in faith, assured that the Lord has heard us and will continue to hear us – always. Hear our cry, "Answer me when I call, defender of my cause…have mercy on me and hear my prayer."  

And importantly, we must understand that the gift of God as our fortress, our bulwark is not just ours. It is a gift that belongs to all – the needy, the suffering, the imprisoned, the isolated – all of God's beloved children should experience him as their fortress, their bulwark. All should be able to say, "You have put gladness in my heart…I lie down in peace; at once I fall asleep; for only you Lord, make me dwell in safety."

At the close of Luke's gospel reading today, Jesus says to his disciples, "…repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in [my]) name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem."  To all nations.

 As the church, God's voice in the world, we must look outward and ask challenging questions. Questions that identify ways in which God is at work loving this troubled world. Questions that identify how we can resume our work, God's work, loving this troubled world. We must find ways in which we can put our faith to work. We must find ways in which we can be a bulwark to those in need as we emerge from the tragedy of Covid 19.

 

 

 

William Lee Funeral

 WILLIAM LEE FUNERAL

I do not believe that I ever had an encounter with William in which, in some way, he failed to present me with a challenge either to consider an interpretation of Scripture, or to examine my relationship with God, or God’s relationship with the world. Not once in the four and one-half years that I have been at St. Simons was there ever a deviation from his probing inquiry into God’s presence in the world. It was his hallmark.

I should add that I will never forget the New York Times’ clippings which he would handily whip out from his inside jacket pocket, saying as he handed them to me “You should read this.”

Yes, William was always pushing me to look at my relationship with God – from all points of view, through all lenses

So, it was no surprise to me – well, maybe a little bit of a surprise – when during my last visit with him he issued me yet another clear directive. He asked that I talk about John verses 1-2 and the Shema – when I spoke at his funeral.

Talk about a challenging assignment!!!

The first and second verses of John’s gospel, as you probably know, are, of course, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” 

The Shema, which you may not be familiar with, is found in Deuteronomy and is the centerpiece of Moses’ first speech to the Israelites as they embark on their exodus from Egypt. In it he is warning them that their allegiance to the one God, and one God only, is central to their well-being as they enter the wilderness. Within the speech is the prayer called the Shema – the Hebrew word for “Hear.”

The word “Shema” begins what is now the most important prayer in Judaism. The whole prayer is spoken daily in the Jewish tradition:

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart.

This, of course, is God’s great commandment to all, including us Christians. The follow-up, or second great commandment was given to us by Jesus at his last supper: “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another.” 

As I began to think about writing this homily, I felt compelled to uncover the puzzle that William had given me in this last directive. What was it that he really wanted me to talk about, to say about him - this delightful person, loved so dearly by everyone gathered together today in this sacred space; and by so many others who could not be here?

Well – believe me I spent quite a bit of time pondering before putting pen to paper. So, William, here goes. I hope and pray that in some small way I have it right.

Let’s begin with the Gospel of John. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Put simply. God has been there always, as has Christ. God is eternal and God is creator. Christ is eternal and Christ is the Word, the Way. And the Word was God. God and Christ are one, co-eternal. The Word, God’s gift to us, came into being to show us the way to God. To point us to the divine.

The Shema is our guide to what is entailed in following the Way – the Word – our guide to developing a relational commitment to God. A relational commitment that is based in faithful obedience as a response to God’s grace. A pointer to the divine.

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart.

In Hebrew, the word “love” in the context of the Shema means to make a commitment to walk faithfully with God. The word “heart” connotes the very center of our being, our volition, our will. In the Shema we are committing our will to align with God’s will. Finally, the word “soul” is defined as the whole person – the “you.”

Basically, in praying this prayer we make a commitment to walk faithfully with God with the very center of our being, with all of who we are, and we commit our will to align with God’s will. We say, “I am all in.”

William, for sure you were, “all in.” Your assurance of God’s eternal presence, of Christ’s Word – his Way, and your commitment to walk faithfully with God; to devote the very center of your being, your “you” to God, and your vow to align your will with the will of God was unceasing.

You were a key member of the St. Simon’s community. A community that strives always, and in all ways to point to our creator, the divine. You never failed to question, to comment, to contribute to our unceasing efforts to commit ourselves with our whole being to God – to make us really think about our relationship with, our faithfulness to God.

Your faith as expressed in John, verses one and two, and your work of committing yourself to God as expressed in the Shema was evident – always.

In our last meeting you assured me of your peace. You said, “Don’t worry about me, I am one with God.”

Yes, my friend, you are, and you were, one with God. On behalf of Jennifer, your family, and your many, many friends, I say “thank you,” for your diligence in keeping us alert to God’s presence in our lives. You will be missed.