"The Reign of Christ" homily read to the Christ Episcopal congregation by Tim Sessions, July 27, 2025

The Reign of Christ, Pentecost 7 (C) – July 27, 2025

July 27, 2025

The Reign of Christ, Pentecost 7 (C) – July 27, 2025

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[RCL] Hosea 1:2-10; Psalm 85; Colossians 2:6-15, (16-19); Luke 11:1-13

When the Rt. Rev. Mariann Budde urged President Trump to have mercy at the National Cathedral, she sparked a conversation on the proper relationship between the church and politics. On the one hand, many cheered her biblical call for mercy in public life. What else should one expect from an Episcopal bishop proclaiming the gospel in the National Cathedral? On the other hand, some criticized her for injecting partisan politics into the pulpit. For them, preaching and politics should not mix, at least if the perceived politics are not to their liking.

In our epistle lesson for today, Paul says that Christ is the “head of every ruler and authority.” He goes on to claim that Christ “disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them.” And in our Gospel lesson, Jesus teaches his disciples to pray “Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come.” Jesus is head of every ruler and authority. He disarms and triumphs over them. He teaches us to pray for the coming of God’s kingdom. It all sounds uncomfortably political. Given the fraught conversation about the church and politics today, how might we understand these lessons?

To answer this question, it may be helpful to take a detour into the field of political theology. Political theology is a recent development. It emerged in Germany in the 1960s. But it has a long history. Its roots are found in the Old and New Testaments, in St. Augustine and Thomas Aquinas. As church leaders struggle to find a faithful witness in these trying times, political theology may help.

Elizabeth Phillips, in her book Political Theology: A Guide for the Perplexed, distinguishes between a first and a second generation of political theologians. The first generation are critical friends of modernity. For them, the modern nation-state and civil society are given, either as neutral realms or as positive moments in the history of freedom. However, first-generation political theologians also challenged the privatization of religion that came with modernity. For them, Christianity was public and political instead of merely private and spiritual. And because they saw the nation-state as the center of politics, they viewed the political task of the church as the reform and revitalization of state institutions. The church transforms society by heralding God’s future kingdom of justice, freedom, and peace.

For example, Jurgen Moltmann’s theology of hope (also the name of his 1964 book on the topic) calls on the church to live in witness to the promises of God who can and will make all things right, promises made in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Even though the present world is out of alignment with God’s future, Christians should not flee the world. Rather, living in the hope of the resurrection, the church calls all people and nations to the new future that God promises. The political task of the church, according to the first-generation of political theologians, is to offer criticism and advice to the modern state in an effort to direct it to the future kingdom announced in the gospel.

The second generation of political theologians inherited much from the first generation and also sought to overturn a great deal. Like the first generation, they stressed the public and political nature of Christian faith. However, they decisively shifted the locus of the political. The first generation saw the nation-state as the center of politics. In contrast, the second generation saw the church as the center of politics. The church is the true body politic, and the nation-state is a pale imitation or worse. Instead of trying to shore up state and society, the church provides an alternative kind of politics. Instead of politics founded on the war of all against all, the church offers a vision based on an original peace. Instead of politics based on the threat of violence to keep order, the church offers a vision of politics based on reconciliation. Instead of politics based on individualism and consumption, the church offers a vision of politics based on common goods and care. In the politics of the church, Christ is king, the Sermon on the Mount is our founding document, and our final destiny is the reconciliation of all people to one another and to God through Christ. As Stanley Hauerwas says, the primary social task of the church is to be the church. In doing so, the church bears witness to the reality of the kingdom of God as an alternative kind of politics. For second-generation theologians, the political task is not to offer advice to the nation-state, but to show the world there is a better way in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

As we have seen, Paul says in Colossians that Christ “disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them.” Rulers and authorities are enigmatic figures. And not every scholar agrees about who or what Paul means by them. However, there is a general consensus that rulers and authorities are spiritual and cosmic powers that exercise control over aspects of the world. They are both personal, such as angels or demons, and impersonal, such as systems, ideologies, and institutions. They were created good (by and for Christ), but they have fallen and are in revolt. Indeed, as Paul says elsewhere (1 Cor 2:8), they “crucified the Lord of glory.” And yet, as Paul says in our passage, it is precisely through the cross that Christ triumphs over them. Jesus defeats and disarms the rulers and authorities, not through earthly power and violence, but through cross and resurrection. Therefore, the rulers and authorities are subordinate to Christ, who has created them, disarmed them, and reigns supreme over them. Christ reigns not just over personal souls, but over every realm of power—spiritual, political, cultural, and systemic. 

In Luke’s version of the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus teaches his disciples to pray, “Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come.” In this petition, Jesus teaches his disciples to pray for a new exodus, for the release of captive Israel. Jesus is not calling for the reform of government and society in the Roman Empire but for the deliverance of God’s people from bondage. To pray for the coming of God’s kingdom is to pray for the defeat of evil and the establishment of God’s rule. In Luke’s gospel, the coming of God’s kingdom means good news for the poor, release for the captive, recovery of sight for the blind, freedom for the oppressed (Luke 4:18). And it will be inaugurated not through earthly power and violence, but through the passion, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus. In Luke, Jesus is turning worldly power upside down. As Mary sings about the God of Israel, “he has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly” (1:52). To pray for the coming reign of this God is to pray for the overcoming of an old order ruled by sin and violence by a new order dependent on God’s justice and peace.

If we step back and think about our epistle and gospel lessons in terms of the first and second generations of political theology, then we would have to say that today’s lessons are more consistent with the second generation. Jesus came proclaiming a kingdom that turned the world upside down. He taught his disciples to pray for this kingdom. He inaugurated it through his life, death, resurrection, and ascension. And, as Paul tells us, Jesus defeated and disarmed the rulers and authorities of the world through his cross and resurrection. The politics in these passages are not about the reformation and revitalization of the Roman Empire. They are about the establishment of the new order of God’s justice and peace and the formation of a church that lives out the politics of a people who proclaim Jesus as Lord and Messiah.

 If we return to the fraught relationship between the church and politics, The Episcopal Church faces the challenge of discerning the nature of today’s rulers and authorities, at whatever level or location they might be found. Are they like the rulers and authorities who nailed Jesus to the cross? If so, then the second generation’s vision of the politics of the church as a radical alternative to the politics of the nation-state may make more sense. Or are the rulers and authorities of today very different from those whom Jesus defeated and disarmed? Are they generally benign and mostly in need of some constructive criticism? If so, then the first generation’s vision of political theology as offering friendly advice based on a vision of God’s future reign may make more sense. The important choice facing The Episcopal Church today is not really between being political or not political. Rather, the important question is how the church will address politics, like the first or second generation of political theologians.

The Rev. Joseph S. Pagano is co-editor of Common Prayer: Reflections on Episcopal Worship and Saving Words: 20 Redemptive Words Worth Rescuing.

 

Homily by The Rev. David Elliott given July 20, 2025 at Church of the Holy Trinity, Vicksburg, MS

 

 

Baptism

The Rev. David Elliott

(Homily given in service with three baptisms)

 I WAS IN WHOLE FOODS THE OTHER DAY AFTER CHURCH----HAD MY COLLAR ON AND SOMEONE CAME UP TO ME AND ASKED—ARE YOU AN EPISCOPALIAN PREACHER???”...  I WANTED TO SAY SOMETHING, BUT I KEPT MY MOUTH SHUT.... AND THEN SHE SAID—I WAS BAPTIZED INTO THE EPISCOPALIAN CHURCH, BUT WHEN I JOINED THE BAPTIST CHURCH, THEY BAPTIZED ME INTO THE BAPTIST CHURCH.... I BIT MY TONGUE AGAIN...

 NOW I WILL STAND HERE AND SAY WHAT I WANTED TO SAY THE OTHER DAY AND HAD TO BITE MY TONGUE TO KEEP FROM SAYING IT......FIRST—I’M A PRIEST AND NOT A PREACHER.... I KNOW THAT SOUNDS SNOBBY AND I’M SORRY FOR IT, BUT BEING A PRIEST AND NOT A PREACHER SAYS WHO I AM AND WHAT I DO–CELEBRATE THE SACRAMENTS---PREACH---AND SHARE GOD’S LOVE....

 AND THE NEXT THING—EPISCOPALIAN IS A NOUN AND NOT AN ADJECTIVE... I AM AN EPISCOPALIAN... I AM A MEMBER OF THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH–AN ADJECTIVE... I KNOW THIS SOUNDS SNOBBY TOO….AND THEN FINALLY THE POINT OF ALL THIS----ONE IS NOT BAPTIZED INTO THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH----OR BAPTIZED INTO THE BAPTIST CHURCH... ONE IS BAPTIZED PERIOD–AND ONCE BAPTIZED ALWAYS BAPTIZED.. ONE IS BAPTIZED NOT INTO A CHURCH, BUT SIMPLY BAPTIZED INTO THE BODY OF CHRIST...

 AND I TALK ABOUT ALL THIS ON THE DAY THE CHURCH OFFERS THE SACRAMENT OF BAPTISM OFFERS THE SACRAMENT OF BAPTISM TO THREE CHILDREN..            

 BAPTISMS ARE VERY IMPORTANT FOR THE CHURCH AND FOR ME AND THERE ARE SOME I’LL NEVER FORGET...WHEN I WAS AT ST. ANDREW’S YEARS AGO, THERE WAS A WOMAN BEING CONFIRMED  WHO HAD NOT BEEN BAPTIZED…WE TALKED AND SHE WANTED TO BE IMMERSED…. YOU CAN’T IMMERSE SOMEONE IN OUR BAPTISMAL FONTS………

 I CALLED JOHN CLAYPOOL AT NORTHMINSTER BAPTIST AND ASKED IF I COLD BORROW HIS BAPTISTRY…HE SAID NO PROBLEM..… I WENT THERE PREPARED TO GET IN THE WATER WITH HER---BUT SINCE NORTHMINSTER DOESN’T RE-BAPTIZE YOU IF YOU JOIN, IT HADN’T BEEN USED IN AWHILE AND IT LEAKED…

 I THEN CALLED DAVID GRANT AT BROADMOOR BAPTIST—AND USED THAT ONE.. WE GOT THERE AND HE ASKED—DO YOUWANT TO USE MY WADERS?? I SAID “NO, I DUCK HUNT AND I WANT TO SEE WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO GET IN THAT WATER WITH HER—PUT HER UNDER AND BRING HER BACK UP AGAIN—AS ST. PAUL SAYS—“BURIED WITH CHRIST IN HIS DEATH AND RAISED WITH HIM IN HIS RESURRECTION”..

 I GOT IN THERE WTH HER WITH MY BLACK SHIRT, COLLAR, AND KHAKIS ON—AND PUT HER UNDER AND BROUGHT HER BACK UP… IT WAS VERY MEANINGFUL…..THE ONLY PROBLEM WAS THAT I HAD BROUGHT A CHANGE OF CLOTHES—BUT FORGOT TO BRING UNDERWEAR… IT WAS FEBRUARY AND VERY COLD…

 AND I’LL NEVER FORGET BAPTIZING MY GRANDCHILDREN.... I’VE BAPTIZED ALL EIGHT OF THEM EITHER IN CHURCHES–IN HOMES–OR ON BEACHES.. EACH IN ITS OWN WAY HAS BEEN VERY WONDERFUL AND MEANINGFUL FOR ME...

NOW FOR SOME, BAPTISM IS SORT OF LIKE JOINING THE “JESUS CLUB”–MUCH LIKE JOINING THE BOY SCOUTS–BROWNIES–ROTARY OR A SORORITY....YOU’RE INITIATED–YOU’RE MADE A MEMBER AND NOW YOU GET ALL THE BENEFITS AND PRIVILEGES WHEN YOU OBEY ALL THE RULES...

 FOR OTHERS, THEY THINK BAPTISM IS  “HELL INSURANCE”... IT ASSURES THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN BAPTIZED THEY WILL NOT BURN IN THE FIERY COALS OF HELL WHEN THEY DIE... LET ME SAY RIGHT NOW THAT I DO NOT BELIEVE AND THIS CHURCH DOES NOT BELIEVE THAT IF A CHILD DIES WHO HAS NOT BEEN BAPTIZED THAT THAT CHILD GOES TO HELL... THE GOD WE BELIEVE IN WOULD NOT–DOES NOT–DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS...

 NOW THERE ARE CHURCHES THAT WILL NOT BAPTIZE CHILDREN–WILL NOT BAPTIZE BABIES... THEY BELIEVE THAT IN ORDER TO BE BAPTIZED THAT THE PERSON HAS TO BE OLD ENOUGH TO MAKE THE DECISION FOR THEMSELVES.... THIS CHURCH BELIEVES THAT BAPTISM IS A SACRAMENT NOT THAT WE HAVE TO QUALIFY FOR–NOT THAT WE HAVE TO WORK FOR–BUT A SACRAMENT THAT GOD BESTOWS ON US–A GIFT THAT GOD GIVES TO US WITH NO STRINGS ATTACHED....

 THIS CHURCH ALSO BELIEVES THAT BAPTISMS ARE A PUBLIC SACRAMENT CELEBRATED BY THE WHOLE CHURCH GATHERED AS THE BODY OF CHRIST—AND THAT IS WHY WE’RE HERE TODAY... 

 ONE OTHER THING I WANT TO MENTION RIGHT NOW... IN A FEW MOMENTS, WE WILL ALL BE ASKED—“WILL YOU WHO WITNESS THESE VOWS DO ALL IN YOUR POWER TO SUPPORT THIS CHILD IN HIS LIFE IN CHRIST??” AND WE WILL ALL GIVE A RESOUNDING “WE WILL” AND THEN PROMPTLY FORGET ALL ABOUT WHAT WE SAID...

 WHEN I WAS AT GENERAL CONVENTION, THERE WAS A DOCUMENT I WISH I HAD BOUGHT.. IT WAS A LARGE CERTIFICATE WITH THE CHILD’S NAME ON IT AND ON IT WERE THE WORDS—AT THIS BAPTISM INTO THE BODY OF CHRIST WE THE UNDERSIGNED PLEDGE TO SUPPORT THIS CHILD IN THEIR LIFE IN CHRIST.....AND ALL PRESENT WOULD SIGN IT....

 I COULD PICTURE MICHAEL—COLLINS—AND GRAYSON WITH THIER PARENTS AND GODPARENTS STANDING OVER IN THE PARISH HALL WITH THIS DOCUMENT AND ALL OF US GOING BY AND SIGNING IT AND COMMITTING OURSELVES TO SUPPORTING THESE CHILDREN IN THEIR LIFE IN CHRIST….....

 BAPTISM IS NOT SOMETHING WE DO FOR OURSELVES–NOT REALLY A DECISION WE MAKE ON OUR OWN... IT IS SOMETHING GOD DOES.. IT’S AN ACTION THAT GOD TAKES IN BESTOWING UPON EACH AND EVERY ONE OF US THE ALL-ENCOMPASSING LOVE  OF ALMIGHTY GOD–GOD’S ACCEPTANCE–GOD’S FORGIVENESS–GOD’S GRACE..

 WHEN THAT WATER IS POURED UPON MICHAEL—COLLINS—AND GRAYSON–GOD MAKES A COVENANT WITH THEM THAT GOD WILL NEVER EVER BREAK... GOD PROMISES TO LOVE THEM–ACCEPT THEM–FORGIVE THEM FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIFE... THERE IS NOTHING–NOTHING THEY CAN EVER DO TO FALL OUT OF GOD’S LOVE...

 LISTEN TO WHAT GOD SAID TO JESUS WHEN HE WAS BAPTIZED AND HE CAME UP OUT OF THAT WATER....THIS IS MY SON–THE BELOVED–WITH WHOM I AM WELL PLEASED....  GOD LOOKS ON YOU AND ME AND SAYS—THIS IS MY BELOVED SON–THIS IS MY BELOVED DAUGHTER IN WHOM MY SOUL DELIGHTS....THE WAY YOU AND I FEEL ABOUT OUR CHILDREN IS THE WAY GOD FEELS ABOUT EACH OF US–WHETHER WE ARE EIGHT DAYS OLDS—EIGHT MONTHS OLD–EIGHT YEARS–EIGHTY YEARS–EIGHTY-EIGHT.....

 NO MATTER WHAT OUR AGE MAY BE–THIS IS GOD’S FUNDAMENTAL ATTITUDE TOWARD EACH OF US—DELIGHT... GOD DELIGHTS IN US AS A PARENT DELIGHTS IN A CHILD...

 AND ALSO-----THESE ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT WORDS A PARENT CAN EVER TELL A CHILD–THAT WE LOVE THEM–RESPECT THEM–DELIGHT AND ARE PLEASED WITH THEM...TO ALL OF US HERE THIS DAY—NEVER LET A DAY GO BY THAT YOU DON’T TELL YOUR CHILDREN–NO MATTER HOW OLD THEY ARE–THAT YOU LOVE THEM–THAT THEY ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT THINGS IN YOUR LIFE..             

 LISTEN TO PART OF THE PRAYER THAT’S GOING TO BE PRAYED OVER MICHAEL—COLLINS—AND GRAYSON AFTER THEY’RE BAPTIZED....SUSTAIN THEM O LORD IN YOUR HOLY SPIRIT... GIVE THEM AN INQUIRING AND DISCERNING HEART–THE COURAGE TO WILL AND TO PERSEVERE–THE SPIRIT TO KNOW AND TO LOVE YOU AND THE GIFT OF JOY AND WONDER IN ALL YOUR WORKS...

 IT’S A WONDERFUL WAY TO BEGIN LIFE–A FANTASTIC WAY TO LIVE LIFE!!!

 (Homily given at Church of the Holy Trinity, Vicksburg, July 20, 2025)

 

The Rev. Dr. Deacon Bette Kauffman homily from July 6, 2025, at Christ Episcopal, Saint Joseph, LA

 

Choose Hope, Choose Love

6 July 2025

Christ Episcopal Church, St. Joseph, LA

Year C, Pentecost 4

2 Kings 5:1-14; Galatians 6:1-16; Luke 10:1-11,16-20

 

In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus sends seventy followers ahead of him, two by two to heal the sick and proclaim the Kingdom of God. They go, they do, and they return rejoicing.

That’s the point I want to focus on today: They return rejoicing.

You have perhaps experienced this phenomenon. You have perhaps heard others talk about their experience. We go out to minister and we are ministered to by those we sought to serve.

I went to the Dominican Republic a number of years ago with a handful of deacons. We traveled about the countryside with several Dominican deacons and worshipped with folks in tiny, unairconditioned churches. Those churches were mostly bare of ornamentation; they might have one cross, one painting of the Holy Family, but very little else. The altars were a wooden table made by the local carpenter. The pews were crude benches.

But the worship was heartfelt and joyful, the people in awe that we had come to worship with them. I came home a different person, a little bit haunted by the stark contrast between those churches and most U.S. American churches, but also deeply grateful and refreshed.

This phenomenon of returning joyful, having been ministered to by those we serve is, not merely the joy of a job well done. It’s not merely the good feeling we get when those we minister to are grateful. Or that glow of virtue we get from having done a good deed. There’s something deeper than all of that going on.

The people Jesus sent out were ordinary folks, probably what we would consider working class—literally laborers. We know that because those are the kind of folks who followed Jesus: fishermen, carpenters and such. They most assuredly were not religious leaders—pharisees, sadducees, priests, deacons and such—because those folks spent their time arguing with Jesus and plotting against him, NOT following him.

These ordinary folks lived in a terrible time, a time of oppression by centralized political power, a time of corruption and of poverty and food insecurity. Life was fragile.

In sending them out, Jesus warned them that it would not be easy. Some would reject them. They were like sheep going among wolves.

But these ordinary folks went as sent by Jesus, and they were changed by their acts of mercy. They came back rejoicing, exulting in what they had been able to accomplish—which clearly exceeded their fondest hopes and expectations. You can hear the glee in Jesus’ voice as he greets them, proclaiming that he had seen Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightening.

Jesus also explains to them that he had given them power over enemies, but then he cautions: don’t rejoice over the power; rejoice that your name is written in heaven.

Here’s what I think all this means: WE, in our mixed motives, are not what bring about the Kingdom of God. Rather, the Kingdom of God comes forth, pretty much in spite of us, through our actions and interactions in service to others. We do not first love God then serve others. We serve others and in serving others become lovers of God.

See, I think we pay a lot of lip service loving God. Yes, yes, I love God, we say. But how do you love… an entity that you cannot see or touch? The only way we can put our arms of love around God is by putting them around another human being.

Now that is easy to see and do when it comes to friends and family. Of course we experience hope and joy and the love of God when we put our arms around friends and family! We would be less than human if we didn’t.

Just a quick aside here. It should come as no surprise that our prisons are full of people who did not experience the love of God through loving relationships with friends and family as they grew up. This is attested to by the experiences of the men and women who conduct Kairos ministry—like Fr. Ned Webster--and report that hardened criminals break down into tears when given a dozen cookies baked for them by a complete stranger. It speaks to them of love they have never known.

I do not think we fully comprehend how hollow it is to say “I love God,” all while ignoring the plight of the millions of God’s children who live in fear and in poverty and poor health.

Serving others—especially outside our circle of family and friends, those who cannot do anything for us in return, those Jesus describes as the least of these—transforms us--even more than them.

Here’s how Mother Teresa of Calcutta put it: “Only in heaven will we see how much we owe to the poor for helping us to love God the better because of them.”

Today we are sent into a world full of “wolves” of war, violence, greed, divisive politics and conflict over scarce resources—like food and water—due not only to war and greed but climate change accelerated by our own behavior.

Today’s primary disease is no longer leprosy or tuberculosis, but possibly the utter loss of hope that comes from feeling unwanted, uncared for, abandoned by everyone and unable to make a difference in one’s own life, much less the world.

It is hard to have hope in today’s world. Yet we are sent, and as we go, I think we will find that hope is like love: It’s not something we have that enables us to act, it’s something that we create by acting.

Moreover, love and hope are contagious. Our acting transforms not only us, but those around us. Our hopeful act, our loving act make us more hopeful and loving, and those around us start acting in a more loving and hopeful way.

Hope and love are not feelings we have so much as choices we make. And by making and acting on those choices, we are transformed into loving, hope-filled people.

In the name of God, Father, Son & Holy Spirit, AMEN. 

Homily from Dr. Deacon Bette Kauffman at Christ Episcopal 1 Jun 25

 

Focus on the Light

 Christ Episcopal Church, St. Joseph, La., Easter 7/Ascensiontide

The story of Jesus’ ascension is told near the end of Luke and at the beginning of Acts. Both accounts were thus likely written by the same person since scholars widely believe the two books have a single author.

 

Although there are several differences between the accounts, neither tells us when it happened. Nevertheless, the feast day for the ascension is always on a Thursday—the Thursday exactly 40 days after Easter, which is, of course, always on a Sunday.

 

It’s a bit odd since most churches don’t have a service Thursdays. But… of course, it must be 40 days after Easter to match the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness before he began his ministry. And why? Because that’s how the church does things, that’s why!

 

So… today is officially the 7^th Sunday after Easter, but I prefer to think of it as the only Sunday during Ascensiontide! And since you most likely did not go to church Thursday, well, today, is our celebration of Ascensiontide, that extraordinary moment between Jesus’ departure from Earth and the coming of the Holy Spirit—to be celebrated next Sunday—Pentecost Sunday.

 

And it is a moment, so to speak. It is just 10 days between Jesus ascending and the Holy Spirit raining fire on the heads of Jesus’s followers. And this is the only Sunday within that 10 days, thus our main opportunity for thinking a bit about what that time must have been like for the disciples and IS like for us today.

 

The disciples had been on quite a roller coaster ride. Jesus had been crucified. It seemed to have all been over. Their hopes for a new kingdom were dashed. They went fishing.

 

Then Jesus began to appear to them. At first they weren’t sure but he kept showing up. They moved from disbelief to belief. Could it be they had him back again? They hung on his every word. This time when he said he was going away but would send this mysterious presence that would be with them always, I suspect they were readier to believe, but…, did they have any idea what to expect? 

 

 

You know that I always love to look at artist renditions of the Bible stories. The vast majority of paintings of the Ascension show Jesus in voluminous robes and rising, arms outstretched. The focus is all on the glorification of Jesus. The disciples, if they appear at all, tend to be highly stylized hands and faces.

 

But there are a few that only show Jesus’ feet and maybe the hem of his robe dangling down from the top of the frame. In these, the focus tends to be on the disciples and their reactions, and their faces are not always calm! I saw one, in particular, that showed faces contorted by surprise, of course, but also fear and anxiety.

 

It is hard to be in an in-between time! What next? After all we’ve been through, what next?! Here we are alone again, and Jesus says something big is going to happen, but… what is this new thing going to be like?

 

It seems the disciples were kind of frozen in the moment—and wouldn’t we all be?! So the next thing that happens—and my fave thing about this story—is that two men dressed all in white appear. Angels, presumably. And they shock the poor, already stunned disciples out of their reverie.

 

Wake up guys, they say. What are you doing standing there with your mouths hanging open? You’ve got work to do—like “change the whole world” work to do. Better get cracking. Go back to Jerusalem and get ready.

 

So Ascensiontide is a little bitty—10 day, to be exact—in-between time when the disciples prayed and prepared for something to come, they were not sure exactly what or how, but they prepared in faith with prayer and praise, and lo and behold, something wondrous did happen, and they did go out and change the world.

 

But you have most likely noticed… you surely have noticed…the world.. still.. needs changing! Christianity brought some wonderful teachings to the world, and I’ll come back to that momentarily. But some of what Christianity brought was cruel and inhumane, and most assuredly not from God. Christianity brought the Inquisitions and the Crusades and the Doctrine of Manifest Destiny that supported our ancestors in decimating indigenous people and culture in this country.

 

Some Christians used passages in the bible to justify slavery. And then other Christians came along and used the Hebrew Scripture to preach that all humans are created equal and in the likeness and image of God. Christianity has always been a mixed bag and even though the disciples of Jesus changed the world… we have much to do today!

 

Our central teachings--love of God first and foremost then love your neighbor as self—are sorely needed in our still violent and evil world. We have a long way to go and our work cut out for us.

 

So we still need two men in white—or maybe any random priest or deacon—to show up every so often and say, “people of Christ Church, St. Joseph, why do you stand here gazing into heaven? You’ve got work to do! Get cracking.”

 

We too live in an in-between time, not a little bitty one like Ascensiontide but an enormous, ongoing one that stretches from the first Easter until that glorious day when God’s kingdom comes, fully and gloriously, and Divine Love and Perfect Unity rule everything.

 

What we do with our in-between time matters. What we focus on matters, as we play out our lives working toward the coming of that Kingdom. Here’s a gem I found on FB of all places, in the past couple of weeks. The author framed it as…

 

A reminder in these dark times…

 

We must call out the darkness, The unspeakable injustice and evil in this world. But we must never *focus* on it.

Make sure your focus is *always* on the Light. And remember that no matter how great the darkness gets, the Light will always be greater.

 

Yasmin Mogahed, Muslim woman

 

 

Our Gospel lesson today is Jesus the Christ’s prayer for his disciples, and us, as he departs this earth. It is a prayer for love and unity. But we will never achieve God’s kingdom of Love and Unity by striving for conformity and uniformity. It always sounds nice! If we could just get rid of our differences, we could all live in harmony, right? Except that what every human who ever thought that had in mind was the rest of the world conforming to THEIR beliefs, values and way of seeing! BE like me, then we can all get along, right!

 

Our only possible unity is in learning to live with and love in all our variation. That’s Divine Love and that’s the Light—the only Light that can guide us.

 

In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, AMEN.

Saturday, April 8, 2023

Do This

 Maundy Thursday, Grace Episcopal Church, 2023

It’s a familiar story. Yet we need to hear it again. And again.

 

So we come together every Maundy Thursday to re-enact, with Jesus in our midst, two expressions of who we are as followers of him and as children of the living God.

 

One of those things is Holy Eucharist: Jesus calls Eucharistic community into being by blessing and sharing bread and wine with his disciples in his last meal with them on this Earth. And he says, “do this in remembrance of me.”

 

Those of us who take seriously our commitment in our baptismal covenant to “continue in the fellowship and the breaking of the bread and the prayers,” tend to be here at least once a week for the ongoing celebration of Holy Eucharist in this place.

 

The other expression of who we are as followers of Jesus that we re-enact this night is our identity as servants, initiated by Jesus’s washing of his disciples’ feet. And this time he says, ‘I’m doing this as an example of what you are to do.”

 

We call this night “Maundy Thursday” because “maundy,” coming from the Latin “man DAH tum,” means “command.” Jesus didn’t just express hope or desire that we do these things, he commands us to do these things.

 

So we participate and are renewed weekly by Holy Eucharist. But do we have an equally powerful weekly reminder of our servant identity? It is there, in our post-communion prayers, and I’ll come back to those. But do we see our Eucharistic life and our servanthood as being one and the same?

 

I’m not so sure, and much as I love the Book of Common Prayer that guides us through our daily and weekly liturgies, I wonder if it’s not a shortcoming that we can so easily miss that point. Certainly I think our role as servants is the harder to remember and make real with regular practice in our lives.

 

I dare say, coming to the holy table reassures us of our belonging and reminds us of God’s grace and mercy toward us. It is, by and large, our comfort zone.

 

In contrast, practicing our servanthood often takes us out of our comfort zone. And isn’t it interesting—and probably quite relevant—that the action Jesus used to drive home his point about servanthood also takes us out of our comfort zone!

 

I grew up in the Mennonite Church—a sharp contrast with the Episcopal Church in some ways. And I will never forget so long as I live the acute discomfort of the teenagers of the church on foot-washing Sunday. Because, you see, in the Mennonite Church, everyone had to do it. Everyone!

 

And so the teenage girls and the teenage boys would congregate in separate groups in opposite corners of the church, as far apart as they could get, and, rather hurriedly, heads down, wash feet.

 

What is up with that? Well, clearly, kneeling down and washing each other’s feet involves more vulnerability than even adults are comfortable with, much less teenagers. But that is exactly as I think Jesus intended it.

 

Now, please. I did not tell that story to pressure anyone into participating in the ritual of foot washing tonight! I love the Episcopal Church’s “some should, all may, none must” approach to such things.

 

But I do want to call each and every one of us, whether we participate by coming to the basins or by sitting in our pew watching, that we not allow this to be just another annual ritual in the church year.

 

I do call each of us to recognize this re-enactment to be a recommitment to our role and identity as servants, along with our brother Jesus the Christ, and along with all of the vulnerability that servanthood involves.  

 

See, the life of servanthood is not about making us feel good. Last week at our monthly pub theology gathering, we got into a discussion about charitable acts—specifically about such things as giving money to someone who is asking for help.

 

Now that is by no means the only way to enact servanthood—maybe not even the best way—but it is one way. Helping people who ask us for help is one way to “seek and serve Christ” in every human face, as our baptismal covenant puts it.

 

But the question that came up was, what if it doesn’t make us feel good to do it? Shouldn’t doing a charitable act, doing some kind of service to another, make us feel good?

 

My first thought in response to the question was, yeah, that makes sense, it should.

 

But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I question my response. Why should it make us feel good? When did Jesus ever say that following the servanthood he modeled for us would make us feel good?

 

Actually, what Jesus did say pretty clearly is that following him was not going to feel good. You know, all that stuff about maybe having to leave behind family, about letting the dead bury the dead, about giving away all your stuff, about the narrow way vs. the broad way…

 

So maybe if doing some charitable or servant-like thing makes us feel good, we really ought to think twice about it. We ought to question our motives. Because following Jesus into the life of servanthood is not about making us feel good. It is far more likely to be about leaving our comfort zone, with God as our help—and that, of course, is what makes it possible.

 

Here’s what servanthood of the Jesus kind is about: Love. That is all.

 

Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. What Jesus did was about love. What Jesus institutes is loving service. And he says, I do this as an example of what you are to do. And when Peter objects, he says, Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.

 

Loving service to each other and all of humankind is intrinsic to our relationship with Jesus the Christ. Without it, we have no share with him.

 

It is the outward manifestation of an inward grace—that inward grace being the love of God through our relationship with Jesus the Christ. Without it, we have no share with him.

 

Our service in the name of Jesus the Christ is an extension of the community we share at the holy table. It is sacramental.

 

And now, Father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do, we will soon pray after receiving the holy food. Or, in the magnificent words of Rite I, strengthen us to do all such good works as thou hast prepared for us to walk in.

 

Service is not merely something we do in our spare time or with spare resources. Loving service is how we walk in the world.

 

In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, AMEN

 

Monday, April 3, 2023

Please Save Now

 Palm Sunday, Christ Episcopal Church, St. Joseph, La.

It has never been clear to me why a homily is required on Palm Sunday. What can a preacher—or anyone else, for that matter—say after reading the Passion Gospel? Would that we all sit quietly and let the pain.. and the anguish.. and the despair.. of having been forsaken by God wash over us.

 

So I don’t have much to say, but a little that matters, it seems to me.

 

I always thought the word “Hosanna!” shouted by the people who waved palms and marched into Jerusalem was a joyous, triumphant “yay, God,” “long live King Jesus” kind of statement. 

 

A few years ago, doing some research for teaching religion in the Grace Middle School, I discovered to my surprise that that’s not at all what it means. Far from being a shout of triumph, it is a plea. “Hosanna” comes from the Hebrew hoshia-nah, which means “please save now.”

 

In other words, the people who escorted Jesus into Jerusalem with a celebratory parade were not shouting praise, adoration or victory. They were begging to be saved already!

 

Perhaps then, it is no wonder that just a few days hence, after Jesus had stood silently before the chief priests and elders and refused to defend himself before Pontius Pilate, those same people called for his execution.

 

He had let them down. Here was a man who refused to save himself, refused to even defend himself. How could he possibly save anyone else? Jesus was a disappointment. He betrayed their hope and longing for a Messiah who would actually solve problems! Fix things! Get the Romans off their back! And so they quickly turned against him.

 

And are we not like that today? Do we not lay down our palm branches and pick up our weapons rather quickly when our often unrealistic expectations are not met by… whomever or whatever: a political party; a friend; a spouse; our church; a priest, bishop or deacon.

 

We want what we want and we want it on our terms. Even when we all really want the same thing, we disagree on the way to get there and have trouble even having civil discussions to seek some common ground.

 

We are very quick to drop our palm branches and pick up our weapons, fling harsh words and sarcastic memes at one another.

 

Jesus before the elders and before Pilate must have looked like a loser. The people wanted to hitch their wagon to a winner. And don’t we?

 

And don’t we want God yet today to “please save us now”! Don’t we, too, have unrealistic expectations of God’s role in human life? Why does God allow.. bad things to happen to good people? we ask. Why does God allow poverty? Why does God allow evil in the world? Why, God…? we ask, as if God were in the business of handing out political favors for those who vote for Him.

 

The people who waved palms that first palm Sunday were unprepared for the answer to their suffering to be Love, simply Love—humble, obedient, self-sacrificing Love that overcomes evil not by fighting back, but by embracing.

 

I’m not sure we’re any better prepared or accepting today of Love as the answer, Love as that which will save us, than were the people 2000 years ago. We sure don’t act like it! We’d rather dig in our heels and go for the win, regardless of the collateral damage the fight might do.

 

As we walk through this holy week, let us examine our own expectations of

God, each other, and perhaps most of all, ourselves. Can we accept humble, patient, unconditional Love as the thing that will save us? And if we say “yes” to that, how must it change us?

 

  In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. AMEN.

Monday, March 27, 2023

This One Life

 Grace Episcopal Church, Monroe, La., Lent 5

Five weeks ago, as I was preparing a homily for the Ash Wednesday service down at Christ Church in St. Joseph, I was inspired to go online and order a small hourglass on a chain. My theme for that homily was memento mori, “remember that you are going to die,” and my plan was to wear the hourglass pendant as a Lenten discipline.

 

The plan did not work so well. The pendant came, quickly enough, but the moment I opened the package, I realized that I had ordered too short a chain. I needed to get a different chain for it, and somehow… I just never got around to doing that. Until yesterday, when I finally robbed a cord from another pendant so I could wear it this morning.

 

Or, at least, that’s my excuse for not making good on my Lenten discipline!

 

Why an hourglass? Well, because time is running out—not just in the general sense that everyone must die, but in the particular: I’m going to die! My time is running out. Lent is about remembering that.

 

In today’s Gospel story, Lazarus gets something the rest of us will not get, namely more time after his hourglass had run out. Did you ever wonder what he did with it? Did you ever wonder what that multitude of dry bones did with their second chance after Ezekiel—with God’s help—prophesied them back into life?

 

Mary Oliver, recently deceased, is one of my favorite poets of all time. I’m going to read a poem of hers called “The Summer Day.” The last line of this poem is quite famous. You will most likely recognize it; you’ve probably heard it before. But I think the entire short poem makes the punch line even more powerful.

 

Here it is: “The Summer Day” by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean—

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

 

To be perfectly honest, I am sorely tempted to sit down and simply leave that poem hanging in the air… to give us all time to reflect on what it is we are doing with the one wild and precious life we have been given. But that would not be according to Sunday morning protocol, so…. here are a couple of my thoughts on this business of life, death and being raised from the dead.

 

First, life is a series of mini-deaths and mini-resurrections. It is quite literally a messy mix of deaths and resurrections, so much so that I often think of Khalil Gibran’s famous statement: Life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.

 

We have all experienced those times of loss or adversity or change we neither asked for nor wanted—times of loss of control, times that feel like dying. And I also know, because I know my stories and I have heard some of yours, that we have also experienced God pushing aside the stone and calling us to come out of the tomb of hurt or anger or despair we are in and back to life again.

 

At last Tuesday’s Lenten luncheon, it was my turn to give the meditation, and “forgiveness” was on the agenda of the booklet we are using, “Living
Well through Lent.” One of the things I pointed out, contrary to what the culture teaches us, is that forgiveness is not a “once and done” deal. It is a daily decision we must make.

 

Like forgiveness, resurrection is not a once-and-done deal. Forgiveness and resurrection are to be practiced, and I do believe they are connected. It seems to me that we cannot experience resurrection until we have experienced being forgiven, and forgiving… the person who wronged us, maybe ourselves for doing something stupid that got us into this current messy death-like situation, maybe just reality itself for being exactly what it is, nothing more, nothing less. And this human life will give us plenty of opportunities to practice both.. forgiveness and resurrection, of that we can be certain.

 

The second thing I want to say about life, death and resurrection is that, as followers of Jesus, God has a claim on us. God has a claim on our lives. With our baptism, we made decisions well in advance that necessarily shape what we do with our one wild and precious life. Not in detail, but certainly in substance and in principle.

 

To echo one of Fr. Don’s themes, one of those things we promise is to be in church. So, you’re here, I’m preaching to the choir, but… have you considered picking up the phone and calling someone you haven’t seen here in awhile to just remind them that “the fellowship and the breaking of the bread and the prayers” is incomplete without them! 

 

BTW, in case you don’t know, research shows that it is umpteen times more effective for you to do that than for clergy to do it. 

 

But to me the much harder promises come at the end of the baptismal covenant. Those would be the promises to seek and serve Christ in every other person, loving them as myself, and to seek justice and peace for all and to respect the dignity of every human being. I don’t think we do those things well at all.

 

So I’m a teacher. Giving grades comes naturally. I would actually give us a B on church attendance, and maybe a C on seeking and serving Christ in every person. That’s charity. We do some of that. Not enough, but some.

 

But that last one? Seeking justice and respecting the dignity of every person? Well, I would say D at best. Because I have heard the poor blamed for their poverty inside every church I have served or attended.. by people who haven’t the slightest idea of what systemic poverty is like or what it takes to get out of it. To respect the dignity of every human being surely requires, at minimum, hearing their story before coming to conclusions about the cause of their condition.

 

I give us a “D”  on that last promise because seeking justice involves change. Justice is not a hand-out. Doing charity does not produce justice. At best it produces survival within the status quo. Seeking justice means looking at causes and examining systems that produce injustice. It means being willing to change, even those systems that worked well for us. And just talking about such things makes us deeply uncomfortable.

 

These things are in our baptismal covenant because God calls us to do them. And we agreed! We made a solemn vow that whatever else we do with this one life, we will—with God’s help—do it all within the context of God’s claim on us, guided by the Spirit, walking in the way of Jesus.

 

Easter Sunday is just around the corner. Our Easter liturgy is a major baptismal event. Using Lent to prepare for baptism became a tradition of the church many centuries ago. My prayer today is that we use what remains of this Lent to assess honestly, to look forward courageously, and to renew our baptismal covenant again, as if for the first time.

 

In the name of God, Father, son, and Holy Spirit, AMEN