Do You Also Wish to Go Away?

Sermon by Father Richard Mallory 

August 25, 2024

Joshua 24:1-2a, 14-18, Ephesians 6:10-20, John 6:56-69

Joshua to the people, “Choose this day whom you will serve,” and then Jesus to his disciples. “Do you also wish to go away?”  Choices and decisions unavoidable as the saying goes, even not to decide is still a decision.

We read in Joshua 24 that he had assembled all the tribes of Israel. It was a big deal convocation of loosely related Semitic tribes who shared, in common, the experience of escaping slavery under the leadership of Moses. At this point, Moses has died and Joshua, his successor, is near retirement. Joshua recounts their sacred history of all that this liberating God has done for them.

And now it's time to choose. Who will it be? The gods of surrounding tribes or the Lord Yahweh; the one who got you freed in the first place?

Yet it's an open question with the freedom of self-determination in the balance. “But if serving the Lord seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve.” Get clear with yourselves, you cannot have it both ways. Joshua sets the example and he says what rings out through the centuries, “as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

As alluring as the other gods may have been, the story asserts that the people choose the Lord because that's the God who brought them and their  ancestors out of that stinking Egypt, that held them captive for 400 years, and protected them all along the way. 

“We're in, Joshua. We know which God deserves our loyalty!”

This is a ceremony scholars call a covenant renewal ceremony of recommitment. Re-decisioning is going on here. Choose this day whom you will serve. Get clear about your purpose and where your loyalties lie. Just that question, leader Joshua puts to them, may be the high point of the book of Joshua which recounts the events in the taking of the land about 1200 BCE. Joshua is problematic for its raw violence. It presents a God who requires holy war. God orders the army frequently to kill every man, woman, child and animal of people who are in their way of settling the land. The practice of sacred violence was instituted as it was common for all ancient peoples at that time of ancient history.

People will say, that's why I don't like the Old Testament; let's get rid of it. And I say, hold on, not so fast. Later prophets begin to question and condemn violence of all sorts. And besides, the Bible is not a static document. The Bible is on its own journey, going from unquestioning adherence to violent retribution and violent domination to the pinnacle in the life and teachings of Jesus, who himself made the decision to go to Jerusalem and absorb the violence of the empire that crucified him.

We need to be reminded of our species' predilections towards violence. That we continue to turn to violence as if the latest unleashing of fury might work this time. Joshua justifies mass killing in the name of God and represents the trap for humanity. Humanity is still prone to enlist God in support of war. But when that God is invoked, that is not the Father, the Abba of Jesus of Nazareth. These ancient tribes in Joshua banded together in a holy war of genocide, not only supported by God, but in their view, they were required by God. Such practices were acceptable in the ancient world. The crisis of humanity is that it is still too easily, this path too easily, chosen. But such an enlisted God is more like the Roman God of war, Mars, than the God and Father of Jesus. When countries and people claim that God is on their side, they reveal their own idolatry by adopting and downgrading God and making God into a rubber stamper of their own violence. 

In the Gospel of John, the fourth Gospel, we're on the fourth or fifth Sunday about the bread of life, there seems to be a point here about the bread. And while he was teaching, many of his disciples, perhaps even a majority of them, began to protest. They objected, this is difficult. Now he has just resorted to hyperbole in great exaggeration to get their attention, as ancient wisdom teachers were often doing. He wanted to startle them and shock them out of their lethargy.

Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them. This sounds like cannibalism, which is actually one of the criticisms by the Romans of the early Christian movement; those cannibal Christians. In fact, the Greek verb for eat, usually reserved for the way animals devour their food such as gnawing on a bone, is used here. There's a grossness about this, gnaw on me, says Jesus, trying to make a point. In this moment, Jesus is clearly presented as the living Christ in that time and place. He is the only hope for peace.

In his resurrection, we are reminded that his first words to those disciples who had left him all alone, all by himself to suffer and die on the cross, his first word, peace. No grudge holding, total acceptance, total forgiveness of their own flawed humanity. Peace was the work of Christ then as it is now.

Only now the external pressure to take seriously the program of the Prince of Peace is greater because of humanity's ability to obliterate this beautiful planet, our island home, and all living things upon it. Such bitter irony that he was so often co-opted to support violence and war, as well as slavery and the genocide of people already living here. No one could possibly read the Sermon on the Mount and then go out with the age-old excitement of making war. The two just don't connect. Jesus has to be reduced and redefined as a figure simply to save souls, get folks into heaven when they die. Brian Zahn, an author and a pastor in Missouri, points out that we have made Christianity so safe by ensuring that his ideas remain segregated from him as Savior.

This all began with Emperor Constantine in the 4th century when Christian Empire took precedence over Jesus' Kingdom of God. The legacy of this is the worship of Jesus' Savior while brushing aside his ideas of peace. And the hard teachings of the Sermon on the Mount, forgiveness, love of enemies, turning the other cheek.

This privatized gospel ignores his political ideas. Yes, we at least give lip service to peace, love and forgiveness, while secretly holding out in those little pockets in our psyches, cynicism, as if we know better: enemies to be loved, nonsense; vanquish them, choose vengeance; turning the other cheek…we all know that's for simpletons; don't we? 

The strength of the Church will be manifest in embracing the ways of Christ as our role model-in-chief. There is the need to reclaim and dust off the Sermon on the Mount and give central importance and daily commitment to the imitation of Christ in our lives with a deeper engagement that is needed now as never before. The disciples complain, this is difficult. Surrender of ego at the foot of the cross will likely not become a mass movement any time soon. The gospel secret, hiding in plain sight, however, is in his words in Matthew,” My yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

None of us can do the work alone. A favorite verb in the fourth gospel is abide. Abide. Stay close, stay connected, persevere, don't give up, don't collapse. But how? Paul has some words in Ephesian. Steve Garner Holmes, who is a minister and a poet, has this poem on our epistle for today. “When you fight the devil with the devil's weapons, you have joined his side.”

Our struggle is not against violent people but against violence. Our struggle is not against people at all, even the most evil ones, but against the evil itself; that old ruler which clenches our hearts as well as theirs. Our struggle is against the systems and structures, the powers that dehumanize people and diminish life, the spiritual forces we've ingested, the authorities we've knelt to. We are rebelling against our own masters.To vanquish the conquerors we must vanquish our desire to conquer.

Before we are victorious, we must become free. And then Jesus says, going back to the bread of life, by consuming me, consuming me, and letting me show you how to live out my ideas, and my kingdom. My gift of eternal life to humanity, begins now. I have come that you might have life and have it more abundantly.

You get to have that life when you die to yourself daily, which means letting ego keep getting smaller and smaller. “I must decrease that he might increase,” confesses the Baptist in his moment of awakening. Jesus asks, “Do you also wish to go away?” He is asking out of his abject vulnerability in that moment? Peter speaking for the group, “Lord, to whom can we go? You are the one who has the words of eternal life.”

God’s Love; Bless, Break, Give

Sermon by Mother Mary White

August 18, 2024

1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14, 12b-14, Ephesians 5:15-20, John 6:51-58

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus says, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever, and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” Even as Jesus is saying these words, you can imagine some would-be disciples slipping to the back of the crowd before making a beeline home. Watching Jesus give sight to the blind and making the lame walk would have been amazing, but now He's not making any sense. Just beyond our reading for today, many of His disciples will say to themselves, this teaching is difficult. Who can accept it? The twelve will stick with Jesus, but many others will fall away. Knowing Jesus as a great teacher is one thing, but talking about your flesh as food and your blood as drink must have sounded like the Rabbi had lost it. 

Our lectionary, our pattern of readings for Sunday worship, has really slowed down this month. We are the third of four weeks in a row on a single chapter of John's gospel. It helps to recall this discourse follows Jesus feeding 5,000 people as the time of Passover approaches. With that central Jewish feast in mind, Jesus referring to the bread that comes down from heaven makes more sense. Jesus is reinterpreting the story of the Passover and the Exodus through His own life and ministry.

Jesus has given them physical food, but uses that to teach them that He can give them spiritual food as well. He said, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life.” He wants those who are listening not to eat just some bread and fish and then go home to be hungry again. He wants them to develop a spiritual hunger and thirst that only He can fill. And to teach this, Jesus uses the Passover story, which was about moving from slavery to freedom, to show how faith in Him also moves His followers from death to life. It is a spiritual lesson difficult to grasp.

The words from this gospel are given in the first year of Jesus' three years of ministry. John's gospel, with these bread of life passages coming so early in his ministry, makes clear what the other three gospels only hint at. The Eucharist is not about Jesus' sacrificial death alone, but in Jesus' whole life; from Bethlehem to Golgotha, and beyond an empty tomb in a garden, to Jesus' appearance to His disciples.

Jesus' whole life, his entire life, rather than the events of the last state of his life, institute the sacrament of communion. Everything Jesus did, who Jesus was and how he acted, is part of God's revelation to us. We are to take Jesus' whole life and make it part of our story.

God took Jesus' whole life, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to us. We are to let the story of God's love take us, bless us, break us, and give us back into the world. This is something that happens in the liturgy as we enter the story. We don't just listen to the words take, eat, but we actually give up. We come to the alter, to actually take and eat the bread that has been broken and given. We enter the story, and then we are called to make the whole story part of our story.

Dom Gregory Dix, in his work of scholarship on the Eucharist, The Shape of the Liturgy, wrote, at the heart of it all is the Eucharistic action, a thing of absolute simplicity, the taking, blessing, breaking and giving of bread; and the taking, blessing, and giving of a cup of wine and water, as these were first done with their new meaning by a young Jew before and after supper with his friends on the night before he died. Was another command ever so obeyed? For century after century, spreading slowly to every continent and country and among every race on earth, this action has been repeated in every conceivable human circumstance, for every conceivable human need from infancy and beyond extreme old age, and after it from the pinnacles of earthly greatness to the refuge of fugitives in the caves and dens of the earth.

The communion, that Jesus spoke of in John's sixth chapter describing himself as the living bread, is something that has deeply woven itself into the human story. Think of all the places you have received communion, and the people that you have taken communion alongside; people still living, people you don't see any more, people now long dead and seen only by God. Imagine all the places in which God has experienced the Eucharistic meal.

Jesus is the bread that came down from heaven whose presence sustains us in every place and situation in which we find ourselves. It is no wonder that Jesus’ command to take, bless, break, and give is so obeyed. We need this strengthening of the body and blood of Jesus encountered in the Eucharist when we are apart from God. We find it easier and easier to remain apart from God and to rely on other lesser answers to our deep hungers and thirst, hungers and thirst, which only Jesus can satisfy. 

This is where the comparison to physical hunger and thirst help us as we know we need nourishment of food and drink again and again. We may eat a good meal now, but we will need another tomorrow and one in between, maybe two in between that as well. In that same way, we need spiritual nourishment again and again. 

There are two important components to the Christian Walk. The first is coming to faith in Jesus, for which we have the sacraments of baptism and confirmation to mark us as Christ-owned forever. But coming to faith is just the first important step on what is to be a life-long journey. To continue the journey, to really make progress in the life of faith we all need practices in daily life that make it real.

In the last few years, our Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has encouraged all Episcopalians to find the right way for them to consider different practices for a Jesus-centered life. And central to these practices is worship and the reception of holy communion on a regular basis. And the other practices are to turn, to learn, to pray, bless, go, and rest. And if you would like to learn more about those other practices, check out ‘The Way of Love’ on the Episcopal Church website. 

Amen.

Beware A…Void…Dance

Sermon by Mother Deby Adinolfi

2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-14, Ephesians 1:3-14, Mark 6:14-29

Good morning. So, what did you think about our reading from 2 Samuel this morning? Were you able to picture that imagery? I'd like to try something this morning. I am going to need your help. I'd like you to close your eyes for a moment, but I don't want you to fall asleep. I want you to do this because I want your imagination to soar.

Think about what we heard. David and his crew were carrying the Ark of God. You know, the Ark of the Covenant. Think Indiana Jones. So David and his crew are filled with awe and love of God and are in this amazing procession with the Ark of God. There is music and there is dancing. There is joy and love of, and for, God. They were carrying on like nobody's business; dancing and singing and rejoicing in their God as they pulled the cart that held the Ark. When they came into town all of the town's people were staring at them wondering what on earth was going on. Worse, David's wife Michal, daughter of Saul, was embarrassed by it. At least I'm gonna make a guess at that. And turned her nose up at the whole procession and in the author's words, she despised him in her heart.

Okay, so go ahead and open your eyes back up. Let's take a breath and let's give this a think. Is it a bit difficult to imagine David's procession? How many of you have been involved in a church procession that was outside of the church grounds? All right. I have, both here in the States and in Cambridge. And for those of you that haven't participated or seen this, did you know that it really is a deep part of our Episcopal and Anglican heritage? I was a member of Holy Faith in Santa Fe, one of the preeminent parish churches near the historic downtown plaza. Every Palm Sunday, all of the downtown churches would join together, each parish church processing into the plaza for a joint blessing to commence Holy Week.

It was amazing. I participated as an acolyte and I participated as a parishioner. And during my training in Cambridge, I was introduced to a number of parish and college chapel activities, all quite unique, but including processions for various Holy Days. Those were pretty amazing complete with choirs and banners. I'm sharing this with you because I do know that within our Saint Alban’s family, we have a lot of different experiences of being an Episcopalian, and I realized that for many, what occurred in our reading today from Samuel might be something that's way out of your comfort zones. The dancing, singing and the procession probably aren't something that many of you would be comfortable doing. 

But there is more to today's reading than David's display of love and joy for God. For me, what really resonates is the last paragraph, because it is here that we really see the outcome of all of that love and joy for God. David did something wonderful. He gave food to the whole multitude of Israel. He provided both the space for worship, as well as food for the congregation. He used his position for the good of his people, for justice for his people. And it is here in this last part that we begin to fully encounter God's presence. And this encounter gives us something to dance about.

But I wonder if, for many reading this lesson for the first time, it might be packed full of emotions. Emotions that are so strong it's like experiencing walking into a minefield. Does this type of public display of dance fever evoke painful memories from school? Or worse, do we as a congregation have the ability to quash someone else's joy-filled procession or creative ideas by being close-minded when others are trying something different? I believe that the heart of today's message from Samuel has more to tell us than folks could imagine.

I believe it addresses how we deal with change, but also, how we deal with each other, with the differences between us. We move from 2 Samuel into today's gospel with Mark, and oh wow, the imagery here really is pretty intense, isn't it? Salome is pretty infamous, and Hollywood has been quite creative in how she has been portrayed. And then there is Herod.

Herod was the son of Herod the Great, who was by all accounts a far superior leader than his son. And Herod's court appears to be one that was filled with debauchery, with graft, and with lies. We have clear imagery of all of that within this passage.

And for me, a priest trained in pastoral counseling and care, I  wonder how that family became so broken. The politics of that time were, I'm bold to say, as much of a mess as politics today. Herod was, in essence, a puppet king, as it was Rome that was in charge.

Herod is most likely conscious of the social perceptions surrounding his reign, understanding that he is being compared to greater rulers than he. He was stuck in the web of politics, which I imagine can be a lot like being in parish ministry some days, for we priests too are often stuck or caught within the web of the family dynamics of parish ministry; and that can present some real challenges to rectors and priests in charge, because it makes helping parish leadership introduce change far more difficult than it should be. And I wonder if this doesn't all boil down to fear of the unknown.

In weaving this reading into what we heard from 2 Samuel, I'm struck by the undercurrent of fear:  fear of the other, fear of something new,  fear of the unknown. When we look at our modern world and then contemplate how these readings either tie into or help make sense of it, for me, I find myself again thinking about the harm done, sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally, because we are fearful of the unknown, fearful of trying something new.

It requires such a very deep faith in God to let go of our preconceived notions of faith and how our Sunday church services should be, to even begin to think about how things could be done differently. So let me put a question to you. How do you think that you would respond if folks suddenly got up and started to dance in our aisles to praise God? Right? Or maybe using significantly different music or liturgy? What would happen if we moved our Sunday service out of our sanctuary and into the parish hall or later in the year after it has cooled down, out to the courtyard? Or what would happen if we switched to guitars and drums for our music using modern Christian music rather than our beloved hymnal? Would any of these changes actually diminish worshiping God? Or would it simply be that it makes us all uncomfortable at trying something different? There are as many ways to worship and lift our voices and glory to God as there are people, and each one is worthy and important and equal to how we have always done it here.

And that is the point that Michal, David's wife, missed when she watched her husband dance around the Ark of the Covenant. Herod's dilemma was a bit different, but it too revolves around speaking truth to power and standing up for what is right, what matters most, of going against the tide of public opinion, of doing what is right in the eyes of God rather than what is deemed right by the glitterati. My friends, I believe that we are called, as part of our faith journey, to profess God's love and amplify the works of Jesus.

We do this by our actions, using our hands, our feet, and our hearts. But we also do this by welcoming in the stranger, by listening to the ideas of others, and being willing to have honest conversations about what faith means and how we practice that faith. We have an amazing opportunity here at St. Albans to reimagine who and how we are, and that work has already begun, to work together for the greater good and to share our willingness to embrace change as we walk into the future.

But let's not just walk, let's show our love of and for God by lifting our voices in song and learning a new dance step or two as we work together to solidify the future of our beloved community here at St. Albans.

Choosing to Live Life His Way

Sermon by Father Richard Mallory 

Deuteronomy 10:17-21, Hebrews 11;8-16, Matthew 5:38-48

Good morning, everyone. It's wonderful to see you all come to church today. I am deeply touched by each of you and how much you have come to mean to me over this past year and a half as your interim rector. Your spirit, love, and care move me profoundly. As we gather as a community, I am reminded of the African proverb, "I am because we are." This speaks to the extraordinary value and importance of community, which seems to be eluding so many people these days. There is a great need to be together, to belong, to matter, and to be valued. This is something you are able to offer to your neighbors and all those in Tucson.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their Creator, with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Of the 56 signers of the Declaration of Independence, 34 owned slaves at one time or another. Rights were originally intended for white men. Rights for black people and women were just barely imagined thoughts; just on the edge of awareness. We get those hints when reading the correspondence between John and Abigail Adams. These letters show early advocacy for women's rights. Benjamin Franklin later became an abolitionist, petitioning Congress to end slavery.

The breaking point had arrived, much like in an abusive marriage, where exasperation leads to the realization that enough is enough. This step towards independence would have been inconceivable just a few decades earlier. It was unimaginable for many colonists to turn their backs on their native country and live without their connection to England. How could they possibly survive? The impetus to break away and the opposing desire to stay put were highly charged within individuals and the community.

The unknown author of Hebrews calls up Father Abraham, the earliest historical figure in Genesis. He, too, had to break away and leave the familiar to venture into unknown territory; like the signers of the Declaration. In both cases there is an ‘inner knowing’ that must be honored, despite the risks. The colonists risked execution as traitors while, in like fashion, Abraham ventured into the unknown, risking the obliteration of himself and his people. Leaving an abusive relationship can be likened to Abraham's journey. It often starts with no clear idea of how to manage future life. 

The signers of the Declaration were influenced by the Enlightenment also called The Age of Reason which refers to the period in history between the 1680’s and the 1810’s. The expansion of new knowledge during this time was head-spinning emphasizing reason, individualism, skepticism of authority, and the scientific method. They sought religious liberty, not necessarily a Christian nation, as many were deists and stayed away from organized religion. Their emphasis was on religious freedom not on promoting Christianity.

King George III, like an abusive husband and like tyrants and authoritarians throughout history, thought he could control the colonists. All he had to do was bear down making life more miserable for them. He was incredulous, it is said, when he saw the document proclaiming their independence. He was outraged by their declaration and dismissed their grievances and remained convinced that he could bring them back into line. The defeat at Yorktown forced him to realize his dictatorial ways were unsustainable.

The proper values for any country began to emerge in ancient Israel and became full-blown in the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. “Leaders are to imitate God,” we hear in the scripture. Which God, we might ask. It is the one who seeks and executes justice for the neediest—the orphan, the widow, the stranger, the alien, and the refugee. Thus, comes the answer thundering from the ancient writings in the book of Deuteronomy. Twice we hear the admonition, "Love the stranger." This notion of radical love was prefigured in ancient teachings and fully realized in Jesus' teachings. 

He brought this message to the nation Israel referencing the time of slavery in Egypt impressing on them the importance of honoring their roots. We are descendants of those who came before us. We are the culmination of heredity and a long family history; their struggles, suffering, and accomplishments. Don’t forget about them because someone back there, for each and everyone of us, went through some enormous hardship and trauma. All of that is a part of who we are. We are to remember them so that we might humble ourselves. These words counsel us against the aggrandizement of ourselves. 

The lectionary committee chose these texts for Independence Day to highlight the creation of a violence-free world. Jesus' teachings in the Sermon on the Mount challenged conventional thinking, advocating for non-violence and love for enemies. Mahatma Gandhi read Matthew 5 every day, regarding it as the greatest instruction on non-violence.

In these teachings, Jesus shifts from "thou shalt not" to "thou shalt." He redefines established Torah teachings in the light of his radical love. He provides examples of nonviolent resistance, encouraging us to maintain our humanity and dignity even in the face of oppression.

“Do not resist an evildoer,” he says, and then gives three examples of how to do that. He brings up these three little puzzling examples; three situations extremely compelling for the people that Jesus knew and cared about in the first century who were mostly peasants and very poor with no standing in the world and very few people who could back them up.

The first one - if somebody slaps you on the right cheek, which would require being backhanded, turn the other cheek also. This is most likely coming from a superior, a slave owner, or a soldier directed at a person who is most likely kneeling in deference to a regarded superior.  The instruction  to turn the other cheek showing that the person being abused is not robbed of their dignity. Jesus is giving people agency to hold on to their humanity and to take charge of the situation. Jesus is offering another way besides fighting and simply collapsing or running away to respond to abuse.

Another example - Jesus brings up a scene in the courtroom. He says, “if somebody wants to sue you and take your coat, give them your cloak as well.” A person who has had a judgment placed against them must surrender his coat which is held until the person can pay the debt. So what does Jesus have them do? Give the coat, but give them the undergarments too. Being naked in court shames the entire system for it is shameful to see nakedness in the culture of that time and so the corruption of the system is exposed and the person being judged regains some control. 

The third example - go the extra mile. It was not uncommon for a Roman soldier to force a local to carry their pack. The Romans, by law, placed a limit of one mile on the distance a soldier could require someone to carry their pack. So, if you insist on going the second mile you're putting that bully in danger of breaking the law. You're keeping your humanity. Some scholars suggest that Jesus was pressed into this service. He walked with the soldier for a while listening to his life story and being with him, treating him as a human being. Keep treating the other person as being fully human as well as yourself. 

Then he goes on, this is where it gets so tough, Love your enemy. No violence against someone who attacks. Do not continue the downward spiral of violence. I hit you, you hit me. That is the way of chaos in the world. Somebody has got to stop that chain reaction. As Gandhi put it, an eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind. The goal is not to hurt or kill your opponent but to transform him, to convert him to non-violence and help him, and others, welcome God's reign of love and peace. 

Of course, that sounds preposterous in the way the world works, and yet, there's the wisdom teaching. It's never really been fully tried. So seldom really implemented in our lives individually, or collectively. Pray. Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you so that you may be children of your Father in heaven. And there's the ticket to being a child of the most high: loving your enemies; practicing forgiveness; keeping that dynamic  alive within you - operating down in the depths of your soul. I read authors and commentators who are far more advanced on this path than I and they promise that it can become automatic. I'm a long way from that but I know I want to get there. 

The most radical words in the Bible for the past 1,700 years and we Christians have done our best to pretend Jesus never said them. We don't wrestle with them because they're so hard. The image of a nonviolent God is a breakthrough in human history and it's happening in this moment in His teaching on that mountain on that day as the beatitudes were given.

We best inquire of ourselves, “Is my God violent or am I letting go intor non-violence and knowing and trusting in Jesus?” In effect, don't live a small life of just loving the people who love you. That's easy. Everybody does that. That's the challenge. 

The final sentence, “Be perfect therefore as your Heavenly Father is perfect.” The Greek word, telios, translated as perfect refers to completion. Be perfect means be complete. Be  whole.  Go all the way. Get on a path towards the goal of radical love that will complete your identity and make you whole; who you were created to be…born to be… a son, a daughter of the living God, free of hating your enemy. Here is the sideline core of the gospel the historic church has neglected and compromised yet it is a power that, you can clearly sense, would lessen polarization and bring harmony and peace. A passage about love, and compassion. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too. We are not to be atomized separated individuals.  I am because we are. 

A policeman stops a clergyman wearing a collar for speeding pulls him over looks at the license and then says, “I'm letting you off because we're in the same line of work.”

“How so?” asks the priest. 

“We make people keep the rules.”

I suspect that is the concept of Christianity that most people have. Jesus puts the emphasis on enemy love and practicing forgiveness.   This radical love is seldom implemented in our lives, but it is a path to true freedom. We are not isolated individuals; we are a community. Each of us exists because we are part of a larger whole.

Forgiveness, love of enemy, renouncing violence in all its forms towards others, life, oneself, and even God. These are the portals, the doorways to the deepest freedom imaginable. These values are essential to reducing polarization and bringing harmony and peace. Religion is more than keeping rules; it is about living a life of freedom and radical love.

After signing the Declaration of Independence, Benjamin Franklin famously responded to a question about whether we have a monarchy or a republic with, "You have a republic if you can keep it." Similarly, when a  woman asked Jesus “Did you come to make us learn new rules or  freedom?” Jesus responded, “Oh freedom, if you live life my way.”

Amen.

The Holy Trinity in Iconogrophy

Sermon by Father Richard Mallory 

(240526) Isaiah 6:1-8, Romans 8:12-17, John 3:1-17

The copy of the Russian icon on the wall behind me

https://images.app.goo.gl/3TJssSRVT2N7jook9

is one of the most famous icons in the world.  Icons are very rich in the life of Orthodoxy, the Eastern Orthodox version of Christianity. Icons are, of course, paintings, but they are so much more. Those who create them are aware that with each stroke there is a prayer, imbuing the icon with great spirituality until the final scene is arranged. This icon is from the 1400s by a man named Rublev; and, if you know Russian, you know I've just mispronounced his name. I went to Google to find out how to pronounce his name and I still can't get it right.

The artist took his cue from a story in Genesis where three angels visit Abraham. Abraham requests one of his servants to prepare a meal for them. While there, they inform Abraham that his wife Sarah will have a child. 

Over time, the three visitors to Abraham have also come to represent the interpretation of the Trinity: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit in the scene.

Now, let's consider Nicodemus. He is a seeker, even though he's supposed to be the one with all the answers. He is a man with credentials, a member of the Sanhedrin, and a Pharisee, a select group of experts. These experts are literate, manage, dictate, prescribe, and model how the law, the Torah with all its trimmings, is to be obeyed. He is a high-status individual in his society. He calls on Jesus at night, practicing reputation control. If word gets around about who he's associating with, his status might decline. It's a big risk, even under the cover of night.

Nicodemus leads with a statement: "Rabbi, we know you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God." Is there an edge to his voice? Is it a statement, clearly stated without any subterfuge? What implied message could be hidden in his statement? Nicodemus had organized his life around having superior knowledge and obeying the rules and regulations to the exact letter of the law. According to Carl Jung and Richard Rohr, Nicodemus has been very successful in the first half of life with first-half-of-life issues. He has established himself well. He has a profession and he practices it. And now something else is nibbling at the edges of his mind.

Jesus, reading and sensing Nicodemus, picks up on an emptiness and even a hidden cry for help. Jesus tells this self-striver that no one can see the kingdom of God without being born again from above. For now, at this moment in his life and at this new stage of life, something else is needed. Nicodemus hears Jesus on the most literal level: No one can climb back into their mother’s womb and be born again. Jesus contributes to further confusion to get to the essence of life: Not only must you be born in the waters of biological birth in all its holy messiness, but an additional birth is required as well. You must be born from above, which means for Nicodemus to be touched, moved, inspired, and finally changed by the Spirit. Nicodemus throws up his hands: "You've got to be kidding. Impossible."

His longing goes unmet. Perhaps he wanted a formula, a step-by-step procedure so he could do what Jesus was doing in his remarkable ministries of healing and teaching. He wanted what Jesus had. He wanted spirituality for dummies.

Back to being born of water and the Spirit: What if being born of water is not coded language for baptism? What if it is about accepting our humanness, the way we are all alike? Roman Catholic theologian James Allison says what we give up to be saved, to belong to God, is our sense of being good, strivers for good, measuring up, and staying in the rat race, trying to prove ourselves worthy. All of that must go. All of that must be relinquished. If Nicodemus wants to enter the kingdom of God, he must give up his competition with his neighbor to prove that he's more religious or a better person. Nicodemus's quandary is whether to relinquish his idol of superiority and join the human race, moving from the first half of life to the second.

Step two is being born of the Spirit. To know the essence of life involves connection to and reception of the Spirit. The third chapter of the fourth gospel is one of the few New Testament passages that includes all three persons of the Trinity. By the way, any preacher who claims total understanding of the Trinity is best avoided.

One perspective that is new to me involves the following: To begin with, Jesus is God the Father, denoting a relationship with intimacy. God is not like the gods of the ancient world. All the gods of the ancient world around the Mediterranean basin were violent in some way. We all know about Zeus, who liked to throw lightning bolts at people. Just this past week or so, our landscape architect, Heather (for this wonderful project she has been completing) was out separating rocks into different piles and tossing them. A little girl came along and said, "No, no, we don't throw rocks at St. Albans." Any little girl with that kind of spunk would take on Zeus. "No, no, no. We don't throw lightning bolts at human beings."

As you can see in the icon, this work of art from the 1400s, each person emits harmony with the other. Jesus in the center imitates his Father. In this threesome, there is no rivalry, no jealousy, no envy. They honor each other in unity of purpose. This is the spirit of Trinity Sunday. Trinity is the interplay of three equals, with no one cast out. How do you do that? Three almost always turns into two against one, particularly when there's a hint of stress. Isn't that the rule? Yet here three are included and no one gets excluded. This is the very structure of the Godhead, the foundation of reality. The kingdom of God is where three get along without one being thrown out or marginalized.

Could it be that two against one is so deeply ingrained that we can't avoid it unless an intervention comes from outside ourselves? To be born of the Spirit is to embody the Spirit of Jesus. This icon invites us to gaze, to contemplate. An icon insists that we not just glance away too quickly, but linger and feel it, imbibe it. Let it take root for all that it means. And of course, an icon will have a meaning today that may be different from the meaning you find next week, next year, or five years from now. They are like that, just like scripture passages.

The Son at the center wears an earthen reddish-brown garment with a blue cloak. He looks to his Abba on his right, who is attired in gold with a blue undergarment. The Spirit, in life-giving green, also has a blue undergarment. The Father sends the Son. The Son sends the Spirit. Light radiates from their heads. Art historians think that a mirror once existed on that rectangular table right underneath the chalice. There's an empty space, and they think a mirror was there originally which, of course, invites you, the viewer, to join them at this table. Join the throng of prophets, martyrs, saints, and mostly folks just like us. There's room for billions of us. The Trinity tells us that God is relationship, and it is only in relationship that we experience the fullness of God.

None of us can do it alone on the journey into Christ. It is always with community. Our culture does not fully comprehend its importance as the fierceness of individualism stalks the land from generation to generation. People get isolated. They get lonely. They cut themselves off from the source which can give them life.

Debbie Thomas, a remarkable priest in Santa Barbara, reminds us that the three are not a middle school clique. The Holy Table is forever expanding with even ever greater hospitality. Each Trinity personage has a staff emphasizing that life is a journey. Our eyes moving in a counterclockwise movement, being first touched by the Spirit, led to Jesus, who shows us His… our, Abba. Along the way, we see the Tree of Life right behind Jesus' left shoulder. It is also the cross of death and shame that has been transformed. And the house behind the Father, well, that's the house of many mansions, big enough for all of his beloveds. 

And what of Nicodemus? In the middle of the fourth gospel, Nicodemus appears again, and he's challenging fellow Pharisees who want Jesus arrested. He reminds them that the law requires that such a person be given a fair hearing. His risky reminder provokes sarcasm from the group. “Oh, are you also one of the followers?”

 In his final appearance following the crucifixion, he joins another Jewish leader in requesting the body for a proper burial; another risky move, suggesting that he was faithful henceforth from that fateful nighttime visit. 

In the terrible crisis of humanity, a cure has been offered. Recall the wandering of ex-slaves in the desert who found themselves in a social and medical crisis finding a cure by looking at a bronze serpent that was held up high on a staff?  So the Son of Man, the most human and humane of everyone, allowed himself to become a victim so that we might be shamed and jolted into seeing the lengths and depths that God would go to get across the limitless compassion and forgiveness from the very heart of the divine. Then our stony hearts are softened so that we, too, might be saved; and that the world might be made whole.

For God did so love the world. The condemnation is not in the character of God. But it is so that the world might be saved, rescued, healed, salvaged through him. And we, the blessed ones, get to be a part of that mission in this day and time, our day and time, for the needs that we sense and feel all around us in our great, hurting world.

Amen.

You Can’t Go Forward by Looking Backward

Sermon by Father William Forester

(240519) Ezekiel 37:1-14, Acts 2:1-21, John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15

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

Years ago, I was in discussion with a bishop. It was a positive discussion about where I was and where I wanted to be. 

He said, "Bill, where do you see yourself in three to five years?" He asked me about my experiences in the church up to that time and asked me to project what I would do in a different parish. 

My answer was, in essence, that I would recreate in a new parish the same things I had done in my previous and present situations. 

"All well and good," the bishop said, "But always remember that each church offers different challenges." He then said something that I will never forget: "Bill, you can't go forward while looking backward." 

What wisdom. You can't go forward looking backwards. Now, both the church and society have changed considerably in the 50-plus years that I have been ordained. Churches that understand societal changes and plan accordingly will make an impact. And churches that continue to do the same things they did 40 years ago will not. A glaring example of the church failing to understand societal changes occurred in 1917 when the Russian Orthodox Church was having a heated discussion about the color of robes to be worn on Palm Sunday, two blocks away from Red Square on the day the Bolshevik Revolution began. You can't go forward looking backward; and Jesus is calling St. Albans to go forward. St. Albans will have a new Rector  in the foreseeable future. Based on a history of strong clergy leadership and committed lay involvement, this church is ready for a new and wonderful adventure. Prepped by the successes of the past, St. Albans is ready for its next challenge; and the church will have the divine guidance of the Holy Spirit. 

Today is a day of Pentecost called the Feast of Weeks in the Old Testament. It's the day the Holy Spirit is released on the church in a spectacular way. In Acts 1, Jesus says, "When the Holy Spirit has come upon you, you will receive power to be my witnesses to the ends of the earth." 

The Greek word for power is dunamis. it's the word from which we get the word dynamite. That's the kind of power God will have on the human condition, and the Church, in going towards the end of the earth. In today's lesson from Acts 2, the apostles are in one place in Jerusalem when a loud rushing wind and tongues of fire alight on each of the apostles. When the apostles speak, people from all around the empire hear the good news of Jesus in their native language from people who did not speak their language. The message is that God's love is for every person in every region, even to the ends of the earth. There's excitement. There is amazement. It was wild and it was explosive. 

The Holy Spirit given at Pentecost empowered and equipped the apostles and the early church to go forward as witnesses with the message of Jesus. And there were skeptics. 

"It's nine o'clock in the morning," skeptics say, "Those apostles have had too much wine," …like a group of Episcopalians, I'm sure. 

Peter jumps up and says, "Amethyst”. Amethyst in Greek means not drunk. “We are not drunk. We are full of the spirit. Amethyst, we are not drunk we are full of the spirit." 

Over the centuries, many bishops have placed an amethyst in their pectoral cross, signifying “We're not drunk. We are full of the spirit.” The spirit directed the early church forward and outward and will do the same for St. Albans today. 

Drawing on the strengths and successes of the past, St. Albans is poised to embark on a new adventure, not recreating past successes, but building on them. How will we respond? One word: Welcome. The greatest need in society today is the need for friends, fellowship…a place where I can go, where I know that I matter. When people walk through the doors of the church for the first time, most are usually looking for friends and community. And in many cases, they are looking for opportunities to serve. What is our response? Welcome. Welcoming people, befriending them, and offering them opportunities to serve in the church's worship, ministry, fellowship, and outreach is critical. In this day and age, the church, which will positively respond to the needs of people looking for friends and opportunities to serve, will reap a bountiful harvest. 

In his book, The Purpose Driven Church, Rick Warren says, "In every growing and healthy congregation, you will find a common denominator. They have figured out a way to meet the needs of people. A church will never grow beyond its capacity to meet needs." And as I've said many times before, love draws people like a magnet. A lack of love drives people away. 

The bishop asked me years ago, "Where do you want to be in three years, five years?" I see a bright and productive future for St. Albans in the next three to five years. The Holy Spirit will empower and guide St. Albans in the search for a new rector in relevant worship, ministry, fellowship, and outreach. You are called to be a part of that and how do you know if you were called? Two questions: Are you breathing? Is your heart beating? If the answer is yes to at least one of those, you are called. 

Come Holy Spirit, come to this place now. Take us where we are and guide us to where you want us to be. 

Stay positive, work hard, and make it happen.

Amen.

Love Others into Taking God Seriously

St. Alban’s Episcopal Church

May 5, 2024

Sermon by Father William Forrest 

Acts 10:44-48  1 John 5:1-61  John 15:9-17

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

An individual I was speaking with recently said, "Everything in the country is changing and nothing is the same anymore. It's unsettling and I'm not sure what to do." The word "change" is defined as making a difference. "Unsettled" is defined as lacking stability. This person's comments reflect the attitude of many people in our society. In a world rife with economic stress, political instability, geopolitical tensions, and major wars in Ukraine, the Middle East, Sudan, and Ethiopia, the words "changing" and "unsettling" perfectly describe the conditions in which we live.

Bob Dylan's song from the mid-1960s, "The Times They Are a-Changin," echoes this sentiment: "Come gather 'round people wherever you roam, and admit that the waters around you have grown. Accept it soon, or you'll be drenched to the bone. If your time to you is worth savin', you better start swimmin' or you'll sink like a stone, for the times they are a-changin'."

A new rector will be called to St. Albans in the foreseeable future. St. Albans has experienced changes over the past year and will continue to change when the new rector comes. The former Bishop of Arizona, Joe Easton, once told me, "Bill, change is the only permanent thing in life. Get used to it."

The world is scary. Change is scary. And many people in our society are feeling unsettled.

Churches that grow and thrive through these times of stress and anxiety recognize these conditions are very real and give people the opportunity to receive what they cannot find anywhere else. What can't they find anywhere else? In this morning's Gospel, Jesus says, "As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love." This is my commandment: that you love one another as I have loved you. Love one another as I have loved you. The best way to deal with stress and anxiety is to love others as Jesus loves us.

Now, it's interesting, isn't it? People want love from the time they're born to the time they die. Infants, toddlers, teenagers, young adults, middle-aged adults, and senior citizens need love each and every day of their lives. Sometimes we do strange things when we don't receive it. We all need it and crave it regardless of our age.

Does anyone disagree with that? Raise your hand high. Excellent. Now, the next question is, what is it? Define what we need each and every day of our lives. Anybody want to take a shot? Love, but define love. What is it? Caring, empathy, communication—all of that. And it's the giving of yourself to the well-being of another, which involves all these things, with the expectation of nothing in return.

Love is the commitment of yourself to the well-being of another, with the expectation of nothing in return. Love is an action word.

Regardless of world and economic conditions, Jesus gives a commandment—not a suggestion—to love others as he loved us. This applies to those who are different from us and to those who don't vote the same way we do. There are no "yes, buts" in our response.

What is the best way we can love others as Jesus commands? In changing and unsettling times, all of us at St. Albans must recognize that many people are here for the first time, and they're looking for the affirmation of a loving encounter. Most are looking for friends, community, relationships, and respite from the stress and confusion in their lives and in the world around them. According to Donald Coggan, the former Archbishop of Canterbury, healthy churches love people into taking God seriously.

Remember, love always seeks the well-being of others. We give it with the expectation of nothing in return. That kind of love attracts people like a magnet. A lack of love drives people far away.

There is no method, program, behavior, or technology that can make up for a lack of love for people.

"The Times They Are A-Changin." The daily news is stressful and upsetting, and how would Jesus have us respond? Again, in his words, "Love others as I have loved you." Invite someone to church. Welcome new people. Befriend them. Connect them to the church's worship service and fellowship, remembering that we, the church, exist to extend Jesus' love to others.

You be the person who does that. Don't wait for someone else. You do that.

Jesus calls his followers friends. Reach out and be a friend for Christ. By the way, do you know what a friend is? A friend is someone who knows all about you and likes you anyway.

Love others into taking God seriously. Be a good listener. Forgive everyone who has offended you. Again, don't leave it to someone else. You do it. Because you may be the only image of Jesus another person will ever see.

When the new rector comes, may they see your contagious enthusiasm for Jesus, his church, and his service. Send a message that St. Albans is alive, united, and positively focused on the future. I encourage you to stay positive, work hard, and make it happen.

Amen.

Becoming Easter People

St. Alban’s Episcopal Church

May 5, 2024

Sermon by Father Richard Mallory 

Acts 10:34-43  Corinthians 15:1-11  John 20:1-18
March 31, 2024

I'm telling you, that last hymn was dancing music. Now, don't you go and tell my Baptist forefathers and foremothers that I'm talking about dancing in the pulpit. You know, at one time, there was a Baptist college where a boy and a girl were walking along the campus holding hands. A Baptist professor came up and said, "Don't be holding hands. You know what that can lead to? Dancing." 

Thank you for indulging my Baptist stories; they are very near and dear to my heart. At the same time, I discovered the Episcopal Church when I went to seminary and was drawn to it for many reasons. That was a marvelous discovery. I went into seminary as a Baptist and came out as an Episcopalian. I think of seminary as an oven experience, and sometimes life is like that for all of us. We feel like we're in an oven, getting overheated and hard-pressed.

Just off the cuff, spring can be a hard time for people, especially for those who struggle with depression. In a group of people this large, there has to be someone who is struggling with depression, and it's very real. I've been there. I was unable to finish my work in my second year of seminary because I was so depressed. I had other episodes of depression, but I got good help, psychotherapy, and medication. So if you're dealing with depression, please take care of yourself. Please reach out to people who are ready to help you because we are blessed in this city with many skilled people who can help you struggle with your darkness.

Well, one Easter morning, a preacher climbed into his pulpit without saying a word. He took out his razor, a beautiful marble bowl for his shaving cream, and an old-fashioned shaving brush with a beautiful handle. He began to lather up, took his razor, and proceeded to shave—without saying anything. Then he put it down and said to the congregation, "When you go out of here and tell people what you saw, they will not believe you." And that's how it was with the resurrection.

So the question comes: What makes the resurrection so difficult to accept? Let's let that question just hang in the air for a moment.

Even though it was still dark, she came to the tomb and realized that the stone was missing. The entrance to the tomb was open. She was startled and confused and ran to find Peter and the other disciple whom Jesus loved. She blurts out her understanding in the moment: "He's not in the tomb. His body is missing." Peter and the unnamed disciple took off for the tomb without missing a beat. They got competitive, and the one who was loved by Jesus especially got there first. He peeked in and saw the clothes that had been on the body. Then Peter, being impetuous as he was, rushed right in without pausing and looked around. Seeing Peter didn't suffer any harm, the other disciple went in too. Even though the narrator tells us that they believed, neither of them is really connecting the dots at this point. The two men finished there and went back home.

The male disciples exit, and our focus shifts to Mary Magdalene. At some point, she returns to the tomb to grieve. She cannot find the body, so she goes to the place where it was last seen. She continues to cry and mourn, each tear expressing her love and devotion to the one who meant so much to her. She had already expressed her loyalty by situating herself at the foot of the cross. She musters her courage and looks into the tomb. Then she sees two angels, one at where the head would have been and one at where the feet would have been.

Now, unlike the majority of angel sightings in the Bible, these angels don't say the usual comment, "Fear not." For some reason, they assess her as not needing reassurance. This woman of unusual courage is abruptly confronted with the question, "Why are you weeping?" That's where I want to intervene and jump into the story myself: "Now look here, you angel, you'd be crying too if your most beloved teacher had just died and been murdered." People in shock and loss have their own timetable to work through their grief. In times past, in small European villages, there was a custom whereby a mourner would wear an armband to signal to citizens that they were in the stage of grief and mourning. The person wore it for a year, which can be just the very beginning of working through traumatic loss.

But in this story, things move quickly. Mary answers the question as best she can. Raw in her emotion, she says, "It's not just the Lord who is missing, it's my Lord who is gone." She doesn't know where they have laid him. Then she breaks off from further conversation, turns away, and doesn't want to be grilled or justify her tears.

Turning, she sees Jesus but doesn't know it is him. We, the reader and the listeners, know, but Mary does not. He asks her the same question and adds another: "Why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?" She cannot accurately see or perceive at this point. She assumes he's the gardener and grows impatient, as if to say, "Will someone please tell me where Jesus' body is? Where is the body?" She accuses the gardener of being a grave robber.

But then, shades of non-awareness disappear, and recognition dawns. It was all in his tone of voice when he said her name. She turns toward him and exclaims, "Rabboni! Teacher!" She's open to continued learning in this moment of celebration. If there are tears now, they are tears of joy. She touches him. Whether she grabs him in a full-body embrace or takes both hands into hers, we know he experiences her as holding on, clinging. It's understandable that she wants to keep him around, but he is on a journey back to his Father. Mary needs to prepare herself for a new relationship with Jesus that will be through the Spirit, Advocate, Protector, and Holy Spirit.

Jesus commissions her to go tell his brothers—assumed to be the disciples who were at the Last Supper and had just been called friends for the first time by their teacher. Now Jesus is saying, "Tell my brothers, tell my siblings." This is confirmation for you and many that we are the friends of Jesus. He sees us that way. We are the siblings; he is our brother. The implication of gospel love is immense as we are invited into fellowship.

She goes and finds these men who mostly fled and hid when things got scary on Friday. She told them simply, "I have seen the Lord." They did not see Christ themselves until that night when Christ found them behind locked doors in a room because they were scared.

For all time, the news of the resurrection is brought to the community by the word of a woman: Mary of Magdala, the first apostle of the risen Christ.

Back to that question: What makes it so difficult to believe in the resurrection? I think there's a great deal of cynicism that flows through our society, suggesting everything is false and untrustworthy. Let's just go through the motions, keep our heads down, and play the game. Underneath this cynicism is fear, fear that beats us down.

In the Acts passage, it is said how Jesus went around healing those who had been beaten down. No, I don't think it's the devil that beats us down; I think it's you and me in our dark moments and dark times. And there's something even pleasurable about beating ourselves down, as if we know better.

The heritage we have of belonging and being saved by a risen Christ and by a God whose mercy and love exceeds every imaginable possibility can be overwhelming. So we creep back into our little tombs and administer punishment to ourselves. This sort of thing can happen without our awareness.

God doesn't want this for us. The antidote to fear is connection, being known and seen, like Mary being called by her name with care and respect. We do this for one another in community. And from this glorious gospel, we are reminded that we are branches connected to the source, the whole vine.

The fourth gospel is especially aware of God's presence that creates beloved community. I know of an Episcopal Church in Maine where two men are going to undergo surgery on Tuesday. One is donating his kidney to his friend. He's giving his kidney to his fellow Christian, his brother. The light of Christ will be strong in that Maine hospital on Tuesday. The light of Christ will shine much further than the city of Portland, Maine, because of that act.

He's not laying down his life for his friend, as Jesus once held up as the epitome of love, but he is making a big sacrifice. Why would a person do that? What gives him the means to do it? Did he hear a message from God? Or was it something deep within himself that told him, "I have to do that. I can do it, and I'm going to do it."

A Roman Catholic sister talks about this passage when she says that in a world that otherwise would have every reason for paralyzing cynicism, pessimism, and despair, believes in a risen Lord, and they become an Easter people of hope who make a difference in our world.

Most of us would not blame Mary Magdalene for wanting to remain in Jesus' embrace, wanting to believe that those last days of horror were just a great nightmare and wanting to feel assured that now all would be well again.

Yet reveling in the experience of the risen Lord while any of our brothers and sisters are locked in an upper room in fear, bondage, anxiety, depression, and without hope is not an option for a loving disciple. Anyone who has seen the Lord, sensed the Lord, or been called by the Lord feels an urgency that all people should know the good news of God's saving love and victory over sin and death. Everyone must know that the lost have been found, that there is a new creation.

I would add that the lost parts of ourselves are found and known and brought back to life, or perhaps brought to life for the first time. We are an Easter people, and that makes all the difference in our lives. We are commissioned and empowered to share the news of reconciliation with our fragmented and lost world that needs the message so very much.

Living out that truth gives meaning to life, hope, peace, and joy. As we live out the high calling of life within the light of Christ Jesus, he will always and forever have the final word.

Amen.

The Main Thing is to Keep the Main Thing the Main Thing

Sermon by Father William Forrest 

speaking from the Book of Amos, Thessalonians, and Matthew

It has been my privilege over 51 years of ordained Ministry to know many diverse and disparate people. I mean, some have been optimists; and they see the best in everything. Some are pessimists who don't see the best in everything. Some were liberal, some conservative, some were apocalyptic, and some were political. What they all had in common was their commitment to Christ and a healthy church. Over the last few years, many individuals have gotten gloomy believing something big is about to happen. One person I know calls himself a catastrophist and he believes that the economy and society are about to implode. Another person I know believes, as many people believe, that, because of climate change, serious damage will be done to the environment if action is not taken soon. Many are concerned that the war in the Middle East will get much much bigger. Many are concerned about the divided political situation in our country. Some Christians believe that the current world economic events point to the imminent Second Coming of Jesus. 

Now you may be in agreement with all, or some, or none of these opinions and concerns. We may agree or disagree as to who is at fault; however, whether or not we agree or not with these opinions and concerns and whose fault it is we can all agree that the world in which we live presents challenges and opportunities for the church. The church has existed through difficult times in the past and Jesus has always led and empowered his church through these times and it's no different now. 

St. Alban’s is in an interim situation and, thanks to the excellent work of the search committee, will soon be ready to receive the names of prospective applicants. Regardless of what is going on in the world around us, however good, bad, or nerve-wracking, it's important that during this interim period, and beyond, we remain focused on the health and growth of this wonderful parish. As I heard at a conference several years ago “the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing” I'm going to say it one more time, “the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.” The main thing is our commitment to Jesus, to his church, and to his service. The Apostle Paul gives us a challenge in today's New Testament lesson from the First Thessalonians. In this passage, Paul says, ”The day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While people are saying, “There is peace and security,” then sudden destruction will come upon them.” This passage teaches that adversity can happen suddenly. It sounds a lot like our world right now, doesn't it? In this passage, Paul urges the church to be watchful, to be sober, and to be ready for anything. He uses two very interesting words here. The word for watch is gregoreo and means, stay awake. Be in a state of spiritual readiness. Be alert. Be aware of what's happening around you. The word for sober, nepho, aside from the avoidance of intoxication, and we as episcopalians need to remember that, means self-control, sound judgment, and dependability. To be a healthy growing and dynamic church we must demonstrate self-control, sound judgment, and dependability. That is our challenge during this interim and into the future. Jesus is calling us to respond to this challenge. He's calling you and how do you know if you're called? I've said this before. It's a two-part test. Number one, is your heart beating? Second, are you breathing? If you can answer yes to both questions you are called.

During this interim time, and in a crazy world, let's all commit to the health strength and growth of St. Alban’s. We will be watchful and we will commit to self-control, sound judgment, and dependability. Remember that church growth and health depend on you. Commit to ministry. The best definition of ministry I've ever heard, a short definition, is meeting a need in Jesus' name. We have many opportunities. Be a generous giver. This is pledge time. Does your pledge represent a tithe or a tip. FYI, if each parishioner tithed 10, I'm sorry, 5% of their income to the church the average Church budget would rise 400%. Bring food regularly to the food bank, very important to do it and to keep doing it. Be the unanxious presence in the lives of those around you. Call a depressed or anxious friend. Joyously worship and receive Jesus weekly in the Eucharist. Jesus said, “I am the living bread which came down from heaven if anyone eats of this bread he will live forever.”  Whether the catastrophist or other aforementioned viewpoints come to pass or not, that remains to be seen; but in all situations remember the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing. The growth and health of this church, now and in the future, is critical. Make Sunday mornings at St. Albans a time of joyous worship; greeting people you don't know and connecting with people you do. Pray for self-control and sound judgment and dependability and ask Jesus what would you have me do; and when you feel that urging say yes Lord I will do it. Have no fear. I will end by saying stay positive, work hard, and make it happen. In the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit 

Amen

Checking the Oil in the Lamps

Sermon by Father Richard Mallory 

speaking from the Book of Amos, Thessalonians, and Matthew

I invite you to join me in hanging out for a while with these three readings, you have just heard, from the books of Amos, Thessalonians, and Matthew. 

Here is Amos, the hick, from another country who came up to the northern kingdom. He couldn't bear, for one more second, the corruption and injustice he saw in the ancient Israel, of his day, eight centuries before Jesus. He sees the enormous income gap between rich and poor. He sees the superiority and disdain that the upper class has toward the lower class who are being oppressed. The courts were corrupt; bribes were commonplace. 

In today's reading, Amos deconstructs the prominent belief in a Doctrine so dear to people's hearts. They believe that in the day of the Lord Yahweh would come and crush all of Israel's enemies and promote his special people to even greater privilege and Glory.

 Not so fast, says Amos. Your accountability day will be the opposite of your expectations. There will be darkness, not light, and no place to run for safety. In contemporary speech, he might be saying, you're lost in your narcissism, your sociopathy, and your aggrandizement. 

Jewish scholar Julian Morgenstern thinks the entire book of Amos happened in one day. Amos cuts loose in the town square as the town crier, the Street Preacher. Someone tipped off the chief priest, Amaziah, who rushed over to stop this troublemaker and end this nonsense. “The land cannot bear your words”; indeed, the chief priest most certainly could not bear his words. The status quo system was not accustomed to being questioned. Amaziah denounced Amos and told him to get out of town and go back to where he came from; so he did, and we know nothing about his life thereafter except that he, or someone, or a little group that surrounded him, wrote down his words; so we have them today.

In this reading, we have one of the most anti-religious statements in the Bible. He goes after the religious establishment hook, line, and sinker. Speaking for God, saying “I hate, I despise your festivals.” I'm not interested in the offerings of your big fat animals. I will not look upon them. I won't accept them. Take away the noise of your songs. Let Justice roll down like waters, righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. for Amos, God is the god of justice and love. Justice and love are twins, especially in the Old Testament. Clean up your act before it's too late, says the prophet, before your world implodes around you. Look in the mirror. Get real. Drop the phony stuff. Pay attention to those in need. Stop leaving them out. 

There's something about Amos that is almost too hot to handle. I never heard a sermon on the Book of Amos as a child growing up. It is because of his strong stand for justice. It would have been disturbing in Alabama to start messing around with justice as an issue in the 1950s. If a preacher dared talk about justice from his pulpit on Sunday morning in the Deep South in the 1950s he would be fired Sunday afternoon. 

Then we go to Thessalonians, the oldest New Testament writing.  It is Paul's earliest piece of writing. Christians anticipated the return of Christ and they were worried about their loved ones who had already died. What was going to happen to them? Not to worry, says Paul, for when Christ returns (and here Paul uses metaphorical language) those who have died will go up, first, to greet the returning Christ, followed by those who are alive. This metaphor of going up into the air sheds light on the New Testament language about the future. It is a reference, or a signpost, pointing into a mist. We don't get the literal snapshots or photos of the future; rather, we get pointers in the right direction. Here's the meaning of the metaphor. In the first century, when a king or potentate from Rome arrived in a colony or province, the locals would go out to greet him beyond the city limits to accompany him back towards the town through the gate and into the Town Center. When Paul speaks of meeting the Lord in the air the point is precisely that believers would then stay with him and then come together back to the Earth where they all belong. All of this was a way of saying Jesus was Lord, not Caesar, and this is about an arrival, not a leaving. It's a coming, not a going.

Now on to that wedding feast in our Gospel where we have a missing bride and a very tardy groom. There were 10 bridesmaids. Five are called wise and five are foolish. We can imagine this entire wedding party as teenagers, which they were. The marriage was for people in their late teens and the wedding party would be younger teens. I cannot think of a passage that has been more widely used as a shame and blame. Five bridesmaids are wise and good. Five are foolish, ill-prepared, and bad. The wise bridesmaids get saved. The foolish are unsaved. The groom is the returning Christ coming to gather the elect. The good bridesmaids join the wedding party. The poor bridesmaids are left at the gate, out in the cold; they are destined for eternal torment. Now how's that for a horrid and abusive theology? They're teenagers for goodness sake. One commentator says he has four teenagers and “I can tell you not one of them would have remembered to take extra oil unless I reminded them six or seven times.” A second approach upholds conventional thinking, the basis of the Boy Scout motto, and that motto is “Be Prepared”. Wow, there are a lot of people who remember their scouting experience this morning. There is a deeper meaning related to time. The Greek word, kairos, is for a time that is incredibly significant, where something matters more than the ordinary flow of life. It's a moment when what is decided, what is chosen, will make all the difference in the time that flows thereafter. Kairos can be a make-or-break moment defining which path in life to take. “Do I stay or do I go,” as the song goes. 

Remember that parables do not have just one meaning. They are intended to be like diamonds with many facets of meaning. Its meaning in one phase of life may have a different meaning to you as the circumstances of your life change. A teacher of mine said parables can be sneaky little devils; and, I use that in the most complimentary way. Sneaky little devils that are meant as a subversion sometimes take us to the very opposite of what the parable says literally. Sometimes a bridegroom is just a bridegroom and no more. What kind of bridegroom is so late that he finally shows up at midnight and imperiously disowns half of the wedding party shutting the door in their faces? What's going on here? What about those bridesmaids?

When asked to share some oil the so-called wise bridesmaids go coldhearted and clutch their surplus oil in selfish scarcity. Instead, they tell the others to find a dealer for more oil. Pardon me, but a dealer open, at midnight, in a village, a rural town…good luck with that. There weren’t any Circle K’s in ancient Israel; there were no city lights so, unless it was a full moon, it was very dark. The foolish ones could have been wise at this point and not taken the advice of the rejecting bridesmaids. They could have stayed put and accepted their lack of preparation. They could have been present when he came into the room. There wouldn't have been a great blaze of light since they didn't have enough oil. Better to have remained, tolerating the selfish bridesmaids, following Jesus.

The story still has a cosmic backdrop. Perhaps we are being invited to find both the wise and foolish sides of ourselves. What we deem wise may cloak feelings of superiority and “better than thou” beliefs. We might discover times when we went off half-cocked and impulsively did something harmful rather than remaining grounded and patient. While the story reminds us of time's finitude; what am I procrastinating?  I'll tend to that someday. Here, the image of midnight arises. There is an ending and a beginning in an auspicious moment. So why am I procrastinating over this relationship that needs some attention? Why do I keep postponing the telephone conversation with one where I might be able to have some reconciliation. Time is limited. A pronouncement of “I do not know you” chills the bones. Could it apply to a lifetime of avoiding the knowing of oneself, one's own soul, by having chosen habits of distraction like the foolish ones who seem to choose activity over staying centered. There is no better way to snuff out the Still Small Voice than to live life with a frenetic pace. Keep the TV on in the background so you'll never get to know what's inside your soul. 

This parable ends with a party. Those outside might recall Jesus’ teaching, “knock and it will be opened to you” along with that friend, at midnight, who shows up at a neighbor's house to get some bread because an unexpected visitor has arrived. These girls outside better start knocking loudly and get in there so the bridegroom can get a better look at them in the light and realize that he knows them after all. A party's going on. 

The kingdom of heaven is like a party for you know not the day nor the hour. Father Robert Capon says when all is said and done, when we have scared ourselves silly with the “now or never” urgency of faith, and the once and always finality of judgment, we need to take a deep breath; and, let it out with a laugh because what we are watching for is a party and the party is not just down the street making up its mind when to come to us, it's already hiding in our basement banging on our steam pipes laughing its way up our cellar stairs. The unknown day and hour of its finally bursting into the kitchen and boisterously making its way through the whole house is not dreadful. It's all part of the Divine, of grace. God is not our mother-in-law coming to see whether her wedding present china has been chipped, but, rather a funny old relative with a salami under one arm and a bottle of wine under the other. Indeed we need to keep watch because it would be such a pity to miss out on all that fun 

 Amen