Magic Eyes and the Transfiguration - August 6

Today’s Readings: The Transfiguration; AM Psalm 2, 24; Exodus 24:12-18; 2 Corinthians 4:1-6; PM Psalm 72; Daniel 7:9-10,13-14; John 12:27-36a

Today is the Feast of the Transfiguration. When I was in elementary school, one of the popular books were those “Magic Eye” books filled with colorful dots. If you looked at the page just right, a three-dimensional image would suddenly appear. I remember being so frustrated because everyone around me seemed to see something that I couldn't. Then, almost without warning, my eyes adjusted, and what had looked like random patterns suddenly revealed something that had been there all along.

The Feast of the Transfiguration reminds me of those books. On the mountain, Jesus doesn't just become someone different. Maybe for a brief moment, Peter, James, and John are given eyes to see who he has always been. The veil is pulled back, and the glory that has been present all along shines through in a way that they hadn’t seen before.

Several months ago, a parishioner was seeking council about an employee who had done something quite dishonest and certainly illegal. I was trying to be pastoral and wasn’t quite as generous about forgiveness as the conclusion this person arrived at. I’m glad they didn’t take my advice. And actually, they taught me something about forgiveness and how our faith can change the way we see other people, and how we see the situation we are in. 

In today's Gospel, Jesus says, "Walk while you have the light." Light does more than brighten our path; it teaches us to see what was hidden in the darkness. Faith is not merely about acquiring new information. It is about allowing God to transform our vision so that we recognize the holy that has been with us all along.  This helps us to see dignity or possibility where others miss the picture.  Thanks be to God.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: Where might God be inviting you to look again today? What ordinary person, place, or moment might reveal God's glory if you slow down long enough to truly see?

God Believes in Us - August 4

Today’s Readings -  Psalm 78:1-39; Judges 7:1-18; Acts 3:1-11; John 1:19-28

Every so often, I’ll witness our youngest son do something that seems completely out of character. For example, after not making his bed for two years I walk in one morning and his bedroom is neat as a pin. As his parents, one or both of us has said, “Who are you and what have you done with my son?” We say it tongue in cheek of course, but it’s remarkable how someone can morph into a new version of themselves, to appear to have drastically changed. Sometimes it’s not so much that we’ve changed but that we’ve grown into who we were all along. For as long as I can remember I’ve thought I was shy – I've been told I was shy until as an adult I realized it’s not so much that I’m shy as I’m more of an introvert than extrovert. I can be as social as the next but it’s not always how I prefer spending time.

 In today’s gospel reading from John we’re hearing about the very beginning of John the Baptist’s ministry. Unfortunately, after his birth, John kind of falls off the map. His parents, Zechariah and Elizabeth, were given a foretaste of who he would become but then the next time we hear about John he’s a grown man who’s been living in the wilderness, eating locust and honey, and now he reappears, seemingly out of nowhere, proclaiming the coming of the Messiah, the Lamb of God.

 Jewish priests and Levites from Jerusalem seek him out to ask, “Who are you?” They’re understandably skeptical. Anyone who knew John as a child might wonder, “Who are you and what have you done with John?” It would take a lot of confidence in your beliefs to take this bold of a step.

 I recently read about a woman who has written a memoir that demonstrates how one person holds intense grief alongside a deep faith. In her moments of doubt and despair she is reminded as she says her traditional Jewish morning prayers that “God has great faith in me.” Rachel Goldberg-Polin explains that she’s always liked the idea that God believes in us. I was struck by this thought and immediately knew this is what I, we, need to adopt as our mantra. That we are children of God. That God believes in us, has great faith in us and with that thought, believe that no matter how daring or risky a step in faith may feel, God believes in us, God has faith in us. With God in our corner, so much more seems possible, less risky. It can be incredibly freeing to realize this and to be able to live into what we are called to do as God’s children, as disciples of Christ.   

 Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for reflection and challenge - What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?  Or if you did, no matter the results God was with you, believing in you, Cheering you on? Who would you be? Would you have chosen a different life’s path? What can you do, beginning today that yesterday you may have been hesitant to try?

Joseph of Arimathea - July 30

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm [70], 71; PM Psalm 74; Judges 4:4-23; Acts 1:15-26; Matt. 27:55-66

There is a lot of outrage in the world right now and probably much of it for very good reasons.  And sometimes it feels totally overwhelming with how to respond.  We can’t fix everything, and yet we can do something, and we often are kind of stuck in a place in between trying to figure out what it means to respond to each other, to our loved ones, to people in need, and to a world hurting. 

In today’s Gospel passage, I am drawn to Joseph of Arimathea.  Matthew makes the important distinction that he was a disciple of Jesus, whereas Mark’s Gospel only points to him being a respected member of the council.  Matthew avoids this, likely trying to claim that Joseph wasn’t responsible for Jesus’s condemnation and was a member of the Sanhedrin. 

As I reflect today, I'm not so sure it's a bad thing to remember that Joseph was part of the council. Human beings are complicated, tied up in institutions, relationships, and decisions that are often bigger than ourselves. We are rarely entirely innocent or entirely guilty. Most of us live in the tension of trying to be faithful while navigating flawed families, workplaces, communities, and systems. Joseph reminds us that anyone can become an instrument of grace.

I find this very hopeful. If you are feeling paralyzed in responding to the needs of the world, maybe the simple answer is just do the next faithful thing. Joseph cannot save the world.  That belongs to God alone.  But he can care for one broken body. He can bear witness to love when violence seems to have won. Maybe discipleship is less about being responsible for changing everything and more about refusing to let compassion disappear.

Perhaps that is the invitation for us as well. We cannot heal every wound or solve every crisis that confronts us. The needs of the world are simply too great for each person to bear that weight. But we can honor Christ by caring for the person before us, speaking the truth we have been given to speak, and offering the love we are able to offer. We entrust the rest to God, who has always been in the business of bringing resurrection out of places that look like endings.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where is God inviting you to do the next faithful thing, even if you cannot fix the whole problem?

King of the Hill - July 28

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 61, 62; Judges 2:1-5,11-23; Rom. 16:17-27; Matt. 27:32-44

It can be one of life’s greatest temptations to use our influence, to flex our muscles, or to try to prove our worth even when we know we don’t need to. It usually happens when our back is up against a wall and we feel trapped, defensive, with no way out. It’s not pretty when it happens and I honestly can’t remember a time when I’ve witnessed someone resort to this when I’ve been impressed or when the situation wasn’t made worse.

As I try to understand why we fall into this trap I’ve come to believe that the root of behavior meant to intimidate someone by impressing them with our worth may be insecurity. When we resort to these types of tactics it’s usually because we feel threatened. I’ve seen children do this while playing especially if one is getting the best of another. Bullies quite often resort to this type of behavior, puffing themselves up to appear more powerful, more threatening, when underneath their intimidating persona is a frightened child who just needs and wants to be accepted and loved.

It can be exhausting to be “King of the Hill.”  Just getting there isn’t enough. Once you’re there you need to defend your title, your right to the real estate or reputation you’ve acquired.

Those who persecuted Jesus and the men who carried out the execution were for the most part bullies, cowards hiding behind false accusations and taunts, behind the demands of others and fear of retaliation. Jesus knew he had nothing to gain by responding to their threats. What he had come to do he had accomplished in how he lived and how he was choosing to die. He regarded his devotion to God as a higher calling than any earthly title or crown. Ultimately through his death he knew he would be granting the children of God a kind of freedom that no one had ever experienced.

It may not feel like it, but we answer to that same calling. Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice so we too could die to sin, with him, in our baptism. As a result, we live with a covenant we made to God at our baptism and are bound by our baptismal vows. We live with the security of knowing that our lives don’t depend on proving our worth. Our worth in the eyes of God is all that matters.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection or Challenge - How often have you become subject to someone else’s taunts or provocations? How did you respond? What might you have done differently? How often do we consider our lives in relation to our baptismal vows me made or were made for us?

And They Deserted Him - July 21

Today’s Readings - Psalm 45; Joshua 8:1-22; Rom. 14:1-12; Matt. 26:47-56

“Then all the disciples deserted him and fled.” There aren’t too many words in the New Testament that bother me more than this last verse from today’s gospel reading from Matthew. I’ve read them more times than I can remember and each time I read these lines and the narrative leading up to them I have mixed reactions. How could they have done that to their best friend, their teacher their companion, their lord? And then I consider what was at stake, how frightened they must have been, how confused and then how easy it would have been to panic and without considering their actions, run. I know because I’ve been there and done that.

We’ve all from time to time been faced with choosing between protecting ourselves, our reputation, our livelihood, and our loyalty for someone else, something else. Sometimes regretfully we’ve chosen the more selfish, safer option. Unfortunately, it can sometimes feel as though that’s the only option we have. And worse of all it can be way too easy to justify actions that we are less than proud of having committed.

Thankfully, this hasn’t happened to me very often. There are times when I’ve chosen to be safe, trying not to get involved, or not speaking our when I knew I should, but my heart has never let me off easy. Several years ago, I decided to honestly respond to a situation when I could have chosen to avoid it. I could have looked the other way and allowed it to continue. It would have been so much easier. Instead, I spoke up and I lost a friendship that I’ve missed but that was toxic and best cut loose. I know she’ll never understand that I was doing what I honestly knew was right, but I eventually came to peace with it knowing I did the right thing.

Jesus is more aware than we will ever be of how many ways we are challenged each day. We will never know how many times we’ve deserted him, the times we haven’t spoken up for those who have no voice, the times we haven’t taken just a few minutes to check on someone or to tell someone they matter. It’s a generous grace-filled love on Christ’s part that prevents us from knowing, because the weight of it all would probably be more than we could bear.

The last line in this narrative will always haunt me, but it’s the reminder I know I need on a daily basis; to try harder, to be more intentional, to be more aware, more present to the needs that we are surrounded by each and every day. It’s also the reminder I need to remember the sacrifice Jesus made for us so that we might know the freeing grace of forgiveness. The disciples like us out of fear and confusion ran for their lives, but at what cost? What is life without our relationship with Christ?

Faithfully,

Sally+

 Questions for Reflection and Challenge - When you run from seeing the face of Jesus, when you turn to look the other way, who do you see? Do you see the reflection of someone you respect? Or, do you see the face of someone you wish had made better choices? What can we do to be more intentional, to remain more loyal to Jesus?

The Grace of Unresolved Questions - July 16

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 37:1-18; PM Psalm 37:19-42; Joshua 3:14-4:7; Rom. 12:1-8; Matt. 26:1-16

One of the more interesting conversations this summer was a discussion with clergy classmates about sermons by St. Basil the Great on the social vision of the church. I mentioned one of his sermons earlier in a reflection, but that was before our class discussion. Basil was an early bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia (modern-day Turkey) who lived in the middle of the 4th century.

It was a theology class, but we spent a few days on social vision, particularly wealth. You can imagine how that landed with a room of Episcopal clergy, a tradition that has historically been one of the most affluent, and many of us with livelihoods tied to the generosity of those who came before us and built the endowments that have helped our churches grow and endure in ways that would otherwise have been difficult.

In a sermon on Matthew 19:16-22, Basil proclaims,

"Why then are you sad? Why do you mourn in your soul, hearing 'Sell your possessions'? Even if your belongings could follow you to the future life, they would not be particularly desirable there, since they would be overshadowed by truly precious things. If on the other hand, they must remain here, why not sell them now and obtain profit? You are not disappointed when you must spend gold in order to purchase a horse. But when you have the opportunity to exchange corruptible things for the Kingdom of Heaven, you shed tears, spurning the one who asked of you and refusing to give anything, while contriving a million excuses for your own expenditures?"

Basil is responding to the rich man who is told to sell everything and walks away in tears. Later in the sermon, Basil offers a metaphor I find helpful:

"Great rivers begin from tiny streams, but eventually acquire irresistible magnitude by means of small additions, so that they violently sweep away whatever lies in their paths: thus it is with those who advance to positions of great power."

He's talking about how wealth and power have the capacity to corrupt, which is why an active spiritual discipline and thoughtful reflection on what shapes us is so important. He continues later in the sermon:

"Because of wealth, kinsfolk disregard the bond of nature, and siblings contemplate murder against sibling. Because of wealth the desert teems with murderers, the sea with pirates, and the cities with extortionists. Who is the father of lies? Who is the author of forgery? Who gave birth to perjury? Is it not wealth? Is it not the pursuit of wealth? What ails you people!"

(I added the exclamation point, but I imagine his sermon had crescendoed by this point.)

Closer to the end:

"Yet you say, 'I will enjoy all these things during my life, but after my death I will leave my goods to the poor, making them beneficiaries of my will and granting them all my possessions.' When you are no longer among your fellow human beings, then you will become a philanthropist!"

(I didn't add that exclamation point.)

I imagine you can picture a room of Episcopal clergy squirming in our seats — and many of us know our institutions are better off because of exactly this kind of generosity. Last year, we funded and built a house for someone because of an estate bequest, and I give tremendous thanks for the generosity of that precious soul!

I'm guessing Basil wasn't holding today's Gospel reading, from later in Matthew, where the woman pours a jar of costly ointment on Jesus and Judas criticizes her for not selling it and giving the profit to the poor, in the limelight either. Not everything is easily resolved. Today's reading suggests that sometimes we have really nice things.

I can't quite remember who said it, but I once heard that the preacher's challenge is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. These tensions in Kingdom living aren't easily resolved, and today I'm grateful for a Gospel that gives us all a little grace, and reminds us to share it too. And if this reflection leaves you with more questions than answers about how you're called to live, maybe that's a good thing.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where in my life has comfort made me less attentive to the needs of others?

Look Busy, Jesus is Coming - July 14

Today’s Readings - Psalm 26, 28; Joshua 2:15-24; Rom. 11:13-24; Matt. 25:14-30

 Years ago, there was a popular bumper sticker that read, “Look busy, Jesus is coming..The implied meaning was that we as Jesus’ followers are supposed to have been productive, busy doing the work Christ left for us to do while he was gone. The popular message however is, “look busy” not “get busy.” Implying that if you haven’t been productive then at least look as though you have. As if Jesus wouldn’t know the difference.

Occasionally when I was little my mother would leave my big brother and I at home by ourselves. She would usually leave us a list of chores to do, like clean up our rooms, or vacuum. She’d tell us that if we got these things done then we finished we could watch tv or go over to a friend’s house.

Of course, she wouldn’t be out of the driveway good before we’d try to figure out how long we had until she returned and then we’d wait until the very last minute and scurry around getting as much done as we could, so that it at least “looked” as though we’d been busy. The problem was that if she looked very closely, she could tell we hadn’t spent much time on the chores she’d given us to do. Rather than hanging neatly in my closet my clothes would be shoved under my bed. I came to realize that she didn’t care as much about the chores getting finished as whether or not she could trust us. If she couldn’t trust us with small insignificant things then how would she ever be able to trust us with larger more important things.

In today’s gospel, Jesus is trying to explain to the disciples, to us, that there are “chores” that will need to be done once he’s gone, and that it will matter how seriously we take these tasks; that we will have resources, gifts to use and that it’s up to us to use those gifts wisely. Of course, my mother cared that instead of hanging neatly in my closet my clothes were going to need to be ironed – again. But what I didn’t understand was that she cared more about trying to teach me how to be responsible, accountable for my actions. I not only was attempting to deceive my mother, but I was hurting myself. I was learning how to be lazy, to be one of those people who try to skirt around responsibility, just doing the bare minimum.

In addition to those talents and gifts we consider as resources, we also have faith, also a gift from God. We can choose to exercise our faith, to share so that as we share it, it multiplies each time. If we hide our faith or deny it when life gets hard or uncomfortable we cut ourselves off at the knees, denying ourselves the one thing that can heal the wounds, make hope possible, straighten crooked paths. It matters how we live out our role as disciples, as children of God. Take the time to be earnest in all things, those seemingly insignificant “chores” and the ones that can make all the difference. In the end what we accomplish during this short life, the relationships we forge, the love we share is all that matters.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - If you were going to write a slogan for a bumper sticker about your life as a disciple of Christ, what would it say? How has the way you’ve lived your life been accountable to Christ’s wishes for us? What could we all do to be a better disciple of Christ?

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 18:1-20; PM Psalm 18:21-50; Deut. 3:18-28; Rom. 9:19-33; Matt. 24:1-14

’You see all these, do you not? Truly I tell you, not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.’

The readings jumps out pretty boldly.  Not the kind of reading you want to start your day. As I write my reflection (the day before), there is a whole crew in my backyard.  They are ripping it completely up in order to attach an aerator to my septic system, test and lengthen the field lines, and well, make the yard less smelly if catch my drift.  Did I tell you all how last year Anne and I, and the kids, laid seven pallets of sod in the back yards ourselves.  None of that hard and beautiful work remains. 

That verse is so stark: the disciples are looking at something solid, sacred, impressive, and Jesus says it will not hold. “Not one stone” is a frightening phrase because we want our faith to mean stability, protection, things staying in place. I want to believe the hard work I do with my family will stand the test of time, or at least one calendar year! But sometimes the truth is that what has to be saved cannot be saved by preserving the surface. Sometimes repair begins with ripping it all up.

Maybe that is true in us, too. In families, churches, friendships, nations, hearts. God’s kingdom does not always arrive as a gentle improvement project. Sometimes love uncovers what we would rather keep buried. Forgiveness messes up the septic system (metaphorically of course). Care asks us to stop decorating what needs healing. Nurture means staying near while the repair looks unfinished.

So perhaps the question is not, “Can I believe everything will remain standing?” Jesus seems to say no to that. The question is, “Can I believe God is present not only in the temple, but in the rubble, the trench, the exposed roots, the waiting, the torn-up yard?”  Do we trust in God's love, and God’s way or are we too focused on the temple? And do we believe that God’s kingdom is something far greater than we can dream or imagine?

And yes: caring, forgiving, and nurturing each other and those in need may be exactly how we practice that belief. We become small signs of the kingdom when we do not abandon one another in the mess. We trust that love is not fragile. We trust that what God is building can survive the tearing down of what no longer gives life.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where is the temple being destroyed in my own life?  And where do I see glimmers of God’s resurrection making something new?

All God’s Children - July 7

Today’s Readings -  Psalm 5, 6; Num. 35:1-3,9-15,30-34; Rom. 8:31-39; Matt. 23:13-26

Several years ago, one of our children came home from school visibly upset. When I asked what was wrong, he told me a friend of his needed a place to live. He had argued with his mother, and she had asked him to leave.  I never knew the whole story, but it was enough to know that he needed to feel welcome and safe and our home had plenty of room. After several months the young man was able to move back home. I never asked him what had caused the rift, but I’ll never forget the expression on his face as he walked in our front door, the pain from rejection was palatable.

Unfortunately, I’ve heard other similar stories. Every time one of my children told me about a friend who found themselves in a heartbreaking situation like this, I would assure them that could never happen in our home, that no matter what they would always be loved, and our home would always be their home. However, I think deep inside, every child harbors the fear of being alone, of doing something or being someone so unforgiveable they lose the one place where they have belonged, where they felt loved. In a way it makes sense. A child’s parents represent everything that brings security, emotionally and physically, even their ability to survive. Additionally, we are all born craving acceptance, coupled with the need to belong. Even as adults I believe we all harbor traces of these feelings, needs and insecurities.

In today’s epistle from Paul to the Romans, Paul is confronting the division that has grown between the Jewish people of the church in Rome and the Gentiles who now are in the majority. Paul addresses the Jewish member’s fears that God has abandoned them, his chosen people. Paul is assuring the Jews in much the same way that a parent might reassure his children, that God’s promises to them are just as certain now as they were when God first made them. God’s covenant remains intact. Like a parent who has more than one child it is possible that God can love all of God’s children. God’s history with the Hebrew people was one of a covenantal nature. With the birth of Jesus and his death and resurrection that covenant now includes all of God’s children, Jew, and Gentile, free or slave.  

As Paul argues elsewhere in his epistle, our salvation is not based on good deeds, it’s not transactional. Our salvation just like God’s love through Jesus Christ is based on nothing we’ve done or not done, rather it is based on God’s grace, a grace that frees us from a “Naughty or Nice” tally sheet. Knowing God has never asked anything of us but our love almost feels too easy at times, as if we’d feel better about it if we were required to earn at least some of God’s grace. The beauty of grace is just that however, it can’t be earned and in turn it can’t be taken away for lack of brownie points.

Just as we are loved unconditionally so are our neighbors, so are those we’d rather not sit next to on the bus, along with those bullies we still avoid even though 6th grade was a lifetime ago. I’m not sure we ever completely outgrow the deep craving to feel secure and loved. But if we can acknowledge that in ourselves, can we recognize that everyone else holds that same need? And if we can recognize that then surely, we must recognize we are all undeserving yet loved, accepted despite our imperfections. Ultimately, we are all more similar than we may like to admit, the question is can we live together, sharing God’s grace and work together to build up the Kingdom of God?

 Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - How often have you wondered how God could possibly love you in spite of all those things you’re not proud of? Now stop and close your eyes, open your heart and your arms to the loving grace of God then try to imagine what this world would be like if everyone knew that same kind of acceptance and love.

Ditches - June 30

Today’s Readings - Psalm [120], 121, 122, 123; Num. 22:21-38; Rom. 7:1-12; Matt. 21:23-32

Not too long ago I was having a hard time deciding about something that was very important to me. Someone who had heard my deliberations said, “Let your yes be yes and your no be no.“ I didn’t quite know how to take that. I’ve never considered myself as someone who sits on the fence. I typically know what the right decision is, but I realized in that moment I was hesitant to act on it because of the possible ramifications. I was going to make some people mad, and I knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

A few years ago, the national Episcopal Church made some decisions that some have labeled as divisive. That’s not new. The history of the church is full of decisions that needed to be made that weren’t popular. From as far back 325 AD at the Council of Nicaea and earlier the church has been deliberating about the will of God and how to interpret the scriptures as they apply to humanity. I believe that those who have been involved, prayerfully made a good faith effort to the best of their ability to make the right decisions. However, there are few decisions that come without cost, at least not the difficult ones. The cost may be minimal, or it can be devastating.

When I was growing up my mother had a saying that has always stuck with me, “Not all ditches are worth dying in.” She’d follow that with, “But when your justice gets stepped on you may find yourself getting muddy.” She had cleaned a lot of mud off her shoes in her lifetime and even if I didn’t always agree with her, I respected her for that.

In today’s gospel Jesus asks the chief priests and the elders a straightforward question which did not have a simple answer. The difficulty lay in the fact that regardless of which answer they gave there would be problems to face. They couldn’t risk either, so they decided to sit on the fence. We’ve all found ourselves in similar situations. Someone asks our opinion about something that has occurred, or someone says or does something offensive, and we remain silent, choosing not to confront or appear disagreeable.

There’s an art to surviving these situations while still leaving with our ethics and our conscience in tack. Over time I’ve become more adept at expressing my truth so that I don’t leave the other feeling as though I’ve kicked sand in their eyes. But at times I still hesitate, dreading what will come afterwards. Jesus was the master of this party trick. He’ll have left the room before the other person realizes that they’ve just been dealt a crushing blow.  

The one thing I’m convinced of is that there is no right way to remain silent in the face of injustice. Each one of us is a vessel for God’s love. We are shaped by that love and with God’s guidance we can address these dilemmas with compassion, and grace. It may not be fun and there may be a price to pay – there often is – but at least when we walk away, we’ll know that we can live with ourselves and the decision we’ve made.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - Think back, can you remember an incident when you chose to remain silent even though feeling very strongly about it? You wanted to speak up but were afraid of the aftermath? How might you have handled the situation differently? What do you think the fallout might have been if you had spoken honestly.

Family Systems - June 25

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 105:1-22; PM Psalm 105:23-45; Num. 17:1-11; Rom. 5:1-11; Matt. 20:17-28

Today’s Gospel passage includes a detail that Matthew preserves which gives the story a very human feel. It is not James and John who approach Jesus asking for places of honor in his kingdom, like it is in Mark. It is their mother. She kneels before Jesus and asks that her sons be seated at his right hand and his left. The request does not go over well. Matthew tells us that when the other ten disciples heard about it, they became angry with the brothers.

I once heard a therapist describe a dysfunctional family as a redundant statement. Every family has its tensions, rivalries, misunderstandings, and old wounds. In this case a mother advocating for her children in a way that causes the children to be resented by their new community.  It is both loving and natural, and it exposes how the experiences of our family can cause pain and resentment in our larger communities.  The same is true of churches, workplaces, and communities. Wherever people gather, there will be moments when someone feels overlooked, someone wants recognition, and someone else resents it. The disciples are no exception!  (I think this is really good news by the way).

What strikes me is that Jesus does not spend much time sorting out who is most at fault. Instead, he redirects the entire conversation. The disciples are arguing about greatness, but Jesus wants them to understand that greatness in the kingdom of God looks very different than greatness in the world. "Whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant." While the world encourages us to seek the best seat at the table, Jesus invites us to consider how we might serve those around us. In the end, the measure of a faithful life is not the recognition we receive, but the love we give.

I haven’t sorted out yet what all this means for our families other than God’s got work for us to do and an acknowledgement that life is messy. Maybe it helps to know this so we can let go of their very human responses to life and family and trust in God’s favor to each of us.

Faithfully,

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where is God inviting you to let go of competition or resentment in your own life?

What if . . .? June 23

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 97, 99, [100]; Num. 16:20-35; Rom. 4:1-12; Matt. 19:23-30

There were times when my children were small that I wish I had recorded some of our conversations. They were masters at “what-iffing” a situation. No matter what the request, if they didn’t like my first answer the come back was always, “But, what if . . .?” For example, if I told them they couldn’t have ice cream before bedtime they’d reply, “What if we promise never to ask for ice cream before bed ever again,” or “What if we clean our rooms better than we ever have?” Sometimes their proposed scenarios were so creative I would give in just to reward their creativity. I knew better than to believe their rooms would get cleaned!

I had an ethics professor in seminary who taught us that “what-iffing” was never helpful, one leads to another, and then another. It seems to be the quickest way to get lost chasing something that in most circumstances can’t be anticipated or expected. In a sense it’s a feeble comeback to an answer we’d rather not have received. The disciples were well practiced at “what-iffing.” But then again so are we. So often, Jesus’ answer is not the answer someone might want to hear. “What do you mean, a rich man can’t get into heaven? What if I have money but I’m generous with it,” or “What if I worked hard for my money and I’m just very careful with it?”

In today’s gospel, when the disciples hear Jesus say that it will be impossible for a rich man to enter heaven, they respond by saying, ”’Then who can be saved?’ More often than not the answer to these questions lies in the reality that nothing is possible without God: “For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” The point is not that we need to die penniless. What we need to let go of and give to God are not so much those materiel items we care about as those things that in the end are the most valuable of all our possessions, the ones we hold closest to our heart: our love, our trust, our faith as well as our need for control along with our belief that we can do all things well by ourselves and for ourselves. Don’t get me wrong, God does intend for us to be generous with the gifts we’ve received but it’s not the possession of wealth that’s the issue, rather it’s our attitude surrounding our use of that wealth.

I know I stay on the verge of frustration most days because I haven’t accomplished what I set out to finish, or I finish a task only to wish that I had done something a bit better or said something more carefully or acted more thoughtfully. How many times do I begin by asking God to be present, asking God to help me listen and to guide me? I’m embarrassed to admit not often. Instead, I charge into a task, without pausing to say a silent prayer. That small pause can often be all I need. We live flying by our wits and a gasp, rushing through our day rarely remembering God is closer than our breath, willing and able to be present. What-iffing may be one solution but “what if” asking for God’s guidance is a better approach?

 Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge – What if we began each day with a silent prayer asking for God’s presence as we make our decisions, as we consider our interactions with co-workers or family? What difference do you think it would make?

Living Intentionally - June 18

Today’ Readings: AM Psalm [83] or 34; PM Psalm 85, 86; Num. 12:1-16; Rom. 2:12-24; Matt. 18:10-20

Today I crossed the halfway mark of my time in Sewanee. I've been reading a great deal of Augustine, Basil, Origen, and Chrysostom, along with a steady stream of journal articles exploring the Old Testament texts from the Revised Common Lectionary. If you've been reading these reflections for a while, you can probably see where this is headed. Whether in these daily reflections or in my preaching, you'll likely hear more voices from the early Church in the months ahead. In fact, Augustine even makes an appearance in my sermon this Sunday.

Toward the end of his life, Augustine gathered the clergy who lived with him in the monastery at Hippo (Sermon 355, for those who want to look it up). One of the expectations he placed on those joining the monastery was that they sell their possessions and either give the proceeds to the poor or entrust them to the church for the care of the poor. Augustine believed this was part of the vocation to the monastic life. His guiding principle came from St. Paul: "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ" (1 Corinthians 11:1).

As it happened, one of the clerics, a man named Januarius, died, and his will was discovered. When he entered the monastery, Januarius had told Augustine that he had given part of his estate to his children, something Augustine considered both wise and appropriate. But the will revealed that he had later taken that inheritance away from his children, who were now fighting over it, and instead left everything to the church.

Augustine was furious.

"I don't want these gifts," he said. "I don't like the taste of such bitter fruit."

For Augustine, the issue was never the money. It was integrity. He wanted people's lives to reflect the commitments they claimed to have made.

Near the end of the sermon he writes, "I don't want to have any hypocrites. It is bad—who would deny it?—to fall away from one's commitment; but it is worse to pretend to have such a commitment."

If we're honest, all of us are hypocrites at some level. The work of the spiritual life is to allow our actions to become more closely aligned with what we profess to believe. Selling everything and entering a monastery is not the calling most of us have received, but each of us is called to greater integrity, allowing our lives to reflect more faithfully the love of Christ.

As I read today's Gospel from Matthew, I think this is one place we can begin. How often do we complain about friends, loved ones, church members, coworkers, or bosses instead of speaking directly and lovingly to them? Jesus' instruction is given specifically to the Church, but it offers an ethic that is worthy of all our relationships.

Perhaps we are all hypocrites. But perhaps, by God's grace and with one another's encouragement, we can become a little less so each day, until the Kingdom comes and our lives more fully reflect the love, mercy, and truth of Christ.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where is there a gap between what I profess to believe and the way I am living today—and what small step might God be inviting me to take toward greater integrity?

They became Like Fools - June 16

Today’s Readings - Psalm 78:1-39; Num. 11:1-23; Rom. 1:16-25; Matt. 17:22-27

I once knew a goodhearted man who had been promoted to a position that seemed way over his head so far as his knowledge that the position required. Those who knew him however commented that he had surrounded himself with smart experienced people, people he knew he could trust and who would advise him well. They’d remark, “He’s smart enough to know that he doesn’t know everything.”

How many times have you come across someone who is so certain they’re right that they never entertain the idea that they might be wrong? Even when the facts are staring them in the face, they refuse to give up the ship, insisting that they’re not sinking even though the water is lapping at their ears.

One of the most effective teachers I had in seminary was wise enough to allow his students the opportunity to prove their case, knowing there was a possibility they might prove him wrong. Stumbling over their own arrogance some students would set out to humiliate our teacher all the while it was clear that it wasn’t the truth they cared to reveal as much as portraying themselves as right and our teacher wrong. They placed more value on their ego than the actual process of well-intentioned healthy debate. They exchanged the good-will intentions of our teacher for the possibility of claiming to be smarter than someone with lightyears more experience, knowledge and character.

In today’s reading from Romans, Paul describes such a person; someone who would trade the glory of God, even their relationship with God for something of no actual worth: “for though they knew God, they did not honour him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools.” It’s an easy trap to fall into, especially in leadership positions or even as parents. It may feel that respect from others relies on proving your point every time, dismissing other’s opinions, as if unimportant.

Our son is working in upper state New York this summer and from our conversations it seems one of the things he has valued most about his job so far is that his bosses treat him like an adult. His opinion is valued, his experience though limited is respected and he’s been given the opportunity to execute decisions with the knowledge he might be wrong.

Humility was something that Christ modeled in so many ways, and even though he probably was right 99.9% of the time he also was willing to admit when he was wrong.  Humility is defined as a total absence of self-focus and a whole-hearted submission to God. Rather than thinking less of yourself, it puts the emphasis on valuing others. When we practice humility we recognize our spiritual dependence on God, and replace pride of self with service, acknowledging our dependence on God. All this with the knowledge that we can take no credit for our skills but rather that they are gifts from God.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - What do you tend to take credit for without considering its source? Do you catch yourself in conversations getting caught up in the need to be right rather than stepping back and allowing the possibility that you could be wrong? How might your relationships with others improve if you were more generous and less ego-driven?

If Only . . . - June 9

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 61, 62; Eccles. 8:14-9:10; Gal. 4:21-31; Matt. 15:29-39 

it seems that the world is torn between seeing the scarcity that surrounds us or the possibilities that exist. I remember when my children were small, babysitters were a crucial item in your survival toolbox. My parents lived in town, so I wasn’t as desperate as many of my friends. However, a good babysitter was like gold and several of my friends were very hesitant to share the names of the ones they especially liked. It seemed so strange to me. There were so many ways if we collaborated that we could all benefit.

At the root of this attitude, I’ve come to realize is a difference in mindsets. Not necessarily optimism versus negativity but abundance versus scarcity. Some people find themselves trapped in a corner seeing their circumstances as a zero-sum affair, constantly wishing, “If only . . .”. Others by their nature view life as a vast reservoir of opportunities. Where one person sees no hope for change or growth, health or prosperity, another sees the possibilities of fruitful outcomes and fresh new ways to approach challenges and difficult dilemmas.

A scarcity mindset guards and holds on tightly to whatever they value. And it isn’t always material goods, sometimes it’s love or compassion, forgiveness or grace. I remember once looking at my first born feeling as though I could never love another child as much as I loved her. But the instant I felt my second child move in my womb the love that I had been so worried wouldn’t be enough for another child exploded into enough love for ten.

Today’s gospel is a wonderful example of the disciples’ lack of faith in the abundance of grace and compassion that Jesus brought into the world. There are times where they couldn’t imagine sharing his gift of healing with others, when they couldn’t wrap their minds around the concept of gifts such as healing and compassion multiplying when given with love and goodwill. The tangible need for food they are faced with in today’s narrative could just as easily have been the need for grace or mercy. Jesus entered a culture where grace and compassion were scarce, where mercy was deemed to be something earned not freely given. Jesus’ entire ministry focused on sharing as much love, as much compassion as there was need for, all the while teaching about a place he knew as the Kingdom of God where mercy and forgiveness could not be earned.

The real gift that can be found in seeing the possibilities that we’re surrounded by is that it opens up our world in a way that increases our ability to see those around us; to see their gifts, their attributes, their needs and their dreams. But best of all it enables us to see how we might enter into those places becoming one who sees opportunities and possibilities, sharing our gifts and becoming richer for it.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - How is it that we can become so focused on not enough rather than the possibilities that hope and grace instill? How might we shift our mindset away from the fear of scarcity to sharing those gifts we’ve been so generously given?

Some Thoughts from St. Basil - June 4

Today's Reading: Mat. 14:13-21

It is a common interpretation of the miracle of the loaves and fishes: Did Jesus multiply the loaves and fish, or did the crowd, moved by the generosity of others, begin sharing what they had been holding back for their own security? Either way, it would be miraculous. We often struggle to let go of what we think we need, and yet that struggle lies at the heart of the spiritual life.

I have gotten a jump start on my summer reading, and the book that first grabbed my attention was On Social Justice by St. Basil the Great. Of course, that title was given by a translator to this collection of sermons, but it is striking that such a title could describe the writings of someone who lived in the middle of the fourth century. Basil served as Bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, in what is now modern-day Turkey. He is often considered the father of Eastern monasticism and is perhaps best known for theological writings that helped shape the Church's understanding of the Trinity.

St. Basil believed that wealth carried a responsibility toward those in need. Here are some excerpts that have been challenging my own understanding of wealth:

“Yet you say, ‘I will enjoy all these things during my life, but after my death I will leave my goods to the poor, making them beneficiaries of my will and granting them all my possessions.’ When you are no longer among your fellow human beings, then you will become a philanthropist!... You deserve great thanks for your magnanimity, since you became so generous and noble-hearted after you were laid in the grave and your body had dissolved in the earth.”

In another sermon, Basil writes:

“‘I will pull down my barns and build larger ones.’ But if you fill these larger ones, what do you intend to do next? Will you tear them down yet again only to build them up once more? What could be more ridiculous than this incessant toil, laboring to build and then laboring to tear down again? If you want storehouses, you have them in the stomachs of the poor. Lay up for yourself treasure in heaven. The things deposited there are not devoured by moths, nor are they spoiled by corruption, nor do thieves break in and steal them. But you reply, ‘I will give to the needy when I have filled the second set of barns.’ You are so sure that the years of your life will be many; beware, lest death the pursuer catch up to you sooner than you expect!”

I wonder how St. Basil's sermons would be received from the pulpit of an Episcopal church. His words seem as relevant today as they were sixteen centuries ago. It is no surprise that during a famine he sold family property to feed the hungry and establish charitable institutions for those in need.

Most of us have good intentions about the full trajectory of our lives. We plan to be generous. We plan to give back. We plan to make a difference. Yet deep down, most of us know that generosity is not merely a decision to be made someday. It is a spiritual practice to be lived today.

Perhaps it would have been an even greater miracle if the crowds had shared what they most cherished and believed they needed for themselves. Maybe that is part of the miracle after all—not simply that bread multiplied, but that hearts were opened. And perhaps that remains the invitation before us today.

John+

Self-Reflection Question:
What am I holding onto out of fear or security that God may be inviting me to share, offer, or trust into the hands of others?

The Faith Behind our Beliefs - Tuesday, June 2

 Today’s Readings - Psalm 45;Eccles. 2:16-26; Gal. 1:18-2:10; Matt. 13:53-58

Throughout the gospels we hear Jesus declare, “Your faith has made you well.” He doesn’t say, your status in the community, your wealth or your intelligence, and never you’ve earned this because you have done many wonderful deeds. More often than not the ones who are healed are the ones who seem least likely to be seen as faithful. They are those who have not been believers or have been seen as sinners by their community.

Belief supported by an underlying faith is not something that is always obvious nor should it be. There was a woman at the church we went to when Stan and I first got married. She was definitely not friendly and God forbid you should try to pass her the peace or sit in her seat on “her” pew. After she died, at her funeral the priest talked about all the many things that she did that no one ever knew about. He described how dependable she was, the faithful way she was always present and the hours she spent washing and ironing the sacristy linens so that every Sunday they were perfect and ready to be used for the services. No one, not even most of the altar guild, knew she had been doing this. I learned so much about her but mostly I learned how deep her belief in the love of God ran, that she was quietly faithful in ways that never drew attention or even a word of thanks. She clearly loved her God and her church, and she showed it in ways that never brought her attention but in ways that gratified her and that she knew were pleasing to her God. That was all that mattered to her.

Jesus’ healing powers were not magic. They were a gift from God to those who believed, who had faith in their hearts. We recently celebrated the giving of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost Sunday. The Spirit gives us the reassurance that we are not alone, that Jesus remains with us even though we can no longer see him. The power of the Holy Spirit surrounds us without visible clues but then isn’t faith “the conviction of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen?” (Hebrews11:1.)

Healing happens in many ways, physically, emotionally and spiritually. Sometimes it is faith that gives us the courage to endeavor, to keep trying when nothing else seems to help. It is belief with faith that gives us hope which in turn fuels our joy.  Joy in turn can change an otherwise difficult situation into one that shines light into the darkest of times or places and brings possibilities, opportunities for the “infinite possibilities born of faith.”

Faithfully,

Sally+

Quesetions for Reflection and Challenge - What are some unexpected unconventional ways that faith has made you well? What are some ways you can encourage others to see and seek this healing power born of faith?

A Different Schedule - May 29

Today’s Reading: Matt. 14:22-36

We have arrived at summer, or at least at Saint Stephen’s version of summer. From a programming standpoint, our office hours are condensed, and the Rev. Katherine Harper is now on sabbatical.

This means you will receive a reflection twice a week instead of three times a week (when we are able to write) until she returns in September. Sally and I had hoped to continue writing on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but as always, plans can change. That's the rhythm we hope for this summer.

We have been writing on the same days for a few years now—long enough that I sometimes find myself revisiting themes, and the very same readings from two and four years ago that I have written about before. In some ways, it is refreshing to embrace a different pace.   So changing the days is a welcomed and fun change.

As I read today's Gospel, I am struck by where Jesus is and what he is doing. Before he walks on water, before he calms the fears of the disciples, before he continues teaching and healing, he goes up the mountain by himself to pray. In the midst of a demanding ministry, Jesus creates space for silence, solitude, and renewal.

Perhaps that is a reminder for us as well.

Our culture often celebrates constant productivity. We can begin to believe that every moment must be filled, every problem solved, every opportunity seized. Yet Jesus seems to understand something we often forget: rest is not the opposite of faithful work. Rest is part of faithful work. Time spent reconnecting with God, with ourselves, and with those we love is not wasted time. It is often the very thing that allows us to return to the world with clarity, compassion, and courage.  In this coming Sunday’s Old Testament reading (from the story of Creation), God rests on the seventh day.  That is a part of the cycle of creation. 

Summer invites many of us into a different rhythm. Vacations, slower schedules, time outdoors, evenings on the porch, meals with friends and these moments may seem ordinary, but they can become sacred if we receive them as gifts.

So as our parish enters a slightly slower season, my prayer is that each of us might follow Jesus up the mountain for a little while. Not to escape the world, but to return to it renewed.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection:
Where in your life might God be inviting you to slow down, rest, and reconnect so that you can return to your work and relationships with renewed strength and joy?

The Hazards of Speech - May 26

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 26, 28; PM Psalm 36, 39 Prov. 15:16-33; 1 Tim. 1:18-2:8; Matt. 12:33-42

There are two well-known Augustine’s associated with the Church: Augustine of Hippo and Augustine of Canterbury. The Augustine remembered on the church calendar today is the lesser known of the two - Augustine of Canterbury. Augustine along with a group of monks were sent as missionaries to England by the Bishop of Rome in the sixth century. They settled in Kent and their preaching won over the hearts and souls of the locals, converting thousands, including the King who was baptized in 601. Soon thereafter, Augustine was consecrated bishop and established himself in Canterbury. Since that time there has been an unbroken succession of Archbishops of Canterbury.  Later, after his unwillingness to make accommodations to the Christian congregations who had been there long before he arrived, a group of English bishops requested a meeting. Before their meeting they consulted with a man known for his wisdom as to how they should deal with the bishop. He told them “If he remains seated (when you enter the room), then he is arrogant and unfit to lead, and you ought to reject him." It was more than six decades after that meeting before the division was healed.

In today’s gospel from Matthew Jesus warns the Pharisees, “35The good person brings good things out of a good treasure, and the evil person brings evil things out of an evil treasure. 36I tell you, on the day of judgement you will have to give an account for every careless word you utter; 37for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.’

My stepfather loved to tease me. One of his favorite things he’d say was that I only opened my mouth to change feet. He wasn’t all that wrong! We all say things from time to time without thinking. We also do things that we regret, wishing we could go back and do them again, different the second time around. Where do these mistakes come from?

Jesus tells the Pharisees evil comes from evil. I’m sure it does but I also believe that much of what I observe in today’s world comes less from pure evil and more from selfish attitudes, and self-centered, careless actions. Is it evil when we’re careless or strike out because we’ve been hurt? I’m not sure. Or, is it more possible that in our human weakness we fail to call on Christ for strength? For wise council?

I know with my own regrets, it’s often as much about not thinking first of how deep the ramifications may run or simply not thinking at all – reacting rather than acting. I’d love to believe that the divisions in our world could be solved as easily as apologizing to my spouse when I’ve been hurtful or unkind. However, realistically I know better. So what’s the solution?

It seems those English bishops may have thought Augustine of Canterbury was arrogant. Have I been arrogant or careless with my words? Sure, I have. I know I’m not always as careful as I should be, but am I evil? I suppose that’s God’s place to decide. I believe that most of the time we do the best we can, with the best of intentions. Perhaps on this day on which the church remembers Augustine of Canterbury we might take a lesson from history. Try to listen more carefully, think before we speak, act thoughtfully and with grace and when we fail, ask for forgiveness, and grace will abound.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - Think back on moments when you may have offended someone unintentionally by something you said. How do you think it happened? How might you have handled it differently? What did you do to repair the damage? What can you do to prevent this in future?

Grumpy Pharisees

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; Jer. 31:27-34; Eph. 5:1-20; Matt. 9:9-17

 In our gospel reading appointed for today, we meet Jesus among tax-collectors and sinners. And there is grumbling among the Pharisees, who do what they can to distance themselves from these people who are despised ... because they are living outside of the laws of the Lord. And yet, the parables and exchanges Jesus shares with the Pharisees show us that they, too, are missing the mark of holy living. The tax-collectors like Matthew and other sinners draw near to Jesus. They know they are broken and spurned. Jesus nurtures these seekers all the same, and he calls them to change their lives. He invites them to live mercifully and honestly.

Then we have the Pharisees, who do not see their own limitations, though they see and name others' shortcomings readily. Jesus tells the Pharisees to understand the phrase, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice" - a quote from the prophet Hosea. They have work to do on themselves, as the letter of the law is tripping them up from living into God's heart of the Law.

I wonder why the Pharisees were so snippy and particular? What if they were just hot, hungry, and tired? I wonder if they needed a rest. Did they even have the words to name that they were worn out? One day of sabbath time per week is not always sufficient to recover.

I find that when I am tired, I am more likely to be nit-picky, especially when what is around me does not match my internal expectations. Coming home after a messy day, I do not want to clean off the dining room table of backpacks and dirty track clothes, only to trip over baseball pants on the floor. I long for things to be neat and orderly. And my family hears about it as I correct issue after issue - even things that are not problems in the first placce. They come away feeling beleaguered, rather than loved. And my actions do not reflect how I truly feel about them.

So, maybe the Pharisees were tired. I get it. When life is messy, sometimes rest is the answer, rather than clamping down and working harder. Let us remember the counsel of the prophet Hosea and the wisdom of Jesus, that God desires mercy, not sacrifice. God's amazing grace and mercy welcome us when we name our limitations...and we are called to be nourished by the salvific care of Christ Jesus - the greatest gift.

Beginning today, I am stepping away to take a sabbatical for deep rest and rejuvenation. Thank you for your prayers and support during my time away. I will return to Saint Stephen's at the end of August and look forward to resume writing, working, and praising God alongside you.

With God's help and grace,

Katherine+

Connections in Your Life

What ways of rest are you embracing this week? Is there something you need to take a break from doing, so that you can return with a brighter outlook or rested muscles? Pray about what rest in our Lord can look like in the week ahead.