Sunday, August 24, 2025

12 Pentecost

 


August 31, 2025

 Luke 14:1, 7-14


+ As we gather to meet our bishop’s candidates this week, I have found that people in this diocese are talking about bishops a lot lately.

 

Namely, former bishops of our diocese, others bishops they have known.


 We all have “bishops on the brain” right now.


 Well, for me, there’s one bishop I talk about quite often.

 

If you know me for any period of time, I will invariably bring him up at some point.

 

In fact, on Tuesday, it will be the 56th anniversary of his death.

 

He was one of the most controversial bishops in the Episcopal Church.

 

I am speaking of course about Bishop James Pike, the Bishop of California.

 

And he is one that will likely not ever see again in the Church.

 

He was controversial certainly.

 

He was an alcoholic, he was a philanderer. He consulted famously and very publicly mediums.

 

He was brought up on heresy charges in the Episcopal Church because he wrote books about his disbelief in the Trinity and the Virgin birth of Jesus, among other controversial issues of the time, like abortion and the ordination of women in the Church.

 

He was definitely ahead of his time.

 

I quote him often because was just so…quotable.

 

56 years ago around this time, he and his third wife headed out in the Judean desert looking for the Qumran caves, where the Dead Scrolls were found.

 

They were unprepared for the desert. They brought a bottle of water and that was about it.

 

At some point their car broke down and they decided to go out and search for help.

 

They split up.

 

His wife was found by an Israeli army patrol.

 

But Bishop Pike could not be found.

 

Several days later, he was found beside a pool of water.

 

He had fallen from a cliff and fractured bones and died of exposure the day following the car breaking down.

 

It was a sad end to a troubled man.

 

He was an arrogant man, a proud man, a fractured man.

 

And someone we are still talking about 56 years later.

 

As we should.

 

The great Episcopal theologian William Stringfellow, and his partner Anthony Towne wrote a biography of Pike.

 

And in it, they wrote this haunting piece:

 

The death to self in Christ was neither doctrinal abstraction or theological jargon for James Pike. He died in such a way before his death in Judea. He died to authority, celebrity, the opinions of others, publicity, status, dependence upon Mama, indulgences in alcohol and tobacco, family and children, marriage and marriages, promiscuity, scholarly ambition, the lawyer's profession, political opportunity, Olympian discourses, forensic agility, controversy, denigration, injustice, religion, the need to justify himself.

By the time Bishop Pike reached the wilderness in Judea, he had died in Christ. What, then, happened there was not so much a death as a birth."

 

That quote has haunted me and obsessed me for years.

 

And so has Pike to some extent.

 

This man who was not humble by any sense of the word, gained a strange sense of humility by the time he died.

 

And that shows that Bishop Pike, rather than being someone we scoff at and condemn in our way, is actually someone who shows us a way forward on our Christian journey.

 

Humility.

 

The last person we would think would give us a lesson on humility would be James Pike. 

 

But he is doing so today.

 

Because Humility is what we find in our Gospel reading for today.

 

For those of us who were listening closely to this morning’s Gospel—and I hope you were—we might find ourselves struggling a bit with Jesus’ words.

 

I know I certainly do.

 

And if we aren’t struggling—if those words don’t make us uncomfortable—then maybe we should be.

 

They are uncomfortable words, after all.

 

Jesus is making clear to us that, if we neglect the least among us, if we consistently put ourselves first—if we let our egos win out—we are truly putting ourselves in jeopardy.

What we do here on earth—in this life—does make a difference.

 

It makes a difference here, and it makes a difference in the next world.

 

It makes a difference with those we neglect.

 

And it makes a difference with God.

 

And we should take heed.

 

We shouldn’t neglect those who are least among us.

But probably the most difficult aspect of our Gospel today is when Jesus summarized everything in that all-too-familiar maxim:

“For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Jesus is not pulling any punches here. He is as clear as day.

Humble yourselves. If you do so, you will be exalted. If you are arrogant and full of yourself, you will be humbled.

I know this might come as a completely surprise to those of you who know me, there have been times when I have been a bit arrogant.

There have been times when I have been a bit full of myself.

 

And I can tell you that each time I have, I have been very quickly put in my place.

 

I have been humbled in those instances.

 

As I rightly should have been.



Humility and pride are too often huge issues for all of us Christians, whether we are laypeople or clergy.

 

For those of us who have spent a good part of lives in church, we have known too many arrogant, self-centered, conceited Christians in our lives.

 

They sometimes are on the Vestry, in the pews, in the kitchen, or in the pulpit, or at the altar.

Pride is an ugly thing.

 

It doesn’t do anyone any good, especially the prideful one.

 

But to be fair, it’s easy enough to do.

 

It’s easy enough to fall in that ugly trap of pride.

 

I’ve done it.

 

We all have.

 

When we encounter those prideful Christians, we need to be careful how we deal with them.

 

Because we need to remind ourselves: “there but for the grace of God, go we.”

Pride is an easy trap to fall into as Christians.

 

We know we are loved by God.

 

We know we, as followers of Jesus, through our Baptisms, have a special place in relation to God.

 

It’s easy sometimes to feel smug and self-assured.

 

And when we are fully immersed in Church work, it’s easy for us to think that the success or failure of the ministry of the Church depends on us as individuals.

Earlier this summer I preached about lone wolf ministry.

 

Lone wolf ministry doesn’t work.

 

And Jesus certainly never intended his followers to be lone wolves.

 

Discipleship means community.

 

Still, we do it. We fail at this.

 

I do it more often than I care to admit.


We’ve all heard it, “If I didn’t do it, who would?”

“If I didn’t do it, it’s just not going to get done.”

And sometimes, this might be true.

 

But, it is a dangerous road to take when we start thinking everything revolves around us. That our opinion is the only right opinion. (It’s NOT)

And for clergy, they are in an even more vulnerable place.

 

As clergy, we occasionally find ourselves being praised and treated with a sometimes undeserved respect.

 

And although I have found my vocation to the priesthood to be a very humbling experience, there are times when we might find ourselves feeling very smug over a job well done.

That’s true with all of us, as Christians.

 

It’s easy to fall into that ugly trap of believing everything is about us as individual.

 

It’s easy to convince ourselves that the world revolves around us and only us.

 

Life, after all, is a matter of perspective.

 

And from our perspective, everything else does in fact revolve around us.

But our job as followers and disciples of Jesus is to change that perspective.

 

Our job as Christians is to, always and everywhere, put God first.

 

It is not all about us.

 

We are just a breath.

 

We are just a blink of the eye in the larger scheme of everything.

 

We are born, we live, we die.

 

And then we are gone.

 

And, without God, that is all we would be.

 

There would be no hope, there would be no future, there would be no us, without God.

God gives us our definition.

 

God gives us our identity.

 

God gives us our purpose.

 

And this is what Jesus is getting at today, when he talks about the humbled being exalted.

 

Who knows better than Jesus about humility?

 

He, the divine Son of God, who was humbled himself to the point of actually being betrayed, humiliated and murdered, knew a few things about humility.

So, when we find ourselves falling into the pride trap, we need to stop and remind ourselves to put God first.

 

When we find ourselves seeing the world as revolving around the all-mighty ME, we do need to stop and remind ourselves that God is at the center of our lives and, as such, our world revolves around God.

 

After all, as we hear in that beautiful reading from Hebrews, God says to us, “I will never leave you or forsake you.”

As long as God is with us—as God’s light is shining through us—we can simply be who we are without trying to be something we are not.

When we find ourselves shining with the glow of self-pride and self-contentment, let us remember that the light shining through us is not my light or your light, but the light of God and that any reflection others have of our works is accomplished only through that light.

When we find ourselves becoming prideful, let us stop and listen to the voice of Jesus as he says to us, “those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

God wants us to be exalted.

God wants to exalt us.

But this can only happen when we come before God in all humility, as humble disciples of Jesus, serving our loving God in those poor and needy people around us.

This can only happen when we place God at the forefront of our lives

So, let us put God first.

Let us humble ourselves before God.

And let the light of God’s love shine through us in all that we do.

Amen.

 

 

11 Pentecost


 August 24, 2025

 Isaiah 58.9b-14; Hebrews 12.18-29

 + Last week in our Gospel reading, we heard Jesus talking about a baptism by fire, and how fire is a sign to us of God’s amazing and all-inclusive love for each and every one of us.   

 Last week, I mentioned that when were baptized in those waters, we were also baptized in the fire of God’s spirit, into the fire of God’s all-consuming love.

 And what do you know? Today, in the Letter to the Hebrews, we hear another fire reference to God. We hear,

 “indeed our God is a consuming fire.”

 In baptism, we realize how much of a consuming fire God actually is.

 As paradoxical as it seems, we realize that in those waters, a fire was kindled in us. God’s fire was kindled in us.

 And, to be a Christian, to be a follower of Jesus, means being aflame with the fires of our baptism.

 But if we left it there, we might still not understand the true ramifications of our baptism.

 One thing you all know I enjoy doing here at St. Stephan’s is inviting people to explore other areas of the Book of Common Prayer, other than just our section concerning Holy Communion.  

 So, let’s do so again today.

 Let’s take a look at the Catechism again.  

 There we get the answer to the question:

 “What is Holy Baptism?”

 If you look on page 858—there you will find the somewhat definitive answer.  

 On page 858, we find this answer:

“Holy Baptism is the sacrament [a sacrament is an outward sign of God’s inward grace—the outward grace in this sense being the water] by which God adopts us as his children and make us members of Christ’s Body, the Church, and inheritors of the kingdom of God.”

It’s a really great definition of what baptism is.

So, in baptism, we become like Christ.

Holy Baptism is not then just a sweet little service of sprinkling water on a baby’s head and dedicating them as we would a boat.  

 It is a service in which we are essentially re-born.  

 If anyone ever asks you, “Are you a born-again Christian?” you can tell them, in no uncertain terms, that yes you are.

 You were re-born in the waters of baptism.

 It is the service in which we recognize that we are truly children of a loving God—a God who truly loves us.  

 We have been washed in those waters and made alive in the fire of God’s love and made new—specifically we have become Christians in being baptized.

But, the one point I really want to drive home this morning is that last part of the definition from the Catechism. In baptism we become “inheritors of the kingdom of God.”

We are given a glimpse of this Kingdom of which we, the baptized, are inheritors in our readings from both Isaiah and Hebrews today.

In Isaiah, we hear the prophet saying to us:

“If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.”

Now, that’s some beautiful poetry, if you ask me.

“…your gloom [shall] be like the noonday.”

But more than that, it’s just so wonderfully practical.

When we follow Jesus—when we love God and love our neighbors—we are truly saying, “Yes, we are inheritors of the Kingdom of God.”

But, what does it mean to be an “inheritor of the kingdom of God?”

Being an inheritor of God’s kingdom means living out those promises we make in our baptismal covenant.

It means proclaiming by word and example the Good News of Christ—that good news being Love God/love others.

It means seeking and serving Christ in all persons and loving everyone as we desire to be loved.

And it means striving for justice and peace.

And it means respecting the dignity of the every human being.

And by doing those things, we are truly being the inheritors of that kingdom.

We become like Christ.

We become Christ to those who need Christ in this world.

 This is what it means to be a Christian.

It is not just saying, “I accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior”

It is not just saying, “I belong to the one true Church, and that there is no salvation outside of this Church.”

It not denying people the Body and Blood of Jesus in the Eucharist because they don’t believe what we believe.

It is not doing terrible things in this world over and over again, then thinking we can just say, “oooops, sorry” and then go back and do it again.

It does not mean just being nice and thinking good thoughts all the time.

Being a Christian means both believing and then acting like one.

Being a Christian means acting like Jesus—it means being like Jesus n this world.

Being a follower of Jesus means that we understand fully that something truly wonderful and amazing happened to us when we were baptized.

In that baptismal font in which we were baptized we were truly “buried with Christ in his death.”  

In those waters, we shared “in his resurrection.”

And through those waters—and that fire of God’s love that was kindled in us in those waters—we were “reborn by the Holy Spirit.”

This is not light and fluffy stuff we’re dealing with here in baptism.

It is not all about clouds and flowers and sweet little lambs romping in the meadow.

It is not just “feel good” spirituality.

It is the greatest event in our lives.

It was a life-changing moment in our lives.

And this God we encounter today and throughout all our lives as Christians, as inheritors of the God’s Kingdom is truly, as the author of the letter to the Hebrews tells us today, “a consuming fire.”

God doesn’t let us sit back and be complacent.  

God is not all right with us when we do bad things in this world, when we don’t respect the “worth and dignity” of others.

God is like a gnawing fire, kindled in that holy moment of baptism, deep within us.

God shakes us up and pushes us out into the world to serve others and to be the conduits through which God’s kingdom—God’s very fire of love—comes into this world.

Baptism is a radical thing.  

I don’t think we fully realize that sometimes.

It changes us and it transforms us.  

And it doesn’t just end when the water is dried on our foreheads and we leave the church.

It is something we live with forever.

In Baptism, we are marked as Christ’s own forever.

Forever.

For all eternity.

And nothing we can do can undo that.

That’s why I love baptism so much.

That’s why it’s so important to remember our baptism.

My hope is that when we look at the font here at St. Stephen’s (whether we were baptized in it or not) we will see it  with special appreciation and will be able to recognize, in some way, the beauty of the event that happens here on a regular basis.

My hope is that, when we dip our fingers into that bowl of water and bless ourselves with that blessed water, it will remind us of that incredible day in which we too were baptized.

I hope we can all look at that place in which baptism happens here at St. Stephen’s with a deep appreciation of how, we too, on the day of our baptism, were changed, how God’s consuming fire was kindled in us  and how we  became children of a loving, inclusive God and “inheritors of the kingdom of God.”

We are inheritors of that unshakable Kingdom of God. 

 All of us are inheritors of that Kingdom.

 No matter who we are.  

 For that fact let us be truly thankful.

 Let us, as the author of Hebrews says to us today, “give thanks, by which we offer to God, an acceptable worship with reverence and awe; for indeed our God is a consuming fire.”

 And let us, in turn, share that consuming fire we have inherited from our God with others. 

Amen. 

 

 

 

Sunday, August 17, 2025

10 Pentecost

 


August 17, 2025

Jeremiah 23.23-29; Hebrews 11:29-12.2; Luke 12.49-56

 + Jesus tells us today in our Gospel reading that he did not come to bring peace, but rather he came to bring division.

 What?

 He said what now?

 He didn’t come to bring peace?

 The Price of Peace didn’t bring peace??

 Not a nice thing to hear from Jesus.

 We want Jesus to bring peace, right?

 But the message of loving God and loving ALL people is, let’s face it, a divisive one.

 It will, and trust me, has split families and societies and even the Church.

 Let’s be honest: his message, of loving God and loving one another, is a message that does divide.

 We, who inwardly stiffen at it, we rebel.

 We say, “no.”

 We freeze up.

 But, Jesus makes this very clear to us. It is not our job, as his followers, to freeze up.

 It not an option for us to let our blood harden into ice.

 For, he came to bring fire to the earth.

 To us, his followers.

 When we were baptized, we were baptized with water, yes.

 But we were also baptized with fire! With the fire of God’s Holy Spirit that came to us as we came out of those waters, just as the Holy Spirit came upon Jesus in the waters of his baptism.  

 And that fire burned away the ice within us that slows us down, that hardens us, that prevents us from loving fully.

 That fire that Jesus tells  us he is bringing to this earth, is the fire of his love.

 And it will burn.

 Now, for most of us, when we think of fire in relation to God, we think of the fires of hell.

 In fact, if I believed in an eternal hell, which I do not, I think it would be a place of ice, far removed from the burning inferno of God’s love.

 Again and again in scripture, certainly for our scriptures for today,  fire in relation to God is seen as a purifying fire, a fire that burns away the chaff of our complacent selves.

 Fire from God is ultimately a good thing, although maybe not always a pleasant thing.

 The fire of God burns away our peripheral nature and presents us pure and spiritually naked before God.

 And that is how we are to go before God.

 But this fire, as we’ve made clear, is not a fire of anger or wrath.

 It is a fire of God’s love.

 God’s love for ALL people—not just those who we think God should love.

 It the fire that burns within God’s heart for each of us.

 And that fire is an all-consuming fire.

 When that consuming fire burns away our flimsy exteriors, when we stand pure and spiritually exposed before God, we realize who we really are.

 The fact remains, we are not, for the most part, completely at that point yet.

 That fire has not yet done its complete job in us.

 While we still have divisions, while we allow ourselves to stiffen in rebellion, when we allow our own personal tastes and beliefs to get in the way of Jesus’ message of love, we realize the fire has not completely done its job in us.

 The divisions will continue.

 The Church remains divided.

 For us, as followers of Jesus, we are not to be fire retardant, at least to the fire of love that blazes from our God.

 As unpleasant and uncomfortable it might seem at times, we need to let that fire burn away the chaff from us.

 And when we do, when we allow ourselves to be humbled by that fire of God’s love, then, we will see those divisions dying.

 And will see that the Church is more than just us, who struggle on, here on this side of the veil.

 We will see that we are only a part of a much larger Church.

 We will see that we are a part of a Church that also makes up that “great cloud of witnesses” Paul speaks of in today’s Epistle.

 We will see, once our divisions are gone and we have been purified in that fire of God’s love, that that cloud of witnesses truly does surround us.

 And we will see that we truly are running a race as followers of Jesus.

 Paul is clear here too: that the only way to win the race is with perseverance.

 And perseverance of this sort is only tried and perfected in the fire of God’s love.

 Yes, this is the Church. This is what we are called to be here, and now, as followers of Jesus.

 This is what we, baptized in the fire of God’s love, are compelled to be in this world.

 So, let us be just that.  

 Let us be the Church, on fire with the love of God, fighting to erase the divisions that separate us.

 Let us be the prophets in whom God’s Word is like a fire, or a hammer that breaks a rock—or ice—in pieces.

 And when we are, finally and completely, those divisions will end, and we will be what the Church is on the other side of the veil.

 We will—in that glorious moment—be the home of God among God’s people. Amen.

 

12 Pentecost

  August 31, 2025   Luke 14:1, 7-14 + As we gather to meet our bishop’s candidates this week, I have found that people in this diocese a...