10 Pentecost

 August 14, 2022

 

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

 

+ As most of you know, I have wanted to be a priest since I was 13 years old.

 The really amazing part of that is that I had no idea at 13 what it meant to be a priest.

 I don’t think I was particularly all that religious before that calling.

 I went to church and Sunday School because I had to.

 But it wasn’t always something that appealed to me.

 And I could never imagine actually “doing” church.

 And yet, somehow, into my life came this calling.

 And I will admit that I was pretty green about church when I first started to responding that calling.

 I guess, in some way, I thought, it was going to be blue skies and cool breezes all the time.

 And most naively of all, I truly believed that everyone in church got along with each other.

 Any of us who have been in the church for any period of time, know that is not quite the reality of the Church.

 I hate to break this news to you, but… Every day in the Church is definitely not a love feast.

 We don’t all sit around agreeing with each other on this and that.

 In fact, it’s almost never like that.

  Yes, there are divisions in the Church—the big Church

 And we have experienced those divisions here as a parish when we decided many years ago to be a place where all people are treated equally—including lesbian, gay, transgender and queer people.

 It was not a popular decision in the larger Church.

 But we did it.

 And because we did it, made a difference in countless lives.

 And I know there are many people who are members here because the Church has been a terrible place for them—a place of judgement and exclusion and meanness.

 And because it has been, we, as a parish, need to continue to do what we do and be what we are.

 As Steve Bolduc said today, people were coming up to him and others at Pride in the Park yesterday and saying that it is important that there are churches like ours, who welcome and include all people.

 Again, doing so means we will run up against a larger Church that does not support that.

 And because of that, the Church will still have its divisions.

 Issues of biblical interpretation and personal convictions continue to divide the Church.

 I get pretty firm about such things, as many of you know.

 Although I am patient when it comes to people telling me there are certain things about the Church they might not like personally—trust me there are many things I too personally don’t like about the Church and the way things are—even then, you have no doubt heard me say, “this is not an issue of any one of us.”

 We, as the Church, are a collective.

 And when one of us stiffens and crosses our arms and stands aloof off to the side, the divisions begin, and the breeches within the Church widen, and the love of God is not proclaimed.

 And the rest of us, in those moments, must simply go on.

 We must proclaim what needs to be proclaimed.

 We love what needs to be loved—fully and completely. .

 We move forward.  

 And when it happens to me—and it happens to me quite a lot—I will occasionally speak out.

 But for the most part, I realize: this is the Church.

 And we must plow forward together because that is what Jesus intends us to do as his followers.

 He makes this quite  clear.

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

 What?

 What did he say?

 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 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.

 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 fire 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 the larger beliefs of the Church, 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.

 We will see them slowly dying off.

 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 the Church.

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

 And perseverance of this sort if 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.

 Let us pray.

 Holy and loving God, we thank you for this strange, jumbled, very human institution called the Church. We thank for its foibles and its attempts to do good, we thank for when it works well, and when it makes a difference in the world; and when it fails, we ask you to help us correct it and built it up. Be with us, your Church, as we attempt in our limited way, to live our faith, to be prophets of your Word, and to be on fire with your Spirit in our proclamation of your love; in Jesus’ name, we pray.

 

 

 

 

The Requiem Mass for Barbara Farrar Thene

 

Gethsemane Cathedral

Fargo, North Dakota

August 13, 2022

+ It is a true honor to be a part of this service in which we give thanks to God for the wonderful life of Barbara Farrar Thene.

I actually have known Barbara for many years.

And I certainly greatly enjoyed greatly those years I knew her, though it had been some times since we had actually been in touch, certainly not as often after I became the Priest at St. Stephen’s in north Fargo.  

And I can say, this afternoon, that, like everyone here  I will miss Barbara dearly.

When I went over last Sunday to anoint her and pray the Prayer at the Tioem of Death with her family, we knew then that we were bidding her goodbye.

It is a goodbye, yes, today as well.

But I do need to stress this today;  it is only a temporary goodbye.

It is a goodbye until we see each other again.

Barbara had a very deep faith and belief that we would, one day, all see each other again.

She had a deep faith in her God, who was with her and remained with her until the end.

And she is a great example to us of a Christian who truly lived her faith, rather than just telling other people about her faith.

She was a good Episcopalian after all.

Most Episcopalians don’t feel the need to go on too strongly about their faith.

But I can assure you, her faith was strong.

And I don’t think she never once lost her faith, certainly not in these last years.

She was someone who truly believed that “through God all things are possible.”

She knew that her God sustained her and held her up.

She was always, to the very end, a good Episcopalian and a faithful follower of Jesus.

And certainly, she loved this particular church, Gethsemane Cathedral.

It is very appropriate that her ashes will lie within the walls of this church building, alongside David’ ashes.

I actually officiated at David’s Committal way back in August of 2011.  

And I would say that she also had a deep love for The Book of Common Prayer.

 Now, people often ask me, “so, what is it you Episcopalians believe?”

And I say, “We believe what we pray.”

We’re not big on dogmas.

But we are big on prayer and worship.

Our liturgy—what we find contained in our Book of Common Prayer—encompasses our beliefs very well.

And, I can tell you, that it certainly did for Barbara.

If you asked her, “Barbara, what do you believe?”

She would no doubt be quick to point you to the Book of Common Prayer.

So, for some one who believed that, who believed what she prayed the Episcopal Church was the right place to be.

Inf act, in your bulletin for today, you will see printed a prayer that Barbara herself wrote out and prayed every day.

That prayer comes from the book of Common Prayer.

It is a beautiful prayer.

Give us grateful hearts, our Father, for all thy mercies, and make us mindful of the needs of others; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

It is actually a grace prayed at meals.

It can also be found on page 835 in our current Book of Common Prayer.

And it was first introduced in the 1928 version of the American Book of Common prayer.

But it is a prayer that in so many ways encompasses what it means to be a Christian.

It is about asking God to give us true gratitude for life and all the beautiful things that life gives us, and it is about being mindful of the needs of others.

It all about the two great commandments, on which Jesus based his entire message.

Love God.

Love others.

And by praying that prayer every day, Barbara lived into that faith.

Barbara sought to do that in her own life.

That prayer is a prayer I encourage you, like Basbrara to take from here, clip from the bulletin, and pray every day.

And I will guarantee that if you do, your awareness of God and the needs of others will change.

You will notice God at work in this world in ways you might not have before. 

She also had a deep love for Scritpure.

As we were planning this service, it was actually fairly easy to find the scriptures we just heard today, because we do so by using Barbara’s own Bible.

That Bible was very well used.

It was filled with highlights and annotations.

And she wrote personal notes throughout.

Scripture sustained her.

So, as a result of that deep love for the scripture, we have these scripture readings today that we found in Barbara’s Bible.

Our reading from Romans speaks very clearly to us today:

Paul writes, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. ”

If those words don’t speak to us loudly and clearly today, nothing else does.  

And a bit later in Romans, we hear this:

“

For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

It is in hope that we are saved.

For those of us who hope, we will be find what we hope for.

Barbara knew that strong hope.

She waited for that hope patiently.

And last Monday, that glory which the Apostle Paul spoke about earlier in that reading, that glory was revealed to Barbara.

At the end of our service today, I will lead us in what is called “The Commendation.”

The Commendation meant the world to Barbara, as it does to all of us who hear it, and more importantly, believe it.  

Now for many of us, we have heard the words of the Commendation hundreds of times.

But that, as Barbara would no doubt would tell us, is no excuse to not pay attention.

Because if you do pay attention, you will find the heart in which Barbara Thene’s faith was found.

In the Commendation, we will say,

Give rest, O Christ, to your servant with your saints,
where sorrow and pain are no more,
neither sighing, but life everlasting.

And it will end with those very powerful words:

All of us go down
to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia,
alleluia, alleluia.

Alleluia is a word of praise. It means “Praise Fod.”

It is a word of joy.

Now, it might seems strange that we are using words of praise and joy at the grave, so to speak.

But that is how our faith works.

Those are words are defiant words.

Words in defiance of death.

We know Barabara would love that.

These words seem to say to us that no matter what life—or yes, even death—throws at us, we, like her, can hold up our heads even then, with integrity, bolstered by our faith in God and we can definatly stare death down. .

Even in the face of whatever life may throw at me, we can almost hear her say, I will not let any of those bad things win, not even death.

“…yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia,
alleluia, alleluia.”

Even you, death, will not win out over me.

Even in the face of these awful things, I will hold up my head and I will face you with strength.

 And, because I have faith in my God, you, death, will not defeat me.

That is how Barbara faced the death and the glory that was revealed to her following that death.

Today, all the good things that Barbara Farrar Thene was to us—this  truly amazing woman who was so full of strength and character and integrity—all of that is not lost.

It is not gone.

Death has not swallowed that up.

Rather all of that is alive and dwells now in Light inaccessible.

All of that dwells in a place of peace and joy, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting.

In a place in which, there never again be any more tears.

Except, maybe, tears of joy.

And for us who are left, we know that that place awaits us too.

That place of light and joy awaits each of us as well.

And we to will have the opportunity to dwell there.

I will miss Barbara.

We will all miss her and will feel her loss for a long time to come.

But, on this day in which we bid her this temporary goodbye, let us also be thankful.

Let us be thankful for this woman whom God has been gracious to let us know and to love.

Let us be thankful for her example to us.

 Let us be thankful for all that she has taught and continues to teach us.

And let us be grateful for all she has given us in our own lives.

Into paradise may the angels lead you, Barbara.

At your coming may the martyrs receive you, and bring you into the holy city Jerusalem.

Amen.

Karma (a poem)

 

“Someone,” in their pathetic trailer park existence,

sits in extreme despair

and ponders truths far greater than they---

in their sad intellectual limits—

can fully comprehend.

Truths like karma---

truths that the Buddha pondered

and wrestled with

and expounded upon

and gave insight for.

 

“Someone” wonders why their tokens---

an insignificant North Shore agate,

an oxidized dime---

left to appease some unresolved guilt to the dead

is impermanent,

raptured from the place “someone” placed them---

on property upon which they have no claims,

no rights.

 

So, let us set “someone” straight.

Let us help “someone” to din the enlightened path

and shine the exultant light of truth

upon “someone’s” mind, clouded

by the toxicity of pot and alcohol

and make-believe trauma.

 

Karma is this:

 

Karma happens when greed drives “someone” to wonder

in their greed

why the inheritance they thought they were owed

was never theirs in the first place.

 

Karma is what happens when gluttony dominates “someone’s” life

and their body expands and expands

and the weight balloons

and yet none of it can cushion them

from the starkness of their existence,

and the rawness of their bitterness.

 

Karma happens when,

in their extreme darkness,

they get so sick from Covid

that they are left bareheaded and stripped

of every last visage of their former beauty.

 

Karma happens when the toxicity of their life

turns them away from family, from former friends,

from the world “someone” once knew

 

Karma happens---

without a single doubt---

when “someone”

is  convicted of a felony.

 

And karma happens when “someone”

rises from their bed in the middle of the night

and terrorizes bereaved old women in their sleep

with bells and whistles

so they can blame others

and further divide and conquer.

 

THAT is how karma works.

So, let us sit back and watch its effects.

Let us wait, as we do for the police

when neighbors rise against their “spouses”

and violence rears its ugly bandanaed head.

“Someone” always pays the prize.

and those chickens who left so confidently in the morning

always come home to roost.

 

9 Pentecost

 

August 7, 2022

Luke 12:32-40

 

+ I hate to even say this.

 

I really don’t want to say this.

 

But…it’s already starting to feel like we can see the end of the summer.

 

Yes, I know it’s still hot, but it feels like summer is on the down-turn.

 

It’s been a very busy, busy summer, with funerals and baptisms and weddings and all the other issues.

 

I remember when I first came to St. Stephen’s.

 

Summers were very quiet.

 

Nothing much happened, it seemed.

 

Not so anymore.

 

And let’s not even get started on what this summer was on a larger scale.

 

Politically and  socially, and on the level of equal rights, we are all dealing with so much anger and division raging around us this summer.

 

It is enough to make one almost despair.

 

As I was thinking about all of this, I found myself this past week really hearing our Gospel reading for this morning anew.  

 

I really let the Gospel reading sink in and I realized that, in it, Jesus was telling us

me—and all of us—two things that strike us at our very core:

 

First, he tells us something that is essential.

 

It is, by far, the most important thing we can hear.

 

He begins with those essential words:

 

“Do not be afraid.”

 

With all the uncertainty going on in this nation, with our collectively uncertain future, those words never sounded sweeter in my ears, and hopefully in yours as well.

 

Those are the words we want Jesus to say to us and those are the words he tells us again and again in the Gospels. 

 

 And those are words I love to preach about.

 

If I could peach on nothing else but Jesus’ commandment of “Do not be afraid” I would be a very happy priest.

 

(Actually, I am a pretty happy priest anyway)

Do not be afraid.

Second, he tells us something else that is so vital.

 

He says, “where your treasure is, there you heart will be also.”  

 

Now, at first, we might find ourselves nodding in agreement with this.

 

But let’s not nod too quickly here.

 

Let’s listen very closely to what he is saying.

 

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

When we hear him talking today of where your heart is there is your treasure, he isn’t talking so much of our material treasure.

 

He is saying that where your heart is, that is where your passion will be.

 

There is where your attention and your fulfillment will be found.

 

So that poses a very hard question in all of our lives this morning, that really does cut through all the political uncertainty in this world.

 

Where is your heart this morning?

 

Where is your treasure?

 

Where is your passion?

Now, for me, I will tell you where mine are.

 

I have two passions in this life.

 

They are not secrets.  

 

The first, of course, is my vocation to the Priesthood.  

 

And, of course, my other passion is poetry.  

 

And…yes, there’s a third…midcentury century furniture.

 

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

 

So, where is your treasure?

 

This might not be as easy for us to answer.  

 

And few of us can say with all honesty that our treasures are built up enough in heaven that there too is our heart.  

 

Our treasures, for the most part, are here on earth.

 

But I’m not going to let you off the hook this morning.

 

I really want you to carry this with you.

 

I want you to truly ask yourself these questions.

 

Where is your treasure?  

 

Or maybe the questions should be: what is your treasure? What is your passion?  

 

What is it that drives you and motivates you?

 

Is it money?

 

Is it fame?

 

Is it your job?

 

Or is it family or spouse?

 

It’s important to be honest with ourselves in regard to this question and to embrace and accept the answer.

 

They are hard questions to ask and they are hard questions to answer.

Jesus is clear here that we shouldn’t beat ourselves up about what our treasure is.

 

Rather, he says, we should simply shift our attention, shift our focus, and center ourselves once again on the treasure that will never disappoint, that will never be taken away.

 

And what is that, for Jesus?

 

God.

 

And all that God stands for.  

 

Now, either that sounds really good to you or really bad to you.

 

But bear with me for a moment.

 

When we find our treasure in God, we find that that treasure is more than just  some sweet, pious, God-and-me kind of relationship.

 

Recognizing God as our treasure means making all that God loves and holds dear our treasure as well—

 

I’m going to repeat that:

 

Recognizing God as our treasure means making all that God loves and holds dear our treasure as well

 

To love God means to love what God loves as well.

 

And striving to see that and do that is where our real treasures lie.

It seems that when do that—when we love as God loves—it all does truly fall into place.  

 

I don’t mean that it falls into place in a simple, orderly way, like Tetras or a puzzle.  

 

It definitely does not ever seem to do that.

 

God does not work in that way.

 

(Sometimes I wish God did!)

 

More often than not, when we recognize all that God loves, it only frustrates us and makes our lives more difficult.

 

You mean, God loves that person I can’t stand?

 

You mean God loves that person I think is vile and despicable?

 

God loves even those people we think God shouldn’t love?

 

Yes, it’s a lot harder than we thought.

 

Because that’s what it’s all about.

 

Loving God means loving all that God loves.

 

And God loves fully and completely and wholly.

And realizing this is truly the greatest treasure we will ever find.

“Where our treasures are , there our hearts will be also.”

 

For us here at St. Stephen’s, we know how to build up that treasure in heaven.

 

We do it by following Jesus, and in following Jesus, we love God and strive—honestly—to love all that God loves.

 

We try to make that our goal.

 

Sometimes we fail, but we always keep on trying.

 

We build up our treasures by doing what we do best.

 

We do it by being a radical presence of love and peace and hospitality in an crazy world or in an uncertain political environment or in a Church—capital C— that sometimes truly does ostracize.

 

We do it even when it’s really hard.

 

We do it even when we don’t feel like it.

 

We do it even when we would rather be doing our own thing, sitting by ourselves over here, all by ourselves.

 

For us a St. Stephen’s, we are a place of radical love and acceptance, because Jesus, the One we follow, was the personification of radical love and acceptance.  

 

And because the God he represents and loved and stood for is our treasure, we know we are heading in the right direction in what we do.

 

God and God’s radical, all-encompassing love is where we should find our treasure—our heart.

 

And not just a private treasure, we hoard and keep to ourselves.

 

No.

 

But a treasure we share.

 

A treasure we freely give and share to others.

 

But even if we are not there yet spiritually, it’s all right.

 

We should simply cling to that command that God continues to make to us again and again, when the world around us rages, when violence flares, when racism and white supremacy makes its ugly come-back, and our futures seem uncertain and frightening:

 

“Do not be afraid.”

Do not be afraid.

 

Do not be afraid of where our passions lead us and where our treasures lie.  

 

Do not get all caught up in the things of this earth.

 

Do not think that we can do nothing at all in the face of evil and violence and white supremacy and Nazism and transphobia and homophobia and sexism and all those horrible things in this world.

 

Do not think you or I are completely helpless.

 

Because we are not.

 

We are powerful because it is God’s love within us—this treasure we share with others—that we have as our secret weapon in the face of all those dark, vile things in this world.

 

In the face of darkness and violence and fear, love as God loves.

 

Love your neighbor as you would love yourself.

 

Love your enemy, even when that enemy is the most disgusting thing you can even imagine.

 

And love your God who loves you in return.

 

By doing so, we defeat fear.

 

We drive out hatred.

 

We outshine the darkness.

 

 So, let us build up our treasure.

 

Let us embrace our passions.

 

Let us move forward so we can build up our treasures, even when we’re tired, even when we are weary, even we are wounded and bleeding and beaten by this world.

 

Jesus tells us in no uncertain terms,  “It is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

 

The Kingdom is yours.

 

The Kingdom is here, in our midst.

 

Right here.

 

Right now.

 

We are bringing it forth, increment by increment.

 

Step by step.

 

Loving act after loving act.

 

Truly, the Kingdom is just that close.

 

And within it, all our real treasures lie.

 

Let us pray.

 

Loving God, even amidst the darkest storms, remind us of your commandment to not fear anything; let us live boldly into this commandment, that we may go where you call us to go and do what you call us to do; in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.