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.

 

 

 

 

 

The Memorial Service for Gerene Mayer and Greg Mayer

 

The Memorial Service for

Gerene Mayer

October 28, 1928-June 9, 2022

Gregory Mayer

December 10, 1948 – Dec. 3, 2021

July 28, 2022

Emmanuel Episcopal Church

Alexandria, Minnesota

 

+ I am very honored to be here.

 For those who might not know, I have had a very long and wonderful history with this family.

 For over 16 years, I have married and baptized and buried members of the family.

 In fact, just the other day was thinking about the wedding of Kelly and Chris way back in July of 2006.

 That beautiful wedding on that stifling hot day in Plymouth. Was it at  the Millennium Gardens?

 In fact, I am wearing the same alb and stole today that I wore that day.

 And way back on June 28, 2014, I officiated at the memorial service for Wally at my own parish, St. Stephen’s in Fargo.

 I of course have known all of you longer than that.

 And I think I may have known Greg longest of all.

 Back when I was a parishioner at Gethsemane Cathedral in Fargo, Greg was often in what was then called Foyers, a group that would meet at each other’s homes for supper.

 And I remember him well at Alpha which was a Bible study, or just simply at church.

 And I remember knowing Gerene and Wally way back when they were members of Grace Church, Jamestown.

 So, we have known each other in way or the other for over twenty years.

 So I am truly honored to be here, to officiate at this service, and to remember and commend both Gerene and Greg to God.

  Gerene of course was very special to me.

 She was truly ana amazing person.

 She always seemed to carry herself with a sense of dignity and inner strength that amazed me at times.

 I was always impressed by that and by her.

 I genuinely liked her.

 I remember so well how she carried herself after Wally’s death, and how she enjoyed seeing those great-grandchildren baptized.  

 She had a strength and purpose to her that I admired.

 And I’m happy she liked me too.

 I don’t know if Greg liked me, though I think he did.

 But I have to say that every time I saw him, every time he was present, he brought, in his own way, his own sense of humor, even when he might not have been feeling well.

 Both Gerene and Greg were, to the very end, good Episcopalians and  faithful followers of Jesus.

 The church was important to them.

 And like any good Episcopalian, they loved The Book of Common Prayer, the book from which we are doing this service today.

  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.

We not big on telling people what to do.

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 Gerene and Greg, and Wally too.  

No doubt if you asked any of them, “what do you believe?”

They would probably point you to the Book of Common Prayer, or at least encompass the belief found there.  

Well, Greg would probably say more.

Greg had a deep love of scripture, and he knew his Bible well.

And I have no doubt he would point us all in that direction.

But still, through and through, they were all good Episcopalians.

And I think that’s why so many of us feel kind of comfortable in the Episcopal Church.

And that’s also why we’re here today.

In this beautiful church.

Gerene’s parents were married here.

And, in moments like this, it just feels right that we are here, commending these great people to God.

This service we are celebrating together today is packed from its very beginning to its end with some amazing words and images.

It’s a simple service, it’s a down-to-earth service.

But it is a service that has so much meaning and purpose within it.

This Burial service we are celebrating today is chock full of meaning.  

Probably some of the best of it is at the end of our service.

At that time, I will lead us in what is called “The Commendation.”

Now for many of us, who are long-time Episcopalians, we have heard the words of the Commendation hundreds of times.

But it’s important to pay attention to what it says to us.

Because if you do pay attention, you will find the heart in which  Gerene and Greg’s faith was found.

In the Commendation, 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.

Those words show us that despite all that life—and yes, even death—throw at us, we can still hold up our heads with integrity, bolstered by our faith in God.

Even in the face of whatever life may throw at us we will not let those bad things win.

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

For both Gerene and Greg, that has some deep meaning today.

I know that these last years were hard for Gerene.

She knew some hardships in her life.

And Greg.

Well, we all know the hardships that Greg endured in his own life.

He was someone who truly suffered at times in his life.

Sometimes I could see it in his eyes.

And I always felt bad for the pain that he carried with him.

Today, we take consolation in the fact that for both of them, all of that is over now.

For them, all that pain that they endured in this life is over.

And in this holy moment they are whole.

They are who they are meant to be.

They are complete.

Today, all the good things that Gerene and Greg were to us—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 as well.

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

And we to will have the opportunity to dwell there.

We will miss Gerene. And we will miss Greg.

The more we love someone, the deeper the pain we feel at their loss.

That is just the cost we must pay for love.

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

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

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

Let us be thankful for all they were to us.

 Let us be thankful for all that they taught us and continue to teach us.

And let us be grateful for all they have given us in our own lives.

And let us be truly thankful that Gerene and Wally and Greg are now all together.

And let us look forward to the day when we too will join them in that place of unending life and peace.

Into paradise may the angels lead you, Gerene and Greg.

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

Amen.