9 Pentecost

 

July 30, 2023

 

1 Kings 3.5-12; Romans 8.26-39; Matthew 13.31-33, 44-52

 

+ Yesterday was an important anniversary in the Episcopal Church.

 

49 years ago, on July 29, 1974, eleven women were ordained to the Priesthood in the Church of Advocate in Philadelphia.

 

Now, hearing that now, in this day and age, it doesn’t seem like a big deal.

 

But in 1974, they were the first women ordained to the Priesthood in the Episcopal Church.

 

And it was a BIG deal!

 

Those eleven women, known as the Philadelphia 11, changed everything.

 

 Merrill Bittner, Alla Bozarth-Campbell, Alison Cheek, Emily Hewitt, Carter Heyward, Suzanne Hiatt, Marie Moorefield, Jeannette Piccard (who was from Minnesota, where she would serve until her death in 1981), Betty Bone Schiess, Katrina Swanson, and Nancy Wittig broke the barriers of the Episcopal Church.

 

It changed everything.

 

Some of you here today remember well when those women became priests.

 

Some in the Church cheered.

 

Some definitely did not.

 

And for Episcopalians in the 1970s, when society was being unended, when Prayer Book revisions were being introduced, women in leadership roles in the Church were at the forefront.

 

Let’s look at our Mary & Martha Window.

 

Look at those dates.

 

Our first female Lay reader was in 1970.

 

Our first female Senior Warden was in 1971

 

Our first female acolyte was in 1972.

 

And by the way, July 29 is an important day liturgically int eh church.

 

It is the feast of. . . Sts. Mary and Martha.

 

Now, for us, here, now, almost 50 years later, we celebrate this event.

 

We rejoice in it.

 

You have heard me say how many times? What would our church be without women like the Philadelphia 11.

 

They have saved the Church.

 

They opened the door for generations of women’s leadership in the Episcopal Church.

 

Just for a moment, imagine what the Episcopal Church would be like right now if women hadn’t been ordained.

 

It’s awful even to ponder.

 

But all of this was not without a price.

 

That day in Philadelphia, as joyful as it was, was also a day of fear.

 

There death threats made against those women.

 

There was a bomb threat in the church.

 

People were furious over it all.

 

Those women feared for their lives for what they did.

 

And yet they went there that day knowing full-well what doing so might do to them.

 

They did what they did bravely, but with fear in their hearts.

 

Because they did what they did, because they faced their fears, because they listened to the prophetic Voice of God in their lives and in the life of the Church, we as a Church have been not only enriched, but  revitalized.

 

Their lesson to us, 49 years later is a clear one.

 

Under no circumstances should we let fear win out.

 

We know fear.

 

Politically, religiously, personally, there’s a lot fear at work in our lives right now.

 

Real fear.

 

But what is most shocking to me is how so much fear, so much anxiety, so much darkness, can come forth from some seemingly small, other-wise  insignificant actions.

 

We all don’t have to face death threats and bomb threats to fear real fear in our lives.

 

Sometimes—more often than not—it is the small things that affect us most.

 

In our Gospel for this morning, we heard the Kingdom of God being compared to several small things: mustard, yeast, treasure, pearls and a net to catch fish.

 

The gist of these parables is that something small can make a difference.

 

Something small can actually be worth much.

 

As I pondered this these last few days, I realized that Jesus really is, as always, VERY right on with this.

 

When we do a bit of good—like planting a little bitty mustard seed—a lot of good can come forth.

 

But, we also realize that a little bit of bad can also do much bad.

 

A little bit of fear can grow into something out of control.

 

And I’m not just talking about the news and the government.

 

Or a former President

 

We all live with various forms of fear.

 

Fear of the future.

 

Fear of change.

 

Fear of things that are different, or strange, or that don’t fit into our confining understanding of things.

 

Our fear of these kind of things can be crippling.

 

We sow the small seeds of fear that grow into larger ugly plants of fear when we when wallow in that fear, when we let fear grow and flourish into a huge, overwhelming weed.

 

When we let fear reign, when we let it run roughshod through our lives, we see

bitterness and anger following.

 

We become bitter, complaining, nitpicky people who by doing so, expose our own fear and privilege.

 

Our reading from the Hebrew scriptures is a great example of how we should respond to issues of fear.

 

In our reading from the 1 Kings, we find God telling King Solomon that anything he asks will be granted.

 

This would be something most of us really would want God to say to us as well.

 

If God spoke to you and told you that anything you prayed for would be granted, what would you ask for?

 

I know a few things I would ask for.

 

And most of those things we ask would be normal.

 

But Solomon doesn’t ask for the normal things, if you notice.

 

Solomon asks God for the gift of understanding.

 

And that is the gift God grants Solomon.

 

And to us too!

 

When we ask for the gift of understanding, God usually seems to give it.

 

As long as we are open to the gift.

 

The fact is, most of us aren’t open to understanding.

 

We are too set in our ways, into believing we know what is right or what is wrong.

 

But when we ask, when we open ourselves to this gift, God gives us the Holy Spirit. 

 

And how do we know when the Holy Spirit is given to us?

 

We know the work of the Holy Spirit, by the Spirit’s fruits.

 

Those fruits blossom into real, tangible signs.

 

But when we resist the Spirit, when we resist the movement of God, we find ourselves trapped—in fear, in bitterness, in anger.

 

But it is not an option for us as Christians to be stuck and trapped in fear. 

 

How can we fear when we hear Paul say to us in his letter to the Romans:

 

“if God is for us, who is against us.”

 

We cannot let fear rule our lives.

 

After all, who will separate us from the love of God?

 

Will any of the hardships of life be able to defeat us or separate us from the love of God?

 

“No, in all these things we are conquerors through him who loved us.”

 

Nothing—not “death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, not things to come, not powers, not height, not depth, not anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

 

(By the way, I am convinced that this might be the most powerful scripture we have as Christians!)

 

After all, when we get stuck in fear, when we let ourselves be separated from the love of God in our lives, that is when we hinder the Kingdom.

 

It prevents the harvest from happening.

 

It prevents growth from happening.

 

It makes the Church—and us—not a vital, living place proclaiming God’s loving and living and accepting Presence.

 

Our job is to banish fear so the Kingdom can flourish.

 

The flourishing of the kingdom can be frightening.

 

Like the mustard seed, it can be overwhelming.

 

Because when the Kingdom of God flourishes, it flourishes beyond our control.

 

We can’t control that flourishing.

 

All we can do is plant the seeds and tend the growth as best we can.

 

Rooting our endeavors in God’s love is a sure guarantee that what is planted will flourish.

 

Because rooting our endeavors in God’s love means we are rooting our endeavors in a living, vital Presence.

 

We are rooting them in a wild God who knows no bounds, who knows no limits and who cannot be controlled by us.

 

Rooting our endeavors in God’s love means that our job is simply to go with God and the growth that God brings about wherever and however that growth may happen.

 

When we do, God banishes our fears.

 

So, let us help God’s Kingdom flourish!

 

To be righteous does not mean being good and sweet and nice and right all the time.

 

To be righteous one simply needs to further the harvest of the Kingdom by doing what those of us who follow Jesus do.

 

It means seeking understanding from God.

 

It means planting good, small seeds.

 

And in those instances when we fail, we must allow the mustard seed of the Kingdom to flourish.

 

And when we do strive to do good and to further the kingdom of God, then we be doing what Jesus commands us to do.

 

The Kingdom will flourish.

 

And we can take some joy in knowing that we helped, working with God, to make it flourish.

 

And, in that wonderful, holy moment, we will know the fruits of our efforts.

 

And we—like the kingdom of which we are citizens—we will also truly flourish!

 

Let us pray.

Holy and loving God, plant in us the seeds of your love so that your love will flourish within us and in all whom we encounter in this world; we ask this in the holy name of Jesus. Amen.

Homily for the 20th Anniversary of my Ordination to the Diaconate

 

July 26, 2023

 + So, why, you may be wondering, would I celebrate my diaconal ordination anniversary?

Well, I’ll be honest.

I never stopped being a deacon.

When I was ordained to the Priesthood on June 11, 2004, I didn’t magically stop being a Deacon.

I am still very much a deacon.

I see my diaconal ministry as a basis for my priestly ministry.

Now, there are some in the Episcopal Church who have been advocating what is called “direct ordination.”

Direct ordination means that one who is called to the Priesthood should be ordained directly to the Priesthood, without Diaconal ordination.

The thinking here is that by doing so, it upholds the dignity of Diaconal ministry for those whoa re called to being vocational Deacons.

(I can’t help but wonder if there will then be “direct ordination” to the Episcopate, just because someone is “called” to be a Bishop.)

As you can imagine, I am opposed to such a view as direct ordination.

On one hand, it has been a foundation aspect of ordained ministry throughout most of our history.

And to change it will essentially break our Catholic tradition.  

But, I see my Diaconal ministry as vital to who I am as a priest.

Yes, I might not have been called to be a Deacon.

But I am grateful that diaconal ministry is the foundation on which my priestly ministry is based.

And my diaconal ministry is as much a part of my life as being a priest.

20 years is a long time.

I have seen clergy come and I have seen clergy go.

Ordained ministry is a difficult vocation.

When it’s bad, it’s really bad.

It doesn’t help when one loves the people one serves.

Their pain becomes my pain.

But when it’s good, it’s amazing!

Those are the moments I live for.

I am so very grateful to God for these 20 years.

I am thankful for every one who has walked with me so far.

I am thankful for those who have defended me when I needed defending.

And I am especially grateful for those who have cared for and loved me during this time.

I am going to close this evening, with the prayer I adapted and had printed my ordination bulletin 20 years this evening.

 

On my Ordination to the Diaconate

 

(after John Henry Newman)

 

 

Holy and Loving God, help me to spread the fragrance of  your presence

wherever I go. Let my soul overflow with your all-consuming spirit and life.

Let your brilliance radiate through my entire being.

 

Let your presence flow through me so that everyone I know

may, in turn, know the comforting rain-like gentleness of your presence.

When they look at me, let them not see me, but you.

Let them know you as I know you.

 

Shine through me and let me be a beacon for others—

for it will be your light shining in me, O God, not mine.

Let my pale reflection of your light be like a song of praise to your ears.

 

Let me preach you without preaching—

not with words, but by example,

by the fire that rages within me,

by all the good I do,

and by the reflected image of your love I carry

branded deep within my expectant heart. Amen.

 

                                                         

 

 

20th anniversary of ordination to the Diaconate

 20 years ago today, on the Feast of St. James the Greater, I was ordained a deacon. I am sometimes asked why I celebrate this event since I’m a priest. I always explain that I didn’t stop being a deacon when I was ordained a priest almost a year later. My diaconal ministry—very much a servant ministry—has most definitely fed and tempered my ministry as a priest. It is as much a part of my life as my being a priest.

 20 years of ordained ministry is a long time. In that time I have seen many other clergy leave ministry or simply some to a point in which they can no longer continue. It is a difficult vocation that affects every aspect of one’s life. And when it’s bad, it’s really bad. It doesn’t help when one actually loves the people they serve because when bad things happen in their lives, it happens in the clergyperson’s life as well. But when it’s good, it’s amazing! And it is those moments I live for. The rewards have definitely outnumbered the pains.

 I am truly thankful to God for these 20 years of ordained ministry. Thank you to everyone who has walked with me along the way, for everyone who has supported me or defended me or simply just cared for me along this journey. Without all of you, I could never have made it to this point in my life.

 

8 Pentecost

 

July 23, 2023

Romans 8:12-25; Matthew 13.24-30;36-43

 

Once a long time ago, someone—a parishioner who is no longer with us, who is now in the nearer Presence of God—confessed something to me that truly shocked me.

 

And I am going to share it with you.

 

Don’t worry. I’m not a horrible priest standing before you.

 

I am not breaking the seal of confession about this.

 

This parishioner, for some bizarre reason I will never understand, confessed me to me that she---*sigh*—did not “get” my poetry.

 

Did not “get” my poetry!

 

She actually said, “It’s so… Zen!”

 

What does that mean?!?

 

Is Zen a bad thing?

 

Ok, yes, it might be a bit esoteric, shall we say?

 

But, if this parishioner thought I was being esoteric, I wonder what she thought of Jesus’s parables.

 

Let’s talk about esoteric.

 

That word esoteric mean belonging to an inner circle

 

In other words, it means that only a  small number of people get it.

 

Because, in our Gospel readings at this time of the year, we’re getting a good many parables.

 

Oh no, you’re probably thinking to yourself.

 

More  parables from Jesus!

 

Some of us really enjoy the parables.

 

I enjoy the parables!  (It’s my job)

 

But, let’s face it, most people feel a certain level of frustration when they come across them.

 

After all, we, as a society, aren’t comfortable with such things.

 

Yes, we love our “typical” stories.

 

We love to hear a good story that really captures our imagination—a story we can retell to others.

 

But, for the most part, we like them for purely entertainment reasons.

 

We like stories that are straightforward.

 

A story with a beginning, a middle and an end.

 

We don’t want to think too deeply about these stories.

 

We want something simple and clear.

 

As some of you know I’ve been going on and on lately about Wes Anderson’s new

film, Asteroid City.

 

I love Asteroid City!

 

But it too, like all of Wes Anderson’s films, is. . .well. . . esoteric.

 

Visually stunning.

 

Perhaps a bit historically incorrect—it takes place in 1955 but two fo the songs featured in it were actually recorded in 1957

 

And, I think, it was also kind of a parable.

“Why couldn’t Jesus just tell us what he was thinking?” we might say to ourselves. “Why did he have to tell us these difficult riddles that don’t have anything to do with us?”

 

Of course, even by saying that we  miss the point completely.

 

The fact is, when we start talking about God and God’s work among us, we are dealing with issues that are never simple or clear.

 

 To put it bluntly, there is no simple and clear way to convey the truth of the  message and mystery of God.

 

That is why Jesus spoke in Parables.

 

And parables were a common device used by rabbis in Jesus’s day.

 

The word parable comes from the word “parabola,” which can be defined as “comparison” or “reflection.”

 

“Relationship” is probably the better definition of the word.

 

When we look at Jesus’ parables with that definition—reflection, comparison, relationship—they start to make even more sense to us.

 

These stories Jesus told then—and which we hear now—are all about comparison.

 

For example, the Kingdom of God.

 

This Kingdom is difficult for us to wrap our minds around—are we talking about heaven, some otherworldly place? or are we talking about the kingdom of God in our midst?

 

(Jesus talks about both actually)

 

The parables help explain all of that in a way those first hearers could understand.

 

Jesus spoke in parables simply because the people he was speaking to would not have understood any type deep theological explanations.

 

Jesus used the images they would have known.

 

He met the people where they were, and accepted them for who they were.

 

He didn’t try to change them.

 

He didn’t force them to adopt something they couldn’t comprehend.

 

He just met them where they were and spoke to them in ways they would understand.

 

When he talked that day of a mustard seed, for example, and what it grows into, when he talks of yeast being mixed into dough, when he speaks of a treasure hidden in a field or of a merchant looking for fine pearls, those people understood these images.

 

They could actually wrap their minds around the fact that something as massive as a bush of mustard can come from such a small seed.

 

They understood that something as simple as a small amount of yeast worked into dough will make something large and substantial.

 

Yes, they could say, even with the smallest amount of faith in our lives, glorious thing can happen.

 

That is the message they were able to take away from Jesus that day.

 

So, these parables worked for those people who were listening to Jesus, but—we need to ask ourselves—does it work for us, here and now?

 

Does this comparison of the kingdom of heaven being like someone sowing good seed in a field  seed make sense to us?

 

Do we fully appreciate these images?

 

First of all, we need to establish what is the kingdom of God?

 

Is it that place that is awaiting us in the next world?

 

Is it heaven?

 

Is it the place we will go to when we die?

 

Or is it something right here, right now.

 

Certainly, Jesus believed it was all of those things and certainly believed it was something we could actually experience here and now.

 

Or, at least, we experience a glimpse of it here and now.

 

Over and over again, Jesus tells us that the kingdom of God can be found within each of us.

 

We carry inside us the capability to bring God’s kingdom into being.

 

We do it through what we do and what we say.

 

We do it planting good seed, as we hear in today’s Gospel.

 

We can bring the kingdom about when we strive to do good, to act justly, to bring God into the world in some small way.

 

The kingdom of God is here—alive and present among us—when we love God and love our neighbor as ourselves.

 

Yes, the good seed represents our faith, but it also represents in some way, those small actions we make to further the Kingdom.

 

Those little things we do in our lives DO make all the difference.

 

 Even the smallest action on our part can bring forth the kingdom of God in our lives and in the lives of those we know.

 

But those small actions—those little seeds that we sow in our lives—can also bring about not only God’s kingdom but the exact opposite of God’s Kingdom.

 

Our smallest bad actions, can destroy the kingdom in our midst and drive us further away from God and each other.

 

See, bad seeds.

 

I think we all have experienced what bad seeds do to people and to the Church and to our world.  

 

When we act arrogantly or presumptuously, when we act in a conceited manner, or even when we intend to be helpful and end up riding roughshod over others also trying to do good, we show bad seeds.

 

When we are racist or when we promote fear or division we are bad seeds.

 

What grows from a small seed like this is a flowering tree of hurt and despair and anger and bitterness and division.

 

So, it is true.

 

Those seeds we sow do make a huge difference in the world.

 

We get to make the choice.

 

We can sow seeds of goodness and graciousness—seeds of the Gospel.

 

We can sow the seeds of God’s kingdom.

 

Or we can sow the seeds of discontent.

 

We can, through our actions, sow the weeds and thistles that will kill off the harvest.

 

We forget about how important the small things in life are.

 

Or more importantly we forget how important the small things in life are to God.

 

God does take notice of the small things.

 

We have often heard the term “the devil is in the details.”

 

But I can’t help but believe that it is truly God who is in the details.

 

God works just as mightily through the small things of life as through the large.

 

And in that way WE become the good seeds, that Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel.

 

We may not seem like much.

 

But when we do good, we do much good, and when we do bad, we do much bad.

 

This is what Jesus is telling us in the parable of the good and bad seeds.

 

So let us take notice of the small things.

 

It is there we will find our faith—it is there we will find God—a God who is, like Paul says in out reading from Romans truly is our “Abba,” our Father, our Parent..

 

And when we do, we will truly shine like the sun in the kingdom of our God. 

 

It is in those small places that God’s kingdom flourishes in our lives.

 

So, let us be mindful of those smallest seeds we sow in our lives.

 

Let us remind ourselves that sometimes what we produce can either be a wonderful and glorious tree or a painful, hurtful weed.

 

Let us sow God’s love from the smallest ounce of faith.

 

Let us further the kingdom of God’s love in whatever seemingly small way we can.

 

And then let it flower and flourish and become a great treasure in our life before God.

 

Let us pray.

Holy and loving God, you are the giver of life and you sustain us throughout all our days; we ask you to let us sow the seeds of goodness and righteous—the seeds of your holy kingdom—in this world, through all we do and say, and as we do, let us find you, the living God; we ask this in the name of Jesus our Lord. Amen.