3 Epiphany

 Annual Meeting Sunday

January 26, 2025

Luke 4.14-21

 +This past week was. . . well. . .it was something else.

 This past week was the kind of week preachers dread.

 How many times did I have to re-do my sermon for this Sunday?

 But, despite the weirdness and bizarreness and downright insanity of this week, we were able to hear one clear voice.

 The clear voice of Bishop Marianne Budde.

 That voice—that simple plea of hers—cut right through the chaos and the distractions and the grandstanding.

 And it is that voice that we are listening to this morning.

 It is the words of that sermon that we are clinging to this morning.

 I posted a beautiful illustration of Bishop Budde done up in stained glass, with her words embossed on it.

 “Be merciful to the stranger, for we all were once strangers in this land.”

 That post generated over 460 likes.

 And some lively conversation.

 Not all of it nice or commending. 

 But those words resonated with almost everyone else.

 Even my atheist friends.

 It was a week in which I, for one, could say that I was very proud to be an Episcopalian.

 And I know many of you felt the same way.

 Now, for many, many people, the message of Bishop Budde was seen as radical.

 And it was.

 But for us, here at St. Stephen’s—well, it’s a message we hear almost every week.

 We preach regularly here about inclusion and mercy and standing up against injustice and inequality.

 Maybe so much so that we don’t even really hear it anymore.

 But others do.

 On one local online group, people were asking where they could find a church like Bishop Budde’s church.

 And Pastor Jessica Miller of the Neighborhood Church, who will be preaching here on February 16, wrote this to the group:

 “[I] 100% recommend St. Stephen's Episcopal Church Fargo/St. Stephen's Episcopal Church - Fargo. Not just accepting, but fully affirming. Exude love and grace. Jamie Parsley is their priest, and the whole community is just  truly lovely. You will experience what resonated from Bishop Budde.”

 Those are words we need to hear on this Sunday, our Annual Meeting Sunday.

 For those of us who worship here week in and week out, we sometimes take for granted what St. Stephen’s is and what it stands for.

 But this week, we were reminded that not many churches do what we do.

 Yes, churches many “welcome” others.

 But not many churches “affirm” others.

 Not many churches fully include others.

 Not churches stand for the things that Bishop Budde stood up for this week.

 We do.

 And I think we should remind ourselves of how rare that is, especially here in this community.

  It is this that we need to be reminding ourselves on this Annual Meeting Sunday.

 Being who we are is why we’re here and not somewhere else.

 Now, in our Gospel reading for today, we find a seed for all we do here at St. Stephen’s.

 We find this story of Jesus, standing up and reading this amazing scripture from Isaiah.

 ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

   because he has anointed me
     to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
   and recovery of sight to the blind,
     to let the oppressed go free, 
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’

 He then, after rolling up the scroll, says,

 ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’

 Those words echo in our midst, here at St. Stephen’s this morning.

 Do you hear it?

 Listen.

 ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’

 Because, yes, today, that scripture from Isaiah has been fulfilled in our hearing.

 By Jesus standing and proclaiming who he is and what he has come to do, he really sets the standard for us here at St. Stephen’s on this Annual Meeting Sunday in 2025 as well.

 We too should proclaim our faith in Jesus in the same way.

 Now, as I say that I pause.

 Most Christians take that to mean something I did not intend it to mean.

 When I say “faith in Jesus,” I don’t mean we should be obnoxious and fundamentalist or bullies in our views.

 You have heard me say a million times from this pulpit that I think way too many Christians proclaim themselves as Christians with their lips, but certainly don’t live it out in their lives and by example (and I am guilty of this myself).

 And it is something at which I bristle again and again.

 But for us, this Gospel reading for today speaks loudly to us and what we do as Christians, as followers of Jesus, as members of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church.

 Because the Spirit of God was upon Jesus, and because he was appointed to bring good news to the poor, that truly becomes our mission as well because we follow Jesus and the Spirit of God rests upon each of us as well.

 Because Jesus breathes God’s Spirit upon us, that same mission that the Spirit worked in Jesus is working in us as well.

 And we should, like Jesus, stand up and proclaim that mission to others.

 We, like Jesus, should breathe God’s Spirit on others.

 That is our mission as followers of Jesus.

 How do we do that?

 Jesus has empowered us to do what he says in that reading from Isaiah:

 We are to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of the sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

 Well, that sounds great.

 But…how do I do that in my life?

 It’s easy for priests and poets to say that, you might say.

 But how do I do that in my own life?

 What does that mean to us—to us who are here, in this place, in these mismatched pews, who are dealing with our own doubts, or uncertainties or anxieties?

 It means that we are not to go about with blinders on regarding those with whom we live and work.

 It means that we are surrounded by a whole range of captives—people who are captive to their own prisons of depression and anxiety and alcohol and drugs and conforming to society or whatever.

 People who are captive to their grief or their pain or their own cemented views of what they feel the Church—or this congregation of St., Stephen’s—SHOULD be.

 Our job in the face of that captivity it to help them in any way we can to be released.

 It means that we are not to go about blind and not to ignore those who are blinded by their own selfishness and self-centeredness.

 I am still so amazed by how many people (especially in the Church, amazingly enough) are so caught up in themselves.

 I really think being self-centered is a kind of blindness.

 One of the greatest sins in the Church today is not all the things Bishops and priests and church leaders say is dividing the Church.

 The greatest sin in the Church today:

 Hubris.

 Narcissism.

 Self-centeredness.

 Selfishness.

 Bullying.

 Hubris causes us to look so strongly at ourselves (and at a false projection of ourselves) that we see nothing else but ourselves.

 By reaching out to others, by becoming aware of what others are dealing with, by helping others, we truly open our eyes and see beyond ourselves.

 When we do these things, we are essentially letting the oppressed go free.

 Finally, we are called to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

 This is simply the icing on the cake.

 Once we have proclaimed that God favors us—all of us—not just the single me—that God loves us—not just me—we must then proclaim God’s blessings on us and the work we are called to do.

 And by doing so, we truly become liberated.

 God favors a liberated people.

 God does so because God can only effectively work through a people who have been liberated from captivity, blindness and oppression.

 This to me is where the heart of all we do here at St. Stephen’s lies.

 It is not in our blind faithfulness to the letter of scripture.

 It is not in our smugness that I—the great and wonderful singular me—somehow knows more than the priest or the Church or the Bishops or our elders. Or the President of the United States.

 It is in our humility and the love of God that dwells within each of us.

 It is the Spirit of the living God that is present with us, here, right now, in this church.

 It is in the fact that even if this church building gets blown away, or even if we gloss ourselves up and match our pews and spit-shine our processional cross and preach sermons based squarely on the correct interpretation of scripture (whatever that might be) , we would still be who we are, no matter what.

 We need to be aware that the poor and oppressed of our world—here and now—are not only those who are poor financially.

 The poor and oppressed of our world are those who are morally, spiritually and emotionally poor.

 The oppressed are still women and LGBTQ people in the Church and in the world, or simply those who don’t fit the social structures of our society.

 They are the elderly and the lonely.

 They are the immigrants and the children of immigrants.

 They are those who mourn deeply for those they love and miss who are no longer with us.

 They are the criminals trying to reform their lives.

 They are those who are just leading quietly desperate lives in our very midst.

 We, as Christians, as followers of Jesus, are to proclaim freedom to all those people who are on the margins of our lives both personally and collectively.

 And often those poor oppressed people are the ones to whom we need to be proclaiming this year of the Lord’s Favor, even if those people might be our own very selves.

 This is the year of the Lord’s favor.

 I am not talking this particular Year of Our Lord.

 I am not talking about this year until our next Annual Meeting.

 I am talking about this holy moment and all moments in which we, anointed and filled with God’s Spirit, go out to share God’s good news by word and example.

 This moment we have been given is holy.

 And it is our job is to proclaim the holiness of this moment.

 When we do so, we are making that year of the Lord’s favor a reality again and again.

 This is what we are called to do on this Annual Meeting Sunday and in every day of our lives. 

 And always.

 So, let us, like Bishop Budde, proclaim the good news.

 Let us speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.

 Let us do what we have always done here at St. Stephen’s.

 Let us bring sight to the blind, mercy to those who are oppressed and hope to those who are hopeless.

 Let us bring true hope in our deeds to those who are crying out (in various ways) for hope and mercy, which only Jesus and his followers can bring.

 And when we do, we will find the message of Jesus being fulfilled in our very midst.

 

 

2 Epiphany

 

January 12, 2025

 

Isiah 62.1-5; John 2.1-11

 

+ So, if I was going to ask you to define for me what it means to be a Christian, what would you say?

How do you define someone being a Christian?

How do you define yourself as a Christian?

It’s a very important question when you think about it.

Because many of us might have very different answers.

Or maybe I should ask you this:

If it was proved—beyond a doubt—that the miracles of Jesus’ life never happened, would that change your faith?

If it was proven beyond a doubt that the virgin birth never happened, that he never walked on water or turned water into wine, or raised the dead, would you still call yourself a Christian?

Is your faith dependent upon these supernatural aspects we encounter in the Gospel.

Or is your faith as a Christian based on something else?

These are important questions to ask ourselves occasionally.

But, those things do not define what it means to be a Christian.

There are many people who do not believe in those things, who don’t hold these things as factual, but who still call themselves Christian.

And I really hate to break this news to you:

Believing in those things will not “save” us in the end.

At least, not according to scripture.

And if it is proven none of those things happened (and no one will ever prove that to us, I am quick to add), will our faith as Christians is still intact?

It should.

Because our faith is based on loving God and loving others.

Our faith is based on following Jesus.

Our faith is based on living out what Jesus taught, not only on what he did (or may have done).

It is important for us to remember all of that that in our spiritual journey in this life.

Now, again, I’m not saying these miracles never happened.

And I’m certainly not saying that miracles don’t happen.

Trust me, they do.

I have experienced many miracles in this life.

As I’m sure many of you have as well.

And I do believe that miracles like this actually can happen.

After all, Jesus is the Messiah.

Jesus is the divine Son of God.

God worked and continues to work uniquely in the Person of Jesus.

And if anyone could do it, Jesus could.

Miracles like the one at Cana still speaks to us, here and now.

In our Gospel reading for today, we find one of those miracles for certain.

 

We find in our Gospel reading for today that there’s a problem at this wedding feast.

 

The good wine has run out and the wedding feast is about to crash quickly.

 

But Jesus turns water into wine and when he does, there is a renewed sense of joy and exultation.

 

That I think is the gist of this experience from our gospel reading.

 

It is not just some magic trick Jesus performs to wow people.

 

It is not some action he performs at the whim of his mother.

 

He performs this miracle and in doing so instills joy in those gathered there.

 

But more than that, by doing this he does what he always does when he performs a miracle.

 

He performs miracles not just for the benefit of those at the wedding.

 

It is for our benefit of us as well.

 

Because by performing this miracle, he is giving us a glimpse of what awaits us all.

 

If we look closely at the story and at some of the details contained in it, we will find clues of the deeper meaning behind his actions.

 

First of all, let’s look at those jars of water.

 

This is probably the one area we don’t give a lot of thought to.

 

But those jars are important.

 

They are not just regular jars of water.

 

They are jars of water for the purification rites that accompany eating in the Jewish tradition.

 

That’s important

 

This Jewish sense of purification is important still to us.

 

If we think purity isn’t important to us, we’re wrong.

 

Purity is important to us.

 

Cleanliness and purity are still a part of our lives.

 

So, those stone jars of water at the wedding feast are not just for thirst.

 

They are about uncleanliness.

 

Over and over again in the Gospels, if you notice, Jesus seems to have issues with these laws of purity.

 

Or rather, he has issues with people getting too caught up in the rituals of purity.

 

Those people who put too much emphasis on the laws, rather than spirit and heart of the law.

 

What we see him doing is deconstructing some traditional views on purity.

 

And what a way to do it!

 

He turns these waters of purity into wine.

 

And not just any wine.

 

But abundant fine wine that brings about a joy among those gathered. 

 

In a sense, what Jesus has done is he has taken the party up a notch.

 

What was already a good party is now an incredible party.

 

It’s a beautiful image and one that I think we can all relate to.

 

The best part of this view of the wedding at Cana is that Jesus is saying to us that, yes, there is joy here in the midst of us, but a greater joy awaits us.

 

A greater joy awaits us when the Kingdom of God breaks through into our midst.

 

When it does, it is very much like a wedding feast.

 

When it does, the waters of purification will be turned into the best-tasting wine because we will no longer have to worry about issues like purity.

 

In God’s Kingdom, there is no impurity, no sin, so racism, no homophobia or transphobia or sexism.

 

To some extent, the wedding at Cana is a foretaste of what we do every Sunday (and Wednesday) here at this altar.

 

It is a foretaste of the Holy Eucharist—the meal we share at this altar.

 

And the Jesus we encounter at this feast is not a sweet, obedient son, doing whatever his mother says, though I truly believe there is an almost playful attitude between Jesus and Mary in their exchange.  

 

Both Mary and Jesus know who he is and what he can do.

 

They know he is the Messiah.

 

They know that is he is this unique Son of the Most High God.

 

They know that because he is, he is able to do things most people cannot.

 

Now, to be fair to Mary, we must realize that at no point does she actually request anything from Jesus, if you notice.

 

All she does is state the obvious.

 

“There is no wine,” she says.

 

She then says to the servants, “Do whatever he asks.”

 

No one, if you notice, asks Jesus to perform this miracle.

 

And that is important too.

 

I will take this one step further.

 

I have a standard message at most of the weddings I do.

 

It’s adapted to each couple, but the message remains the same.

 

And the message carries within it my own understanding of how love and marriage works.

 

This coming from your celibate/asexual priest.

 

I say this at weddings.

 

Love and marriage are a grace from God.

 

But to truly understand that statement we have to understand what “grace” is in this context.

 

My definition of grace is this:

 

Grace is a gift we receive from God that we neither ask for nor even anticipated.

 

It is something God gives us out God’s own goodness.

 

Love and marriage are often—often, not always—signs of grace.

 

Oftentimes the right person comes into our lives at just the right time.

 

No matter how much we might want to control such situations, the fact is we cannot.

 

That person comes into our lives on God’s terms, not ours.

 

Often it happens when we least expect that person.

 

But when they do come into our lives, our lives change.

 

That is how grace works.

 

God’s grace changes our lives.

 

We can’t control God’s grace.

 

We can’t really even petition God and ask God for a particular grace.

 

Grace is just there because God chooses to grant us grace.

 

That’s how grace works.

 

It just happens on God’s own terms.

 

Sometimes we might not even deserve it.

 

But God—in God’s goodness—just gives us this one right thing in our lives.

 

And all we can do, in the face of that grace, is say, “Thank you, God.”

 

That to me only cements the fact that what happens at Cana happens each time we gather together at this altar for the Eucharist.

 

Here too, at this altar, we see Jesus reflected in this wine.

 

And in each other!

 

Just like the wedding at Cana, this Eucharist we celebrate is a foretaste of that meal of which we will partake in the Kingdom.

 

In that meal, the words of the prophet Isaiah that we heard earlier this morning will be spoken to us as well:

 

“for the Lord [will delight] in you,

And your land shall be married.

For as a young man marries a young woman,

So shall your builder marry you.

And as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride,

So shall your God rejoice over you.”

 

God rejoices over you!

 

In God, our truest and deepest joy will come springing forth.

 

So, as we come forward for Communion this morning, let us do so with that image of the wedding feast of Cana in our hearts and minds.

 

Let us look, and see the image of Jesus reflected in the Communion wine. And in one another. 

 

Let us know that what we experience today is not a magic trick.

 

We come forward to a miracle.

 

We come forward to a sign of God’s kingdom breaking through into our very midst.

 

We come forward to partake of an incredible grace.

 

And all we can do, in that holy moment, is say,

 

“Thank you, God!”

 

Amen.