1 Lent

 March 6, 2022

 Luke 4.1-13

 + So, here we are in Lent.

 Strange, bizarre Lent.

 And it really is strange and bizarre.

 There is nothing quite like Lent.

 It’s so different than the rest of the Church year, for me anyway.

 Because, what we’re forced to do in Lent is do something I don’t like doing sometimes.

 I don’t like talking about fasting or confession or giving up something for Lent.

 I don’t like preaching about sin.

 No, what Lent forces me to do that I don’t really want to do is: look in the mirror.

 And not just look—but really look—honestly, bluntly—in the spiritual mirror.

 That is not fun to do.

 It is not a pleasant experience to look at ourselves honestly and bluntly in the mirror.

 It is not fun to confront ourselves.

 It’s probably easier for most of us to confront the Devil—however we might view this personification of evil—in our own lives.

 But, if you notice in our Gospel reading for today, that three-fold commandment of Jesus is all about looking in the mirror and confronting ourselves.

 We find Jesus repudiating the Devil’s temptations with some strongly worded quotes from Scripture:

 “One does not live by bread alone”

 “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only [God]”

 and

 “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”

 When we look at them, these commandments are really all about us.

 About me—the ego.

 That’s an issue for all of us.

 The Devil becomes this almost peripheral character in our reading, if you notice.

 He’s kind of like a whispering shadow at the edge of the story.

 The main characters of this story are, of course, Jesus. And us.

 So, in our Gospel reading, we hear first that we do not live by bread alone.

 Looking in that spiritual mirror, looking at ourselves, we find that, yes, honestly, we’ve had too much bread—too many carbs—too much of everything.

 This season of Lent is the prime time for us to look long and hard at our eating practices.

 For the most people, we simply eat without giving a second thought to what we’re eating or why we’re eating it.

 And this goes for drinking too. 

 Certainly we have doctors who tell us that this is one of the leading causes of a good many of our health problems in this country.

 Nutrition. Food. And too much food. And too much bad food.

 No, this is not going to be a vegan sermon. There’s bad vegan food too.

 When we realize how high the rate of obesity and related illnesses are, we know that food really is a major factor in our lives.

 When we look at issues like obesity and eating disorders and alcoholism and all kinds of addictions, we realize that there is often a psychological reason for our abuse of food or alcohol.

 We do eat and drink for comfort.

 We do eat physically or partake of other things thinking that it will sustain us emotionally.

 We put food or drink into that place in which God should suffice.

 A time of fasting is a time for us to break that habit and to nudge ourselves into realizing that what should be sustaining us spiritually is the spiritual food—that bread of angels—we receive from God.

 Then, we hear “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only [God].”

 Here again is a major temptation for us.

 Let’s face it, for us: the world revolves around us.

 Around me.

 And one of the sources of our greatest unhappiness is when we realize others don’t feel that way.

 We want people to notice us, to like us.

 We want to be needed and valuable.

 Ideally, we would like to have people fall at our feet and adore us.

 We have all thought about what it would be like to be noticed—truly noticed—when we enter a room, like a movie star at the Oscar’s.

 OK. Maybe that’s a bit extreme.

 But, just think about it for a moment.

 Look at how we feel when we send an email—and there’s no response.

 Or when we post something meaningful on Facebook—and we only a get a few likes.

 I hate that!

 I want lots of likes for the things I post. 

 But, it’s not about others.

 That’s all about me and my ego.

 And I’m the only one angry or frustrated at the end of it all.

 And I put myself in this position.

 Yes, I might be mad at others, but it’s ultimately MY fault for feeling this way.

 We are all susceptible to self-centeredness, to that charming belief that the world revolves me—the individual.

 That, we believe, will make us truly happy.

 If we can be fully accepted, fully loved and appreciated.

 But Jesus again nudges us away from that strange form of self-idolatry and reminds us that there is actually someone who knows us better than we know ourselves, who knows our thoughts better than we do.

 We are truly loved, truly accepted, truly appreciated—by God.

 And we shouldn’t worry about the rest.

 Rather than falling to the self-delusion of believing our world revolve around ourselves, we must center our lives squarely and surely on God.

 Finally, we are warned not to put the Lord our God to the test.

 We’ve all done this as well.

 We have railed at God and shaken our fists at God and bargained with God.

 We have promised things to God we have no intention of truly keeping.

 We have all said to God, “If you do this for me, I promise I will [insert promise here].”

 Again, like all the previous temptations, this one also revolves around self-centeredness and selfishness.

 This one involves us controlling God, making God do what we want God to do.

 This one involves us treating God like a magic genie or a wishing pond.

 I’ve done this.

 I’ve been here.

 I’ve shaken that fist at God and railed loudly at God.

 The realization we must take away from this final temptation is that, yes, God always answers our prayers.

 But the answer is not always what we want.

 Sometimes, it’s yes.

 Sometimes it’s no.

 Sometimes it’s not yet.

 All three of those are answers to prayer.

 But what we fail to realize in all of this is that those moments in which God does grant us the answer to prayer in the way we wanted, it is only purely out of God’s goodness and God’s care for the larger outcome.

 It has nothing to do what we do.

 We cannot manipulate God and make God do what we want.

 None of us are in the position to do that.

 And if we had a God that could do that—that could be so easily manipulated--I’m not certain I would truly want to serve that God.

 These are the temptations we should be pondering during this Lenten season.

 When I said earlier that these confessions of Jesus are the basis for our understanding of Lent, they really are.

 Each of these statements by Jesus are essentially jumping off points for us as we ponder our relationship with God, with each other and with ourselves during this season.

 What Jesus experienced in that desert, we too experience this Lent—and at many other times in our lives.

 The confrontation with the Devil in the desert, is often a confrontation with ourselves in the mirror.

 It is a confrontation with that difficult and dark side of ourselves—that gossipy, self-centered, controlling, manipulative person we sometimes are.

 These ego-centric behaviors really don’t promote our egos.

 They actually hurt our egos in the long-run.

 Yes, we might have full stomachs, Yes, we might be loved and appreciated and accepted, yes, we would have a fairy-godmother-god who grants all our wishes—but we would not ultimately be very happy.

 We would still want more and more.

 But, in our core of cores—in our very spirits—we would still be incomplete and unfulfilled.

 But I also don’t want to just brush the Devil off here.

 Our Gospel reading today is important for one other aspect of Lent that is uncomfortable.

 It is confronting the Devil.

 We are also called to confront the devil during this Lenten season.

 Now, I’m not talking about the little red horned creature with the forked tail.

 I am talking about the ways in which the “Devil” confronts us.

 We are confronted by the Devil when others bully us and push us around and abuse us and hurt us.

 We all have had them.

 Bullies.

 Mean-spirited people who truly want to do us harm.

 Sometimes they are strangers.

 Sometimes they are the “Karens” and “Kevins” in the parking lot or the retauarnt.

 Sometimes they are spouses, or family members.

 Sometimes they are “friends.”

 Sometimes they are bosses.

 Sometimes they are clergy.

 And sometimes they are Bishops.

 Sometimes it is the despotic President of a country who invades another country for their ego trip.

 And sometimes it is not just the Devil, but those who have allowed the Devil to do the Devil’s work—those complacent followers of these people who have allowed evil to go on and persist. 

 Or to call the Devil a “genius” (as one of our former Presidents did just recently)

 When we are confronted by the Devil, we must resist.

 We must stand up and say no.

 And we must expose the Devil’s antics.

 The last thing we should do is simply roll over and present our tummies to the Devil like obedient puppies.

 When we do that—when we roll over, when we come crawling back after being abused and mistreated, attempting a one-sided reconciliation—we are only giving more power to the Devil.

 It is our job as Christians, as followers of Jesus, to resist the Devil again and again and again, whenever we confront evil in this world and in our lives.

 It is our job to stand up and say “No!” to the Anti-Christ—to that personification of anything that is truly anti-Jesus in this world.

 This is also a very important part of our Lenten journey—and our journey in following Jesus.

 At some point during Lent, our job is to stop gazing in the mirror—to stop gazing longingly at ourselves— and to turn toward God.

 Our job is to recognize this God who does truly grant us everything we really need and want, just maybe not in the way WE think those things should be given to us. 

 It is for that realization that we should be thankful during this season of Lent.

 So, let us, when we emerge from the desert with Jesus, do so re-focused—not on ourselves, but on the God who truly does provide us with everything we need in this life, and the life to come.

 Let us pray.

 Holy and loving God, be with us in the deserts of our lives. Send your angels to us in times of need. Feed us with what we need and nourish us with your bread. And help us to in turn be angels to those who need them, and feed those who hunger. In Jesus’ Name, we pray. Amen.

 

 

Ash Wednesday

 

March 2, 2022

 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6.1-6,16-21

+ Of course, I came back from vacation yesterday.

 For the most part I gotta say my vacation was a bust.

 I wasn’t able to travel anywhere.

 This was the first time in fourteen years that I wasn’t able to go to Florida, which is always one of the major highlights of my year.

 The weather here was miserable.

 Every time I tried to get away, there was a blizzard or bad weather.

 It was not fun.

 But it did give me an opportunity to watch lots of movie and read lots of books.

 I did some quite a few of the Oscar-nominated films.

 And I read some incredible books.

 One of the books I read was a amazing book recommended to me by my cousin Renaye called Burial Rites, about the last execution in Iceland in 1830, telling the story of the poor young woman who was beheaded.

 I highly recommend that book.

 Another book I read was an amazing book called The Art of Disruption: Improvisation and the Book of Common Prayer by Fr. Paul Fromberg.

 Fr. Paul, as some of you may know, is the Rector of one of my dream parishes in the Episcopal Church—St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco.

 St. Gregory of Nyssa is a very cutting-edge, unique, Anglo-Byzantine parish.

 It is filled with icons and incense and murals and amazing unique liturgies.

 In fact, if you are following Lent Madness this year, or any year, you will see those dancing saints on the cover.

 That illustration comes from the interior of St. Gregory of Nyssa.

 The book was a no holds barred book.

 It takes a look at new ways of doing our Episcopal worship,

 And it definitely takes a hard look at what Fr. Paul thinks may be failings in our Episcopal liturgy.

 One of those areas is in this liturgy. This Ash Wednesday liturgy.

 Paul Fromberg writes this in his book:

 “The Ash Wednesday service in the Book of Common Prayer needs to be hacked in order to unleash its full potential.”

 Fr. Paul goes on to reference our Gospel reading for today, this scripture in which we hear Jesus say emphatically:

 "Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.

"…whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

 Fromberg writes: “The reading is quite clear about what we are to do when we fast: act as if what we’re doing is no big deal. But the prayer book instructs us to do exactly the opposite. Instead of clean faces, we mar them with ash. Instead of private penitence, we recite a list of generic sins that sound like a list of fraternity demerits.  It’s quite jumbled and respectable.”

 And, I’m going to add, it’s true.

 If you’re on social media like I’m social media, let me tell you: people are doing the exact opposite of what Jesus is saying to us in tonight’s Gospel.

 I saw one photo after another on Facebook of people showing off the ashen crosses on their foreheads.

 And I certainly have done it as well.

 Now, to be clear, most of us to do it not to “show off” at all.

 We do it to do exactly what this liturgy tells us to do:

 We do it to remind ourselves and others that we are sinners, that we are mortal, that we are dust and to dust we shall return.

 And so I’m not calling anyone out about this, nor do I think Paul Fromberg is either.

 Rather, it’s just a matter of looking at the heart of our liturgy and what we do on this day.

 Because, as Fromberg goes on, we have to remember one important thing on Ash Wednesday. He writes:

 “…through the lens of hope, we can see something about the Ash Wednesday service that is easily forgotten in our socially neurotic culture: even without our penance, God forgives us.”

 I’m going to repeat that because it is definitely something we need to hear today:

 “Even without our penance, God forgives us.”

 And it’s true.

 You or I don’t get to control God and God’s forgiveness of us.

 And that is hard for many of us to accept.

 But it is a good Lenten realization!

 Fromberg goes on:

 “Every act of penance we take on is infused with hope, not just God’s forgiveness, but of new connection with God and all of God’s beloved children.”

 And here comes the truly radical part of all of this. He says,

“An important hack of the prayer book is to turn the penitential formula around: instead of saying ‘I must be forgiven before I can do anything else,’ recognize that we are forgiven already and ask, ‘what shall I do with my forgiveness?’”

 And that is our challenge tonight and throughout this season of Lent:

 What shall I do with my forgiveness?

 I am already forgiven.

 You and I were already forgiven tonight before we ever entered this building.

 This God who loves us so fully and completely has already forgiven us.

 Because God knows us.

 God knows us better than we know ourselves.

 We are already forgiven.

 And that is our challenge.

 And not just recognizing that in ourselves, but to share that reality with others.

 Paul Fromberg adds this:

 “The hard work is to believe what God has done for us is real. God’s love and God’s forgiveness are big interuptions in our lives. When we might be perfectly happy to walk around with ashes on our foreheads, feeling worthless and guilty and ashamed, God just isn’t impressed.”

 God is not impressed by our self-loathing and self-hatred.

 God is not impressed at how bad we treat ourselves our abuse ourselves.

 God has never required us to beat ourselves to make right the wrongs we have done in this life.

 Fromberg then goes on to talk about how he hacked the Book of Common Prayer liturgy at St. Gregory of Nyssa.

 At St. Gregory’s, each person is invited to turn to the person next to them and say: “Forgive me a sinner.” The other person in response says, “God forgives you, forgive me a sinner.”

 Now, we’re not going to do that tonight in this liturgy.

 But it’s important that this is essentially what we are called to do not just on Ash Wednesday but every day of our Christian journey of following Jesus.

 This is what Lent’s all about.

 Yes, we fail.

 Yes, we mess up.

 Yes, we really fail terribly.

 Yes, something we do not love God as we should.

 Or not at all.

 And sometimes we do not love others as we long to be loved.

 We mistreat people.

 We say terrible things about people behind their backs.

 We fail to see in other people—even those people who drive us nuts—that God is present within that person, that God truly, deeply loves that person just as much as God truly, deeply loves us.

 We fail—and we fail miserably.

 And we need to recognize that fact in our life.

 We need to acknowledge that.

 And we need to strive—no, we need to work hard—at not doing those things again.

 And we need to understand that we will be struggling in this way until we breathe our last on this earth.

 But we also need to remember what have heard tonight.

 When we do those things, we are already forgiven.

 Now, I want to stress this: that does not give us carte blanche.

 That does not mean we do whatever.

 Rather, knowing that we are forgiven already by our God, we should go forward not wanting to mess up again.

 And it also means that when fail, we need to acknowledge our failure, before God and before each other.

 Jesus tells us in our Gospel reading for tonight, do not make a show of any of this.

 But go aside quietly, and acknowledge your failure before your God who knows you and who loves you, and try to make right the wrongs you have done, as someone already forgiven.

 By doing so, it is then that we truly become loved Children of our loving God in this world.

 It is then that we live in love.

 It is that we do truly something with our forgiveness.

 Let us pray.

 Holy and loving God, you are not impressed with our outward signs of penitence and repentance. You are not impressed when we make a show of our efforts of making right what we have done. Help us to do something with the fact that you have forgiven us before we even thought to ask for your forgiveness. Help us to live as truly forgiven people in this world. And help us to forgive others as you have forgiven us.   In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.

 

 

 

Burning of Palms

 

Annette Morrow and Mark Hitterdal Nuptial Mass

February 26, 2022

+ It is an understatement to say that I am honored to officiate at this service today.

Both  Annette and Mark are two people I consider close and very dear friends.

I am very grateful for their friendship in my life.

And nothing gives me more delight than to see close and dear friends celebrate the love they have for each other.

Today is a glorious day.

It really is.

What we celebrate today is love, yes.

The love between Annette and Mark and the love we have for them.

But we celebrate so much more today as well.

We celebrate the fact that this marriage is a shining example of resurrection, of the dawn that comes after the darkest night.

Now, I warned them both about what I would preach today, because this is my standard Nuptial homily.

In fact, a few weeks ago, I even foreshadowed this homily in one of my Sunday morning sermons.

Of course, that Sunday I also said that the last person you would ever imagine to stand up and preach a sermon about how romantic, marital love is a grace from God is from a celibate, asexual priest.

But sometimes you need someone like us to give a perspective on love and marriage that those who actually do it and live don’t have.

But, I believe it.

And I preach it because it’s true.

And it never loses its truth.

Rather, it becomes truer to each couple I preach it about.

And let me tell you, it is very true to Annette and Mark today.

My standard wedding homily is this:

Marriage is one of the best examples of grace that I have seen.

Now, my definition of grace is this: it is a gift from God we receive that we did not ask for nor necessarily deserve.

It is a gift we cannot give ourselves.

We cannot control grace.

We cannot manipulate it or make it do what we want it to do.

Grace just happens.

God grants grace in its own time.

In its own place.

And we must simply be open to it, and be thankful for it, and just… let it happen in our lives.

And be very, very thankful to God when it does.

Annette. Mark. What we celebrate today is truly a grace.

 I am so thankful for this grace you have been given by God.

I mean, look at this:

And here you both are!

And it’s amazing!

Here you are today!

And it’s all good.

And it’s all beautiful.

You both deserve today.

You both deserve this love, being surrounding by people who love you, living into this grace from God in your life.

You deserve the best in your lives.

That is what we celebrate today.

That is what we are joyful for today.

I’m not promising that the future is going to be hunky dory and sweet all the time.

You both know that it isn’t always going to be like that.

I’m not promising that all the dark clouds have passed away for good.

But right now, right here, none of that matters.

There are no dark clouds here.

There are only blue skies and a future filled with hope and joy.

I am so happy, Mark and Annette, for this day.

I am so thankful to God that you have found each other again.

I am so happy for you and for all that you have and will have.

It really is wonderful!

So, with that…I think it’s time to get you both married.

 

 

 

 

 

Bishop Barbara Harris ikon