In August of 2005, Hurricane Katrina ravaged the southern coast of the United States, devastating the cities and towns of that region and leaving thousands of people without homes. I had been ordained just over a year when I received the call to respond with a group of clergy to the region to assist.

I was part of an extensive network of clergy from various denominations that would be deployed after a disaster had struck. We were trained to be prepared to take shelter wherever we could.

I packed what I thought I would need for the two weeks I was going to be gone. I think I secured the last rental car in the State of Louisiana, which would not only give me transportation, but shelter if I needed it. We were going to be gathering at the Catholic Charities Retreat House in Baton Rouge, as it was the only place left that had available space.

I arrived, greeted my fellow helpers, and embarked on a two-week journey that would change my life.

The task given to me was logistics. You see, when something like this happens, relief supplies begin to arrive. The state and federal governments preposition supplies all around the country that can be swiftly moved by air and road to the area of most need. My job was to ensure everything got to where it was supposed to be.

Part of that work involves conducting a needs assessment, which consists of visiting shelters and other places where people are being cared for to identify their needs. I spent countless hours sitting with people and just listening to their stories. Most of the staff in the shelters had also lost everything and were unsure of their next steps.

I wore a yellow vest with the word Chaplain emblazoned on it. I also had my collar on so we would be immediately recognizable. As one would imagine, folks wanted to talk with us.

One of the most common questions I hear is “Where was God?” And the second was “why did God do this?”

Today’s Gospel passage is a continuation of the 12th Chapter and begins with the words, “fear not.” For context purposes, this Chapter begins with Jesus warning the thousands who have gathered to listen to be on the watch for false teachers. Many will come to preach and teach in his name, and Jesus is saying, we need to be able to distinguish between fact and fiction.

Jesus goes on to say that we should fear those who will dam us to hell, the place of outer darkness. Those who will separate us from God and God’s grace. Those who build walls around God’s church with rules and regulations about who is in and who is out. Those who wish to build smaller tables with fewer chairs are the ones we should be on guard against.

But Jesus tells us that if we publicly acknowledge him, he will publicly acknowledge us.

It is almost as if Jesus were speaking to us today.  Interesting.

Then, as we heard last week, Jesus is asked to mediate a dispute between two brothers over money. One brother feels he has been given less than he deserves and wants Jesus to tell his brother to pay up—nothing like appealing to a higher authority.

But Jesus does not get drawn into it. Jesus tells the man a story about another man who had lots of possessions. He had so many possessions that he needed to build a bigger barn to store them all. Jesus goes on to say that the night after he built his barn, the man died, and all his possessions were of no use. It’s not that we shouldn’t have stuff or that we shouldn’t be concerned about the future. The point is, our stuff should not control us.

Jesus is telling us not to be so concerned about our material possessions and comfort that we neglect those around us who have less than we do. Jesus tells us not to worry about what we will eat, or drink, or wear. Sure, we need to make sure we have food, clothing, and adequate shelter, but how much do we really need? And at what expense to ourselves and others.

Then we come to today’s passage, and it isn’t easy to hear. Jesus says, “Do not be afraid; sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor.” Jesus goes on to say, make purses for yourself that will never fail, where no thief or moth will come to destroy. Then he comes to the central point, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

I want to try a little experiment. Close your eyes for a moment and think about all your stuff. If you had 3 minutes to leave your house forever, what would you take with you? Don’t forget, all your stuff includes the humans and pets that live in the house with you. The things that you take are what you treasure, and what you treasure is where your heart will be.

Okay, let’s unpack this a bit because a lot is going on here.

The first thing we need to unpack is this notion that Jesus wants us to sell everything we have and give it to the poor.

I am not a biblical literalist. I do not believe that everything in scripture is to be taken literally. I mean, there are places where Jesus says to cut off your right and pluck out your eyes. I don’t see many one-handed and one-eyed people around. Yes, Jesus has a preferential option for the poor, and yes, Jesus says we need to feed and clothe people. But Jesus does not say we accomplish this by making ourselves hungry and naked. Are you tracking with me on this?

If we were to take today’s scripture passage literally, all y’all would need to leave here, go sell everything you have, give that money to the poor, then come back here, and make some purses that will last forever. Raise your hand if you are fixin to do that today.

Scripture does not provide all the answers. Scripture points us in a direction. Scripture is designed to make you think. We have to drill down past the surface to get to the heart of the matter. Jesus told those people to sell what they have, to cut off their right hands, to pluck out their eyes, because they were stumbling blocks to being able to follow God authentically. And again, I don’t think he wanted those folx to cut off and pluck out bits. It’s a metaphor for what keeps us back.

Now I am going to ask you to do some math. Think about your typical day. How much time do we spend thinking about what we are going to wear and what we are going to eat? How much time do we spend worrying about what is going on in the world by watching the news, reading the newspaper, listening to the radio, or surfing the interwebs?

Now, I want you to think about how much time you spend thinking about and talking to God, reading scripture, meditating on God’s words, and listening to sermons from trusted preachers and teachers. When is the last time you read a spiritual book, attended a bible study, or a church service that was not on a Sunday?

Remember Jesus saying What you treasure is where your heart is? What we spend time on is what we deem important. I can fiddle the day away on nonsense, but I cannot find the time to volunteer at the food pantry or for Habitat for Humanity. I am so busy that I don’t have time to sit with the elderly lady next door, who never has visitors and spends all day waiting for someone to knock on the door.

I am so busy building bigger barns that I cannot see that my neighbor is hungry, or naked, or cannot pay medical bills, or any of the other problems people have. Can we change the world? No, but we can change the world for the person next door by being kind and maybe offering help.

How much is enough?

So, back to the question of where God was in the midst of the storm. This is not an easy question to answer. Academically, it is easy; if we take the human equation out of things, answers are always easy. We need to save money by cutting either this program or that one. Fine, but remember, every dollar cut has a human face attached to it, and that face was created in the image and likeness of the same God that created you. If we dehumanize the situation, it becomes very easy to make decisions that affect people, very easy.

It took me years to come up with an answer, and I am still not sure it is the right one. Where was and is God? Right here, amid the storm, riding it out with you and holding your hand at the bedside when a loved one is dying, and sitting in the doctor’s office with you while you wait for the results of the latest test. God walks beside you all the time; it may not feel like it, but God is always there.

But God is also the people who come after—those who leave their homes and families to come and help. God is the Red Cross shelter worker. God is the guy who climbs up the pole and restores power. God is the woman driving the truck, bringing gallons and gallons of fresh water. God is the cook preparing meals. God is all around, all we have to do is look.

Our job, the church’s job, is to bring God into this crazy world. Our job is not to ask questions about who is or is not worthy; our job is to feed everyone, clothe everyone, house everyone, regardless of how we feel about them. Our job is not to build walls but rather to build longer and larger tables and more chairs.

My friends, our job is not to wait for God’s Kingdom on some far-off cloud; our job is to bring God’s kingdom right here in our neighborhood. Your kingdom come, your will be done, right here on earth as it is in heaven.

God is not asking us to sell all we have; God is asking us to stop focusing so much on our stuff and start focusing on the humans around us, and if some of your stuff can help someone else, then share it with them.

Where is God? God is right here, and God is asking us to just love everyone. To care for all of humanity and this world we live in. God is saying care for yourself, but not at the expense of others.

Fear not, little flock, the shepherd is always with you and will never, ever leave you.

Amen.

Luke 10:25-37

You know it’s going to be an interesting story when a lawyer is involved. Please don’t misunderstand; I have an appreciation for lawyers and what they do. My brother is a lawyer, so I have a personal connection to the field. For the most part, lawyers are good, honest people doing a job that involves advocating for their clients. But like in all professions, there are those who sail perilously close to the wind when it comes to professional ethics and whatnot.

The lawyer’s job is to use whatever they can, within the bounds of the law, to see that their client gets justice. They utilize the tools at their disposal and exploit small legal loopholes. Paul was a lawyer and always viewed the spiritual life through that lens. Today, the Gospel of Luke begins with a lawyer posing questions to Jesus.

This is often a tactic used by Jesus’ enemies. We do not know the heart of the lawyer in question, but he stands to ask Jesus a question: “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He is very polite and asks a question that any one of us might ask in a similar circumstance.

But Jesus, being Jesus, never directly answers a question.

When I was in seminary, I took a couple of years of philosophy, the idea being that by studying philosophy and opening one’s mind, it would make the study of theology much easier. I’m not sure that worked for me because all it did was frustrate me. However, when studying philosophy, questions are often answered with another question.

I had one professor who had a knack for seeking out the least prepared students in class and focusing on them until they began to cry.  Everyone in the class, including yours truly, suffered from this but only once. One morning, I was unprepared. The class typically began with a question from the professor. She would ask the question, gaze around the room like a hawk seeking out her next meal, and wham, there I was.

If I were able to answer the question, she would have just moved on to another, but nope, it was my turn in the hot seat. I held my own for a bit, then it all unraveled, and she had me on the ropes. Several of my fellow students tried to come to my aid, but she fought them off and cast them aside; she wanted me all to herself. If you had admitted defeat too early, it would have made things worse. She would come for your exposed underbelly and dig in deeper. You had to ride the wave of insult and injury until she was done.

Fortunately for the lawyer in the story from Luke, Jesus was about to show him a little mercy.

We know nothing about this man other than his profession; we do not even know his name, but he had the guts to stand and ask a question. Again, we do not know his motivation, other than when the Gospel writers use these examples, it is never for a good purpose.

Jesus countered his question with a question about the law and asked the man, “What is written in the Law?” “How do you read it?” The man gives the perfect textbook answer, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.'”

But he does not stop there; he asks a follow-up question, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus, seeing his opening, tells the story of the Good Samaritan.

We just heard the story: a guy gets beaten up and left for dead. Two people, a priest and a Levite, come by and ignore the man, even going to the other side of the road to avoid dealing with the situation.

Then comes a Samaritan. Not only an outsider, but someone despised by the Jews. And it is he who stops. He who bandages the wounds. He who puts the man on his animal, takes him to an inn, pays for his care, and promises to return.

This would have been shocking. The Samaritan is the hero? The enemy is an example of godly love?

The lawyer wanted to justify himself—he wanted a checklist, a boundary, a legal definition of “neighbor.” But Jesus flips the script. The question isn’t, “Who is my neighbor?” but “What kind of neighbor am I?”

Jesus challenges us not to ask who is worthy of love, but whether we are acting in love.

This is the heart of God’s law: not ritual, not status, not theology alone, but love in action. Compassion that crosses lines. Mercy that costs something. Sacrifice that expects no reward.

Now, we could just stop right there, but we need to go deeper. Scripture is designed to make us think, to drive us past our preconceptions of what things are and look toward what things should be. The significant bit here is that it is a Samaritan who does good. The Samaritan is showing what must be done.

Another essential thing to keep in mind is that Jesus flips the script on everything. The lawyer asked, “Who is my neighbor?” However, as I mentioned a few moments ago, this story prompts us to ask, “What kind of neighbor am I?” This makes it personal.

For those of us who can remember back to the 1980s, you might recall that it was all the rage to wear bracelets with “WWJD” on them, meaning “What Would Jesus Do?” I understand the concept behind it, but it also represents poor theology. It’s great to be in a situation where you look down at your wrist, pause, and think, ‘ What would Jesus do in this situation? ‘

Now, I said it’s bad theology and the main reason for that statement is that none of us is Jesus! The question is not what Jesus would do, but “what does Jesus want us to do?” And that brings us back to the law: love God, love neighbor. And this, my friends, brings us back to the original question, “Who is our neighbor?” And the short answer is that anyone in need is eligible.

Your neighbor is the person next door, but it is also the guy down the street struggling with food insecurity. It’s the couple who just lost a baby and need someone to talk to. It’s the homeless vet who needs a meal. It’s the person who is going to lose their health insurance because some politicians in DC, who do not even know their name, decide they are unworthy. It’s the young teen who is struggling with their own sexuality and is looking for acceptance and not judgment. It’s the families who lost loved ones in a flood, and it’s Ukrainians and Gazans who daily have to deal with bombs dropping on their heads. In short, the entire world is our neighbor.

Now, I hear you, and right now you are saying, preacher, that’s a lot to put on me. You’re right, it is, but that’s what loving your neighbor means. Later on in the Gospel, Jesus expands this to add, “as yourself.” We are to love our neighbor and care for them as we would want someone to care for us.

Now that we know what we are supposed to do, how do we do it?

Last time, I quoted Gandhi: ‘If you want the world to be different, we have to be different.’ Love more, care more, and so on. It begins with us and our disposition.

It’s challenging for our 21st-century minds to comprehend the radical nature of Jesus’ message truly. The first-century world was characterized by class separation, and one did not typically move from one social class to another. But along comes Jesus and “flips the script.” He broke down walls, and he built bigger tables. He ate with sinners. And he called out the establishment by calling them a brood of vipers. Jesus never challenged the civil government. We see Jesus rolling over when he is brought before Pilate. They have an exchange, but in the end, he submits to it.

Jesus challenged the religious leaders and the religious practices and doctrines of his day. Jesus sets the stage for what He wants us to do, and I mentioned it last week: we need to hold each other and our leaders accountable. We are called to challenge the status quo; we are to flip over tables that need to be flipped, and then we need to build new ones, larger ones, where there is room for all.

Jesus preached love, and he preached radical hospitality and inclusion. Jesus did not care so much about who was in; Jesus cared about who was left out. I said last week that when Jesus said ‘follow me,’ he was not walking toward the rich; he was walking toward the poor. He was walking toward that single parent struggling to make ends meet. He was walking toward the immigrant, scared for their very life. He was walking toward the senior citizen who had to decide between food and life-saving medication. He was walking toward those on the margins and those who have no voice. Jesus was walking towards the ones we step over so we don’t get our hands dirty. Jesus is the Samaritan in the story!

Radical Inclusivity (RI) must include all, everyone, without question. RI must challenge the major, fundamental, and deeply rooted Christian beliefs, doctrines, and theologies at the heart of society. RI recognizes, values, loves, and celebrates people on the margins. RI recognizes harm done in the name of God. RI is intentional and creates ministry on the margins. The primary goal of RI is not to imitate or change the mainline church but rather to be church. RI requires a new way of seeing and a new way of being.

Radical inclusivity is what got Jesus nailed to that cross!

My friend and Scottish theologian Peter Nimmo says, “The Good Samaritan is a radical story about someone we don’t think of as one of us showing us how to do good.”

My friends, the Good Samaritan is what the church is supposed to be, and I hope it will be very soon. The world needs us now, right now.

Amen

Galatians 6:1-17, Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

“So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest-time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.”

Let us Pray:
Your Word, O Lord, is our inspiration, our light, and our motion. Your Word, O Lord, is power, is wisdom, and is comfort. Guide us today, as we listen to the Word read and proclaimed, and fill us with understanding and with the desire to change. Speak Lord! Your people listen! Amen.

I want to begin by expressing my excitement about being with you this morning. This has been a long time coming, but we are here, so thank you for the invitation.

My wife, Nicky, is joining me, and we also have a 5-year-old daughter named Oonagh. We left her home, put Sesame Street on, and left out some food so she would be good for a few hours.

I am a lectionary preacher, so the scripture passages have already been chosen for me by people much smarter than I am. The lectionary provides us with five possibilities: a passage from the Hebrew Scriptures, a Psalm, a passage from one of the Epistles, and a Gospel. The three readings are chosen around a theme and usually, but not always, flow from one to another.

I believe we should have more scripture in worship, not less. So, I usually pick two readings and the Psalm, and since I like audience participation, I like to read the Psalm responsively.

I like to weave present-day situations into my sermons because if what you hear is not relevant to life, what’s the point of listening? Sometimes, I might be controversial, and that’s on purpose. I look at the job of the preacher as the one who comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable. Our job is to move you, ever so slightly, towards your potential and to further God’s Kingdom here on earth.

If you disagree, that’s fine; let’s discuss it. If you agree, even better; let’s discuss that as well. We have lost the art of conversation in our country; it’s one side yelling at the other and just waiting for a chance to yell back. And here we are, the Church stuck in the middle as the referee in all of this, or at least we used to be.

So, let’s get right to it.

Paul, writing to the Galatian Church, gives us instruction to hold each other accountable: “If anyone is detected in a transgression, you who have received the Spirit should restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness.”

In the passage immediately preceding this, Paul summarizes the law and commandments: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” What is interesting about the written word here is that his statement is in quotation marks because Paul is quoting Jesus.

For me, this sums up the Gospel, and I should stop here and take a seat. But that’s not gonna happen.

What do I mean by this? The Ministry of Jesus begins and ends with love. Everything Jesus did was motivated by love. Jesus tells us that He is the fulfillment of all the law and the prophets, and He gives us a new commandment: to love God and to love everyone else. By the way, everyone else includes those who don’t love us back.

You will find that I often return to this passage in my preaching because, as I said, I believe it is central to the Gospel; it is the Gospel. If we cannot love one another, the rest does not matter.

Now, I can see you squirming already, so let me give you a break, just a little. Yes, we are commanded to love everyone, but what Jesus does not say is that we have to like them or approve of what they do. And that is what Paul is getting to.

So, what does this love everyone look like?

On July 4, 2004, I was ordained to the ministry of Word and Sacrament. I was not ordained in the United Church of Christ, but rather, I was ordained into the Romanian Orthodox Church. It is a long story of how I transitioned from the Roman Catholicism of my birth to the Orthodoxy of my Ordination, and then to the United Church of Christ, so I will not bore you with all those details yet.

For whatever reason, ordination in the Orthodox Church does not involve the taking of vows. However, years after my ordination, I was with a group of clergy on retreat, and we renewed our vows as part of that retreat.

Here is what I vowed to do:

“Will you be faithful in preaching and teaching the Gospel, in administering the sacraments and rites of the Church, and exercising pastoral care and leadership? I will, relying on God’s grace.”

“Will you seek to regard all people with equal love and concern and undertake to minister impartially to the needs of all? I will, relying on God’s grace.”

I have made a vow to preach and teach faithfully and to regard all people with equal love and concern. This has not always been easy.

However, Paul instructs us to bring the wayward back to the fold gently. Again, looking back at the previous section from this letter, Paul says that one of the fruits of the Spirit is gentleness. We do not force the Gospel upon people.

In the passage from Luke, we hear the story of Jesus sending out the 70, not sure how we went from 12 to 70, but let’s just run with it. Anyway, he sends out the 70 and tells them to take nothing, accept whatever hospitality comes their way, and, if they are not accepted, leave.

Wait, the 70 says, we cannot call down curses upon them if they don’t accept us? We cannot call them names and make fun of them. We cannot send wild midnight tweets about them and how stupid they are? Jesus says, ‘Nope, just move on.’ Wipe the dust of the town off your feet and move on—gentleness, a fruit of the Spirit.

So, what does this mean for us?

Mohandas Gandhi said that we need to be the change we want to see in the world. If we want the world to listen, we need to be better listeners. If we want the world to be kind, we need to be kind. If we want the world to be peaceful, then we need to be peaceful. And if we want the world to love us, we need to love. Love everyone.

If we are going to call ourselves Christians, that needs to mean something. To be a follower of Jesus means to focus on the beatitudes rather than the 10 Commandments. We need to feed those who are hungry, not deprive them of food. We need to work towards systems that are fair to all, not just some. We must also protect the vulnerable and be the voice for those who have no voice in society. When Jesus said, “Follow me,” he was walking toward the poor and the powerless, not the rich and the powerful.

Paul says it quite plainly, “Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow.” If you sow hatred, that is what you will reap. But if you sow love, love is what we get in return.

On Friday, I had the great honor of reading the Declaration of Independence from the Pulpit at the Old North Church in Boston. I trembled as I read each word, “We hold these truths.” “All are created equal.” “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” I trembled just as I tremble when I read, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your mind, and all your soul, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

If we are going to call ourselves Christians, we have to start acting like Christians.

I no longer think of myself as a Christian; I call myself a follower of Jesus Christ. I get in trouble when I say this, but Jesus was not a Christian, and Jesus did not start a Church. Jesus came to show us a new way, a different way, a way of love. The other interesting point is that Jesus never had a harsh word for anyone except the religious leaders, whom he called a “brood of vipers.” I’m not sure about you, but I certainly don’t want to be called a “brood of vipers.”

So, we hold each other accountable. When we stray, we gently lead them back, and if we cannot do that, we let them go. We show them the love that God has shown us, we bless them, and send them on their way.

Loving does not mean we are doormats, nor does it mean we cannot seek justice. We hold people accountable for their words and actions, but we do so in a spirit of love.

Our task as the Church is quite simple: we are to bring the Kingdom of God right here to Berkley or wherever we live. God’s Kingdom is present, not on some distant cloud somewhere.

What does God’s Kingdom look like? We only need to read Matthew 25 for the answer:

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'”

In God’s Kingdom, we care for one another.

Friends, our world is rather crazy now, and maybe you don’t know what to do. I tell you, don’t give up. I live in constant hope, for I am a follower of Jesus Christ, and I have no other choice but to live in hope.

Yesterday, I was doing some research on the great theological website known as Facebook. You can find all the answers to all your problems right there. It’s amazing how many experts there are in the world, and they are all in one place, Facebook. Who knew?

I digress.

I was reading a post about the July 4th celebration in the town where we live, and how wonderful it was that the community came together. There was a comment about how bad things are in the world and how this person did not feel like celebrating much. I get it. But I responded that we cannot give up hope. We need to celebrate what is good, and there is still good in America and the world. It does not always make headlines, but there is good news.

But Church our work has not changed and will not change.

Our work is to:

Do Justice

Love Kindness

Walk humbly with God

… And it’s more important than ever.

Amen.

In May of 2021, Nicky and I were touring through Hull for the Annual Stem to Stern Yard Sale. We are collectors and sometimes sellers of vintage and antique items, and we thought a town-wide yard sale was an excellent opportunity to stock up on some of our favorites. We stopped in front of this little white Church in the Village to check the map for our next location, and I remember thinking, this is Methodist appointment season; I wonder if the Church is available.

That past March, I completed an interim pastorate in Beverly, and I decided to take some time away from the pulpit to reflect on the future. I started there on March 15, 2020, which, if you recall your history, was the first Sunday we were not allowed to gather for worship. We would spend the next year ministering to that congregation via this new-fangled thing called Zoom. We had only met the congregation once, and apart from one or two parking lot services that summer, everything was either virtual or pre-recorded. Needless to say, it took a lot out of us.

Later that same day in May, I sent a couple of emails to a few minister friends in the UMC, asking what one would need to do to be appointed. It all begins, they told me, with a letter to the District Superintendent. So, I fired off an email, and before long, I was sitting in Gould Hall meeting some of the folx from what was going to become my new congregation. That was August of 2021.

As I mentioned, I arrived at a time of extreme burnout from COVID-19 ministry. While I was at the Church in Beverly, I was also called to active duty with the Army to support the COVID mission here in Massachusetts. I would spend most of April and May 2020 traveling to Boston, the Holyoke Soldiers Home, the Tewksbury State Hospital, as well as other sites around the Commonwealth, supporting our soldiers and airmen as best as we could. Sometimes, we would hold four services on Sunday, and I would also pre-record my regular church service. O, and we had a newborn who joined our family in April 2020!

I became your pastor at a time of great upheaval in my life. I was unsure if I wanted to be a pastor anymore, but I felt God calling me to this place, a beacon of hope in the Village. I was unsure of myself and uncertain about the Methodist way of doing things, but you took me in and gave me a home.

Our time together began as most pastorates began rocky. I was trying to get to know you, and you were trying to get to know me. I have learned, through nearly 21 years of experience, that you cannot have many, if any, expectations of a congregation, and this was especially true after the COVID pandemic. The Church rebuilt itself during the COVID-19 pandemic, which I think is a good thing. We realized we did not need buildings and all the trappings of the institutional Church to minister to people in need. We became nimble, we thought quickly on our feet, and we adapted to all sorts of things. We figured it all out with very little support from anyone higher up in the food chain.

However, ministry is now different, and we must once again learn to adapt.

On my first Sunday here, I did not preach. Because your previous minister had abruptly left, you had to adapt and think on your feet. You established a Rota of lay folk who would preach, and on that first Sunday in August of 2021, someone else was scheduled. That Sunday, I provided for you what only an ordained minister of Word and Sacrament can provide; I stood behind that small table, I asked the Holy Spirit to bless the bread and the cup, and I offered the spiritual food that we all need. We brought our broken and weary bodies to this table laid out before us, and here, we found rest.

I recall how I trembled, as I do each time I take those sacred elements in my hands and raise them before you and proclaim, “the gifts of God for the people of God. Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your hearts with faith and with love.”

To me, this is no mere reenactment or symbol; this is the body of Christ. We ask the Holy Spirit to come and change not only these elements but us. We invite Jesus into our lives and ask that he change our hearts of stone to hearts of flesh. We come forward willingly and take and eat. We do not do this because we are worthy or as some reward for being good. No, we come because we are broken; we are bone weary from everything the world throws at us, and we come to find rest and nourishment. My friends, this is no mere symbol; this is life.

As many of you are aware, I was not ordained into the Methodist tradition; instead, I was ordained in the Eastern Orthodox Tradition. One of the reasons I walked away from the Church that called me to ordained ministry was because communion was not available to everyone. You had to belong to the club, you had to have your membership card, and you had to perform certain rituals to be found worthy to take and eat. But one day, while meditating on this idea of communion, I recalled the events of the Last Supper. You know the story. They were all gathered in that Upper Room, all conveniently sitting on one side of the table so DaVinci could capture the moment on canvas. But there were all there, all but one; John would abandon him when he needed them the most. Peter was there, the one who would deny him not once but three times. And Judas, poor Judas, he was right there, sitting with the rest. And this is what did it for me: Jesus, knowing what Judas was going to do, looked him in the eyes and said, ‘Take, this is my body given for you.’ Jesus provided communion, the bread of life, to the very man who was about to betray him. If Jesus can do that, who are we to tell anyone they cannot come?

All of you here today are welcome to join us at this table, whether you are saint or sinner. Those who are certain and those who are not. Those with questions and those with answers. My friends, Jesus does not judge you, and neither do I. And if you cannot come, let one of the ushers know, and I will bring it to you. This table is open to all.

My preaching ministry began that next Sunday, and I preached about love. Well, I guess I have preached about love in every sermon, but that Sunday, I recall preaching about love. In my mind, love is central to the message of the Gospel; love is the Gospel. Love is the only thing that matters because if we do not love, as Paul tells us today in his letter to the Galatians if we do not “love our neighbor as ourselves, the rest of this is worthless.

So, let’s get into it.

Paul says For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Now, as brilliant as Paul was, he did not come up on this by himself. Jesus started it all when He said, ‘I am the fulfillment of all the law and the prophets.’ He also said A new commandment I give to you: love God and Love your neighbor.

And your neighbor is everyone: your white neighbor, your black neighbor, your brown neighbor, your Hispanic neighbor, your Asian neighbor, your old neighbor,  your young neighbor, your neighbor who washes his car during a water ban, your neighbor who puts his little green back in your trash bin, your neighbor who does not use the little green bag but instead leaves a present for you, well on second thought, maybe not that neighbor. No, that one too. Your neighbor who aggravates you, as well as your neighbor who brings you chicken soup when you are not feeling well. Your neighbor who loves differently than you, your neighbor whose legal status or citizenship may not be what it is supposed to be, and yes, even your neighbor who votes against everything you believe in, those are the very people we are commanded to love.

However, the good news is that we do not have to like them. We do not have to agree with them on anything. Our blood can still boil when we see them, but we have to love them why because God loves them just like God loves you. God forgives them just like God forgives you. God accepts them just like God accepts you. My friends, we have no choice; we are commanded to do this.

If I can get a little political for a moment, I know it is very uncharacteristic of me to get political. It is my last Sunday, and they say you can do anything on your last Sunday.

Anyway, I think it is safe to say we have some rather significant issues in our Church, our country, and our world, and one of those, one of the biggest of those, is the lack of love. We no longer just disagree; we hate. We no longer just disagree with another person; we hate the person. I know it is difficult to love someone who stands in direct opposition to everything you hold dear, but we cannot hope ever to begin to heal the wounds of our nation and our world, and I am talking to everyone here because we did not get here alone. We cannot begin to heal the wounds that need healing until we can look each other in the eye, vehemently disagree with one another, yet still see the divine spark in the other.

In the Book of Genesis, we read about the creation of the world. The Creator created everything by speaking it into existence. Separated day from night, divided the dry land from water, created the birds of the air, the fish in the sea, and everything with just a word. But, when it came to humanity, the Creator got their hands dirty.

Genesis tells us that the Creator took the dust of the earth and formed humanity with the very hands of creation. And the Creator animated this new creation with the very breath of creation. God breathed God’s breath into creation. God filled us with Ruah, the very essence of the Creator, and this is what we call our soul —the very essence of our being. The very essence of our being was breathed into us, and we come alive when we take our first breath. Every human being was and is created in the same way; we all have the Ruah of God, the breath of God, the divine inherent in each of us. I know it’s hard to see sometimes, but it’s there.

If there is but one thing you take from me over the last few years, it is that love is the only answer to what is wrong in the world—the love of God for each of us and the love that we show to others. Again, we don’t have to like or agree, but we do have to love.

Love is central to the Gospel, and love is the only thing that will heal the wounds of this broken world.

Amen.

We are coming close to the end of the Easter Season. This past Thursday, the Church celebrated the day Jesus ascended to Heaven, and next week is the great feast of Pentecost. But this week, we are in this liminal space, the space in between, and John gives us the High Priestly Prayer of Jesus and his desire that all of us may be one.

Being one is essential, but does being one, united in a single thought or purpose, mean we cannot be individuals?  I don’t think so, and I don’t believe Jesus thought so either.

Last week, I talked about the spectrum of belief and practice amongst the 12 Apostles. Matthew, the Tax Collector and representative of the Roman government stood in direct opposition to everything that Simon the Zealot represented. Then there was Judas, who I believe was a pawn and did what he had to do to fulfill the mission. And Ole Peter, the denier. And who can forget our friend Thomas?

All of them were specifically chosen because they were not perfect. Listen, if you think your minister, bishop, rabbi, or other religious leader is going to be perfect, I have news for you. Ordination does change some things, but it does not alter the fact that we are human and, like the rest of you, we will make mistakes and disappoint people. I say this to you as much as to myself: stop looking for perfection from the clergy.

Although they were all Jewish and came from a similar general area, there were as many opinions on various matters as there were people, and that remains the case. Unity does not mean uniformity. Psalm 133 says in part, “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!” It’s certainly nice when we can all agree, but sometimes, a minor disagreement can lead to essential changes.

Today is the 7th Sunday after Easter, but it is also the Commemoration of the Bishops who gathered 1700 years ago in a small town called Nicaea. Nicaea is located in what is now Turkey and was the site where approximately 318 bishops gathered from May to July 325 CE to address a heresy that was emerging within the Church.

 This was not the first time a council had been called. In Acts, we see James, the Bishop of Jerusalem, calling the others together to discuss an issue that had arisen between Peter and Paul. But this was the first time that almost all the bishops of the world gathered in one place. It is called the 1st Ecumenical Council, not because people of different faiths were present, but because they were all present.

The issue at hand was the nature and divinity of Jesus. Until this Council met, there was no established doctrine or single belief about much of anything other than that Jesus was born; he did certain things: he was crucified, died, rose again, ascended to Heaven, and sent the Holy Spirit. There was agreement because there had been eyewitness testimony. But the nature and divinity of Jesus?  How do we figure that out?

Without going into too much detail, the issue arose over Jesus’ divinity and his relationship to God. Was Jesus a created being? Was Jesus divine from birth, or did his divinity attach itself to him at some point? What is the nature and essence of Jesus about God? Although a decision and doctrine were made at the Council, I am not sure there is agreement on any of these questions even today.

At this time, there were two schools of thought, one in Alexandria and one led by a bloke called Aruis who, you have heard me mention before, was punched in the face by our very own Saint Nicholas.

Anyway, the Alexandrian school stated that Jesus was not created. Jesus was with God since the beginning. They point toward Genesis and God, saying, “Let us make them in our image.” Although Jesus was born a human, He was also divine from the beginning, and there was no time when Jesus was not. This is where the Trinitarian nature of the Church came about. Although God, the creator, was a separate entity, the essence was shared in equal parts with God the Redeemer, Jesus, and God the Sustainer, the Holy Spirit.

Okay, you all have the same look on your faces that I had when we discussed this over and over in seminary, so I will quickly move to Aruis, who believed none of it. Jesus was created at birth. His divinity was attached to him at his baptism. Etc.

I have been in church council meetings when there has been a knockdown, drag-out fight over the color of tablecloths for a church banquet; I cannot imagine what this must have been like. But they debated, discussed, fought, I am sure they laughed and cried, and, in the end, they had a statement, and part of the Church had been excommunicated and branded heretics so much for being one.

What came out of this Council is a creed, or the first part of a creed anyway. The creed lays out fundamental beliefs; these are the things we agree with. We don’t have to understand them fully, but we can all agree that this is a good starting point.

But what the creed hoped to do was to bring people together, which it did, but, at the same time, it divided people. Previously, people were doing their own thing. Churches had been founded all over the place, from Jerusalem to southern Africa, to India, and as far-flung as what we now call England.

The Church was local, governed locally by its bishop, who was usually, but not always, one of its members. The point is the Church existed at the regional level. Sure, there was a Bishop of Rome and a Patriarch in Constantinople and other places, but their jurisdiction did not extend beyond the boundaries of their cities.

The basics were present, but worship looked very different. The Church often adopted the local culture, incorporating the dress and heritage of the place where it existed. Many of the “saints” we have today were borrowed from the culture of the time and place. One example of this is Brigit, who was and is a significant influence on Celtic culture. There is a belief that Bridgit was one of the gods that the Church adopted, Christianized, if you will, to make the Church more palatable to the locals. Do not destroy the culture; adapt to it.

For me, there are certain fundamental beliefs one must have if one is going to call oneself a Christian. That makes us one. But at the same time, there are many, many ways to express that oneness and live it out. The greatest challenge for the Church is to make this 1700-year-old document relevant for today. Belief is not stagnant; it is organic and must adapt to the times. Belief might not change, but the language we use to express that belief does need to change.

I have often spoken of my Chaplaincy work. For me, Chaplaincy is the best expression of this idea of unity but not uniformity. The greatest gift Chaplaincy has given me is getting to work with people of different expressions of faith. I don’t just mean different expressions of Christian faith for which there are legions, but working with Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and those who have no faith or a faith so radically different from mine. I have learned a great deal from these dedicated men and women.

One of the duties of a military chaplain is to occasionally advocate with command of what we call religious accommodation. This might involve ensuring that there are kosher or halal meals available. I once had to advocate for a soldier who identified as a Norse Pagan, and he wanted permission to wear a gold bracelet, the symbol of his faith. Army regulations specify that when wearing a camouflage uniform, nothing shiny can be part of it: no gold rings or other jewelry.

My job was to sit with this soldier and not judge his faith but to get a sense of the seriousness of his faith and then write a letter that would eventually end up on the desk of the Secretary of the Army for a determination. I never thought I would be sitting with someone who identified as a Norse Pagan, but I learned a great deal from him, and we discovered that we shared many commonalities. We used different terms to describe things, but we found common ground. I did not judge him, and he did not judge me.

Several years ago, a scandal came about because a Roman Catholic deacon baptized someone in the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. The “rules” say that baptisms are to be in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It was revealed that this deacon had committed this act not once but on numerous occasions, and it now invalidated all those baptisms. I’m all about the rules, but…

John, in the Gospel we heard today, relates Jesus’ prayer that just as he and God are one, we are one with each other. Although they share the same essence, Jesus and God are different. Just as you and I share the same belief, we express that belief differently. Even within denominations, there are other expressions of faith. Our worship service looks different than the worship service in Scituate, but the essence is the same.

Do we always have to agree? No. Martin Luther did not disagree with any part of the Church’s belief, nor did Zwingli, Calvin, or any of the other reformers. John Wesley agreed with the theology and doctrine of the Anglican Church; he just expressed that belief differently.

The Council that met in Nicaea provided us with a roadmap, a starting point for discussion. Unfortunately, it has become a litmus test for who is and who is not part of the club. So fine does this become that entire churches excommunicated the other over three words, “and the Son.” This is ridiculous.

As a Chaplain, I am part of a group of very diverse religious individuals who work together to further the mission. We share the essence of ministry with one another and serve a diverse population, but we are also individuals who practice our faith differently; for the most part, we respect those differences. My faith works for me, but that does not mean it will work for you.

Jesus prayed, “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

Jesus prayed that the world would know that God loves them, and that is my prayer, and that is my ministry.

Amen.