Full Moon Rituals

Not a Great Photo of the Soon to be Full Moon

I sent this email to my Hospice Team This Morning

Driving home last night, the moon was amazing. Several of us shared pictures on the Tiger Text and some comments about just how amazing it was. Not only was the moon almost full, the actual full moon is tonight, but we are also in a period of a lunar eclipse.

In preparation for our Memorial Service next month, I have been thinking about rituals and how vital ritual is in our lives. Ritual helps with grief and bereavement and set us on the path towards the new normal. I know we don’t like to think about it, but the work we do does cause each of us some grief with each loss. We feel some of those losses more than others.

Many rituals surround the time of the full moon. For example, if you have and use crystals, the light from the full moon will recharge the crystals. Another ritual is the making of Moon Water. Fill a jar with water and place it in the light of the moon. The energy from the moon is caught in water particles, and when you drink the water, the energy is released. Finally, the full moon is a great time to meditate and just listen to the world around you.

But for me, the most beneficial full moon ritual is cleansing or getting rid of those things that do not serve us any longer. This can be a physical activity around the house, but more importantly, it is spiritual. Give some thought to the memories and other things like self-doubt, anger, and all the rest. Write them on a piece of paper and when you are ready, burn it and let them go. Of course, you can do this at any time, but tapping into the full moon’s energy helps in the process.

The last point is about self-care. Practicing good self-care is what allows us to do the sacred work we do, so here are a few principles to get us started:

1. Trust what comes or goes (we don’t always see the big picture)
2. Be patient
3. Embrace change (and there has been a lot of change)
4. Stay hydrated
5. Recognize soul growth
6. Follow the signs

Friends, it is as honor to be doing this work with you. Take care of yourselves this day and every day.

Blessings and Peace,

Sermon: Praise the Holy One

Mark 13:1-8

It started as a beautiful summer day. It was June 1, 2011, and I was on my way home from speaking to a group about my work as a trauma chaplain. I told stories of my time in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina and my time at Virginia Tech following the mass shooting there. I was serving a Parish in the Central part of Massachusetts and serving as Interim Chief Fire Officer. Driving back to the station, an announcement was made over the radio that a storm cell was approaching the area. This was not an uncommon announcement this time of year. However, something about the tone of voice being used by the dispatcher made me think this was serious.

I returned to the Fire House, and the TV was on. A tornado had touched down in Worcester and was headed east. As we watched the path of destruction on TV, the fire radio began to tell the story of destruction in real-time as each affected town came on the radio. Buildings were down, people were trapped, and fire and police crews were out on the rescue.

As the tornado came closer, we sounded the general alarm to bring firefighters and EMTs to the station. We watched in eager anticipation as the storm came closer and closer. It missed the town where the fire station was but hit the town where I was living. The fire company was dispatched to that town, and I raced home, lights and siren wailing to check on things.

Not far from my home was a scene of destruction that I had only ever witnessed on TV. One house was completely gone; the only tell-tale sign that something had been there was the foundation. Another place was shifted entirely off its foundation and close to collapse. It was hard to take in. The very ground beneath my feet and all those things around me that I thought would last forever were gone in the blink of an eye.

In today’s Gospel from Mark, Jesus is coming out of Temple with his disciples. As they walk out, Jesus turns and causally makes the comment that all of this will be thrown down and destroyed. In their dismay, they cannot fathom how this would even be possible. Later in the day, several of the Apostles corner Jesus and ask for an explanation which, as Jesus usually does, is not forthcoming.

Jesus then speaks of watching out for those that will come after him but will deceive the followers. How many times have we heard of the end of the world? Not a year goes by that one so-called religious group or another begins to predict the end of the world. It usually involves sending them large sums of money, which I have never been able to figure out since the world is coming to an end but send them all your money.

There are often tales told after major weather incidents that God had sent the, insert storm here to wreck, insert name of place here, because of, insert sin here. It usually involves liberals, gays, or other such groups that the fine well washed Christians find distasteful this week. But, of course, there is never an explanation of why, when their godsends this destruction good people get killed as well, but it happens, and they fluff it off. But here is Jesus, 2,000 years before these events warning about people just like this.

In my way of thinking, there is also a very unhealthy obsession by some with the end of times. They try and read the signs, not just storms but other things, and usually try and find the answer in the Book of Revelation. I recall a time; I believe it was in the 1970s when red tide hit the clam flats pretty bad; all manner of religious folk were talking about the end of the world and the sure and certain signs that Jesus was coming back.  Well, we are still here.

Jesus speaks of this to those gathered with him, and he tells them not to worry about what is or is not coming but to be conscious of the present and the work that needs to be done now.

When John the Baptist makes his appearance, he is telling people to repent for the Kingdom of God is at hand. Not on some far-off cloud, but right here in the present age. Being a Christian is less about how to get into heaven than it is about creating God’s Kingdom right here on earth.

Now, let me clarify a point here: I am not speaking in a governmental way when I mention Kingdom. This idea that we have to create some sort of Christian nation is poppycock. Nowhere in Scripture that I can find anyway says that we have to make a Christian nation except in your own heart. Scripture is clear that we have to love and care for each other, but we do that from our hearts, not the seat of power in some national capitol.

Jesus tells us to be wary of those who come in his name and make claims, “Many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I am he,’ and will deceive many.” (v 6). We have seen it time and time again. How many of you remember Jim Jones, David Koresh, and all the rest of them? Sure, they might start with good intentions, but it always goes horribly wrong. So be very wary of people who claim to be sent from God or who others claim have been sent by God if their message does not square with the Gospel.

We have to keep a close eye out for these folks. They come as wolves in sheep’s clothing. They come saying all of the right things but do not have a love of Jesus in their hearts, and that is how we can discern their message.

I am often criticized as being judgmental when I point out that so-called religious leaders such as Pat Robertson, Jim Bakker, Oral Roberts, Jimmy Swaggart, Jerry Falwell, Jr., Joel Olsteen, Paula White, and Franklin Graham preach their Gospel of exclusion. Yet, at the same time, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is clearly a Gospel of Inclusion. Very often, these well-meaning folks will quote me the passage about not judging to avoid being judged. Well, I say, go ahead and judge me, and I believe you will find I have more in common with the dark-skinned carpenter from Nazareth than any of these so-called prophets of our time.

There is one guiding principle for me, and that is love. Jesus said we must, not should but must love each other. He gave us a new commandment, not a new suggestion, and it came without qualification. Nowhere does Jesus say to love everyone and help everyone if they can pass a drug test if they are here legally, if they have the same skin color as you, if they believe the same as you if they love the same as you. No, Jesus simply says, love everyone, feed everyone, clothe everyone and dare I say he says get the dam vaccine to protect everyone!

So, I measure these bible quoting folks against the message of love. Does their message include or exclude? Does this legislation aim to include the most or exclude the most? Does this policy help the most or exclude the most? Does this program feed, clothe, and house those that need it without exception, or is it geared toward a certain few? Jesus tells us that they will know if we are his followers by how we love each other.

Friends, if there is one thing that this pandemic has taught us, we do not need fancy buildings to be Church; in fact, sometimes they can hinder us from being Church. We are Church whether we meet here in our beautiful building, on a beach, or online. We are Church when we are doing God’s work of loving and caring for people. The love of God is for all, not just for a select few, and that all include you, and it includes me.

By the way, that Temple was destroyed in the year 70.

Let us resolve this day to love more, care more, and work to bring about God’s Kingdom here on earth not by fear of judgment but by love.

Amen.

Sermon: Risk and Restoration

Mark 12:38-44
All Saints Sunday

Traditionally, the month of November is the month set aside for remembrance. We begin with the remembrance of those who have gone before us, so November is often called the month of the dead. This tradition stretches back to the pre-Christian era. November is the month when the days begin to get shorter, and the darkness stays around longer. Well, it did until the arrogance of humanity decided it could control time by setting the clocks forward and back.

I am a student of Reformation theology, and there is much to be appreciated in the theological understanding of the Reformers of our faith. But there is much I disagree with, and chief among them is removing the celebration of the seasons from the Liturgical calendar. Now I don’t mean spring and summer and whatnot; no, I mean the Liturgical Seasons that coincide with the actual calendar.

November is the time that the earth begins the cycle of transformation. In our area of the world, the leaves have started to change their color, signifying their death. The harvest is complete or will soon be finished, and the earth will begin its long winter slumber. We can take our cues from what the earth does, and so November becomes the month to celebrate death, much like April becomes the month to celebrate life.

We have just finished what is known as All Hallows Tide. This coincides with the feast of Samhain, the pagan/Christian festival of remembering the dead. The season begins with All Hallows Eve on October 31st. We call this Halloween, which is a very American thing, by the way, but it was the beginning of the season of remembrance.

Following All Hallows Eve comes All Saints Day. On this day, all the saints, those declared by the Church and those not so declared, are remembered. The last of the three days is All Souls Day, when all the faithful departed are commemorated. In our reformed calendar, we combine All Saints and All Souls into one day of commemoration and then move it away from the traditional time of celebration. Keeping with the rhythm of the seasons is essential.

The reason All Hallows Tide falls when it does is that the veil that separates this world from the next becomes very thin this time of year, and by remembering those gone before us, they hear us and know we have not forgotten them. Speak their name into the wind, so they know they are remembered.

I do not believe that heaven is some far-off place where everyone sits around on clouds playing the harp. For me, heaven is another dimension of this world where our energy or our soul goes after our physical body dies. That other dimension is right here with us, and that is what sometimes, we have the feeling that our loved ones are with us.

There is a story that I might have already told about cleaning out my parents’ house after my father died. We had a shop in the basement of their house. It began as my father’s shop, where he would tinker with this and that and where he would create. Then, as he got older and could not easily go up and down stairs, I inherited his shop.

After he died, my task was to pack up the shop and move it to my house. There were a lot of memories in that shop, lots of hours spent learning from my father, and part of him was in every tool. There was this one day; I was at the house by myself in the shop. I was packing things up, and I was growing concerned that I would not have space for everything. I suddenly felt this presence there with me as if a hand was on my shoulder. It was not frightening, just the opposite; in fact, it brought me some peace. I know it was my father, and I know he was there to show me the way and tell me that it would be okay. And you know what, it is okay.

Just as an aside, I had a similar experience not long ago in my shop. I was cleaning up and was about to throw away an old nail. I felt that same presence as if to say, that nail is still good!  So now I have a jar on a shelf in my shop with a label that says “dad’s jar,” and that is where I put all those nails.

Those who have gone before us can move from one dimension to the next because they are pure energy, while we mortals can only stay here bogged down by our physical bodies and our misunderstanding of what it is all about. But this time of year, the veil that separates the two-dimension becomes thin, almost transparent, and we exist together.

Now, lest you think I am a heretic. I believe that when we die and convert to energy, we do come into the presence of our creator and that our energy and the energy of all those who have gone before us are together. I also believe that we recognize each other and can hang out with each other.

I have no struggle with that image; the image I struggle with is that of the other place we are said to go after we die. I struggle with this because of my image of God as pure love, and if God loves all of God’s creation, how would God allow creation to suffer? Death frees us from the suffering of this world and of this body. It is not God who causes suffering; it is us, humanity, that causes suffering.

Humanity causes suffering in the way we interact with each other and with the environment. At the time of creation, humanity was given stewardship of creation by God, and I think we have done a lousy job of it. But, unfortunately, this is the only place we have to live, and we need to start caring for it.

But of equal importance is how we care for each other. I have said it before, and I will repeat it, we are all created in God’s image and likeness. At the moment of creation, God created humanity with God’s own hands out of the dust of creation. Of all of the things that were made, it was only humanity that God used Gods own hands to create.

God spoke and said, let us create them in our image. This was the only time in the creation story that God did this. After God created humanity from the dust, God breathed his very breath into the nostrils of humanity. Thus, humanity is the living and breathing image of the creator of all that we see.

Humanity got it wrong, so God sent Jesus, who was with God at the moment of creation, to show humanity the new way, a new way of interacting with each other, and love and care for each other. We are responsible for ensuring that no one goes hungry and that no one goes unloved in this world. The Kingdom of God is not some far-off place that we hope to achieve someday; the Kingdom of God is right here in the present time.

Yes, we must remember those gone before us and continue to tell their stories so they remain alive in our hearts. But we also must care for those still here all of humanity and not just the ones that look like us, talk like us, believe like us, love like us, and all the rest.

Let us resolve on this day to care for each other just a little more than we do now, and in so doing, we can make this world a better place.

Amen.

Shepherd of Souls: When the Darkness Came

This essay originally appeared in the Hull Times on Thursday, November 4, 2021

The weather forecast told of a storm coming, and I thought I should get ready. Some things in the backyard needed to be put away and a few odds and ends to care for before the storm arrived. Well, I did none of them. I was usually over-prepared for storms, and this time I did nothing to get ready. 

When I woke from my slumber, the lights were out, and it was cold in the house. My first thought was that I was glad this was not February, or it would have been much colder. Then I set about finding the flashlight and the candles, all the things I should have done the night before when the lights were still on. Thankfully, the stove is gas so that we would have coffee, albeit instant.

The cloud of darkness began to lift as the rays of the sun began to come through the window. The light brings an understanding of what is around, and those sun rays bring some warmth with them. But not far away, darkness was there lurking, in places where the sun had not yet reached.

It is a strange feeling when what is familiar is gone. We take electricity and many other conveniences for granted. I mean, why not? We flip the switch, and the lights come on. We turn on the faucet, and the water comes out.  We do not have to think about it or take care of it other than paying the bill, and it is always there. But without its light and warmth that electricity produces, the familiar quickly becomes unfamiliar. Life becomes a little more complicated as we stumble around in the darkness looking for this and that.

At times like these, I am incredibly grateful for the men and women who take care to ensure that the power comes back on. I know it can be frustrating, and we do not always understand why, but eventually, the lights do come back on. As much as we would like our lights to come back on when the wind is howling, it is not safe to be up on a pole.

Most of these folks come from out of town and have had to leave their families behind to come here and help us out. They work under the worst conditions of wind and rain, two things that don’t always mix well with electricity. But regardless of the danger and the working conditions, they come. They come because people need help.

It is at times like these when we can witness the best in people. Neighbors are helping neighbors and strangers helping a stranger. Although people are on edge and tempers can flare, we do rise to the challenge when needed. 

It is at times like these that I am filled with hope. I am hopeful that, as a country we can come together again and help each other out.  And not only when the power goes out.

Sermon: Take Heart

Mark 10:46-52

The other night I woke from a deep sleep. I lay there for a few moments as my eyes adjusted to the darkness that was all around me. Then, finally, I arose from my slumber and started across the room. While in motion, one of my toes found an immovable object to bang into. Like Bartimaeus in today’s Gospel reading from Mark, I cried out to the Lord in my agony. Although I am not quite sure it was for the same reason.

The main difference between Bartimaeus and myself is that I had my sight obscured by the lack of light in the room where Bartimaeus had no sight.

For the last few weeks, we have been slowly working through the Gospel of Mark and following Jesus along his road toward his eventual death in Jerusalem. Along the way, Jesus has been teaching his disciples life lessons and interacting with crowds. Last week there was the discussion of who would be first, and the week before was a discussion about what keeps us from following Jesus. Today, we come to a full-on view of spirituality.

Jesus encounters many people in the Gospels; some are named, and many are not. Some are healed of various things, and some he speaks too. Some of those that Jesus encounters are told not to tell anyone what has happened, while others, like our chap today, say nothing other than the assurance that his faith has healed him.

Stories of Jesus healing people are not uncommon in Scripture. For some, they are healed by touch, by a mixture of clay, by another action of Jesus, by the words of Jesus, or as in today’s story, the individual’s faith. But, most of the time, the healing is not the actual center of the story, and if we spend too much time focusing on the miracle, we can miss the message.

Another interesting fact is, very often, the subject of the story is not named. We do not know the young man’s name who came to Jesus a few weeks ago with all the stuff. In our Bible study last week, we read the story of Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well and, although we know her name from tradition, Scripture does not tell us her name. There are many other such encounters with unnamed people, but this week, we learn the man’s name, Bartimaeus, literally the Son of Timaeus.

Jesus and his disciples were leaving the city of Jericho. On their way out, they come across a blind man begging on by the city gate. This is not an unusual occurrence as those who needed to beg would often stand or sit by the city entrance. But as they passed by, a blind man called out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Bartimaeus had heard it was Jesus coming, and he had heard about what Jesus had been doing, so he saw his chance and cried out. Those around him tried to silence him because he was causing a disturbance. There is a delicate balance that takes place between the authorities and beggars. As long as they do not get in the way or cause a disruption, they can stay. Bartimaeus was putting that balance at risk, so they tried to silence him. But this just made him shout louder.

Let’s pause here for a little look at the language being used. The Gospels were written in Greek, so there is a loss of the subtly of language in a translation. The Greek word tupholos relates primarily to idolatry, oppression, and willfulness. The term used for “seeing” is anablepo, which generally is associated with a return to covenant fidelity. So, there is more going on here than just the wish of a beggar to see.

The other crucial linguistic use is the name of the man himself, Bartimaeus. As I have already mentioned, Bartimaeus means son of Timaeus, but it is a strange Semitic-Greek hybrid. Some scholars believe that he is an actual person. In contrast, other scholars see a special significance of the story in the symbolic reference to Plato’s Timaeus, who delivers Plato’s most important cosmological and theological treatise, involving sight as the foundation of knowledge.

The healing of Bartimaeus is the last of the healing stories in Mark, and it is significant in that it points to the continued blindness of the disciples as to who Jesus is.

Bartimaeus calls out to Jesus not only by name but by title, “Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me.” Thus, Bartimaeus does what Jesus’ disciples have failed to do, recognize Jesus for who he is. The Son of God. According to the usage in Mark, this is the first public proclamation of who Jesus is.

But wait, there is more.

When Jesus calls Bartimaeus to him, the man stands, throws “his cloak aside, he jumped to his feet and came to Jesus.” As we have seen in previous Scripture passages, the man divests himself of his worldly possessions to follow Jesus. Bartimaeus literally throws off his old self for the new one that he will obtain in the Kingdom.

In his book, What the Story of Blind Bartimaeus Teaches Us About Fear, Surrender and Walking the Path to Joy, Roc O’Connor notes, “Seeing means following Jesus’ way; it signifies salvation, which involves losing one’s life, surrendering one’s possessiveness, letting go one’s demand to rule, and walking with Jesus to the cross…and receiving the healing of his resurrection.” O’Connor continues, “[b]lindness serves here as a metaphor for the all-too-human unwillingness to recognize whatever wounds, hurts, and dis-eases keep us from recognizing God, ourselves, and others.”

In one way or another, we are all blind. We have blind spots toward other people in the hope that one day, they will change. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they do not. We are blind to the suffering of others. Sometimes that blindness is caused by fear, and sometimes it is caused by our biases and prejudices. Sometimes we are blind to others when their rights are slowly being taken away, or they never had those rights in the first place. We are blind to them because their situation does not directly affect us, and therefore, we do not get involved. We all need healing from our blindness.

On the surface of today’s story, Bartimaeus was healed of a physical ailment. But when we drill down just past the surface, we find the remedy to curing our spiritual blindness. A recognition that we are blind and a recognition that Jesus is the Son of God. Bartimaeus cast off his cloak and followed the call of Jesus; what cloak do we have to cast off to be authentic followers of Jesus Christ? What is keeping us blind to the fact that we all need healing, the healing that can come only from God?

We are all Bartimaeus. Cast off your cloak and follow Jesus.

Amen

Sermon: Great Service

Mark 10:35-45

There is an old story of a man who is driving home from work when suddenly, his car is struck by lightning. As one would imagine, the man was quite shaken by this. The fire department and paramedics came and checked him out, and he was fine. Remarkably, the car was also fine, and he was able to drive home. Upon arriving at his home, he told his teenaged son all about what had happened. His son replied, “dad, we should go buy a lottery ticket. They say the chances of being struck by lightening are the same as winning the lottery.”

In today’s Gospel from Mark, we find a similarly self-absorbed James and John, the sons of Zebedee, when they come to Jesus and say: “Teacher,” they said, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.” “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”

This request of the brothers comes right after Jesus teaches them, for the third time, about his coming passion and death. It is almost as if they were not listening at all. But this encounter is yet another in a line of Jesus teaching about the closeness of the kingdom of God and his Apostles not understanding what he is trying to say.

Jesus has given them a new understanding of marriage and divorce, yet they do not understand. He taught them about the priorities in the Kingdom of God with the story of a man with many possessions, yet they did not grasp that meaning. And now we have the brothers coming and asking for this “favor.”

Scripture tells of Jesus going off on his own to pray, especially after a particularly trying period of his ministry. I think he went away, shaking his head to ask God if this is the crew he is supposed to be hanging with.

The gospel does not give us any insight into why the brothers come and ask Jesus for this favor, and it does not matter. It is all rather comical and somewhat insensitive. But what of the others? Scripture tells us they heard the request, and they became indignant at the brothers for asking. Jesus has just predicted his won death, and they are like yeah, that’s bad and all, but can you get us good seats?

This encounter between the brothers and Jesus appears in Matthew and Luke. Matthew seems a little uncomfortable with the brazenness of the brother, so Matthew has the mother of James and John ask Jesus for the good seats, and Luke does not name the brothers but writes that a dispute has arisen amongst the twelve over who would be the greatest.

We will truly never know of the discomfort of the Gospel writers with this story. We can either feel a sense of the comic and laugh or feel a sense of embarrassment for the brothers at their request. Part of our feelings about this story might come from the fact that, in some ways, we are all sons of Zebedee.

Of course, none of us would ever make outlandish, insensitive requests like the brothers have, but we do want the best seats in the house. We may not be as upfront about our desire, but many spend their entire lives looking for those privileged positions that put them ahead of others. We want the job with the fancy title, the flashy car, the big house. We want a lot of things that we may never admit out loud.

So, are we really any different than the brothers? We might not make the brazen request, but we covet the best seats and the top position in our hearts. This is all part of the human condition, and as such, we try and explain it away. Theologically we might look at Genesis 3 and blame it all on the fall of humanity. An attempt can be made psychologically to justify our behavior with Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs or Erickson’s stages of development. If we really want to mess things up, we can site anything by Freud.

However, only when we face our own tendencies to be a son or daughter of Zebedee can we come to terms with our humanity and live the new life of discipleship.

Part of our Communion service is a confession and an absolution or a reminder of how we are all forgiven through Jesus. No one likes to recall the times when they have missed the mark, but confession is vital in our spiritual life and our psychological life. None of us are perfect, and we are all in need of God’s grace. But we fool ourselves when we think we have nothing to confess. If the act of confession makes us uncomfortable, great, that is precisely what it is supposed to do.

The great German Theologian and martyr Detrick Bonhoeffer spoke about what he called Cheap Grace. For Bonhoeffer, cheap grace is “the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline. Communion without confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.”

In contrast to cheap grace, Bonhoeffer spoke of costly grace, “costly grace confronts us as a gracious call to follow Jesus, it comes as a word of forgiveness to the broken spirit and the contrite heart. It is costly because it compels a man to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him; it is grace because Jesus says: ‘My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.'”

Part of being a disciple is being a servant to others. Transformation happens through being a servant. When the man with all of the stuff that we heard about last week asks about eternal life, Jesus says, “follow me.” Being a follower of Jesus is a life of servanthood that transforms us unto eternal life.

When John appeals to Jesus to ask him to stop the man from casting out demons in the name of Jesus, he responds by telling him not to stop the man. Following Jesus, even in ways that might seem odd to us, can lead to wholeness. Servanthood is a means to grace.

St. Frances was commemorated a few weeks ago, and today his words seem a fitting way to bring this to a close.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love, for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Sermon: What Must I Do?

Mark 10:17-31

It has been said that every journey begins with that first step. Very often, that step is a step into the unknown. But, it is a step into the future. Each time we decide to make a change or try something new, we take that step into the future. I believe that this last year and a half has taught us in the Church that each day can be a step into the unknown future, but we still have to take that step.

Today’s Gospel places us into a story of first steps.

A man comes to see Jesus. He is first identified as “a man,” but later on in the story, we find out he is wealthy. Luke calls him a “ruler,” and Matthew refers to him being “young.” In Christian tradition, he is often called “the rich young ruler.” But for Mark, he is just a man.

This man has “great possessions,” although we are not quite sure what those possessions are. But he comes to Jesus and asks what he must do to inherit “eternal life.” Jesus, as he often does in these situations, reframes the question from the future to the present. The answer that Jesus provides is not what he has to do to make sure he gets a seat in heaven; Jesus tells him that he must go, get rid of his stuff, and then follow him.

As Jesus often does, he shifts the focus of the question in terms of this idea that the Kingdom of God is not on some far-off cloud in the sky but rather, the Kingdom of God is right here, in the present and that this Kingdom of God is going to require a different set of rules and different behavior.

The disciples have been a witness to a very painful moment for this man. Jesus tells him that although he has followed the law, he still lacks one thing. Jesus says he must go and sell all that he has, give the money to the poor, and then he will be able to follow. Scripture tells us he goes away sorrowful for he had many possessions. Some translations use the word grieving rather than sorrowful, which is a better word choice.

One of the things that I find troubling is the lack of awareness that grief comes with any loss. Most of society believes that grief comes only with the death of one that we love, a human that we love. But this is not the case. Greif comes with any loss, be it human, pet, job, position, Church, friend, mobility, the Patriots losing….. Any loss can cause grief.

This man went away grieving, and tradition assumes he went away grieving because he had so much that he was unwilling to part with all he had. But what if there was another reason for his grief? What if he went away grieving because he had decided to sell all that he had and follow Jesus? This bold action would come with some level of emotion. This would have been a decisive step into the future that would result in the emotional letting go of all that he had and all of the relationships that come with that possession.

Letting go is difficult. I may have mentioned this before, but one of the hardest things I have had to do is clean out my parent’s house after my father died. My brothers and I had the duty of clearing out 65 years of possessions. Things that my parents had collected all during their lives. Each item held memories for me. This was the only home I had ever really lived in, and now it was gone.

It took weeks to decide what to throw away, what to donate, what to keep, and what to sell. Some items, more than others, cause immense pain in making those decisions. But in the end, we did it, and I walked out of that house for the last time. I had never seen that house empty before, and it was very different. The stuff of life holds remembrances for us, and they are difficult to part with.

One of my all-time favorite movies is the 1959 Fred Zinnerman classic the Nun Story starring Miss Audrey Hepburn. Hepburn is living in prewar Belgium and has a desire to become a nursing sister in the Congo. She has spent her entire life preparing and training for this moment. But, as part of her entrance into the religious order, she is joining, she must rid herself of all of her earthly possessions and, we find out later her memories.

At one point, a basket is passed. The nuns-to-be are supposed to place all of the items they may have left of their previous life in the basket. But, when it comes around to Hepburn, she pauses. She has a small gold pen that her father had given her, her last possessions, and her memories. She does not put it in the basket; she keeps it. Her grief at the thought of putting that pen in the basket is more than she can handle. So, it passes her by.

In the end, she leaves the convent. She finds that her memories and her pride keep getting in the way of her being able to be a good nun, as well as a good nurse.

We do not know what happens to the man from the Gospel story because we never hear of him again. All we know is he went away sorrowful and grieving because of the decision he would have to make.

Now, this story is not an indictment of rich people, far from it. Yes, Jesus says it will be harder for the rich to enter the kingdom of God, but again, Jesus does not have disdain for the rich. It’s not what we have the prevents us from truly following Jesus; it’s what we do with it. Are we maximizing our potential? Are we using all of our gifts to help others?

Each of us has been given gifts from God that we are to use in the Kingdom of God, which is not on some far-off cloud but right here in Hull, and Hingham, and Weymouth, and wherever else we might find ourselves. Part of our spiritual journey is identifying those gifts and using them to their fullest potential.

Holding back keeps us from being a follower of Jesus Christ but learning to let go and learning to share takes time, and it takes practice. But it all begins with that first step.

Amen.

Sermon: Do This

1 Corinthians 11:23-25
Luke 22:18-20
Mark 14:22-25

One of the positive things to have come out of this pandemic is the ability to participate in worship with people from all around the world. On any given Sunday, at almost any time of the day, there is a live worship service streamed on the internet. If you cannot watch it live, do not worry; you can watch it recorded.

I have participated in worship in small rural churches in Scotland and large cathedrals in Washington, DC. Although the words and the style of worship might be different, there is a connectedness that one feels. These worship services are a reminder that the Church is alive and well and that Christians continue to gather in small groups and large.

Today is World Communion Sunday. This is the day we remind ourselves of this connectedness that we have with the rest of the Christian world. It is easy to think that we are the only ones doing this, but people are gathering to worship right now, people have already gathered for worship, and people will continue to gather for worship. And as I said, the words may be different, and we may believe differently, but we are connected.

World Communion Sunday always seems like a good time to remind ourselves just what we do when we gather on the Sundays when the Sacrament of Communion is served, but we have already done that in my first few weeks here. So today, I want us to shift the focus from the table to what Jesus tells us to do.

“And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”

In the same way, after the supper, he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you” (Luke 19—20)

These words from Luke, along with the words from Mark and 1st Corinthians, are called the “words of institution.” These are the words said during the Service of Communion and spoken by Jesus during the Last Supper.

There have been volumes written about what it all means. Is it or is it not the actual body of Christ? Do the bread and wine transform into something else? Is it transubstantiation or consubstantiation? Is it simply a reenactment of an event that took place more than 2,000 years ago, or is it something more? These are all excellent questions that deserve exploration, but not today.

Today, my focus is on the words, “do this.” Jesus takes bread and says, “do this.” Jesus takes the cup and says, “do this.” What is the do this? Is Jesus asking us to “do this” as in do what I am doing here?  Yes, I believe so. But there is more that is being asked of us here with the words, “do this.”

We have spent the last few weeks talking a long, slow walk through the Letter of James. This was a troubling letter to many of reformers like Martin Luther. Remember, Luther believed that we were saved by faith alone. This belief was to counter the idea that we could earn our way into heaven by works that we performed or, even more profane, that we could buy our way in.

Luther and the others of his day wanted the Church to be reformed back to its simpler, more spiritual times, but the leadership of the Church did not see it that way. Luther, like John Wesley, had a very strong attachment and affinity for the Sacrament of Communion. Wesley taught his followers that they should partake in the Sacrament as often as it was offered, daily if possible. The belief is that this Sacrament is spiritual food to help us along the journey. And the journey is the “do this.”

The night before he is to die, Jesus has gathered his friends with him one last time. They have a meal together. They share some laughs. They probably talk about all that has gone on these last three years. Then the mood turns serious. Jesus takes some bread. He holds it in his sacred hands. He lifts it and asks God to bless it. He shows this bread to those at the table and tells them it is his body that is broken and shared for them and many. They are to do this in remembrance.

Then he takes the cup. He fills it with wine. He holds it up to heaven and asks God to bless it. He shows it to his friends and tells them that this is his blood, the blood of the new covenant, that will be shed for them and for many. They are to do this in remembrance.

In this simple offering of bread and wine, Jesus summarizes all that he has done and all that he has taught these last three years. We are if we are going to be followers of his to be a living sacrifice. We are to care for the poor, the hungry, the naked, the sick, the unemployed, the underemployed, those on the margins, those in prisons, those fleeing all sorts of unimaginable horrors. We are to care for and love everyone, without exception.

This “New Covenant” he mentions takes away the need for sacrifice as an atonement for our sins and shifts the focus from us to others. We are to do this, what Jesus has done share our lives with the world to make things better for others. The focus needs to shift from the “I” to the “We” as the covenant shifts in the same direction.

Jesus tells us, in his own words, that he is the fulfillment of all of the law and the prophets. Jesus gives us a new commandment to love God and love each other, and by this, others will know we follow him. The “Do this” Jesus was talking about is the Sacrament of Communion, but that Sacrament is worthless if the “do this” does not also mean the love of all.

In a few moments, we will gather around this table. I will say these words and ask the Holy Spirit to come upon us and upon the bread and cup set before us. I will pray that they and we become sanctified and holy so that we may continue this holy work that we have been called to.

“Do this,” all of it in remembrance of what Jesus taught and what Jesus did.

Amen

Sermon: Power of Prayer

James 5:13-20

On the Liturgical Calendar of the Orthodox Christian Church, today, September 26th is commemorated as the day that the Apostle and Evangelist John Died. John was the youngest of the Apostles and is the author of the Gospel that bears his name and three pastoral letters and the Book of Revelation.

From Church tradition, we know that John is the son of Salome the Myrrh bearer and Zebedee, a fisherman. He is also the brother of the Apostle James, who is believed to have written the letter that we heard the passage from today.

In his famous painting of the Last Supper, Leonardo Da Vinci painted John leaning on Jesus with his ear pressed against Jesus’ chest. Thus, John was listening to the heartbeat of Jesus, and as such, in our Trinitarian theology, John was listening to the very heartbeat of God.

The ancients, including our Christian forbearers, believed that the human heart is the very center of our being, our soul, if you will. The heart contains the very essence of who we are, and when the heart ceases to function, we cease. Thus, as John lay there, with his ear pressed against the chest of Jesus, he was listening to the very heart of creation.

Today’s scripture passage from the Letter of James is calling us, each of us, to a position of prayer in our daily lives. The passage begins with a series of questions. Are you in trouble? Are you happy? Are you sick? If you are any or all of these, pray. For some, James suggests calling the elders to come, and they will anoint you with oil and pray for you, and other times we are told to confess to one another, pray for one another, and we shall be healed.

But our prayers need to be more than a laundry list of things we need and people for whom we wish to pray. The intention of our prayer should be a conversation, and for conversation to happen, there needs to be a sender and a receiver. We are the sender, and God is the receiver. But prayer, like a conversation, flows in both directions; otherwise, it is not a conversation; it is a lecture. So for our prayer to be a conversation, there needs to be time to listen.

I had mentioned before that I spent some time as a community member just up the road at Glastonbury Abbey. The monk’s day is divided into equal parts of prayer and work and work and prayer what St. Benedict calls the Ora et Labora. The life of the monk is guided and regulated by the rule that St. Benedict wrote. The very first word of that rule is “listen.” Benedict teaches those who follow his rule that listening is an essential aspect of our spiritual life.

You might think I am crazy when I say that we will hear God’s voice if we listen, but it is true. The hearing God’s voice bit is true, and maybe a little of the crazy is true as well. However, if you are waiting for God’s voice to be as clear as it was to Charlton Heston in the 10 Commandments, you might be waiting a while.

God’s voice comes to us in many ways, from another person, through the Word of God, in worship, in song, in creation. For us to hear, we must be open to the voice, and we have to be listening for it.

The Celts believed that the voice of God is present in all of creation. We can hear the voice of God in the wind blowing through the leaves of a tree. The voice of God is present in the waves crashing on the rocks of the shore. The same God that created humanity created the tree and the flower and, I believe, placed a bit of that Divine Spark in that part of creation. When we look at another human being, we are to see the face of God, But I believe that when we look at any part of God’s creation, we are to see that same face.

When we gather as a community, we are gathering in prayer, and it does not matter what the occasion of that gathering is. Scripture tells us that whenever two or three are gathered, the creator is present. When we gather for worship, we invite God into our midst. Each aspect of worship, from greeting people when we first arrive to gathering in the circle at the close of our worship, is prayer.

But, when we gather for committee meetings, the same is or should be true. We welcome the presence of God into our gathering. We ask God to bless our time together and guide us as we meet. At the close, we thank God for being present and ask that God continue to guide us after we depart. Each time we gather, we gather first for prayer.

Developing a practice of prayer does not happen overnight; it takes time, and it takes practice. Prayer comes in many forms; there is corporate prayer that we are engaged in now. There is prayer using prayers that we perhaps learned as children and bring us comfort. There is meditation, sitting in the presence, and possibly using a mantra. All of these take time to develop, and the more we practice, the easier it becomes. Finding what works for you is the first step in the development of a healthy prayer life.

But there is what I consider the perfect prayer; this is the prayer that Jesus taught us. In the 13th Chapter of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus’ disciples ask Jesus to teach them how to pray and what follows we now call the Lord’s Prayer. We use this as part of each worship service, although I was told I left it last week.

The prayer Jesus taught is less about the words than it is about the process of prayer. The prayer is directed to God and begins with praise and then petition. We give thanks for what God has done for us in the past, ask God to continue to bless us, ask God to be present in our lives and the lives of others, and end the way we began with praise.

I mention this as a way of getting us started on our prayer life. We can begin by saying the Lord’s prayer once and maybe twice a day. Begin by saying the prayer upon rising, and then again, just before we go to sleep this way, we begin and end each day in a spirit of prayer. Every journey starts with that first step, and this could be that step.

As John lay there, leaning against Jesus with his ear pressed to his chest, John felt the warmth from Jesus. John’s head rose and fell with each breath that Jesus took in and out. John heard and felt the heartbeat of Jesus for those moments he was resting. Listening is an essential part of prayer and can be the most challenging.

Let us strive to pray more each day and spend some time listening for the voice of God in our lives.

Amen.

Sermon: The Root of Conflict

James 3:13-4:3, 7-8
Mark 9:30-37

September of 1984, I was a rather shy 18-year-old climbing aboard a bus to Logan Airport. Once at the airport, I would get on a plane for only the third time in my life and fly to Missouri. I admit I had no idea where Missouri was on the map, but I was going there. I had been ordered there by my Uncle Sam. Nice guy, my Uncle Sam. Promised my three hots and a cot in exchange for three years of my life. Sounded like a great deal to a young kid.

In the middle of the night, I arrived at Fort Leonardwood, so they gave us something to eat, showed us to the barracks, and bid us a good night. It seemed that my head had no sooner hit the pillow than an enormous trash can came bouncing down the aisle in the barracks. Welcome to the United States Army!

The following eight weeks were filled with constant questions: What in the name of all that is holy am I doing here? What is this on this plate that they want me to eat? Why are we running everywhere when we have a bus that we can ride on? My mind was a swirl of questions, but I asked very few. I just went with the flow.

However, others asked all sorts of questions and tried to buck the system; they did a lot of pushups. But over time, they gave in, and once they had surrendered to the process, everything started to click.

Our spiritual life is a lot like my experience in basic training. We fight it. We think we know better. But, of course, I do it better. I mean, it’s not like people have been doing this for 2,000 plus years or anything.

I want to draw attention to the last two verses we heard this morning from the Letter of James. “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” (James 4:7-8) Submit, resist, drawn near all these words are not common in our 21st-century language, but they need to be in our spiritual life.

I constantly have to remind myself that trying to live the life that Christ has called us to is counter-cultural. We have to live life not according to the rules set forth by an ever-changing and individualistic culture but by a set of rules that requires us to this of other people, their needs, their wants, their happiness before ours. And friends, this is not easy.

I am presently reading a book by former President Jimmy Carter. The book “Faith, a Journey for All” explores his faith, how he came about his faith, and how he holds on to his faith. But it is also a book about doubts and questions and how those doubts and questions increased and strengthened his faith.

At 90 something years old, Jimmy Carter still teaches an adult Sunday School class at his Church. As you might imagine, the class is very popular. He writes about teaching the class the seven deadly sins. There is no biblical mention of such a list, but they all appear in Scripture, pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth.

The list I just read is in a specific order with pride at the top of the list for pride, I believe is the chief among them all. Now, before we get too deep here, it is okay to be proud what’s not okay is when our pride places us above or in front of others. It’sIt’s fine to be proud of an accomplishment, of our children and grandchildren and all the rest. But when pride turns to “I will do whatever I can to get ahead” or “look at me” or “do you know who I am?” that is when it gets sinful.

Pride was the first sin. God told humanity not to eat from a particular tree, and humanity did just that. Humanity felt it knew better, and so in its pride, humanity disobeyed God.

We also hear in the Letter from James, the use of the word “devil.” James writes, “resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” Now I do not want to make light of this, but James is writing about temptation here and not the guy in the red suit with the pitchfork.

Temptations are all around us, and some are hard to resist; back to the story in the garden. Humanity was tempted to eat what God specifically said not to eat. Humanity gave into that temptation for whatever reason, and humanity was kicked out of the garden as punishment for giving in. But, just as an aside here, God did not wholly abandon humanity; God provided. Even though humanity disobeyed, God still provided.

Often I speak and write about the command of Jesus to love everyone without exception. I talk about God’sGod’s love for us and that there is nothing we can do to change the fact that God loves us. I speak about how the divine spark exists in each human being, which is why we must always love the other person, and for some, this is difficult to hear, and I get that.

For some, to feel good about themselves, they have to put others down. For some to feel good about themselves, they have to think less of others. To feel better about themselves, they have to want less for others while wanting more for themselves. For some, to feel better about themselves, they have to work to deny fundamental rights, and the list goes on.

But James is setting us on a different path this morning, James tells us to draw closer to God, and God will draw closer to us. But for us to draw closer, we need to remove the “I” and replace it with “we.” We need to work for the greater good of all, not just for the greater good of some. If I work to lift another, I rise with that person. I don’t need to step on them to get ahead.

Anyone who is married or in a relationship knows that love requires sacrifice. Love requires the surrendering of the individual for another. I officiate many weddings, and I like to remind people of the biblical idea that the two become one, well until you have children, then it becomes about a whole different set of rules.

There is an old hymn that was played during the Billy Graham Crusades called “I Surrender All.” The song is about the surrendering of the I and drawing closer to God in Jesus Christ.

All to Jesus I surrender
All to Him I freely give
I will ever love and trust Him
In His Presence daily live

Drawing closer to God is a daily activity that requires work, sometimes hard work. But it all begins with the surrendering of our will for that of another.

I surrender all;
I surrender all.
All to Thee, my blessed Savior,
I surrender all.

Amen.

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