St. Michaels Litchfield

October 18, 2020 ~ Sermon and Service

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Watch the service here.

The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost   
E. Bevan Stanley

October 18, 2020

Proper 24, Year A

 

Exodus 33:12-23
1 Thessalonians 1:1-10
Matthew 22:15-22

 

“Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” In the Name of the one, holy, and undivided Trinity. Amen.

This anecdote gives us a break from the unrelenting succession of parables we have been hearing in the past weeks. It shows us some facets of Jesus’ character and invites us to examine our own lives.

The story begins by saying the Pharisees set out to “entrap Jesus in what he said.” They wanted to get Jesus to say something that they could claim was treasonous so that they could denounce him to the Roman government. They come to Jesus and are portrayed as smarmy flatterers. “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality. Tell us, then, what you think.” Of course they are not seeking instruction; they are setting a trap. Here’s the question: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” It is natural enough that the Pharisees whose spirituality is entirely devoted to obeying every jot and tittle of the Law should frame their question as a question about the Law. Since nowhere in the Torah is this situation addressed, it could be an honest question. But it is not. The Pharisees see Jesus as a revolutionary. The expect him to say, “Of course we should not pay taxes to Caesar. We Jews should never acknowledge the government of Rome or do anything that would suggest that Rome has any legitimate authority over us Jews who belong to God.” Or something like that. Then they could report him as a dangerous radical who is urging people to resist Roman authority.

Jesus sees through this immediately. “Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites?” He names it for what it is, a test. And he names the Pharisees for what they are, hypocrites. But then Jesus takes up their challenge. He could have simply refused to answer, but rather than fleeing the confrontation, he faces them. He asks his opponents to show him the coin used to pay the tax, and thy produce a denarius. “Whose head is this, and whose title?” The Pharisees answered, “The emperor’s.” Actually, the Greek text says, “Caesar’s”; I don’t know why the translators changed it. Then Jesus said to them, “Give therefore to Caesar the things that are the Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away. “They” in the text means the Pharisees. Yet I wonder whether the disciples observing this exchange were amazed as well.

More to the point, what do we as disciples make of Jesus’s response? Specifically, what do we owe to our government of the land we live in, and what do we owe to God? First, it is clear that Jesus is not concerned about the money. His response seems almost flippant. It feels like Jesus is saying, “If the Romans want a bit of metal with some guy’s face on it, they can have it.”

Yet this is a big issue for Jews living under this occupying force. Remember that tax collectors were despised as being collaborators with the Romans as well as for coercion and overcharging. The tax was not only an expense; it was a symbol of the Jews’ subservient status as a conquered nation.

So how can Jesus make so light of this issue? Because he takes with utmost seriousness the second part of his answer, “. . . and give to God the things that are God’s.” That is to say, it is God who has ultimate authority in our lives, not the foreign government. Being citizens of the Kingdom of God is more important than being inhabitants of a conquered nation. In other words, the issue for Jesus is not about money; it is about allegiance.

We do not live under the thumb of a foreign power. We live in representative democracy. The taxes we pay are determined by people we have elected. We understand that they are to be used to pay for things that benefit all of us. Military security from foreign powers, roads, hospitals, education, advancement of science and the arts, and so on. As citizens we have obligations to our country. Nevertheless, the question remains, what do we owe to God? And how do we pay it?

First, we owe God our love. We offer our hearts to God. At every Eucharist the priest says, “Lift up your hearts.” And we all respond, “We lift them up to God.” Our first allegiance is to God; then to our country. When our government acts in ways contrary to what we have come to know as the will of God, then we are obligated to object. We use our vote, and we use our right to free assembly to make our voices heard in our democratic system. Our allegiance to God means we are obligated to participate in building the Kingdom of God “on earth as it is in heaven.” That means we are part of the Church, the Body of Christ, the People of God. We know that to be loving and powerful means that we live in communities. For most of us that means being part of a congregation. It means coming together, working together, serving our neighbors together, praying together. It means sharing our resources with each other so that we can have an impact on the world around us. It means sharing our money, our time, and our skills and gifts. It means allowing the power of the Holy Spirit to act through us. It means being free from all bonds of fear or addiction that hinder us from loving God, each other, and ourselves. It means rejoicing in God’s goodness, generosity, and abundance in all circumstances. It means responding to God’s invitation to be loving, powerful, playful, and free. This is what we owe to God.

We are in the midst of an election. It is easy to be consumed with what we want from our government and from our elected officials. This gospel raises in a different way the question that John F. Kenned asked, that is, what do we owe our country? And what we owe our country is our best lives as Christians. Our wisdom as the People of God. We render unto our country our best efforts to vote in accordance with the principles of Jesus Christ who summed up the will of God as to love God and to love our neighbors as ourselves.

And we owe God everything else.

September 27, 2020 – Sermon and Service

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Watch the service here.

The Feast of St. Michael and All Angels
E. Bevan Stanley

September 27, 2020

(Transferred from September 29)

Genesis 28:10-17
Revelation 12:7-12
John 1:47-51

Michael and his angels fought against the dragon. In the Name of the one holy, and undivided Trinity. Amen.

               This is the feast of St. Michael’s and All Angels. What do we know about Angels in general and St. Michael in particular? First, the word “angel” comes from the Greek ἄγγελος (angelos) which means “messenger.” Angels are messengers from God. In the reading from Genesis, there are angels going up and down a ladder that connects the earth with heaven. Angels are intermediaries. An archangel is simply a chief angel. Archangels are mentioned very rarely in the Bible. Michael is named three times in the book of Daniel, once in the very short letter of Jude, and once in Revelation. Gabriel is also mentioned in Daniel and then the birth narratives of Jesus. Raphael and Uriel are mentioned only in the Apocrypha. Most of the traditions about angels and archangels come from post-exilic Judaism and post-apostolic Christianity and are not part of the biblical canon.

Incidentally, there is a lot of nonsense in our popular culture about angels. They are not human beings. Human beings do not become angels when we die and go to heaven. Angels are not chubby little babies with wings as depicted in medieval and renaissance art. Remember that when angels show up in the Bible, the human beings to whom they are appearing are terrified and think they are about to die. Chubby babies, even if they do have wings, do not elicit this kind of response. The first thing angels often say is, “Do not fear.”

               In the Bible, Michael is depicted as a warrior fighting on behalf of the chosen people. In art he is usually shown wearing armor and carrying a sword or spear. Often the devil in the form of a snake or serpent is shown beneath his feet.

               What on earth might all this mythology have to do with us? Simply this: Michael is the patron saint of this parish. I have no idea why he was chosen back in 1745. It is not all that common a name for Episcopal churches. There is only one other St. Michael’s in Connecticut; it is in Naugatuck.

Michael’s role is that of a guardian, a protector, a defender. Michael protects us. In this time of COVID19, we need protection. And so far Michael has been doing a good job. I am aware of no cases of COVID19 among our members. But more specifically, Michael defends against the devil, Satan, the evil one, the Father of Lies, the Accuser. In this sense Michael may not be the most comfortable of patrons. For while he protects us from the evil around us, he also contends with the evil inside us. Part of his job is to protect us from the dangerous parts of our selves. He reminds us of Jesus’ surprising saying that he, Jesus, did not come to bring peace to the earth, but a sword.

               In 2020 we are not only contending with a world wide pandemic. We are also confronting the realities of racism in our country, the inability or unwillingness of our criminal justice system to hold police officers accountable when they kill unarmed citizens, the shame that we incarcerate more of our population than any other country in the world and turn imprisonment into a new profit making industry, a political system benefits the very wealthy and neglects everyone else, and a degradation of public discourse that makes any real negotiations on behalf of constituents impossible. We need the help of our Archangels without a doubt. Yet the divine army, of which our God is the Lord, is made up of us humans as well as other less material beings. The Archangels, not even the entire host of heaven can save us unless we do all we can as well. Today as we celebrate our patron, we also worship together at this ten a.m. service for the first time in five months. We worship God together; we stand against evil, however we may experience it, together. We are the Body of Christ, the People of God, and part of the host of heaven. Together with God and God’s angels, we can protect the world from evil.

               Hear again this prayer often called “St. Patrick’s Breastplate” because of those parts of it which seek God’s protection.  It is also sometimes called “The Deer’s Cry” or “The Lorica”. In this time when we all need protection, it is particularly powerful.

 

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,

Through the belief in the threeness,

Through the confession of the oneness

Of the Creator of Creation.

 

I arise today

Through the strength of Christ’s birth with his baptism,

Through the strength of his crucifixion with his burial,

Through the strength of his resurrection with his ascension,

Through the strength of his descent for the Judgment Day.

 

I arise today

Through the strength of the love of Cherubim,

In obedience of angels,

In the service of archangels,

In hope of resurrection to meet with reward,

In prayers of patriarchs,

In predictions of prophets,

In preaching of apostles,

In faith of confessors,

In innocence of holy virgins,

In deeds of righteous men.

 

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven:

Light of sun,

Radiance of moon,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of wind,

Depth of sea,

Stability of earth,

Firmness of rock.

 

I arise today

Through God’s strength to pilot me:

God’s might to uphold me,

God’s wisdom to guide me,

God’s eye to look before me,

God’s ear to hear me,

God’s word to speak for me,

God’s hand to guard me,

God’s way to lie before me,

God’s shield to protect me,

God’s host to save me

From snares of demons,

From temptations of vices,

From everyone who shall wish me ill,

Afar and anear,

Alone and in multitude.

 

I summon today all these powers between me and those evils,

Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,

Against incantations of false prophets,

Against black laws of pagandom

Against false laws of heretics,

Against craft of idolatry,

Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,

Against every knowledge that corrupts man’s body and soul.

 

Christ to shield me today

Against poison, against burning,

Against drowning, against wounding,

So that there may come to me abundance of reward.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,

Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,

Christ on my right, Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in every eye that sees me,

Christ in every ear that hears me.

 

I arise today

Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,

Through belief in the threeness,

Through confession of the oneness,

Of the Creator of Creation.

 

               Michael comes to us today and says, “Do not fear. God loves everyone one of you. The evils you are experiencing are not the last word. The worst thing is never the last thing. Stand up and I will stand with you. Confront the devil and he will flee from you. Look, God makes all things new.”

September 20, 2020 – Sermon and Service

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Watch the service here.

The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost                                                           E. Bevan Stanley

September 20, 2020

Proper 15, Year A

 

               From Exodus: “The Lord spoke to Moses and said, “I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.’” In the Name of the one, holy, and undivided Trinity. Amen.

               I do not know about you, but I am thoroughly sick of this pandemic. I want to go to a movie. I want to eat inside at a restaurant. I want to visit my daughters. I want to see all of you here at church and catch up with you at coffee hour. I find I am grumbling a lot, at least to myself if not out loud. And yet my life is very good compared to many. I am not sick nor do any of my family or friends have the virus. Today’s reading from Exodus is about grumbling. The Israelites had more reason than I. They had been slaves in Egypt, condemned to unremitting hard labor, and living under the threat of genocide. Then Moses shows up and he and is siblings, Aaron and Miriam, confront Pharaoh and lead them out of Egypt. At the Red Sea God rescues them from the pursuing Egyptian Army. That was wonderful. But now they are in the wilderness, and they are getting hungry. More importantly they are getting scared. They do not know how long it will take to cross this wilderness. They have no idea how they will get food. They fear they will die of thirst and starvation. They grumble against Moses and say, “At least in Egypt we got fed. Why have you brought us out here where we will all die?”

               God hears the grumbling and sends bread from heaven. It comes down during the night like dew, and in the morning it can be collected. Because it is strange and new to them, they say “What is it?” In Hebrew that is ,“man hu,” so they name in manna. It is alright, but it gets tiresome day after day. Besides you cannot help wondering each night whether it will be there again tomorrow. What if it runs out? We are totally dependent on this unlikely supply of food. Besides it is kind of wimpy food. What about some real food. They are scared, and grouchy, and fed up with Moses, and with God. I want to play you a song based on this story. It was recorded in 1977 by Michael Kelly Blanchard.

 

[PLAY SONG]

 

               We grumble and God supplies what we need and even more. We know we do not deserve this generosity. The result in the song is that we bow down to God in worship. We acknowledge our dependence on God and God’s infinite goodness towards us. Every day when we wake up to a new day, we can gather the manna that God has showered upon us for this day. Every event, every conversation, every task, is bread from heaven. Then in the evening the quail come. We feast on the meat of our days experiences of God’s goodness. We chew on the food of another day of the journey. And we bow down in gratitude and worship.

               This is of fear about our health, fear about our country, of pain about our racism, and of bitterness about the gap between the very wealthy and the rest of us. It is a time for us to grumble. Like the Israelites, we have good reason. And like the Israelites, God hears us. God sends us our daily bread. And in the evening, the quail come.

September 13, 2020 – Sermon and Service

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The Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost   

E. Bevan Stanley

September 13, 2020
Proper 19, Year A

Exodus 14:19-31
Romans 14:1-12
Matthew 18:21-35

 

Welcome those who are weak in faith, but not for the purpose of quarreling over opinions. In the Name of the one, holy, and undivided Trinity. Amen.

               Paul’s message to us in Romans could not be more appropriate for us in the United States today. Paul is dealing with some squabbles in the church at Rome about different forms of piety. Paul opens the chapter with the plea, “Welcome those who are weak in faith, but not for the purpose of quarreling over opinions. Some believe in eating anything, while the weak eat only vegetables.” Some are vegetarians and some are not. The reason for being a vegetarian is not what we might think. It is not that there is a concern over killing animals. The Jews had eaten meat from the beginning. It was part of their religious festivals. The problem that the early Christians had was that when you bough meat in agora, it was most likely from and animal that had been killed as part of a sacrifice to the pagan gods. Since the meat had come from worship false Gods, to eat it might be seen as participating in that pagan worship. Other Christians took the position that since the pagan gods do not really exist, the worship of them is meaningless, and any meat that came from such a religious rite is harmless. Paul calls the more scrupulous “the weak,” and the ones who feel free to eat meat “the strong.”

Paul not concerned about which position is right. Paul cares that it is a cause for fighting. The people on one side pass judgment on the people on the other. He continues, “Those who eat must not despise those who abstain, and those who abstain must not pass judgment on those who eat; for God has welcomed them.” Notice, that when we think we are welcoming someone, it is really God who is welcoming them. Since this is God’s community, God’s house, and God’s table, only God gets to make judgments about the guests.

“Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another? It is before their own lord that they stand or fall. And they will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make them stand.

Paul goes on to another topic that we can quarrel about: the liturgical calendar. “Some judge one day to be better than another, while others judge all days to be alike. Let all be fully convinced in their own minds.” We see the same differences among us all the time. There are those who find recognizing certain days as special as helpful to their relationship to God. Or making the sign of the cross, or saying the angelus, or using a rosary, or reading a chapter of the Bible every day, or keeping the Sabbath. Others find such things an unnecessary and unhelpful accumulation of empty ritual. Paul, like Jesus, pleads that we keep our eye on the ball. Observing the Sabbath is a useful spiritual practice, but if there is an opportunity to make a person whole, Jesus does not hesitate to do the work.

Paul is not trying to sort out which is better. He is saying that neither position is worth fighting with a brother or sister about. Our unity is more important than being right. In his first letter to the Corinthians, he says the “knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” Paul always puts the health of the community ahead individual vindication. “Those who observe the day, observe it in honor of the Lord. Also those who eat, eat in honor of the Lord, since they give thanks to God; while those who abstain, abstain in honor of the Lord and give thanks to God.”

It is not part of our job description to pass judgment on others. God is the only one who gets to do that. We need to be clear about the difference between disagreeing with someone and judging someone. “We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.” This does not need much explanation. Those of you who are language buffs, may find it of interest that in the phrases “live to ourselves” and “live to the Lord,” there is not preposition in the Greek. The are just words in the dative case. The dative case gets used in many ways, and I had a Latin teacher who said that when you don’t know what the dative case means, you can always start with, “with relation to.” Thus, we don’t live with relation to ourselves; we live in relation to God. That is to say, that everything we do and say and experience is happens in the context of God. All our live is lived in God and filled with God, and in relationship to God. And so is our death. So also everyone else’s life is lived in relation to God, whether they acknowledge it or not.

Paul continues, “For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living. Why do you pass judgment on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God. For it is written, ‘As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall give praise to God.’ So then, each of us will be accountable to God.” Since we all live and die in relation to God, we have no business passing judgment on anyone. We may disagree with someone. Sometimes we must. But is one thing to say someone is wrong or misguided or blind and another to say they are wicked or evil.

In our country we are now experiencing a time of division more severe than any in my lifetime. It is very tempting to label those who do things we think are wrong or damaging as wicked or evil or as an enemy. We can oppose some one strongly and not damn them. Of course, we should strive for what we perceive as right. When we do so, we always remember that both I and my opponent stand before God. And that do matter what we may think about the actions of our opponent, and no matter what God may think about the actions of my opponent, my opponent is loved by God just as much as I am. That is really hard to swallow. It is the wine in the cup that Jesus drinks.

I will confess that I am frightened for our country. I pray that God will help us through this time of divisiveness. I pray that I can love the people I think are wrong. I pray that I will want to love the people I think are wrong. I pray that God will guide us to the promised land of compassion and justice for which we all long.

“We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.

September 6, 2020 – Sermon and Service

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Watch the service here.

The Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost 
E. Bevan Stanley

September 6, 2020

Proper 18, Year A

 

Exodus 12:1-14
Romans 13:8-14
Matthew 18:15-20

From the Book of Exodus: “On all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord.” In the Name of the one, holy, and undivided Trinity. Amen.

Our three readings today invite us to consider the topic of confronting evil—the evil in ourselves, in our fellow Christians, and in our country. Let us take them in the order we heard them.

In Exodus we see the culmination of the confrontation between Moses and Pharaoh. Pharaoh has enslaved the descendants of the family that saved Egypt from disaster in the time of Joseph. Now God has intervened to free the Israelites from slavery. God has given Pharaoh nine chances already to reverse his policy with nine plagues to remind him who is really in charge. Now comes the tenth and most devastating judgment on Egypt and all its gods. The first born of humans and animals will all die. Except for the Israelites; God will pass over their homes. This is also the night they will flee. Jews have celebrated this Passover ever since.

Our country is now in a state of turmoil and division unlike any we have seen in many years. Many feel that those who are supposed to uphold the rule of law violate it themselves and are not held accountable. Many are concerned that the mechanisms of a democratic polity such as free elections are being threatened. Many of us, myself included, don’t know how we can help improve the situation. How can we reduce division, promote healing, increase mutual respect, work for justice, and provide opportunities for civil discourse across lines of disagreement? We want the vision of a “government of the people, by the people, for the people” to become a reality. But how do we accomplish that? We will each search for our own solutions to how we can participate in our public life. At the very least we can all vote. And it is important that every citizen will have a chance to vote.

What we can do is on the personal level. Turning to Romans, Paul says that all the commandments are summed up in the commandment to love our neighbors as ourselves. He goes on to say, “Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. . . the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; let us live honorably as in the day, not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.” It is always important to remember that when Paul talks about “the flesh,” it is helpful to read it as “the egoic self” as opposed to the true self that is made in the image of God. The point is that to love others one has to lower one’s shields. One has to become vulnerable. One has to be willing to give up some comfort, some autonomy. The language of clothing is interesting: We are to put on the armor of light; we are to put on the Lord Jesus Christ. We become what we wear. That is the point of uniforms and ritual clothing. A soldier in uniform is no longer just Bill Sloan from Kalamazoo. He is a member of the army and part of an institution of service and discipline. When I put on a stole, I am functioning as a priest and no longer as a private individual. When we put on Jesus Christ, we function has his bone and blood in time and space. If we are to love our neighbors as ourselves and not make provision for our egoic selves, then it is a great help to put on Jesus Christ. Or maybe when we love our neighbors and lay aside our egoic selves, we are putting on Jesus Christ.

Richard Rohr has this to say about love: Love is not something you do; love is something you are. It is your True Self. Love is where you came from and love is where you’re going. It’s not something you can buy. It’s not something you can attain. It’s the presence of God within you, called the Holy Spirit or what some theologians name uncreated grace. You can’t manufacture this by any right conduct . . . You can’t make God love you one ounce more than God already loves you right now. . . .We can’t diminish God’s love for us. What we can do, however, is learn how to believe it, receive it, trust it, allow it, and celebrate it, accepting Trinity’s whirling invitation to join in the cosmic dance . . . Suddenly, this is a very safe universe. You have nothing to be afraid of. God is for you. God is leaping toward you! God is on your side, honestly more than you are on your own.

And if this is a safe universe, we can risk being open with those who differ from us. We can put on Jesus Christ.

In the Gospel Jesus teaches us how to deal with interpersonal conflict within a community. We start at the lowest organizational level. We go the individual with whom we have the problem directly. We explain how that person’s behavior affected us. Jesus says, “If the member listens to you, you have regained that one.” Notice that it doesn’t say “agree” but listen. The word in Greek means to listen, heed, harken. It means to hear in a way that affects the hearer, to be open to being changed by the conversation. There may be a discussion of the difference between what was intended and the effect it had.

If going to the person alone does not work, then we take someone else. If that fails, bring the matter to the whole congregation. If the person still is unwilling to hear, then treat the person “as a Gentile and a tax collector.” That is, treat them as an outsider and as one collaborates with the foreign occupying government. Jesus goes on to speak of the power of the worshiping community when it has Jesus among them. It connects earth to heaven, and can bring heave to earth.

If we can love our neighbors and hold each other accountable within the Christian community, then we have a chance at improving the world around us. We can have a role in rebuilding our nation and having our country be an example of the rule of law and “government of the people, by the people, for the people.”

Here is Steven Charleston, a bishop of the Episcopal Church and a member of the Choctaw nation:

You are needed for what is to come, for the struggle against fear, the turning point toward peace, that is why you are here, in the place you are, among the people you call community, to be a wise counselor and a calming presence, to invite others to work together, amid the pulls to extreme, against the rush to partisan, you are a center of hope, a balance of compassion and common sense, that will help to halt the rise of anger, and allow reason to guide the tiller of tomorrow, that is why you are here: you are needed for what is to come. 

            Let us love by putting on Christ. Let us speak the truth to one another. We can bring the kingdom of heaven to earth.

August 30, 2020 ~ Service and Sermon

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Watch the service here.

Dylan Mello/ Northwest Regional Missionary

In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Good morning everyone,

It’s great to be back here worshiping at St. Michael’s with you this morning.   I was thrilled when Bevan asked me to come back and preach, which means it must not have been terrible my first time visiting, and it’s a real joy to be here in Litchfield with you all.  The last time I preached here at St. Michael’s, it was March 8.  It was right before things drastically changed.  I remember what I spoke about and there were plans for upcoming events in the Region and activities that I was so excited to share, and just like that, it all had to shift.   I’ve really reflected this week on that time frame and how a half year of confusion, fear, grief, and a whole range of emotions can really change us as individuals and as a collective community. 

     On Friday, I finally took a hike through White Memorial.  I have heard such lovely things about it over the last year of living in the Region, but had not yet made it yet there.  So two days ago, my socially distanced partner for the afternoon was Bishop Laura and we really got to experience it.  I have very little natural sense of navigation or direction, and so we ended up in the midst of forest, lake, wetland, and yes, route 202.  One of the things that I kept thinking about was that at points during this hike, we were isolated from reality.  Just down the road from here on those nature trails, you can have zero awareness of what is going on in the world around us.  The fear, the grief, and anxieties seem to temporarily set themselves aside in the beauty and vastness of Creation.  You can look out and see the lake.  There is so much life brimming there, and yet it’s so different once you check your cell phone again and hop in the car, and once again go back to daily life.  That oasis, where each of us can find our own space and solace, away from the pandemics, I think is a really useful thing.  It is a time to reflect and inwardly focus.  Thinking of the Gospel this morning, I understand ways to combat some of the stumbling blocks that confront us.  I think however, I would like to dwell on these hindrances that Jesus talks about. 

     The Gospel passage is one that we have heard many times, and I have heard it preached in many different directions about those things in our lives that get in our way, and yet I wonder now though, in the times of the pandemics of Covid-19 and the pandemic of racism, what do these stumbling blocks look like?  Are they the same as they were before?  Has it been a drastic shift to something else? This wondering has been resonating with me this week.

 These days we live in, it seems like the blocks that I encounter are not always material or tangible per say.  These obstructions can be abstract and truly engulfing.  The grief that comes with the loss of our previous, pre-pandemic lifestyle is normal and necessary, and it can also feel so overwhelming.  I wonder how this is affecting us from moving forward in our call to live out our Christian duties.  The grief of losing our everyday interactions is drastic and something to work through, but I know, as we heard in the second reading, there are a litany of ideals we need to strive ahead towards.  Those are the things of the Divine.  Yet, we know our fears are elevated these days, and our emotions are on higher alert.  We live in such a polarized world that I often think about how it is just so HARD to achieve Divine over human things.  So when Jesus says “Get behind me Satan”, I so want these feelings of today to go far, far away.   But I wonder, and I am starting to truly believe, if we did not feel these human emotions, we would be unable to tread deeper into the Divine needs. 

     The more I meditate on the stumbling blocks in my life, it seems that I have this endless list.  Interconnected and overlapping.  Each person and each community shares commonalities of these obstructions, but we also have our own particular ones too. 

     We hear Jesus also tell the disciples that we need to deny ourselves and take up our cross.  Some of our crosses might seem heavier or more burdensome than others, but we all, including Jesus, have the crosses on our back.  No one escapes that.  The part that strikes me in this call by Jesus is that we need to drop our fears.  We need to be bold.  The burdens are on our back, but it requires strength to persevere through.  That is not an easy task.   

     The recipe for the call to be bold is this section of the letter to the Romans.  I was thinking about all the directions that we are given and what stands out to me, is the theme to be vulnerable.  By being vulnerable, we are open to the realities of both the human need and the Divine need.  Some of the tasks seem pretty straightforward and fairly easy.  I can love genuinely.  I have a wife and two children. I absolutely genuinely love them.  But am I genuinely loving the one, or I’ll admit possibly multiple family members that can really irritate me with their Facebook posts or other challenging interactions?  I’m not, I’ll be honest, and that’s hard!! Am I loving my neighbor who is politically opposite of me?  I don’t know.  And this concept for almost all of these orders have a “yea, but” approach if we let our humanness take over.

     Be patient in suffering.  Persevere in prayer.  Weep with those who weep. My personality is one that loves quick fixes, and not having that can sometimes drive me nuts.  But I get it.  This is about being vulnerable.  Putting ourselves with people who experience struggle, heartache, pain, and isolation is where we need to be.  It can be all these and more.  We are required to live the Gospel, not just conveniently live certain parts of the Gospel.

     I think about in our everyday life where I see denying ourselves or being open to the call or just forcing ourselves to be uncomfortable.  There are so many systems out in the community that are causing suffering amongst our neighbors.  Here is an example.  I live in Waterbury, and since about April I have been connecting routinely with social workers to approach Region food insecurity.  Only about three weeks ago I learned a horrifying fact.  The city of Waterbury has about 900 school aged children who are housing insecure.  900.  When I graduated from high school in Massachusetts, there were 125 students in my grade.  That is 7 times the amount of my high school class living homeless, just in the city of Waterbury.  That number does not even include all those students living in poverty.  And that’s not just a Waterbury problem.  There are places where this problem is out in the open, and there are places in this Region where it is quietly swept under the rug.  Throughout our rural, urban, affluent, poor areas of the Northwest Region, there is food insecurity and housing insecurity.  This is all in the realm of our Gospel this morning.  We know these problems exist.  How do we deny ourselves, make ourselves uncomfortable in order to address the problems around us?  There are systems to help people and there are systems that keep these travesties in place.  I don’t have an answer and I know that I don’t always live up to the expectations of the words we hear this morning.  The march of the Gospel continues though, and it does not stop.  I think however, that it’s through genuine love and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable where we are able to make changes.  I know this church of St. Michael’s, even in just the year I’ve been on the job, is engaged in the work.  Denise has shared with me the Feed Your Neighbor NWCT program which has developed here.  The Food Pantry here was one of the first things I heard about when I came into this position as Region Missionary.  There is more good work that I have heard about and I’m sure much more work that I don’t even know about.   It’s happening.  People recognize what we are called to do.  It’s challenging work.  It requires perseverance and strength, and we’re not doing it alone.  We have each other.  The community rallies together, the Region rallies together, and God’s ever abundant love never leaves us in this work.  It is my prayer this morning that all of us continue to move forward together, possess the gentleness to treat ourselves with, all while holding the strength to be a catalyst for change.  Amen.

August 16, 2020 ~ Sermon and Service

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Watch the service here.

The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost                                                                E. Bevan Stanley

August 16, 2020

Proper 15, Year A

Genesis 45:1-15
Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32
Matthew 15: (10-20), 21-28

Joseph kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him. In the Name of the one, holy, and undivided Trinity. Amen.

What we see here in the reading from the Hebrew scriptures is a beautiful example of forgiveness and reconciliation. To a large extent this is what Christianity is all about. We are made by God to love God and each other. We are made to be in relationships of love with each other, with God, with the world, and with ourselves. Sin is what we call the actions and reactions that separate us from one another or from God. Sometimes these acts are accidental; sometimes they are not. In the story of Joseph, for example, when Joseph was a teenager he told his brothers about two dreams he had that suggested that all his older brothers would bow down to him. This angered his brothers. Did Joseph intend to anger his brothers, or just try to stand up for himself as the second to the youngest? Did he set out to alienate his brothers, or was he just really naïve and unthinking?

Then his brothers act on their anger by first planning to kill him and then actually selling him into slavery. This was deliberate and the purpose was to end the relationship with Joseph for ever. This is clearly a sin. When Joseph arrives in Egypt he has various ups and downs in his career. He ends up being the prime minister and running the government of Egypt under the Pharaoh. His main task is keeping people fed during a seven-year famine. When the famine comes to the land of Canaan, the sons of Israel come to Egypt to buy food. Joseph recognizes them, but they do not recognize their brother. In the reading today, Joseph reveals himself to his brothers.

The brothers are terrified. They know they wronged their brother many years ago. And now they are in his power. Joseph can have his revenge. Joseph can make them suffer for the evil they had perpetrated upon him. What will it be? Slavery? Execution? And what about Joseph? He could be bitter towards his brothers. Should they not have a taste of the suffering that Joseph endured as a slave and as a falsely accused prisoner?

Joseph chooses to see the good in the situation and not the evil. He tells his brothers, “Do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life.” Joseph sees God hands in all the events. He sees that he is in a position to help his family survive the famine. And he sees a chance to get his family back. Joseph sees that his relationship with his brothers and his whole family is more important than anything else to him. For the sake of that good, he will let go of his pain, let go of his rights.

Is not this the core of all reconciliation and forgiveness? We see that the relationship is more important than the hurt. We choose to believe that the person who hurt us will not do so again. Joseph had already seen that his brothers were now willing to risk their lives for the welfare of Benjamin, the youngest. We let go of our anger, resentment, and need to get even. This can seem very hard sometimes, especially if we have been dwelling on the wrongs done to us. If we have been ruminating on them as cow chews her cud. Sometime a person who has been wronged has come to define their whole self as a victim of someone else’s malice.

An important aspect of Joseph’s story is that he puts it all in the perspective of God’s care for him and his family. “You intended it for evil, but God intended it for good.” He sees that God wants his family to thrive. God uses Joseph’s presence in Egypt to be the thing that saves his family. Some survivors of the holocaust see how their relationship to God and to their fellow human beings is far more tender as a result of their suffering. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa after the ending of apartheid was a chance for people to confront their acts and to be reconciled to those whom they had harmed or to  those who had harmed them.

One of the most powerful stories is of a black woman who had both her husband and her son burned alive in front of her by the white police. At the Commission hearing, the white officer responsible confessed his part in this horrific act. When asked what she wanted as justice or reparation, the widow and mother said that she had a lot of love to give, and now that she no longer had husband or son to lavish that love on, the white officer should come to her house every week for Sunday dinner so that she could love him. Out the same crucible of pain, wrongdoing and injustice come to utterances of Nelson Mandela: “As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.” And: “Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.”

In our country today we are deeply divided. We need to find our common humanity and our common citizenship. We need to see the good that transcends our grievances with others. Jesus used his vision of the Kingdom to overcome every estrangement of sin. Our purpose as human beings is to love as God loves. Every encounter with another is an opportunity to practice that love. Every relationship can be a building block in building that kingdom or commonwealth of joy, and hope, and goodness. When we are hurt we get to choose what we are going to do with that event. We can poison ourselves with resentment, or we can walk into the freedom and joy of reconciliation.

Joseph kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him.

August 9, 2020 – Sermon and Service

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Watch the service here.

The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost
E. Bevan Stanley

August 9, 2020

Proper 14, Year A

Genesis 37:1-4, 12-28
Romans 10:5-15
Matthew 14:22-33

So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water. In the Name of the one, holy, and undivided Trinity. Amen.

Well, we have been buffeted by a wind this week. On top of CVID19 and confronting the systemic racism in our country, losing power, phone, and internet is seems unnecessary. For some of us it may feel like we are sinking. At the very least we need to bailing the boat. Wouldn’t be nice to just be able to walk on top of the troubled waters of our lives?

I feel bad for Jesus in this story. When Jesus heard that John the Baptist had been beheaded by Herod, he wanted to take his disciples and go off by themselves and have some time to digest the sad news. Clearly John’s death shook them.

They get in a boat and go to a lonely place, a deserted place. When they get there, he finds a crowd had got there ahead of him. He heals them. He feeds them. He sends his disciples back in the boat, while he sends the crowds away. Finally, he has some time alone to pray, which he does on “the mountain.” Then sometime between 3 a.m. and 6 a.m., Jesus catches up to his disciple in the boat by walking on the water. He has not had a chance to sleep. The disciples have been struggling to row against stiff headwind. The disciples think he is a ghost or apparition at first, until he says, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Then Peter says, “If it really is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus says, “Come.” Peter does and is able to walk on the water until he realizes how big the waves are and he loses his nerve. When Jesus gets in the boat the wind dies, and the disciples worship Jesus.

Our lives are feeling pretty overwhelming at the moment. I don’t know about you, but there is still no power at the Rectory. We are trying to eat all our refrigerated food before it goes bad. Alinda is making daily trips to get ice.

Peter sees Jesus walking on the water. He thinks this is not only cool, but an answer to his problems. And he does walk on the water, until he allows the waves to turn his attention away from Jesus. I am reminded of the scene in the book and movie, The Shack, in which the main character tries to walk on the water of a big lake and immediately sinks. Jesus comes and says, “Here, take my hand. This works better if we do it together.”

So I am wondering, what does it look like to cope with our difficulties with Jesus. We are buffeted by many challenges. How can we walk on top of the waves? Compassion is part of it. When Jesus saw the crowds, he did not tell his disciple to find another deserted place. felt for the people who were in need. Seeing one’s difficulties in the context of  others’ gives perspective. John had just been killed. Having to put of his weekend a few hours didn’t seem like so big a deal to Jesus. When I get grumpy about the cold showers and not being able to watch TV, get to thinking about people who never have enough water of any kind. People who cannot avoid contact with COVID19. People who have the deck of economics stacked against them because of the color of their skins, and their parents, and grandparents skins.

And when in prayer, I put all those others in God’s hands, I find a new energy to do something useful. I can clean up some of the storm detritus. I can email my state legislators. I can attend a webinar. And then it can seem Jesus is holding my hand and I am not just swimming, but walking on the waves. Here is a quotation from St. Columba, founder of Iona, that expresses some of what I am feeling today[1]:

The path I walk, Christ walks it.
May the land in which I am be without sorrow.
May the Trinity protect me wherever I stay,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Bright angels walk with me — dear presence —
in every dealing.

May I arrive at every place, may I return home;
may the way in which I spend be without loss.
May every path before me be smooth,
man, woman, and child welcome me.
A truly good journey!
Well does the fair Lord show us a course, a path.

We may be being buffeted now, but its truly a good journey.

[1] “The Protection of Columcille,” attributed to Columba of Iona.

August 2, 2020 – Sermon and Service

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Watch the service here.

The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost      
E. Bevan Stanley
August 2, 2020

                    

Proper 13, Year A

Genesis 32:22-31
Romans 9:1-5
Matthew 14:13-21

Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. In the Name of the one, holy, and undivided Trinity. Amen.

It is pretty ironic that in the last few days, my left hip has suddenly started to hurt. I have not wrestled with anyone recently, so I am taking it as a sign that I should preach on Jacob this morning.

Let us review Jacob’s story up to this point. He was born the younger of a pair of twins. He was named Jacob, which means “Supplanter.” His brother was named Esau, which means “hairy.” Their father, Isaac, loved Esau more of the two, while their mother Rebecca loved Jacob more. When they were young men, Esau came back from a hunting trip very hungry. Jacob had some lentil stew on the fire and Esau asked he brother for some. Jacob took advantage of his brother’s need and refused to give him any food unless he turned over his inheritance rights as the first born to Jacob, the Supplanter. Then when Isaac lay dying, Jacob pretended to be Esau. Isaac was blind, and Jacob took advantage of that disability to cheat Esau out of their father’s final blessing. Esau was furious. He waited until Isaac died and then planned to murder Jacob. Rebecca got wind of the plot, and told Jacob to flee. He went to his uncle Laban’s place back in Haran. There he met Laban’s two daughters, Leah and Rachel. He fell in love with Rachel and agreed to work for Laban seven years for Rachel to be given to him as his wife. When the time came, Laban substituted Leah, and Jacob had to work a second seven years for Rachel. Then he continued to manage Laban’s flocks and herds. He engaged in genetic management of the flocks so that his flocks grew much faster than Laban’s. Laban’s son noticed the inequality, and became increasingly hostile to Jacob. The day came when the situation had moved from uncomfortable to dangerous, and Jacob fled taking his wives, and all their flocks and cattle. Laban pursued them and caught up with them. They made and agreement to part ways. As Jacob is approaching the Jabbok river, which marks the boundary of the land of Abraham and Isaac, he hears that his brother, Esau, is coming to meet him with a group of four hundred men. This is very ominous. Jacob does everything he can think of to improve his odds of surviving this encounter. It has been twenty years since he left; maybe Esau has cooled down a bit. Jacob sends lavish gifts to his brother ahead of the caravan. Then he divides the caravan into two parts, figuring that if Esau got one the other might still escape. Then he sends his wives and household across the Jabbok, remaining alone the other side. He is still the supplanter, the plotter, the wily wheeler-dealer, the one always looking to save his own neck. Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.

At this point the text takes on a mysterious, dreamlike quality. We are not told who this “man” is. The fact that this partner in the wrestling match needs to leave before the sun rises suggest he might be some other kind of being, perhaps a desert djinn or a river spirit. Later on Jacob will perceive him as a messenger of God. This struggle involves grappling and much contact. Jacob has to hold onto the man until daybreak in order to force a blessing out of him. It is a reversal of his forcing a blessing out of his father. Then his father was blind and blessed him by mistake. Now in the dark it is Jacob who cannot see and must wait until dawn to receive the blessing. The scene reminds me of the verse from Psalm 63: “My soul clings to you; your right hand holds me fast.”

The text says, “When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him.” I don’t know what the rules were, but this sounds like the opponent resorted to dirty fighting when he realized he was losing.  

Then there is the whole business about names. The man said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

The Supplanter is now the God-striver. Jacob leaves the place in the morning with new name and a limp. He has been marked forever by this encounter with God. When he does meet his brother, he is very conciliatory, they make up and agree to peaceful co-existence. After this there is little more said about Jacob until we get to the stories about his twelve sons and Joseph’s adventures in Egypt. It seems that, having striven with God, Jacob has stopped striving with other humans.

What we take away from a story like this is a series of questions rather than answers. When have we wrestled with God? Was it a matter of winning, or more just holding on? Did we learn anything new about God? Did we learn something about ourselves? Did we get a new name? A new way of seeing the world? Did it change any of our human relationships? Is wrestling with God something that only happens once in a lifetime, or more. Maybe daily? Jacob doesn’t seem to have been seeking guidance from God, but the encounter seems to have changed his way of relating to people.

The journalist, Bruce Feiler, in his book, Walking the Bible, tells of his pilgrimage to many of the sites of the stories in the Five books of Moses. Towards the end of the book he visits the river Jabbok. This is what he says about this story of Jacob’s nighttime encounter:

“The scar, significantly, does not end up on Jacob’s hand, nor on his head, his heart, or his eyes. Humans experience God, the text seems to be saying, not by touching him, imagining him, feeling him, or seeing him. Jacob is scarred on his leg, for the essential way humans experience God, the text suggests, is by walking with him.”[1]

So today, we hear a story. We make of it what we can. And if it continues to haunt us with its implied questions, it has done its work well. Let us walk with God.

 

[1] Bruce Feiler, Walking the Bible: a journey by land through the five books of Moses. 2001. New York: HarperCollins. P. 420.

 

 

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