No Condemnation: A Reflection by Fr. David

While driving back from Massachusetts with my son Aidan earlier this week, we had a conversation about the incessant need people have to judge others. He had witnessed it during the college visit he had just finished, and he sees it regularly among his peers: this need to put others down, to find reasons to think less of them. And as we talked, he suddenly said, "And here I am being judgmental about judgmental people!"

I am tempted to say that judging others is one of our favorite pastimes. We constantly criticize people based on their poverty or their ostentatious wealth, their social status or lack thereof, their appearance, their schools, their neighborhoods, their jobs, their friends . . . you name it. As Clairee says in Steel Magnolias, "If you don't have anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me!" But judging others is not merely a wicked diversion or a cruel parlor game: it is almost like a reflex action, something we do instinctively without even thinking about it. And as much as we direct it outwards to others, I see how often people direct such judgment at themselves as well, condemning themselves for reasons great and small. I can't tell you how many pastoral conversations I have had with people who essentially despise themselves for their perceived failings and general inadequacy.

So the words of the Gospel in our Wednesday Eucharist this week really hit me hard: God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him (John 3:17). God has no interest in condemning us. Let me repeat that:

God has no interest in condemning us.

That goes so against our grain that we should stop and just let it sink in. There is an old Hasidic adage that says, "God created human beings in God's image, and then human beings turned around and returned the favor." We have too often created a god that is just like us: judgmental, unkind, and unforgiving; in short, a god who condemns. People sometimes point out with dismay passages from the Bible where God is presented as harsh and vindictive, even cruel. Such passages are indeed revelatory, but what they reveal is not God's nature but our own nature. We are this way, so we naturally presume that God must be some super-sized version of us.

But God is not like us. Jesus both teaches us and shows us that God is not in the condemning game. God desires to set us free from all of that nonsense, free from the need to to run others down, free from the need to trash ourselves. When God looks at the people we most look down on, God sees beloved and broken children. When God looks at us, God sees beloved and broken children. That God yearns only to love us and make us whole. The only judgment we need to fear, the most poignant judgment of all, is the one we pronounce on ourselves. As that passage from John goes on to say, And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world and people loved darkness rather than light (John 3:19).

One vital way of living the resurrection, of living as people of light, is to get out of the condemnation game ourselves. It's a bit tricky: when we catch ourselves judging others (which can happen a lot!), we don't want to then judge ourselves. Better to smile, recognize what we are doing, and gently let it go, even if that means doing it a hundred times a day or a thousand times a day. It is an act of liberation. And, you know, we can do that: the Holy Spirit lives in us and wants us to do that. And the Spirit shows us through experience how wonderful it feels to do that. I can honestly say that in my moments of greatest joy and deepest peace, I feel no condemnation towards anyone. A taste of heaven? According to Jesus, yes it is.

Sunday Sermon - 4/23/17 by the Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

John 20:19-31

Welcome to the Second Sunday of Easter!  I want to highlight to you that this is the second Sunday OF Easter, not AFTER Easter because Easter is not a day, but a season.  And that seems only fair.  We in the Church didn’t just spend 40 days of Lent only to get one day of Easter in return.  And for those with a bit of a competitive spirit, take heart, Easter beats Lent by 10 days. 

So here we are - the 8th day of Easter.  Flowers from last week are wilting fast, the ears, at the very minimum, are off the chocolate bunnies, the “alleluias” that we were denied during Lent now roll off our tongues with a little less oomph.  It’s been a week now since Easter day and life feels pretty much back to normal.  And I must say, Church of Our Saviour does Easter day well (a big thanks goes out to the great number of people who worked behind the scenes to make it a special day for all of us).   Doing Easter as a day is one thing, but doing Easter as a 50 day season?  Or as a way of life?   That’s a bit trickier.

We are not the only ones who struggle.  As we hear in our gospel reading from John today, Jesus’s disciples don’t exactly know what to do with Easter as a way of life either.  It’s Sunday evening and John records that Mary Magdalene, upon returning from the empty tomb, announced, “I have seen the Lord!”  Ok, so now what?  They clearly have no idea so they hunker down.  Together they gather in a house and lock the doors because they are afraid.  And it’s not just the doors of that particular house that are locked, but their lives at this point are pretty locked down as well.   

And it is into this locked down, fearful place that Jesus comes.  Jesus comes, stands among them, offers them God’s peace, and breathes on them saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”  But notice that God’s spirit isn’t something that is forced rather it’s something Jesus offers to be received.  So how does one do that?  How did the disciples receive it?   Perhaps one way is to see how Jesus gives the Spirit in the first place - through breath.  

We don’t give much thought to our breath because we don’t need to.  The breathing process is one of those basic operations of the human body that happens automatically.  And one of the things our bodies automatically do in a state of stress, whether it be from fear or anger or anxiety, is that we stop breathing.  We hold our breath.  Then when we do get around to taking a breath it’s shallow because our muscles are tense.  Taking a full breath when stressed takes effort.  Actually, in whatever state you are in the body exerts much more effort to breathe in than to breathe out.  For in order to take in air our diaphragm contracts and goes down, then there are muscles in our chest that work to bring our rib cage up and out all in order to give our lungs the ability to receive the incoming air.  Exhaling is the easy part.  The diaphragm and chest muscles relax which pushes the air out of the body.  Now given the disciples state of stress and fear over the last few days, it probably wasn’t the easiest or most natural thing them to breathe in Jesus’s breath and receive the Holy Spirit.   

Sometimes it’s not easy for us either.  Often, when we get stressed we hunker down like the disciples and exist behind our own locked doors - places that we close off inside of us.  Like the disciples, we might be locked in by fear and anxiety or maybe by anger and resentment.  When we feel shame we certainly don’t want anyone to see.  Sorrow and loss can cause us to shut down.  If we are hurt we often seek protection and emotional shelter.  Whatever closed placed it is for you this morning, know that the Easter news is that there is no door, no lock that can shut God out.  Jesus is always entering into the locked places of our lives saying, “Peace with you” and breathing God’s Spirit of life and hope and love.

But just like our bodies have to exert some effort to make room to receive air, so too our spirits need to make some room for the breath of God, God’s Spirit to come and do her good work inside of us.  Now, God’s Holy Spirit is always with us and is here with us in this place.  But often times, like breathing, we don’t think about it.  So here’s our chance to pay attention and make room.  Jesus comes to his disciples and to us today.  He is present.  Imagine that he is breathing upon you.  So take a moment and close your eyes, if you dare, and take a deep breath.  Feel it deep within.  Receive the Holy Spirit - the breath of God.

But God’s breath, God’s Spirit, is not just for our own life and well-being, but for the life and well-being of the world.  Notice that just before Jesus breathes on his disciples he sends them out, “Just as the Father has sent me, so I send you.  Receive the Holy Spirit.”  We are to breathe in, receive and be filled with the Spirit so that we are empowered to go out into the world living and sharing the Easter good news.  Using our breath to preach in word and deed that Jesus lives!  Christ is alive!  And the God who did that, who has that kind of power is a God of love and forgiveness and joy and peace.  That is the Easter way of life that we are invited to live one day at a time, one breath at a time.  That is the Easter way of life that is able to unlock every door and set the world free.

So this Easter season let us continue to rejoice - to sing our “alleluias,” receive the Holy Spirit, and go out into the world in the power and love of our risen Lord!

Eggs in the Cemetery: Weekly Reflection from Emily Rutledge

When I first began my ministry at Church of Our Saviour the fact that the Easter egg hunt occurred mostly in the cemetery was uncomfortable for me. 

a.  I had grown up where most people were cremated and scattered in the ocean so spending time in a cemetery was new to me. 

b.  I was 24 years old and terrified of death. 

Flash forward eight years to yesterday when I spent about an hour and a half walking around the church property hiding eggs for the ultra-competitive teenage egg hunt we have the first Wednesday after Easter.  Death is different for me now.  I find comfort and peace in that cemetery.  I hid eggs at the tombstones of dear friends and beloved mentors.  Eggs are hidden by the graves of children taken too soon and spouses gone long before their partners.  Where the cemetery situated next to my office used to be a bunch of people I didn’t know who had experienced my greatest fear it is now the place people that I love are buried and where I see resurrection come to life.

Before the teenagers went out to hunt for eggs a few newer kids commented on the ‘weirdness’ of hunting for eggs in a cemetery.  An older student reminded them that we have a pretty healthy relationship with death in this youth community, mostly because we have to. 

Her mother is buried that cemetery.

Most of the adolescents in our parish have sat through services, stood witness, and held space as two of our families have buried a parent.  One, a high school youth formation leader, the other, our associate rector.  Not only have they experienced death they have experienced the treacherous path of terminal illness... twice.  

There is a tendency in our society to push away death.  We do everything we possibly can to live as long as we can and when someone does die we like to put that away in a nice box, in a cemetery, in a hidden place in our mind, and not think about it. 

We have made death the worst thing.

Death is not the worst thing.

A few years ago my friend Jenn, the associate rector here at the time, died of ALS.  I was privileged to be with her as her time got small.  Death had not become the worst thing for her… life had.  Before and through her illness she had done a bunch of amazing things, the best of which was raising her two children.  When Jenn knew her time on earth was coming to an end we had many conversations about a million things, mostly her children, but also about the ‘after’.  After she was gone.  She asked that I always hide eggs near her grave.  She knew she would be buried in the cemetery and loved that tradition.   

Jenn dying was crap.  Losing a parent or a child or a partner too soon is crap.  The missing them and the way that life isn’t fair or easy or predictable is crap.  We don’t believe in a God that makes horrible things happen but we live in a world where they do.  We believe in a God that says even after death… there is more.  

As followers of Christ we are given hope and comfort in the resurrection.  The empty tomb on Easter morning is our reminder that what seems like the end isn’t.   The resurrection is not a happy clappy response to the painful reality of death.  It isn’t a cure for the agony and emptiness that comes with the million little deaths we experience in our lives (relationships, careers, hopes, expectations) or how we experience actual physical death.  The resurrection is the fact that even when it all seems over, that we can’t go on, that there is not an ounce of life ahead… there is.  What happens when we physically die is still out of reach for me.  I’m not sure what ‘heaven’ is.  I don’t know what happens to our spirits.  What I do know is what resurrection looks like on this side of the grave. 

Resurrection is a marriage that comes back from the pits of hell and not only survives, but flourishes. 

Resurrection is the parent of a deceased child getting out of bed everyday and finding good in an unfair world. 

Resurrection is the addict who takes life one day, one hour, sometimes one minute at a time and is able to not take that drink or hit or pill.   

Resurrection is the person who bravely lives their true gender identity when it was assigned differently at birth.

Resurrection is the child whose mother died from a cruel and unfair disease that would make anyone question the goodness of God showing up to church each week and being able to take cute pictures with her bestie at mom’s grave while searching for Easter eggs. 

Resurrection is the way a loving God redeems all the really crappy things that happen.  It’s unpredictable, surprising, and covered in grace and mystery. 

Resurrection is why we hunt for Easter Eggs in a cemetery.  

Good Friday Sermon - 4/14/17 by the Rev. David M. Stoddart

John 19:1-42

A couple of months ago I saw a terrible thing. I was stopped at an intersection on 29 when a car pulled up next to me. In it there was a little girl screaming at the top of her lungs and trying to crawl over into the front seat of the car. The mother jumped out of the car and quickly opened the backseat door. She forcefully shoved this little girl back into her car seat and strapped her in, all the time shouting, “Shut up! Shut up!” And then, after she had strapped her in, she spit in the little girl’s face, jumped back in the car, and drove off. It made me feel sick to my stomach, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether that woman’s mother had done the same to her; whether that little girl would someday do the same thing to her own daughter. Violence wreaks a terrible toll on humanity in part because the cycle is relentless. You hit me; I hit you back. You hate me; I hate you more. Or at least I’ll find someone to hit and to hate. The only way the cycle ever ends is when someone steps out of it and absorbs the hatred and violence without giving it back or passing it on.

Jesus offers no resistance in the story of his crucifixion. In the words of Isaiah tonight, he is like a lamb that is led to slaughter. But unlike a sheep, Jesus is not powerless, at least not in John’s account of the Passion, which is quite distinctive. There is no cry of anguish in the story I just read to you. A Roman crucifixion was a brutal business, but Jesus expresses no pain. He would seem to be subject to a ruthless power, but he points out that Pilate would have no power if it had not been given him from above. While the other Gospels tend to emphasize the passive suffering of Jesus, in John’s account Jesus is neither helpless nor passive. Throughout the story, he remains in ultimate control, to the point of making sure his mother is taken care of. Even when he says, “I am thirsty,” he only does it to fulfill the Scriptures. And at the very end, he pronounces, It is finished, and then he voluntarily gives up his spirit. In this version of the Passion, Jesus is no victim: he is an offering — he willingly offers himself.

This is the particular quality of Jesus that John highlights over and over again: that he gives himself away by his own free choice. In chapter 10 of that Gospel, Jesus says, For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord (John 10:17-18). In chapter 12, when it becomes clear that his death is imminent, Jesus prays, What should I say — “Father, save me from this hour”? No, is for this reason I have come to this hour (John 12:27). At the last supper, he tells his disciples, No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends (John 15:13).

This is crucial to the Good News we remember on this Good Friday: Jesus has come to give himself away, to lay down his life — deliberately, on purpose, because this is what his heavenly Father wants him to do. In the face of violence and degradation, in response to angry crowds roaring for blood, to a cynical governor indifferent to the truth, and to callous Roman soldiers hardened to torture and murder, Jesus will surrender his life to the point of death because this is how his Father will address the enormity of human sin; he will give and give and give — and never fight back. There will be no relentless cycle of spiritual violence: God won’t let it happen.

I know that some Christians, maybe many Christians, understand the crucifixion as an act of penal substitution: we deserve to be punished, but God punishes Jesus instead — Jesus takes the punishment for us. The problem with that interpretation, though, is that it leaves God responding to human violence with more violence, and that is not the way I understand this story. The cross is essential to our atonement because it is not the ultimate lashing, but because God does not lash out at all. And not because God in Jesus cannot lash out, but because God in Jesus chooses not to lash out.

Right after I saw that woman spit in her daughter’s face, I remembered an account I once read about a psychologist working with a troubled child. This child was prone to violent outbursts, and people had responded to him with violence by hitting him and restraining him. During one session, when the psychologist was on the floor trying to connect with him, the little boy got angry and went and grabbed a chair and rushed at this therapist. But rather than overpower the kid or defend himself in any way, the he just sat there, held out his arms, and braced himself for the hit. And at the last moment the boy dropped the chair and collapsed into this man arms sobbing. The process of healing began for him that day.

It may seem crazy that in the face of hatred, injustice, and oppression, in response to starving refugees and senseless terrorist attacks, what God offers is a man dying on a cross. In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul acknowledges that it is crazy, completely foolish — and utterly effective. This is how God will save us from our sin, this is how God will deal with our selfishness, our greed, our apathy, our addictions, our orneriness — by loving us and loving us and loving us, never giving up and never striking back. Every hurtful act and every unkind word and every malicious thought God absorbs until we can finally just collapse in his arms and let our healing begin. Jesus surrendered himself fully on the cross just once, but the divine self-giving that represents is endless —and endlessly powerful. Beginning tomorrow night, we will celebrate just how powerful it is. But we don’t have to wait for Easter to begin to take in and accept the truth of the cross. Hear it now: no matter how long it takes, no matter how much he must endure, no matter how often he must forgive, God will love us into salvation. This is not a theory to be debated; it is mystery to be lived. Let him love you into it. Let him absorb all your garbage, all that hurts you, and set you free. Because as Jesus makes clear today: God’s love can handle it — and there is no other way. 

Easter Vigil Sermon - 4/15/17 by the Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Matthew 28:1-10

Easter Vigil 

Do you believe in fairies?  It’s a question, a most desperate question asked by Peter Pan.  His dear friend, the fairy Tinkerbell, is on the brink of death and the only thing that will save her is if people believe.  “I believe in fairies, I believe in fairies,” goes the chant and when enough people believe Tinkerbell is brought back from near death to life. 

Is that what we are doing here?  Some would say so - that Jesus’s resurrection is just like Tinkerbell’s - it exists only in the minds of the believers.  I beg to differ.  What we celebrate on Easter, what we are doing here is not about wishful thinking.  The resurrection of Jesus from the dead is real regardless of whether someone believes.

As the gospel of Matthew records it, Jesus is dead.  Crucified on a cross.  His lifeless body is brought to rest in Joseph of Arimathea’s new tomb.  There is some concern by the authorities that Jesus’s followers may want to cause trouble by stealing his body so guards are dispatched and the tomb is secured by a heavy stone.  It is early on the first day of the week, Sunday.  Mary Magdalene and the other Mary are on the way to the tomb.  The darkness of the morning before dawn is nothing compared to the darkness and chaos these women and the rest of Jesus’s followers have endured these past three days.  And the upheaval in their lives is not done yet for upon arriving at Jesus’s burial place, suddenly there is a great earthquake, an angel descends like lightening, the stone is rolled away.  The guards, who are no shrinking violets, faint from fear.  After all this shock and awe, it’s understandable that the first thing out of the angel’s mouth to the two Marys is, “Do not be afraid.”  Do not be afraid.  This is overwhelming and completely unexpected, but here’s the news: Jesus is not here for he has been raised from the dead. 

Certainly that’s not something you hear every day.  In fact, it’s probably not on your radar at all.  I don’t think that as those Marys walked to the tomb early Sunday morning they were debating whether they would find a dead body or a resurrected one.  So when they were hit with the news of resurrection - whatever that meant - it must have been so disorienting.  Nonetheless, they do as the angel commands and being full of both fear and joy they take off to tell the disciples what’s happened.  But they don’t get far before their world is rocked again as it is now Jesus who suddenly appears.  “Greetings!” he says, and they throw themselves at his feet and worship him.  “Do not be afraid,” Jesus offers them comfort and then comes the instructions, “Go and tell.”  In this case, “go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”  And, indeed, that is what the women do.

Did you notice, though, that the state of Jesus being raised from the dead, the resurrection of Christ had already happened before the women or any of Jesus’s followers knew about it, let alone believed in it?  It’s been said that reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.  The reality of the resurrection is not dependent upon anyone’s power to believe - it doesn’t go away.  Rather, the existence of the resurrection is the result of the great power and never failing love that God has for each and every one of us.  

Then show me the proof, many say.  And therein lies the rub for as far as we know, the resurrection of Jesus is impossible to prove. (Even though there is a movie currently out trying to make that case, I suspect the evidence put forward is still up for interpretation.)  For better or for worse, Jesus’s resurrection, the good news of Easter is not something to be proved by argument, maybe it’s not even something to be believed, but rather a reality to absorb, to experience, to live into: the existence of God’s continual presence, God’s transforming power, God’s never-failing love that is really with us every day of our lives. 

And if we are willing to open ourselves up to this resurrection reality then everything changes.  Does it mean that we get to live sheltered lives where nothing can go wrong?  I wish!  But that’s not reality nor is it the hope we that we proclaim.  The truth, the good news of Easter that changes everything is that even if we suffer, even if life is hard, whatever may happen to us and whatever the day may bring, God has the power to strengthen us and uphold us; that whatever we face, we do not face it alone.  That nothing, nothing we encounter is bigger or stronger than God’s love.  Ultimately God gets the last word over all the darkness, all the brokenness, all the horror of this world.  In the end, and sometimes before the end, God’s love is triumphant.  That is the good news of the resurrection - that all forms of death have lost their sting because of the power of God’s love.  And we are invited to live into this reality that exists whether we believe it or not,  on Easter day and every day.

With all this focus on our experience of the resurrection, let me switch gears for a moment to offer a different, perhaps a bit irreverent perspective which comes from Jesus’s diary over Easter Weekend.  It reads, Friday: hot; stretched out on a hillside, wondered if I was in the right job.  Saturday: quiet, stayed in.  Sunday: got up early, went to see some friends, they seemed surprised to see me. 

Yes, indeed, they were surprised, for it takes a lifetime for any of us to absorb the good news of the resurrection and all that means in our lives and in the life of the world.   But as we seek to do so, here are Jesus’s words given to us on that first Easter day, words of comfort and instruction, “Do not be afraid.  Now, go and tell.” 

May we all fearlessly live into the reality of the resurrection, rejoicing in the power of God’s great love.   And may we go out into the world so that our lives in both word and deed proclaim the good news that changes everythin: Christ is Risen!  The Lord is risen, indeed!  Alleluia!

Easter Sunday Sermon - 4/16/17 by the Rev. David M. Stoddart

Colossians 3:1-4

Easter Sunday

Basil Pennington, a catholic monk and spiritual writer, once went on a Zen retreat. He felt like there were things in the Buddhist tradition he could learn from. And as it turns out, the leader of the retreat felt the same way. Part of every Zen retreat is a daily meeting with the roshi, the master — meetings which are notoriously challenging and often confrontational. But when Fr. Basil’s turn came, the master was delighted to see him. He greeted him with a big smile and said, “I love your Christianity! But I need to learn something from you.” Then bending forward, he gazed at him intently and said, “Show me your resurrection!” He wasn’t asking for historical proof that Jesus had been raised from the dead; he wanted to see the resurrection in the man sitting in front of him.

An impossible Zen request? I don’t think so. People show me their resurrection frequently. Just last week I was talking with an older woman who was telling me about her daughter’s death. She had died from cancer at a young age, and it was every bit as awful as you can imagine it was: painful and debilitating treatments, periods of hope followed by crushing disappointment, and the slow but relentless decline brought on by the disease. After it became apparent that the cancer would kill her daughter, this woman was understandably in anguish. But one day, when she was praying, she was moved to surrender her daughter. She found herself saying, “God, she’s yours. I know you love her. I know she will be with you. I know you will take care of her.” And as she uttered this words, she experienced a presence, gentle but powerful, almost overwhelming, and she felt to the core of her being that it would all be okay, that her daughter would live with Christ. That moment did not take away her sadness, but it filled her with peace and changed everything for her. It carried her through her daughter’s death. It has sustained her active life of faith to this day, decades later. As I listened to her, I realized she was showing me her resurrection, showing me how she lives the resurrection of Christ.

The early church was all about living the resurrection. Did you catch those amazing words from Colossians? So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. . . . For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory. Christ is Risen and you share in that, the writer says, it is now the essence of your life. It is worth noting that those words, composed by the Apostle Paul or a close associate, were almost certainly written before the Gospel account of the empty tomb that we just heard. Obviously those early believers cherished the story of that first Easter day, but for them it was not just a wonderful miracle from the past, but a present reality. Their proclamation — our proclamation — is not that Christ was raised but that Christ is Risen. And the Good News is not just that someday we will share in that resurrection, but we share in it now: If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is. And, as the text makes clear, of course you have been raised with Christ: his resurrection touches every human being.

This is important. Jesus wasn’t raised from the dead so that an elite club called the church could be in on the secret and go to heaven while the rest of benighted humanity suffers eternal death. No, what kind of God would do that? The resurrection of Christ is for everyone and it affects everyone because Christ is for everyone. Listen to this passage from an earlier chapter in the same letter to the Colossians: Christ is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers--all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross. (Col. 1:15-20).

His resurrection matters to all people, whether they believe it or not. So often we act as if faith means being like the White Queen in Alice in Wonderland who could believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast. My message this morning is not that you should try really, really hard to believe this seemingly impossible thing, that Jesus rose from the dead. There are certainly strong and compelling historical reasons to believe that, but I don’t think you necessarily have to believe it in order to experience it. In fact, I think often people experience it and then come to believe it.

After all, if in Christ all things hold together, we should expect to see signs of his resurrection all around us. Yes, life can hit us hard with illness and failure, loss and tragedy. Yes, the news is grim, filled with senseless acts of violence and millions of people displaced and despairing. And yet there is something in our world, there is something in us, which will not let darkness and death have the final word. I see it in the grieving widow reaching out to help others. I see it in recovering addicts and alcoholics embracing a whole new way of living. I see it every time a parishioner faces hardship with hope and trust. The Risen Christ is the one who holds all things together, the hidden operating system, if you will, of the whole universe. And occasionally he’s not so hidden. I can’t help but think of the Rev. Jennifer Durant, our Associate Rector who died from ALS over two years ago now. Just a few weeks before she died, I was with her in her office. Her health was clearly deteriorating fast, and things were looking awful. And that day I had with her what was probably the most excruciatingly painful conversation I have had with another person. But at one point she paused, and said, “I am so thankful for this office. I love the way the light shines in.” And suddenly there was light there, and not just the light of the afternoon sun, but the light of Christ. And we both knew it: she was going to die soon, and it was going to be okay. In the time she had left, she would live the resurrection.

Christ is risen for us; Christ is risen in us; Christ is risen all around us. If we are open enough to see the signs of that, we don’t have to show up on Easter morning and try to believe anything. We can hear the Easter story and say, “Yes, that is true. I know it’s true because I’m living it.”

Maundy Thursday Sermon - 4/13/17 by the Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

John 13:1-7, 31b-35 

Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment…”  That’s how we get the name Maundy for Maundy Thursday.  Maundy comes from the Latin mandatum - which means mandate or command.  So Maundy Thursday is really Mandate or Commandment Thursday.  And what is this new commandment that Jesus is giving us?  Love one another, he says, but that’s not new.  We remember Jesus earlier in his ministry summing up the law with the Great Commandment:  love God and love your neighbor as yourself.  And when he was doing that he was referencing Old Testament scripture.  So the command to love has been around for a long, long time. 

What is all this talk about a new commandment to love one another?  The answer may be found in the words that follow “Love one another” for it’s “just as I have loved you.”  That’s the new part.  Our love is to be modeled and inspired by how we’ve been loved by Jesus.  And how is that?  Well, in very concrete ways.

Right before he gives this new commandment to love Jesus, knowing who he was and what was coming, took off his outer clothing, wrapped a towel around himself, bent down, washed his disciples feet, and used the very towel he was wearing to wipe those dirty feet clean.  You probably already know how humbling this act of washing feet was in Jesus’s time.  People’s feet were dusty, dirty, and damaged.  This act of washing another’s feet was one of the lowest things a person could do - usually it was a slave who had no choice.  What’s remarkable is that Jesus had a choice and he used that choice to choose this way of being in the world, to choose this way of loving the world and asks us to choose to do the same.  To literally wash feet tonight, and since washing feet isn’t what we do nowadays, for the rest of the year we are to choose to serve in humble ways those in need.  We are to love one another just as we have been loved by Jesus.

And I think we get that part.  I know you and I am very aware that there are countless ways that you all go about your lives seeking to serve others in love both here in our church community and in the world beyond.  And that’s great - keep it up!  For Jesus is commanding us to humbly wash feet in the countless ways that that can be done.

But this washing, this concrete way of loving and of serving does not just go one way.  Jesus commands that we wash and love one another - one another means it’s not a one way, but a two way relationship.  It’s reciprocal.  Jesus calls us to a service and a love that is mutual where there’s both a giving and a receiving.  This is where I think a lot of us struggle.  As I said, I know you.  I see you serving and loving others.  And I also know and see (and I include myself in this) how hard it is for us to be on the receiving end of love and service.  We are happy to give, but we mightily resist receiving.  I wonder why?  Perhaps it’s because being in the position of serving is safer and often is a position of power.  Most of the time when we serve we are in control for we are the ones with the resources: we chose whom we serve, and when we serve, and how much we serve.  The one who receives is somewhat at the mercy of the giver. The receiver is potentially exposed, vulnerable, needy.  Who wants to take on that role?  No wonder most of us find it much easier to serve than to be served.  But if we insist on just taking on one role we distort what love is.  And we reject the fullness Jesus’s new command: Love one another, it goes both ways- love one another as Jesus loves us.

For real love, genuine, authentic love is by its very nature mutual.   There’s a give and a take.  Watch Jesus.  Yes, on this last night he was the one who was giving as he washed feet, but just six days earlier it was Lazarus’ sister Mary who was the giver and Jesus graciously received her love and service as she anointed and washed his feet.  That mutuality of love is not only acted out here as we wash someone’s feet and experience having our feet washed, but it is also what we participate in during the Eucharistic feast as Jesus loves us by giving his very body to us in the bread and the wine.  We receive that love and then we give back and Jesus receives our love (imperfect though it is) as we worship and give thanks.  And because we have experienced that mutuality of love, that flow of give and take, loving and being loved, we go into this night seeking to fully live into Jesus’s new command: Love one another just as I have loved you. 

 

Brother James Koester of the Society of St. John the Evangelist puts it this way, “Sometime this week, someone will need you to lay down your life for them, and [sometime this week] you will need another to lay down their life for you; when that happens you will be in the presence of love.  You will be in the presence of God.”

So that’s where we get to be tonight as we wash and as we worship - we are in the presence of God for we are in the presence of Love.  

Palm Sunday Sermon - 4/9/17 by the Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Matthew 21:1-11, 26:36-27:54

Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday

“I don’t have the right personality...for the crucifixion,” confesses writer Anne Lamott, “I'd like to skip ahead to the resurrection.” She goes on, “ In fact, I’d like to skip ahead to the resurrection vision of one of the kids in our Sunday school, who drew a picture of the Easter Bunny outside the tomb: everlasting life, and a basket full of chocolates.  Now you’re talking.”  Which makes me wonder, who actually does have the right personality for the crucifixion?  The impulse to avoid suffering and sorrow and the dark things of this world is completely normal, isn’t it?  So how about we just go from waving palms and and shouting Hosannas today and just agree to meet back here next Sunday sporting our new Easter outfits and sing some Alleluias?  And let’s throw in a basket full of chocolates too.

Tempting, perhaps.  And that approach to the Christian faith may work as long as the world feels orderly and everything makes sense.  But when things don’t go as planned, when you or someone you care about loses a job, goes through a divorce, faces a diagnosis or if you are just one of those people who pays attention to the seemingly never-ending reports of suffering and struggle in the world or here at home, then a faith that goes only from one party to the next, Hosannas to Alleluias with a basket full of chocolates, may not be enough to see you through.  When we encounter times where the world at large or our lives in particular seem as if they are God-forsaken, what we need is a faith and a God that knows about those dark times, that has lived through brokenness and suffering, that has endured the worst that people can inflict upon one another.  And not only that God knows what that’s like, but does not turn away.   

With the reading of the Passion of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew today we begin Holy Week - a time in which the Church encourages all the faithful to soberly reflect upon the suffering and death that Jesus willingly endured during his last days on earth.  And although our impulse may be to turn away and avoid all of that unpleasantness because we think we don’t have “the right personality for the crucifixion,” if we are willing to be present nonetheless, what we find is that this week is not so much about us being present with Jesus in his sufferings, but discovering that it is Jesus who is always, always present in ours. 

Unlike our natural response, Jesus does not turn away from our pain.  Rather, when we are most broken, most raw, most vulnerable it seems as if God’s spirit comes even closer.  For God is with us - God is able to share our pain like no one else can.  And during this Holy Week we are given the opportunity to know even more surely that there is no situation, no circumstance that is truly God-forsaken.  For in Jesus’s life and death we see that there is no place that God will not go nor is there anything that God will not do to be with and for you and me.  Jesus’s path to the cross is love in action and what it graphically shows us is that Love endures all things, that Love never fails.

And indeed, that is something to shout about and celebrate.  We do it today with Hosannas and palms and we’ll do it next week with Alleluias and, perhaps, a chocolate or two, but what makes these celebrations so rich and meaningful is what comes in between.  Today as we mark Jesus’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem we know that in just days he will hang on the cross.  For it turns out that God’s triumph isn’t a momentary celebration over suffering, but the ultimate victory gained through suffering.  And in the passion of Jesus we are invited to live even more fully into the mystery that has the power to see us through all things in this world - the triumph of God’s Love.  

It was a woman: Weekly Reflection from Emily Rutledge

It’s difficult for me not to read the Bible as a feminist manifesto.  I am often bewildered by those who take the Word of God and use bits and pieces of it to oppress women when through my reading and study I see it as a love letter about the power of the female spirit.  Strong, powerful, humble, open women who allow love, redemption, and grace to flow through them and magnify the love of God fill up the Old and New Testament.

Full disclosure:  I’m a woman so I wear a certain lens. 

The life and ministry of Christ is marked by the presence of women.  

Mary… the mother of God.

Samaritan woman at the well… evangelist extraordinaire.

The hemorrhaging woman who touches Jesus’ robe… audaciously courageous and healed.

Mary Magdalene… apostle to the apostles.

Martha… bold friend and sister.

Mary… the anointer. 

During Holy Week I am always keenly aware of the ways that women show up when men turn away.  Before Jesus’ magnificent entry into Jerusalem Mary, Lazarus’ sister, pours out an entire jar of expensive perfume anointing Jesus.  While the men at the table criticize her for not selling it and giving the money to the poor Jesus tells them what’s what and informs his followers that she is preparing him for burial (disciples: insert foot in mouth) and in both Matthew 26 and Mark 14 Jesus says that wherever the Gospel is preached, what this woman has done shall be spoken of in memory of her.  It is a woman who anoints Christ before his death.

When his disciples turn on him, abandon him, and hide, it is the women who stand at the foot of the cross.  His own mother stands witness to his suffering and watches as he dies a horrible death. Each Gospel gives a different combination of women in addition to Mary the Mother of Jesus in their account but all say the same thing: it is the women who stand at the cross, it is the women who witness him dying. 

It is Mary Magdalene who goes out early on Sunday morning to do the unpleasant and blessed work of caring for Jesus’ body when she discovers the resurrected Christ.   It is a woman who discovers and then proclaims the news that the scriptures have been fulfilled and that Christ is risen. 

When Jesus came to radically change the social constructs of this world he did it in every way and on every axis imaginable.  Christ’s message of hope for the sinner and care for the outcast proclaimed inclusion for all people; across cultures, religions, races, and circumstances. The ministry of Jesus flipped the universal understanding and acceptance of women as second class citizens on its head.  While it has been fun to place the blame of the fall of society on Eve and thus all women (#adamateittoo) through the metaphorical story of the Garden of Eden it is in Christ’s actual birth, life, and death that a radical re-evaluation of the role of women unfolds.  The first to proclaim the news of the resurrected Lord is a woman. **If that’s not case for women in ministry… I’m not sure what is**   The bold and brave steps that the women surrounding Christ took during his life and at his death are examples to each of us of how we can be transformative and powerful vessels of love even when no one wants us to, expects us to, or thinks we are capable.  Through His death and resurrection, “Jesus radically affirmed the full dignity of women and the vital value of their witness.” (Justin Taylor, Gospel Coalition). 

Each of us has something that allows the world to view us as less than: gender, socioeconomic status, ethnicity, sexual orientation, political stance, age, race, disability, weight, and the list goes on… as we approach this Holy Week I invite you to be like the women surrounding Christ: be boldly untethered to the expectations society has placed on you and harness your full dignity and your vital value.  Where are you called to anoint?  Where are you called to hold space in suffering?  Where are you called to proclaim the hope of resurrection?  Christ wants you there.