Living into the Truth of Love 10/29/17 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Matthew 22:34-46

I recently came across a story of a man reminiscing about his first encounter with love.  Jim was in the second grade and back then everyone called him Jimmy.  Sheila was the first girl who ever caught Jimmy’s eye.  Up until this point all Jimmy wanted to do when he saw a girl was throw rocks at her, but Sheila was different.  He didn’t want to throw rocks at her.  She was the cutest thing young Jimmy had ever seen. 

Sheila noticed Jimmy too because one day she passed him a note during class.  It read, “Do you love me?”  Uh oh, Jimmy thought, he had no idea that things were this serious.  Now Jimmy didn’t know much about girls, but he did know that girls like to hear you say that you love them.  So he checked the box that said “Yes” and passed it back.  At recess that day Sheila came up to him with a big smile on her face.  “Say it,” she said.  “What?” Jimmy responded, confused.  “Say that you love me,” explained Sheila.  Completely embarrassed, Jimmy choked out, “I love you.”  Thankfully after hearing that she left him alone until the next day when Sheila came up to Jimmy again and asked, “Do you really love me?”  “Yes,” said Jimmy.  “Do you really mean it?” Sheila pressed, “because a lot of boys tell me they love me, but some of them don’t mean it.”  Even at the tender age of seven Jimmy knew the right answer to this question, “Of course I mean it.”  That seemed to satisfy Sheila for a few days, but then she came back.  “If you love me and mean it,” she said, “why don’t you show it?”  Good grief, Jimmy thought, I let her have my special GI Joe eraser, I stopped pulling her hair, I even made my friends stop calling her names.  What more did she want?  “You’re supposed to hold my hand,” she said with a stern look on her face, “and play with me at recess, sit next to me during free time…you’re supposed to show that you love me.”  With this Jimmy realized that he was way over his head.  So over the next few weeks Jimmy did his best to gently fade into the background of all the other second grade boys knowing that Sheila eventually look to someone else.

I wonder if we sometimes have a Jimmy/Sheila dynamic going on with God?  “Do you love me?” God asks us.  Quickly we check off the appropriate box, “Yes, God, we love you.”  “Then say it,” God says.  “We love you Lord,” we reply with a convincing Sunday smile. “Do you mean it?” God continues, “because a lot of people say that they love me, but some of them don’t really mean it.”  “Well, of course we mean it,” is our reply.  “Then show it,” God says, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind...and love your neighbor as yourself.”

Ok at this point, if we are completely honest some of us may confess that we completely identify with young Jimmy here because it may feel that we too are way over our heads.  Love God with all that we are - our hearts, our souls, our minds?  And love others, every other person, as we love ourselves?  We know that this love that Jesus speaks of in our gospel reading today goes way beyond warm, sentimental feelings.  This love is the type that lead Jesus to die on a cross.  This is the type of love that always seeks the good of the other, is unconditional, faithful, self-sacrificing and enduring regardless of circumstances.  Good grief!  Are we up to it?

Now we talk a lot about love around here.  It’s not a new topic.  However as familiar as we are with the subject, living into the truth of it is always a challenge and even has a bit of a mystery to it.  I mean how exactly do you love a God who you can’t see or touch or hear?  And what is the best way to love our neighbor - a family member who has deeply hurt us or a co-worker who clearly has the wrong type of politics or someone who we are afraid might hurt us in one way or another?  How to love such people is not always obvious.

And let me throw in one more thing to consider as we seek to love God and our neighbor as ourselves.  It’s something that researcher Dr. Brene Brown, after 10 years of studying human relationships, concluded.  She writes, We can only love others as much as we love ourselves.  Self-love, Dr. Brown claims, is actually a requirement for loving others.  But this self-love is not about self-absorption rather it’s about extending the same degree of kindness and acceptance to ourselves as we do to anyone else.  But from what I know, most of us are very hard on ourselves. We are full of self-criticism.  The things we say to ourselves we would never say to anyone else because we know that that would be cruel.  And research suggests that as much as we’d like to think that our lack of love for ourselves does not affect anyone else, it does - kind of like secondhand smoke.   We don’t realize that the things that we don’t like about ourselves can cause us to act in unloving ways towards others, especially those who are closest to us.   But whether or not you buy this theory that you can’t love others more than you love yourself, what is beyond dispute is that God deems each one of us worthy of loving and being loved - no exceptions. 

Yet we all love, no matter how hard we try, so imperfectly - we lose our patience, we say things we don’t mean, we turn a blind eye, even our good deeds are full of mixed motives.  Recognizing this, a young man went to his rabbi and said, “Rabbi, I know that we are commanded to love God with all of our heart and soul and mind, but I also know that my heart and soul and mind have bad parts in them.  So how can I love as God commanded?”  Thinking about this for a moment the rabbi replied, “It seems then you will just have to love God with the bad parts too.”  That’s what God wants from all of us - that we might love with all of who we are, our imperfect selves, holding nothing back.   For God well knows that we are not perfect.  I mean we confess every week how far short we fall.  How we have left undone those things which we ought to have done and have done those things which we ought not to have done.  We’ll confess it today, we’ll confess it next Sunday, and hopefully we will confess it to God throughout the week as we recognize the ways in which we’ve been unable or unwilling to love.  We’ll fall short of the great commandment to love all of our lives, guaranteed.  But the bigger and more important guarantee is that no matter what God will keep extending love to us - forgiving us, encouraging us and sending us back out into the world to try again to love God with all that we are and to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Does this feel like a big ask?  So big that some of us may be tempted to fade into the background hoping God will look to someone else?   It may feel like a big ask, but actually it’s a big invitation.  An invitation to both recognize our limits and to experience the limitless nature of God’s love.  A love that is so big, so generous, so patient, so forgiving - a love that never waivers, never fails.  A love that we do nothing to earn or deserve but that is poured into our lives nonetheless.   This is where we are to start.   Know that love.  Let it flow through your heart and soul and mind so that the world may know God’s great love as we seek to love our neighbor as ourselves. 

Small Things: A Reflection from Emily Rutledge

Sunday mornings are not the most relaxing time of the week in our family.  There are lots of 'hurry ups' and 'do you haves' and rushing.  It's not the ideal but it is how we make it mostly on time to church each week. I need to go to church some Sundays just to seek the forgiveness I require for all the things I did and said in the process of trying to get my kids to church.  

A few weeks ago we were in rare form.  My husband was sick and needed to stay home, I was running a program for all the children and teenagers between services, and we were running LATE. I rushed to the only open pew I could find before the procession began.  Before the Gospel was read I had to remove my son from the sanctuary because he just couldn't get himself together or stop crying.

Turns out the shoes we had put on him were too small.

Two whole sizes too small.

Because we are obviously stellar parents.

As we sat on the pew outside the sanctuary doors, both of us on the brink of falling totally apart, a friend walked back from one of, what I am sure, would be multiple bathroom trips for her crew.  She gave me the look of solidarity as I bargained with my three year old ways we could both make it through the rest of the service.  

We re-entered the sanctuary, him shoe-less and both of us still pretty upset and frustrated.  Moments later that sweet friend came over with a handful of trucks.  We had a bag of church toys of our own but she knew the gift of novelty and left us with some new-to-us toys to entertain my distraught boy.

It was magic.  He happily played and participated in the remainder of the service, shoe-less and joyful.  I got through an entire prayer without shooting the stink eye at one of my kids.  

Mother Teresa is famously quoted as saying, "Not all of us can do great things.  But we can do small things with great love."

I am finding that those small things, the noticing a need and lovingly filling it, are what makes daily life not only manageable but joyful.  Daily I feel broken down by something; parenting, ministry, global issues, laundry, health but when someone takes the time to love me in a concrete way I feel like the burdens of daily life are lifted momentarily and I get a glimpse of the Kingdom of God.

Noticing, filling a void, saying the encouraging words, making the meal, visiting, taking the time... these small things we can do with love make all the difference.  If God's Kingdom is to come it's through us.  Each time we lift the burdens and allow the Kingdom to shine through we are revealing the life God wants for us.  A life of connection and joy.  A life where we not only see each other's struggles but actively work to ease them. 

May God's Kingdom be opened up to you today through small acts of great love.  May you reveal the Kingdom of God to another through the gift of your love.  

Why would you pledge? 10/22/17 Darryl Marshall

 Several years ago, I was a member of a small Episcopal church in a small town near the West Coast. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we had a rector and volunteers who did a lot of the work. We had a bulletin like our bulletin here. It had rubrics, which are those things that tell you what to do during the service. For instance, for the lesson, sit; for the gospel, stand; for the sermon, sleep.

I am going to talk about money, so you should only sleep if this is a subject you have no interest in. First, where I am coming from: I believe that Christianity is a journey, and you must participate in it. You must be active, not just along for the ride.

I would like to tell a story. It didn’t happen exactly this way, but I know this story is true.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I found myself disillusioned with the evangelical approach to Christianity, so I joined the Episcopal church. I did all those things you do to get signed up and confirmed. One day I was having a conversation with the rector of my church and I asked him “What should I do to be a member?”

He said that was a good question, and responded: “First, you need to show up.” Kathleen talked about showing up last week, so we know something about that. Second he said: “You need to get involved. This means joining a group such as bible study, and becoming part of a program for outreach or some other service to the church and community. Third, you need to pledge.”

I said, “Wait a minute, what’s a pledge?”

He said, “That is a promise to give a certain amount of money to the church every week.”

I said to myself: “Self, why would you do that? I put money in the plate every week that I am here. If I like the sermon I put in a whole dollar!”

Ask yourself: why would you pledge? There may be many reasons. For instance, you may think that David and Kathleen will think more highly of you and pay more attention to your needs if you pledge. Unfortunately, this won’t work here because neither David nor Kathleen know how much you pledge, or even who pledges. This is their policy. So, this is not a good reason.

You might think that if you do not pledge, God will smite you. However, if you have been paying attention to what David and Kathleen have been telling us, you will know that God is not in the business of going around smiting people. So, this is another bad reason.

However, there are some good reasons. For instance, you might think God has blessed us and wants us to support the work we are doing here. Or, there may have been some personal event that convinced you of the value of the church, and you want that to continue.

These are good reasons, but research has shown that some things must be in place for people to support an organization like ours.

First, you must support the mission of the organization. Our mission is written at the top of the bulletin, you will find it inside, and it is even written on the wall in our new building. I assume that, if you are here, you support the mission.

Second, you must have confidence in the leadership. We have excellent leadership, not only the clergy, but also the rest of the paid staff and volunteers. I am qualified to say this because I am old. And, I have been in a lot of churches that do not have this high-quality leadership.

Third, you must be confident that the money is handled professionally and responsibly. That is the case here. The books are open to anyone who wants to look at them, and our treasurer does an excellent job.

OK, we have arrived at the point where I was convinced of the need to pledge. The next question I had for the rector was, of course, “How much?”

He said, “The Biblical standard is a tithe.”

I said, “What’s a tithe?”

He said, “10%.”

At this point I was feeling a little trapped, but thought I saw a way out. I said, “10% of what?”

He said, “10% of adjusted gross income. That is the line on your income tax form that tells you how much you need to give to the emperor and how much you need to give to God.”

Imagine my chagrin. That is a tough standard. However, he did tell me that you don’t need to get there all at once. You can pick a percentage you are more comfortable with, and work up from there over time. It is something to aim for.

So, I aimed for it. I have not always made it, but I have tried. And, I have found that my life works better when I tithe. It is good for me, it is good for the church, and it would be good for you.

But, I am not convinced that his answer was the best he could have given me. A better answer might be to ask yourself, “What does God want me to do to be part of a movement that still has a way to go to change the way we all live together?” It can succeed, but only with our help.

I hope you will fill out a pledge card and bring it in two weeks, and I hope you will consider making the tithe a standard for yourself. I don’t see too many people sleeping, so I hope you are moved to think this through.

Showing Up 10/15/17 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Matthew 22: 1-4

Several years ago our diocesan bishop, Shannon Johnston, took a four-month sabbatical.  It was unprecedented, at least in recent memory.  Certainly the bishop before him, who had served for twenty four years, had never taken a sabbatical because there was always something pressing to do.  Bishop Shannon felt that way too until the day he received a call notifying him that a good friend had died unexpectedly.  It was quite a blow.  That friend had lived in Richmond as Bishop Shannon did, but even though they were geographically close they had not seen each other in years.  You know how it goes, they were too busy - their schedules were full.  The sad truth was that in life, Bishop Shannon hadn’t found a way to carve out time for his friend.  In death, however, he cleared his calendar to bury him - vowing never to let that happen again.   So the Bishop of Virginia took a sabbatical with the sole purpose to put “relationships back into the ‘priority’ category in [his] life.”

This story came to mind as I was reflecting on our gospel lesson this week.  A king throws a wedding banquet and invites a group of people, but surprisingly this group turns the invitation down.  Their schedules, it seems, are full.  There are other things that are pressing - farms and businesses need to be tended to.  However they don’t simply send their polite regrets, no - and this is where the story takes a very dark turn - in addition to turning down the invitation they end up mistreating and murdering the king’s messengers.  Upon discovering this, the king is so enraged that he orders the people he invited to be put to death and their city to be burned to the ground.  Once that is settled, a second round of invitations go out.  New folks are invited to the banquet and they come and everyone seems to be happy until the king notices that one man is not properly attired.  Apparently the offense is so grave that he’s thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

But before we get too worked up about this or check out entirely because this type of God isn’t one that we’re interested in worshipping, let me suggest to you that Jesus is speaking in hyperbole - using exaggeration to get our attention and evoke strong feelings in order to underline a point.  The key to understanding hyperboles, in general, and this parable, in particular, is to recognize that although the story it is supposed to be taken seriously, it is not to be taken literally.

So let’s seriously look at this story.  It’s about judgment - the first group that the king invites are declared unworthy and by implication the second group is worthy - but and this is a big but, the judgment that is going on here is not what we might naturally think.   For God does not judge us in the same way that we so often judge one another.  Our judgments usually have to do with exclusion - who’s in and who’s out.  But what if it’s just the opposite with God?  What if the point that Jesus is trying to underline for us with this shocking story is that God does indeed judge us, but his judgment is all about grace, forgiveness, and invitation?  That God’s judgment is not about exclusion but inclusion.

If that’s the case - that the judgment of God is about who’s included rather than excluded - how can it be that the first group of invitees is said to be unworthy and the other group is not?  Well, it isn’t because one group is morally better than the other.  Obviously the first group can’t take any moral high ground since they killed the king’s messengers.  But the second group is likely no better for Jesus makes a point to say that it was made up of both the good and the bad.  Neither group is exemplary.  And neither group did anything to earn or deserve the royal invitation.  Yet both groups are invited - both groups are included.   And the king only seems to be motivated by the desire to share his banquet feast with others.  He wants someone, anyone, as many people as possible to come and join in the party, the joy, the celebration. 

So what then is the difference between the two groups?  Apparently there’s only one: Presence - one group actually shows up.  Jesus tells us that the wedding hall was filled with guests from the second group.  In sharp contrast to the first group, that would not come.  That’s it - that’s the difference: showing up and being present.  That’s what matters most in any relationship especially in our relationship with God.  It sounds so easy, nonetheless, it’s often very difficult to do - to show up and be present because there’s always something else, oftentimes something good that needs our attention.  In the parable it was the needs of the farm and the business.  For Bishop Shannon it was the demands of our diocese.  For us...well, what takes up your time?  What is it in your schedule that tends to crowd out showing up and being truly present with others and with God?  

Woody Allen was the one who said, “Ninety percent of life is just showing up.”  But I suspect that he wasn’t just talking about showing up in body and not in spirit.  If you come to a meeting but your mind is elsewhere that’s no good.  Or if you’re having dinner with family while being on your phone you might as well not be there at all.  Showing up only matters if it includes both  body and in spirit - being fully present and attentive to whatever is going on - that is the ninety percent of life that really matters and keeps us from missing out. 

Which may shed some light on what’s going on with the poor soul who showed up to the king’s banquet without a wedding robe.  The king’s reaction suggests that surely something more is going on here than just a fashion faux pas.  Notice that when this guest is questioned by the king we are told that he is speechless.  Perhaps his silence was because although he showed up at the banquet in body he wasn’t really present in spirit.  Maybe if he had said something - made his presence known - things would have turned out differently.

Because the God we know through Jesus Christ does not turn anyone away - just the opposite.  We are always invited to come.  God has indeed judged us and has ruled that each and every one of us is to be included.   So the invitation goes out over and over again throughout our lives.  Come! says the Spirit.  And when we say yes to that invitation - and not only say yes, but when we show up and are present we are worthy.  But it’s not that showing up makes us worthy.  It’s that when we do show up we discover the worthiness that has been there all along.  A worthiness that God has always known and recognized in us.

That means that no matter who you are, you are worthy.  You are loved.  And you are invited.  So do what you must to clear your calendar, put this relationship in the priority category of your life so that you may join in the celebration of God’s kingdom, God’s life, God’s joy!

Gathering as the Body: A Reflection by Fr. David

Each Wednesday at Church of Our Saviour, a group of people gathers for Holy Eucharist in the Rock Chapel at 10:00am. It is a healing service, and so right before the Peace, we play some choral music while people come forward one at a time to be anointed and prayed for. I am always moved by the intimacy and the power of that. People bring with them a wide variety of concerns and needs, from the mundane to the horrific, and I always have this deep sense of God's love enfolding all of us, in all of our brokenness and pain. That love surrounds us even when we are alone, but the gathered community becomes a living sign of that love and a way for everyone there to see it and touch it. When we exchange the Peace with each other, I can see us giving Christ to each other.

And even giving Christ to those beyond that service. Whenever we have a baptism scheduled for the following Sunday, our beloved Eileen Spenceley knits a blanket for the child being baptized. And the congregation assembled on Wednesday morning blesses that blanket. During the Peace, we gather in a circle, each one of us holding onto the blanket, while the celebrant prays for the child to be baptized and for the family. And we pray that that blanket will be a sacramental reminder of the love of God enfolding all of us always. This week, when we blessed the lovely yellow blanket that will go to Eleanor Ellis after she is baptized this Sunday, I was so aware of the many hands holding it, some of them belonging to people in their ninth decade of life. Many of those people will never even meet Eleanor. But their physical presence at that moment will bless her in ways she will never even know.

Such is the Body of Christ: we are woven together in ways beyond our fathoming. Our consumer culture may tell us we come to church to "get something" for ourselves, but the truth extends far beyond that. Whenever we gather, our very presence becomes a channel of God's Presence. When we participate in worship and give ourselves to prayer in community with others, we are blessing all those around us. We are greater than the sum of our parts. That's why Jesus says that when two or three are gathered in his name, he is right there in the midst of them.

Our participation in faith community is never just about us as individuals. When we show up — at worship or Bible study, in the Food Closet at choir rehearsal, anywhere and everywhere we assemble in Christ — we become sacraments to each other, the means for God's love to flow. If anyone ever wonders if their presence in church matters, I see how much it matters. Everyday.

Receiving the Gift 10/8/17 The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Philippians 3:4b-14

Imagine. You have worked so hard for years. You studied, and stayed up late, and sacrificed. You got into a great school, and then landed a plumb job. And you still never let up: you did everything it took to succeed and get ahead. You acquired a hefty income, an affluent lifestyle, and an excellent reputation. You are living the dream — and you walk away from it all, because you discover something so much better. Or you have trained as a premier athlete, devoting yourself seven days a week to being in the best possible shape. You have punished your body, refused all indulgences, gone without drinking and desserts, and pushed yourself to the limits. And there you are, in the final lap of the big race, out in front, victory is within your reach — and then five yards short of the finish line, you stop and walk off the track because you realize you want something far greater than a gold medal.

Imagine. If you can’t imagine, you won’t understand the Apostle Paul, and you won’t fully get the Good News of Jesus Christ. Paul is a high achiever: super smart, dedicated, and relentless. Among Jews, Pharisees were hardcore. And among Pharisees, Paul was a rock star. He says as much today: If anyone has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless. He’s got the resume and the reputation, and he’s worked hard for them. And then he walks away from all of it: Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.

If we can get at this and understand what’s happening here, we will touch on a mystery that matters to every one of us. We talk about Paul’s “conversion,” but when he encounters the Risen Christ, he does not become religious: he’s already religious — he’s obnoxiously religious. And it’s not just that he goes from denying Jesus is the Messiah to believing Jesus is the Messiah: that would not be totally surprising or even necessarily cause him to give up his life as a Pharisee. After all, any number of devout Jews believed Jesus was the Christ. N0, this is what happened to him and this is why it matters: Paul had a complete change of heart and mind, and he realized that his whole way of being in the world was upside down. He had spent his life scrupulously obeying the Law to gain God’s love, and then with devastating clarity he saw that it was all pointless: there is only way to gain God’s love, and that is to receive it as gift, a gift which Jesus offers to everyone. And so Paul walked away from everything he had devoted his life to because he found something so much better.

Something which changed his life far more than years of strict adherence to the Law ever did. Paul had obeyed all the commandments and observed all the regulations. He was technically flawless. Which means he was a wonderful person, right? Wrong. He was filled with anger and hatred, and zealously hunted down Christians to haul them off to prison and even kill them. He was there when they stoned Stephen to death: he approved of it. He watched while the crowds threw heavy rocks at that young man until he died from blunt trauma. And, sadly, it shouldn’t shock us that meticulous observance of religious laws could lead to that. After all, there have been — and probably still are — commandment-quoting Christians in the Ku Klux Klan. Some of the guards who worked at Auschwitz went to church every week. You can do all the right things and be totally wrong.

The brutal truth is that obeying the law has never transformed anyone. Law is certainly important: it points us in the right direction and keeps us in line. But it’s not the reason we’re here. In Galatians Paul calls the law a paidagogos, a babysitter that guards us until the love of God revealed in Jesus Christ so fills us that we no longer need a babysitter. One might think this is irresistibly appealing, but it’s not because we have egos, and our egos like following the rules because following the rules bolsters our own sense of self-worth and our own need for control. I keep the commandments (more or less), I go to church (most of the time), I give money to worthy causes, I check off all the right boxes so therefore I deserve whatever blessings I have and I have earned a ticket to heaven. Paul realized that that whole way of thinking entirely misses the point. Do you understand that?

We’re trying to get a passing grade and get into heaven; God has already given us heaven and wants us to go from glory to glory in this life and forever. We’re worried about our report cards; God wants us to shine like the sun. Merely following religious rules won’t get us there; it won’t even make us good. Only love can transform us like that, only love can enable us to reach our full potential as human beings created in the image of God. And love can never be earned: it can only be received as a gift. But when we do receive it — oh my God, it changes everything!. It certainly changes us for the better. That’s why we call it good news. That’s why Paul regards everything as loss for the sake of experiencing it.

Jesus has already lived, died, and risen again to show us this love. God has already poured his love into us through the Holy Spirit. We are about to eat and drink Christ in a few minutes to take all that love in. If we are going to strive for anything, it is just to let the reality of God’s love sink into us fully so that we can fully come alive. We don’t even need to ask for it: we just need to let it happen. So here is my recommended prayer for all of us this week: “Thank you, God, that your love fills me. Thank you, God, that your Spirit flows through me.” Accept the gift by offering thanks for it. Not once, but over and over again, so that the love of God can begin to transform us in whatever way that is going to happen in each of our lives. As someone who spent the first part of my life desperately trying to earn and control everything, including God’s favor, I know that nothing compares with just letting God’s love fill  me and God’s Spirit flow through me. I want you to know that too, so that together we can experience, with Paul and all the saints, the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus as Lord.

The Labyrinth: A Reflection from Emily Rutledge

I don't believe there is any task more difficult than raising a child.  It seems to be the singular thing in life that doesn't get easier the longer you do it.  Paradoxically, and unlike any other challenge on the face of the planet, it actually seems to get harder the longer you push on.  Sure, those first few weeks are exhausting but I stand witness to the exhaustion of raising teenagers and know many parents who would gladly trade a sleepless night waiting for their baby to come home for a sleepless night with a newborn in their arms.

I have been a parent for 2,219 days.

I have been letting go of expectations, control, plans, and my ego for 2,219 days now.

The holy hard work of being present day in and day out; making lunches and explaining death, driving carpools and discussing racism, doing laundry and worrying about sexting... it's more than it seems anyone could or should survive.  There are moments of pure joy followed quickly by moments of guilt and frustration.  I am in awe that all across this planet people are doing this stuff daily and not just collapsing in utter exhaustion.

A month ago I was with my family at Shrine Mont for our parish retreat.  My daughter and I took a side trip to look at the labyrinth which was not in use because of the rain that had been pouring down the night before.  When we arrived, she didn't hesitate to walk the puddled path.  Watching her jump in to the messy maze was a harsh reminder that no matter what hard work I am constantly putting in trying to guide and support and love her, her life is not my life, and my life is not hers.  She is a part of my journey and I am a part of hers. Just as I have been formed and changed by the people and experiences I have walked through she will also meet people and do things that will, for better or worse, challenge and change her.

This fact does not make parenting easier.  It doesn't mean I don't have to teach her the importance of washing her socks right side out or help her with what to say to the kid at school who can't seem to utter a kind word, it does mean that it doesn't all fall on me.  The job of a parent is huge and constant and forever but it is not the determining factor of how our children's lives will unfold, we are merely tasked to be the ones who witness it.  We are the ones standing watch at the outside of the labyrinth as our children walk through the puddles and get lost and find treasures and eventually discover themselves. There will be things we can help with, we can rescue them from, and there will be times we will only be there to watch them fall and pray they are resilient enough to try again. 

I think of Mary, the mother of Jesus, often since becoming a mother.  I remember that she cleaned that boy's dirty knees and fed him and disciplined him and eventually witnessed his execution.  While Jesus was God's son, God wasn't the one who wiped his bottom when he was a baby or who had to convince him that eating vegetables was a necessary evil.  God wasn't the one scared out of His mind when Jesus went missing as a boy or who had to bury His child.  God was present, yes, for all those things, but God has the gift of eternity now, we only have the knowledge of the eternity that is to come.  God could rest in the redemption He knew to be real when Mary had wait and hope for it.

Anne Lamott has said that, "there are places in your heart you don't know exist until you love a child."  She also says there, "is one thing they forget to mention in most child-rearing books, that at times you will just loose your mind.  Period"

Both things are so so true.  As we stand witness to the labyrinths that are the lives of our children I hope you will join me in letting go of some of the things that are even harder to let go of than expectations, control, plans, and our egos... I invite you to join me as I attempt to let go of

guilt
self-doubt
and the crushing belief that we can do it all right.

I challenge you to pause in the impossible moments (and they happen daily, so you'll have plenty of opportunities) and feel the strength and capability you embody in doing the daily work on raising a child day in and day out.

May the God of Mary, of you, of me, and of our children, walk with us through our labyrinths the way that only She can.

Divine Power 10/1/17 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Matthew 21:23-32

I remember the first time I felt the rush that comes with power.  It was my junior year in college.  I was a Resident Advisor which means I was basically in charge of a dormitory floor of mostly eighteen year old young women.  My primary role was to help get them adjust to their new life in college.  It was a great gig and I loved it.  But I realize how much power I had until one night I was startled out of a deep sleep by the dorm’s fire alarm blaring.  Once I got my bearings I went into action, as trained.  I grabbed my master key, went out onto the dorm hallway and starting knocking on doors. One by one bleary-eyed students opened their doors to me.  Fire, alarm!  I said stating the obvious, Leave now and take the stairs down to the parking lot.   There were about thirty rooms to clear.  So door after door I’d knock and command, knock and command.  It was kind of fun.  After all those years of parents, teachers, and bosses telling me what to do, now it was my turn.  What particularly sticks in my mind during that fire alarm was what I did if a door did not open after I had knocked.  When that was the case I’d take my master key, put it in the lock and open the door.  That’s when the rush came.  I had the power and authority to open someone’s locked door without their permission.  It was thrilling!  No matter that most of the time I’d discover that the room was empty.  Still I had the power to command!  I had the authority to trespass!  And I really liked it.

In the years since I’d like to think that I’ve come down from my power high.  Rest assured I turned in my master key at the end of that school year.  I’m no longer inclined to open anyone’s locked door.  And the idea of commanding someone to do something holds no appeal.  Even so the dynamics of power and authority are at play in my life and yours all of the time.  And it certainly is so in our gospel reading from Matthew.  The big deal is who’s got it - the chief priests and elders?  John the Baptist?  Jesus?  And from what source does it come, human or divine?  That’s important because the two often have very different ways of being in this world.  Human power is often associated with force, deception, manipulation and coercion.  Human power communicates, If you don’t do as I want then I will make you one way or the other.    

Don’t think that divine power, the power and authority that God wields is just a bigger and badder version of that: it’s not.  The most striking difference is that God’s power does not seek to coerce by force, but to create change by love.  Our collect this morning, the opening prayer we prayed at the beginning of the service, captures this truth beautifully.  O God, we prayed, you declare your almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity.  Think about that.  Our God whose power is truly almighty, who made the heavens and the earth, who can do absolutely anything chooses to reveal that mind-blowing, awe-inspiring power to us - how? -  by showing mercy and pity, compassion and tenderness, never-failing kindness and love.  God’s power in no way seeks to dominate or control, but to inspire, to call forth, to heal and to save.  We see that almighty power most clearly in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  Every time Jesus encountered human power at work by force Jesus responds not with an opposing force but with God’s greater power of love. 

So what does that mean for us?  That means that contrary popular belief, God is not up in heaven just waiting to strike someone with lightening when they go astray.  Nor is God about motivating with fear using threats of hell and eternal damnation so that we might toe the line.  God does not force you or anyone else to do anything that you don’t want to do - and that’s for better and for worse.  Rather every day of your life God is seeking to show you how much you are loved so that you might respond in kind and be changed.  

With that in mind let’s look at the story that Jesus tells us today.  There is a father who asks both of his sons to go out into the vineyard to work.  On the surface it sounds like a typical setup for, perhaps, an all too familiar power struggle between parent and children.  But there really is no struggle here - no coercion is involved.  The father makes his request and allows his sons to respond in whatever way they choose.  The first says no, but later changes his mind and goes to the vineyard.  The second son says yes, but doesn’t end up going at all.   Who did the will of the father?  Jesus asks.  The chief priests and elders answer, The first. 

Don’t be fooled though.  This parable is not just an ordinary morality tale that endorses hard work and integrity.  There’s more to it than that.   Yes, obedience to God is a good thing, but what Jesus is seeking is what happens right before the first son goes into the vineyard - that is, he changes his mind.  It is that inner change, that shift in his heart that prompts the right action.  Jesus makes this very clear when he tells the chief priests and elders that what their big problem is is that even though they’ve encountered God’s message and power through John the Baptist and now in Jesus, himself, their minds refuse to change and believe. 

Thankfully, the chance to change one’s mind is not a one time opportunity nor a singular event.  No matter what our life with God is like right now, God is not finished with us yet.  There is always more.  Every day God’s power is at work to create change in our minds and hearts through love.  That love seeks to draw us into a place of deeper faith and invite us to join in God’s good work in the vineyard, which is the world. 

As much as I delighted in the power I had long ago to force locked doors open that is nothing compared to the joy that is experienced when an interior door in a heart or mind is unlocked - not by force, but by the power of God’s love.   Let that power in.  Allow it to change your heart.  Go out into the vineyard and be a part of God’s good work so that we can tell the good news that our God declares his almighty power chiefly by showing mercy, pity, love.