In all circumstances. Thanksgiving Eve 11/23/22. The Rev. David M. Stoddart

This past Sunday, one week after my mother died, I stood at the altar up in the main church and prayed words which I have prayed thousands of times over the past three decades. In a few minutes, Mo. Kathleen will pray them again: “It is right, and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.” It is right, always and everywhere, to give thanks. Mom raised me well and taught me that I should always say thank you when someone does something nice for me. Every year after Christmas, we wrote thank you notes: “Dear Aunt Margaret, thank you for the socks” – it was always socks with Aunt Margaret. It’s a wholesome thing to do. And, in that spirit, I’m thinking that all of us here enjoy an abundance of good things: people to love, homes to live in, food to eat, games to play. There is much we can and should give thanks for. But somehow, there’s got to be more to thanksgiving than that. “Always and everywhere” implies we give thanks even when we don’t have an abundance of good things, even when disease and disaster strike us, even when we come face to face with death.

 That Eucharistic prayer pushes us, or at least it pushes me, to a deeper understanding of thanksgiving. And it’s not just the Prayer Book that does that, of course. Those words in our liturgy just hearken back to the New Testament, which talks a lot about thanksgiving; we heard an example of that in our reading from Philippians. In fact, Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians, which is by scholarly consensus the earliest of his letters we have and therefore the oldest piece of Christian literature in existence, says at the end: Give thanks in all circumstances. All circumstances. This from a man who suffered extreme deprivation, vicious attacks, beatings, multiple imprisonments, and a shipwreck. Clearly for Paul, thanksgiving is not just transactional – you did something nice to me, so I’ll say thanks – nor is it just situational – things are really good for me now, so I’ll say thanks. For Paul, giving thanks is existential, it is at the core of what it means to be a human being in relationship with God.

 We can give thanks in all circumstances because in all circumstances – please do not tune me out here – we are God’s beloved. God is love and God’s love is the greatest power at work in our lives and in our world. And I say that without any trace of sentimentality. It was Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the great scientist and mystic, who pointed out that when we say love is the greatest force in the universe, that is not a metaphorical statement: it is literal truth. Teilhard de Chardin was a geologist, and for him love is rock solid: it is what physically draws all things together. One of the greatest mysteries of the universe, indeed the primal mystery, is that after the Big Bang, countless trillions of trillions of particles did not fly off into an infinite and eternal solitude. They clumped together. Matter is drawn to matter. Quarks are drawn to quarks, atoms are drawn to atoms, molecules are drawn to molecules. Love is the binding force that holds everything together, the very energy at the heart of reality. That is true from the subatomic world all the way up to highest levels of agape and self-giving adoration. It is no wonder that we are drawn into friendship, marriage, and community. It is no wonder that our dog head butts us in the middle of the night or that we are gathered together right now. God’s love is the ultimate reality. God’s love is. It is at work in bedrooms and in hospital rooms; it is there when a child is born and it is there when a mother dies. As Paul says so eloquently in Romans, nothing, nothing, nothing in all of creation, not even the worst evil, not even death, can separate us from that love. And the only response is to give thanks.

 nd I say “give thanks” deliberately: at any given moment, we may or may not feel thankful. Our feelings are notoriously fickle: they come and go. If we waited to feel thankful in 0rder to give thanks, then thanksgiving would be a sporadic, even rare event. But this is what I have found to be true, and I don’t think I’m alone in this: the very act of giving thanks touches something in me that goes deeper than feelings. Giving thanks puts us in touch with our Christ self, that place where our spirits are one with the Holy Spirit, that place where we know that we are God’s beloved. Touching that truth can unlock tremendous feelings of joy and often does, but doing so always leads me to a deep sense of peace and wholeness. In God’s love we are rock solid. And when I know that, when I acknowledge that through thanksgiving, it is so much easier, indeed it’s just natural, to keep on giving thanks, always and everywhere.

 On the night before he was crucified, Jesus took bread and gave thanks. He took the cup of wine and gave thanks. Even his death would be an expression of gratitude for God’s love. Whatever our circumstances may be tonight, however we may be feeling, we join with Christ and give thanks. Yes, we give thanks for this night, for the beauty of the stars, for the loveliness of this place, for the abundance of food we will enjoy, for all who are gathered here right now, for all whom we love and all whom we have ever loved. But first and foremost, we give thanks for the unquenchable love of God, the very center of creation, the power which holds all of us and all that is together and always will.

 

 

 

 

Advent describes our life. November 27, 2022. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Matthew 24:36-44

 It was a week ago early Friday morning. Our church’s lay delegate, Ellen Osborne, and I were driving up 29 North on our way to our diocese’s annual convention in Northern Virginia. We hadn't been on the road very long, 20 minutes or so, and everything was going as expected until out of the relative darkness three deer appeared in front of my car. A car which was going roughly 60 miles an hour. I had about a second to respond. And in that second my foot hit the break and mouth spoke a word that, I confess, isn’t appropriate for church. (I did ask God and Ellen to forgive me.) In the following second my car slammed head on into one of the deer and knocked it dead, which was unfortunate, but I know I have so many things for which to be thankful. First and foremost, no one was hurt and although my car is damaged I can still drive it until it gets repaired.

Likely you have a story similar to mine whether or not you too have hit a deer on the road because we’ve all experienced times where the unexpected occurs. When we’ve been going about our life as planned and then out of the blue something happens. It’s like “that day and hour no one knows” that Jesus speaks of in our reading from the gospel of Matthew. The day and the hour which we do not know can come to us in a thousand different ways: an unexpected gift, an unwanted loss, an unimagined future, a dream come true. We have no way of knowing when, how, or if they will come but despite our best efforts to plan and prepare for the future, truth is, we live in the midst of uncertainty and unknowing. 

 The day and hour of uncertainty and not knowing is part of what Advent is about. For Advent isn't just a season of the new church year that we begin today, Advent describes our life. You may have noticed that every year the gospel reading for the first Sunday in Advent takes on an ominous and threatening tone. These readings are often referred to as apocalyptic or end of the world texts. But it's important to notice that that's not what Jesus says here. He never says the world is ending. Although it can certainly feel that way when the unexpected happens. Instead Jesus begins with “the day and the hour” about which we do not know and ends with “an unexpected hour.” Everything in between is about not knowing. The only thing we do know is that it - whatever “it” is - happens in the midst of ordinary life like eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, working in the field and grinding meal. What Jesus is talking about here is not the end of all things, but how we live in a world that is impermanent and always changing, unpredictable and in many ways uncontrollable.

 The challenge of Advent, of that day and hour about which we do not know, is the challenge to live not in fear of the unknown but in faith. To find an ease and peace with the unpredictability of life. I believe that this is what Jesus is getting at when he says we are to “keep awake” and “be ready.” He’s offering us a way forward by calling us to pay attention. To pay special attention not to all the things that make us anxious and keep us up at night. But to focus on and be on the lookout for the presence of God in our lives - because God is very present and near. Yet for many of us, and I include myself in this, that presence often goes unnoticed.

 The Rev. Tish Harrison Warren reflects on this in her book, Prayer in the Night, where she writes that when it comes to attentiveness the superheroes in that category are…bird watchers. For they are the masters of noticing. They take note not just of the birds they see but also the ones they hear. They have attuned their senses to pay attention and delight in a world that surrounds us, but is barely noticed by most. And this type of paying attention isn’t limited to bird watchers alone. The other day I was talking with someone who looks for fossils and is able to find them in the most common of places. She has an eye for them - or more accurately, she has developed an eye with time and practice. And that’s true for much of what we see. Artists pick up on so much more than the casual observer. Sports fans spot plays that are invisible to me. Almost anything that we are good at seeing in this world is the result of some degree of practice and intention.

 And so it is with seeing God. Our world is infused with the holy. We bump into the divine all the time. But do we see and recognize it as such? As we enter into the season of Advent and live our lives in the midst of uncertainty and unknowing, Jesus calls us, for our own good and peace of mind, to keep awake, to be ready, to pay attention.

 How so? Well, it’s different for everyone but let me offer a few ideas to get you thinking. Of course breathing is always a good place to start. The next time you’re in traffic, which given the time of year will be relatively soon, take a moment to breathe in deeply and intentionally. That breath alone can be a prayer in and of itself or it can provide you with the opportunity to turn your attention to the Holy Spirit that dwells within you and in all the people around you. Let your breath remind you that God is present.

 Another way to stay awake to God’s life is to pick  a “go-to” mantra, a short phrase that resonates with your soul like, “Come, Holy Spirit” or “Jesus, my peace” or “God is near.” And then intentionally lace that mantra prayer into your day. Or write a phrase or prayer on a sticky note and put it on your bathroom mirror so that you can start and end your day with it. There’s also the practice of gratitude journals, reading a daily devotion, and so on. Really there are countless ways to hone our ability to see God in daily life. Without it feeling like one more burdensome task to add to your growing t0-do list, consider what simple, do-able practice might resonate with your spirit and help you have eyes to see more of God in your life.

 For just as sure as there have been days and hours of uncertainty and unknowing in the past there will be more in the future. That’s the nature, and maybe even one of the gifts, of life if we have eyes to see. For in those unexpected days and hours God is present and offering us the love, joy, peace, and abundant life that goes with that presence. So stay awake to the divine. Be ready for the holy. For no matter what the day and the hour ends up bringing, God is in the midst of it - and we certainly don’t want to miss that!

This radical view of power. November 20, 2022. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Luke 23:33-43, Colossians 1:11-20

It was 1925. Less than ten years had passed since the end of World War I and most of the world was still reeling from the devastation and loss. It was an incredibly unsettled time. Fascism was on the rise. Stalin, Mussolini, and Hitler were all coming into power. So, why the  history lesson? Because it was also in 1925 that a new feast day was created in the Roman Catholic Church, the Feast of Christ the King. Pope Pius XI was concerned by all the ways power was being abused in the world of his day and he sought to highlight to the faithful that above all earthly powers it was Christ who deserved the highest devotion and loyalty. And that ultimately at the end of time, Christ would reign over all.

It took a while, but eventually the Episcopal Church incorporated the feast of Christ the King into its own liturgical tradition. So here we are today on this last Sunday in our Church year joining with Christians across the globe in celebrating Christ the King. Which may, quite honestly, make us cringe because the idea of a king and being subject to one doesn’t sound very appealing. Throughout the ages kings have been tyrants wielding their power in self-serving ways using the tools of fear, manipulation, and violence to dominate their subjects. Who wants that? Let alone celebrate it?

In the face of the grim reality of earthly kings and all the ways that earthly power is often destructively expressed - by king and commoner alike - we have Jesus. As our reading from Colossians puts it, he is the image of the invisible God. A God who truly is all powerful. Powerful enough to create all things in heaven and on earth. Powerful enough to hold all of it together. More powerful than anyone or anything we can imagine. And yet the power of God revealed in Jesus the Christ stands in stark contrast from the powers of this world. We certainly see that in our reading from the gospel of Luke. For on this Christ the King Sunday we do not have a reading of Jesus coming into his glorious Kingdom, at least not in any traditional way. We don’t hear about the times where Jesus is large and in charge, calming the sea, healing the sick, or sticking it to the Pharisees in some way. Instead Christ our King is hanging on the cross. He is being mocked and ridiculed. Suffering at the hands of those whom he loves, those whom he came to save. Yet does he strike back? No. He uses his power to forgive them - he forgives them without them even asking. Then finally, when one criminal asks simple to be remembered, Jesus goes beyond that and offers him Paradise.

God’s way of exercising power is so fundamentally different from ours. That’s clear from the very beginning of Jesus’ story. For as we enter into our new church year next Sunday, we will begin by anticipating the coming of God with us in the birth of a baby. One who reveals to us an all-powerful God who is willing to be vulnerable, weak, and dependent upon others. Then, as Jesus grows into adulthood, his life continues to show us the wonders of our God who demonstrates that ultimate power is found not in domination, but rather in self-giving love. For in God’s kingdom there is no place for coercion, only and always love. Not the mushy, sentimental kind, but the fierce and powerful kind of love that voluntarily gives oneself over for the sake of the other. That is why on this Christ the King Sunday we see Jesus on the cross because it is there that the ultimate power of God is most fully on display. 

If we seek to be faithful to Christ then we must embrace this radical view of power - not just by recognizing it and seeing it on the cross, but by exercising it, this type of power, in our own lives. For no matter who we are, we all have access to this power. We all have the ability, with God’s help, to give of ourselves for the good of others - our families, our neighbors, our communities, our workplaces, our world. That is the hope. That is God’s dream.

And then there is reality - the world in which we live. A world that is all too often marred by various forms of power gone amuck. Power that abuses and hurts and inflicts harm on so many. Just last week our community was rocked by the terrible misuse of power by one individual wielding a gun. The results, as we know, were tragic. Three innocent lives lost, two wounded, and countless others left to live in the wake of severe trauma and unimaginable grief. Yet in the aftermath of such tragedy people, both near and far, have responded with love. And although such love cannot turn back time nor bring back those who were lost, it is not powerless. Such love does have the power to comfort, to support, and to begin the long process of healing.

And in addition to all of that, love also bears the power of a promise - God’s promise in Christ - that it won’t always be this way. That there will come a time when the ultimate power of love, God’s self-giving love, will prevail. God’s kingdom will come on earth as it is in heaven. And each time we use our power for love a little we bring a little more of that kingdom here to earth. But when the fullness of God’s kingdom comes it will not be by force but by the willing surrender of all hearts and minds and souls to the sheer wonder and glorious goodness of Christ the King. For in the end, love wins. 

The good news of that end is what we glimpse today and celebrate in the power of Christ our King.

 

 

The gift of reversals. November 6, 2022. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Luke 6:2-31

All Saints’ Sunday

We’ve probably all experienced it to some degree. A time where life was turned upside down. Sometimes it’s a positive thing like the birth of a child or a new job opportunity or a windfall of some kind. But other times, it’s not: a diagnosis is made, an accident occurs, a relationship ends. Whether or not we deem such life events as good or bad, these reversals of fortune have the power to change us, to open our hearts to something new, and to turn our life in a different direction. 

That’s why Jesus is always about reversing business as usual: preaching good news to the poor, proclaiming release to the captives, offering sight to the blind, and so on. In fact, much of the Christian life is based on reversals. And certainly reversals are at the heart of the four beatitudes and four woes in our reading from the gospel of Luke where Jesus declares that the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and those who are hated, excluded, and slandered can expect better things. Their situations will be reversed. They will be blessed. They will be given the opposite of what they have now. But those who are rich, Jesus says, those who are full, who laugh, who are popular and respected, well, they can expect to lose what they have now. Their situation will also be reversed. Woe to them.

So what are we to make of all this? Is it simply a redistribution of wealth and resources? Is Jesus making poor people rich and rich people poor? Then what happens? Everything is pretty much the same just the roles are reversed. Does Jesus really love malnourished people more than those who have enough to eat? Does he prefer our lives to be burdened and broken by loss and sorrow? Is there no place for joy or laughter? Or a good meal? When you think about it, it doesn't make sense. So if that's not what Jesus is saying here, what is he saying? How are we to hear his words?

Well, we are not to hear Jesus's words only on a materialistic level because this world and our lives are more than just the things that we can touch and see. But, just as importantly, we are not to soften his words to the point that they no longer challenge and empower us to see and live differently. Jesus is not distinguishing between spiritual and material lack or spiritual and material abundance. It’s both. And really how could it not be? Jesus is human just like you and me. He's got needs just as we do. Some of those needs are physical, but some are emotional and spiritual. He is both body and soul, just like we are. He is both material and spiritual, just like us. That means that our lives are a mixture of needs too, some met, some unmet. Within each of us there are parts that are rich and full and abundant. And there are parts that are empty, broken, grieving. It's not one or the other. It's both, at the same time.

That's why the blessings and woes that Jesus talks about are not to be understood as some kind of final judgment or system of reward and punishment - because they're not. They're not even at odds with one another. Rather the blessings and woes are God's way of saying yes or no to where and how we find meaning in our lives. Because isn't that what we ultimately want? Isn't that why we come to church? At the core of our being don’t we all long for meaning?

Every blessing and every woe, every yes and every no, is Jesus's response to our search for meaning - a life that matters. And as good parents know, sometimes we tell our children yes and sometimes we tell them no. But both responses are grounded in love and both are for the well-being of our children. And so it is with God. When we are too comfortable, too satisfied, or too secure - whether that be spiritually, emotionally, or materially - Jesus says, “No, that's not the way.” Because we can all too easily become self-satisfied. Thinking that we've got it all. That we've arrived. And then our lives become small and closed off. There is no openness. No need to see beyond ourselves, to love the person next door, or to work for change that makes a difference in the lives of others. Woe to us when we are convinced that we have no needs beyond the things of this world. Woe to us when we believe that we have no need to grow and change.

On the other hand Jesus promises blessings when we are empty, weak, or grieving – again, whether that be spiritually, emotionally, or materially. But that’s not because there is any inherent value or goodness in poverty or misery but because when we are in that state our hearts are softened. Our eyes are open. We desire something more. Those are the times we know there has to be something other than just the things of this world. And we’re right for in those moments Jesus says, “Yes, blessed are you.”

It’s like the old story where a student comes to her teacher looking for wisdom. But first off she tells the teacher what books she’s read, what courses she’s taken, what practices she’s done. And as the student talks and talks and talks, the teacher pours a cup of tea until the cup is totally overflowing. When, finally, the student interrupts herself and says, “Stop, the cup is full!” To which the teacher responds, “Yes, it is and so are you. Until you empty yourself there is no room for anything else.”

The gift in the reversals of blessings and woes, yeses and nos, is that they are a means by which space is made in our lives so that God can guide us into the life we really want. A life that is authentic and meaningful and good. So, I wonder, where are you full today? What place in your life is abundant? How is God calling you to surrender in some way so that there might be room for growth and change? And what parts of you feel empty, weak, or in need? No doubt that's where God desires to pour blessing and presence, peace and love into your life. Be open and trust. For it is in these reversals that we discover life in the midst of death, light in the darkness, and the wonder that even in our own imperfect humanness God’s very life and love dwells. That is the reversal of fortune that we celebrate today and all our days.