The Wisdom of Love: Sermon for Proper 9A

I am pretty certain that, if you don’t remember hearing them and studying them before, the readings we just heard may have you a bit mystified. Our gospel itself is puzzling—except maybe for the last bit which at least offers some hope. But if you look closer, our readings today are about two things: the wisdom of God, and the love of God. Scratch that—it’s all actually one thing. God’s wisdom IS God’s love- love which ignores human expectations or limits.

Today’s passage from the prophet Zechariah might ring a bell. It predicts that the Messiah will enter Zion, or Jerusalem, riding on a donkey’s colt—and if you think back to Palm Sunday, that is exactly what Jesus did as he triumphantly entered the city to the waving of palm branches and shouts of “Hosanna!” Anyone hearing that in Zachariah’s time would have considered a leader doing such a thing to be incredibly foolish—it’s like someone trying to race in a Formula 1 event while driving a minivan. Great leaders should ride impressive animals—not donkeys.

This detail, though, has an important purpose: the reign of this Messiah will not be based on military strength, one where “might makes right.” Instead, his humility reveals God’s wisdom and values: that prisoners will be set free, and that hopes will be fulfilled rather than lying empty and unfulfilled. This God does not seek dominion but restoration—not overawing people with might, but working to relieve burdens and enabling a culture of shared plenty, of gratitude and rejoicing.

Then there’s the reading from the Song of Solomon, a passage known as “Springtime Rhapsody” a beautiful collection of very frank love poems that most of us hardly ever remember is even IN the Bible. And here’s why it gets skipped over when it comes time for Bible study or preaching: it’s kinda steamy. It’s like Danielle Steele was suddenly invited to turn in a couple of chapters to Holy Writ. Strangely, God is not mentioned anywhere within its verses—instead, we get a conversation between two lovers. This is also unusual because it gives the woman her own voice, and she admits her passion for her beloved—in fact, in a world in which women were often silent, she is the one telling the story. Hers are the opening words in chapter one, imagining the kiss of her sweetheart.

According to our puritanical forebears, this passage isn’t about desire and human passion in all its enthusiasm, bodies bursting to discover each other. Nope. According to our 16th and 17thcentury friends, this passage is about “the Church’s love for Christ” and “Christ’s love for His Church,” with Christ as the bridegroom. This understanding is based upon the idea that the covenant between God and God’s people is similar to the covenant of marriage.

I’m not sure about that. First of all, marriage was much more often NOT about love throughout most of human history than it was about the security of property and inheritance. But there is a second and more obvious problem here: that of faithfulness and passion on the part of the Church.

While I am certain that this passage could be interpreted as Christ’s never-ending, deep, passionate love for the Church, too often the Church seems to fail to return the favor, if you know what I mean. Fallible, distractible, self-deluding, foolish, frightened, wounded humans that we are, too often we are concerned about our own wants, needs, power-madness, and concern about authority to truly love Christ to the depth that we should-- especially if one takes this passage as a guide. But we can do better. We just have to remember that real love puts the Beloved Other ahead of its own selfish satisfaction, and takes delight and finds completion and true bliss in that self-giving love.

Our failure to love stems from a conflict within ourselves- between our worldly concerns versus our spiritual aspirations. What if we were to unite these understanding rather than untie them? For we fail to love each other for the same reason we fail to love God—because we get afraid, because we lose faith in our ability to give of ourselves. Yet the Song of Songs holds out the hope that love CAN be mutual and deep and intimate. Our love for each other can be deep and lasting. Our love for God can fill us completely, and our longing for intimacy is one we need to set free in our relationship with God.

Our failure to love stems from a conflict within ourselves- between our worldly concerns versus our spiritual aspirations. This leads us to our passage in Romans, which then meshes well with our gospel. Paul talks frankly about knowing what he SHOULD do, which is to act lovingly in the world, but being unable to follow through due to his weakness to sin, which leads him to act selfishly.

Paul almost sounds like a member of a twelve-step group here, admitting his powerlessness over his addiction to sin. And that may be a really good analogy to make to describe the power that sin can wield in our lives, especially when we lull ourselves into taking our eyes off the horizon of love that we have to work toward in our lives as children of God. Real love, and true holiness, do not come naturally. Yet there is hope. Paul cries out: “Who will rescue me?” and immediately, he gives the answer: God, through the Incarnate One, our Savior Jesus Christ. He then continues to point out that our intellectual assent to be disciples is often at war with our own weaknesses.

What all our readings are seeking to do is remind us that what is considered wise or clever in the eyes of the world is usually the exact opposite of what God’s wisdom is.

Our gospel passage takes this up especially at the end. And what is absolutely vital is that here. Jesus is speaking, literally, as the Wisdom of God, personified. And there’s an interesting tie to the Song of Solomon here: in the Hebrew scripture, Wisdom was personified as female—possibly because wisdom gets rejected as an authority as much as women did, then, and now.

Jesus is actually paraphrasing a passage from the Book of Ecclesiaticus, known as a wisdom work that appears in some Bibles.

It was allegedly composed about 200-175 BC by a scribe named Ben Sira in Jerusalem, which means Jesus could have known of it. Speaking as Wisdom, a traditionally female character in scripture, we hear Jesus tracing much the same argument as the author of Ecclesiasticus:

51:23 Draw near to me, you who are untaught, and lodge in my school.
51:24 Why do you say you are lacking in these things, and why are your souls very thirsty?
51:25 I opened my mouth and said, Get these things for yourselves without money.
51:26 Put your neck under the yoke, and let your souls receive instruction; it is to be found close by.
51:27 See with your eyes that I have labored little and found myself much rest.

The wisdom that Jesus seeks to give us makes the need for asuffocating load of regulations pointless—those same regulations Jesus’s opponents loved to enforce on others as the self-righteously religious. Jesus’ load is in fact quite light compared with the heavy burdens the scribes and Pharisees place upon others: “They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them.”

The wisdom of God does not seek to punish but to enlighten. In place of oppression, it offers love and cooperation. And I believe this speaks of a need in our time as much as in the time of Jesus. Just like now, self-identified “religious folk” were especially good at pointing the finger at others and justifying themselves. They would use the 613 commandments in Torah to denigrate and oppress others, laying burdens upon their backs, while overlooking the parts of the Law that would require themselves to be burdened or to sacrifice what they wanted to do.

And boy, does that resonate for today. How many people do you know who justify lying, cheating, violence, misogyny, or turning a blind eye to the suffering or poverty of others in the name of their own comfort—yet who will scream about how “sinners” who act or love differently than they do deserve being cast out, oppressed, dehumanized, and punished? As if being in a marginalized group isn’t hard enough? And they justify it more often than not in the name of “religion.”

Yet Jesus, speaking as Wisdom herself in our gospel verses, identifies with the oppressed and marginalized. Jesus, speaking as the Wisdom of God, invites all to come unto him, especially those who are weary and feeling burdened by the numerous strictures of the religious leaders.

How is Jesus’s yoke “easy?” First, a yoke is meant to be shared—it works by two creatures sharing the burden and pulling side by side. And rather than lay burdens about hundreds of laws on our backs, Jesus offers to get into the yoke alongside us and help us bear the burdens of being a disciple—a burden that is already lighter because it is based on love, not fear. Christ’s yoke is easy because he takes away the yoke of the Law by making us wise in love and generosity.

That is certainly an easier burden in comparison to the way the religious leaders were apply the law to those around them.

Yet the most important thing to remember is that Jesus refers to a yoke, and not just a harness. And a yoke is meant to be shared. Christ’s yoke is the yoke of Love. And sharing burdens with each other—in the name of love—is all we need, as the Beatles sang. All those great songs of our youth insist the same thing: “Lean On Me,” by Bill Withers. “He Ain’t Heavy—He’s My Brother” by the Hollies. “Climb on a Back That’s Strong,” by Shawn Colvin. “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” by Simon and Garfunkle.

What matters is our care and empathy for each other. As we live in Christian community, we are yoked to Jesus and to each other, and we all pull together. We share each others’ burdens. We literally “pull for each other.” As Jane Siberry wrote in her song “The Life is the Red Wagon:”

The life is the red wagon rolling along
The life is the red wagon simple and strong
…oh, it's no big deal
But when the feet are dragging
you pull for me, and I pull for you,
you pull for me, and I pull for you…

Have you ever experienced the grace of someone pulling for you when you feel that you just can’t go on? Have you ever received a random act of kindness? That’s living life under the Wisdom of God.

We have a lot in common with the cultural landscape of Jesus’s time. Believe it or not. Just think: we have those who seek to divide and conquer, and they are not unashamed of using religion to further their schemes, and to oppress and denigrate marginalized groups by pulling little bits of scripture from here and there to justify their hatefulness and sense of superiority.

We see legal systems being used to oppress people—to take away their ability to be redeemed for injury, to allow a small minority to try to impose their wills on others because they have the ability to buy their way into the system.

Jesus would be the first one to object to this scheme. If your faith causes you to hate and judge and hurt others, you are doing it wrong. As Jesus points out, those “others” were exactly the people he hung out with, ate with, and taught among. Even more than that, those are the ones to whom he encouraged to take up his yoke. So that he could pull alongside them and help carry their burdens. Not condemn them.

Throughout the gospels, Jesus consistently points out that the wisdom of God, and the way it orders our lives, turns worldly wisdom upside down. He is very clear to go even further: the “wisdom” of the world is very often absolutely contrary to the wisdom and ways of God, as he himself exemplifies. Jesus, as the Wisdom of God personified, lives and acts in very specific ways to show US how to live and act.

The way of wisdom, the way of welcome into God’s household, is also the way of mercy, grace, and above all, love. It’s the wisdom that is embodied in our baptismal covenant. This is the wisdom of welcome, beloveds, that we are called to commit to as disciples. Wisdom that doesn’t seek advantage or calculation, but, always and everywhere, serving each other in purity, gentleness, and love.

We worship a God whose wisdom is often seen as foolishness in the eyes of that very same world. A God who tells us to love people the world sees as broken, and love them fully.

May we all be so wise.

Preached at the 505 afternoon service on July 7, and the 10:30 am service of Holy Eucharist at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO, on July 8, 2023.

Readings:

Zechariah 9:9-12
Song of Solomon 2:8-13
Romans 7:15-25a
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Wise Guise: Speaking to the Soul for September 16, 2021

Proverbs 31:10-31
Psalm 1
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37

This Sunday all of our lectionary readings are about wisdom: wisdom as a housewife who makes her household prosperous; wisdom in those who immerse themselves in studying scripture; wisdom in those who seek to do good and make peace; and wisdom in the guise of a little child being appreciated and welcomed and valued.

At the time of our gospel reading from Mark in the first century of the common era, children were looked upon as potentiallyvaluable in family economics. Children were an investment: expensive in terms of time, care, and nurture at the outset, but upon growing up (at that time as soon as they entered their teen years or thereabouts) they were expected to pull their weight in the household economy. Infancy and early childhood were times of great danger for children, and many did not survive to age five—all the way up to my own parents’ generation. I used to tell my history students that the baby boomers in the industrialized world were the first generation to not regularly experience the death of siblings in childhood. Adolescence as a developmental condition was not even invented until near the 20th century, with the development of the sciences of psychology and psychiatry. For most of human history, you were a child (and relatively overlooked, expected to be “seen and not heard”); then somewhere around age 12 (earlier if your family was poor) —bam!-- you were an adult and expected to start pulling your own weight in the household. Period.

Yet underestimating children and their acumen is a fool’s game. In the exhausting days of raising children, I and my friends would sometimes be startled by the wisdom that would come out of our children’s mouths. I am personally not allowed to tell any of these tales about my own children, but I remember some that I have come across elsewhere.

One six-year-old complained to her mom, “You keep telling me not to talk to strangers, but how am I supposed to make new friends?”

One kid of a particularly frazzled pair of parents had wanted to go to the playground for days. Finally he said, “If we do it now, we will never run out of time.” (I wrote that one into my phone.)

One little guy was having a hard time getting away from a kid who pinched and yelled at pre-school anytime she didn’t get her way, and yet he still kept trying to be her friend. “I know she has a hard time being nice. That’s why I will show her how,” he said.

And in a reminder, as if we needed one in these days, that we need MORE science education in elementary school, not less: “The early bird catches the worm,” a mom told her third-grade daughter who loved to be up at night, trying to get her to get up earlier. The daughter replied, “The night owl catches the mouse, and there’s more nutrition and calories in a mouse.”

One kindergartner would come home from school, and every day his dad would ask him how his day was. Every day, the little guy would proclaim it was a great day. Finally the dad asked him how every day was so great, and the little boy solemnly replied, “Because I decided it was going to be great.”

When Jesus places a little child in the midst of the disciples, and compares welcoming one of them to welcoming him, he is reminding us of several points of wisdom. Wisdom is never mere knowledge, but a way of living with kindness, compassion, mercy, and attention, as we see just from those wise remarks coming out of the mouths of babes. Wisdom is not discounting anyone based on their age or any other characteristic but realizing you can learn from anybody: even those who might be irritating can teach you patience and kindness. Wisdom is being open to seeing others not as potential competitors or “less-than,” but as fellow children of God. Wisdom is making time for taking care of yourself, as Jesus did when he would visit friends or go off for some prayer time alone.

The Wisdom of God is so important in ordering our lives that the Psalter begins by specifically naming wisdom as a blessing beyond all others. The reading from James reminds us of specific characteristics of those who cultivate and seek the wisdom of God: purity, peaceableness, gentleness, being willing to yield and not insist on your own way; being merciful, productive, impartial, sincere.

Welcoming little children—with all their joy and purity and sometimes noise—is the same as welcoming me, Jesus reminds us. That’s no small thing.

We could all use some more wisdom. And it often comes in the voice of a little one.

This was first published at Episcopal Cafe's Speaking to the Soul on September 16, 2021.

The Wisdom of Vulnerability: Sermon for the 15th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 18B)

A group of rabbis gathered one day after a long day of studying the Book of Bereshit, which we call the Book of Genesis. The question that was before them was this one: Why had God waited until the sixth day of creation to create human beings?

Rabbi Rivkah said, “God wanted to make sure the universe was well ordered and operating smoothly, so that we could make use of creation, made for our benefit.” Several of her companions nodded in agreement. Certainly the marvels of the universe had been made for the use of human beings, who had been given dominion over all things on Earth.

Rabbi Chaim said, “Perhaps, perhaps. But God started with animals so that God could learn from God’s earlier attempts. God waited to make humans so that God wouldn’t make the mistakes God made with the various animals and their weaknesses.” Other rabbis nodded in agreement with him. Surely human beings were the crowning achievement of creation, with the ability to talk, and to think, unlike stupid animals!

Rabbi Susan, known for her humility a well as her wisdom, arrived a few moments into the meeting, apologizing profusely. She was running late because she had been engaged in prayers before the sun set. She asked what they were debating about so intently. “We are discussing why God waited until the sixth day to create human beings,” Rabbi Akiva told her. They repeated the two premises put forward by Rabbi Rivkah and Rabbi Chaim.

Rabbi Susan thought for a moment. A dog whined outside in the street, and a mosquito whined past the ear of one of the other rabbis, and he swatted at it forcefully. “I wonder if the answer is more simple. I think it was so that when we were filled with pride, we would remember that even a lowly dog and the annoying mosquito were awarded priority in the grand scheme of the Divine Creator.” And all the other rabbis took what she said, and pondered it for the rest of their lives.

Our readings today focus on two qualities: humility, and wisdom. We begin with a brief collection of verses from the Book of Proverbs. The backstory behind this collection of sayings was that they were written by King Solomon himself. As you know, Solomon was crowned with power and honor: he had hundreds of wives and concubines; he lived in a magnificent palace, and he was the son of the great King David.

Yet, if you remember three weeks ago, when he ascended to the throne, Solomon prayed to God for help in governing God’s people. In a dream God appeared to Solomon and told Solomon to ask God for what he wanted God to grant to him. Solomon could have asked for untold wealth, or military power, or an exceptionally long life and reign. Instead, the new king humbly compared himself to a little child, not up to the task of leading so great a people. Solomon therefore asked for wisdom, so that he could be a good king to protect the people and lead them. God was pleased not just by the thoughtfulness of the answer, but by its humility. Solomon didn’t ask for things for himself, but for a gift that would benefit his people. So God granted Solomon wisdom, and his sage judgment was famous far and wide. Solomon’s humility, his openness to admitting his lack of perception and knowledge, was the beginning of his wisdom.

The proverbs before us are likewise focused on wisdom and humility themselves. Specifically, they depict the wisdom of being generous, just, and hospitable in one’s relationships with others. The wisdom of being open to each other. In the social system of the early Mediterranean world, social division and status was very important—much like our society today. Just like now, there were many ways to close oneself off from those considered lowly or unclean. All these centuries later, we too have the same many ways to separate ourselves from each other—by race, class, ethnicity, ability or disability, wealth and poverty. Those who are considered to be “less-than,” like the poor or immigrants, become invisible—if they are lucky. If they are not lucky enough to be invisible they become objects of scorn, exploitation, and scapegoating.

You’ve seen and heard this done over and over by people around you—some even claiming to be leaders. Businesses that pay starvation wages complain that they can’t find workers, and so smear all of them as lazy rather than consider that the wages they pay do not allow for a person to make even a modest living and pay all of their bills. Lately there’s even been the claim that the $300 a week jobless benefits are actually rewards for laziness. There are public school districts ending breakfast programs because they claim it will make children dependent on handouts for the rest of their lives. The reasons stated for this decision runs like this I guess: Better for seven-year-olds to suffer from the pain and distraction of hunger right now than to expect that the wealthiest country in the world owes them anything. 

I’ve always appreciated the humility and wisdom of leaders who actually try to walk a mile in the shoes of those at the bottom of the income scale—like when members of Congress try to eat for a week only on the benefits given through food stamps, or try to find an apartment for 25% of the income of a minimum wage job. I hope that, on this Labor Day weekend, as we all enjoy our time off, we remember a prayer often said in the Compline service, and humbly pray that we honor the labor of workers, no matter how humble, who make our common lives together possible.

Thus we hear the author reminding us that whether we are rich or poor, we are all children of God, created in God’s image. We are told not to exploit the poor or take advantage of them, or for those who sit at the gate—which is where people would plead for justice if they had been treated unfairly or unjustly. Applied to our own time, one in which so many people are behaving without regard for anything, but loudly proclaim their own grievances, their own rights to do as they please, regardless of the harm to others, our proverbs remind us to remain humble as the foundation of our relationships with each other and as a reflection of our relationship with God.

Likewise our psalm urges us to another set of characteristics that are the basis of wisdom and generosity: trust and honesty. Once again, gifts that seem to be in short supply these days. Our psalm reminds us that the ability to trust and be trustworthy is a sign of strength, not weakness. The letter of James urges us to treat every person with honor—not based on what they can do for us, but based on the love we are called to bear for each and every person, which includes taking care of those who have needs as much as we are able—and we often have more ability to do this than we might like to admit.

Look, it’s easy for us to forget sometimes that we have the power to make the lives of those around us better or worse, often by the simplest recognition that here, around me are other people all beloved of God and beloved of their families and friends. All precious.

Even Jesus has to be reminded of this sometimes. In our gospel reading today, we have two stories of healing. One is of a man unable to hear—Jesus commands his hearing and his speech to be “opened.” There is Jesus, the miracle worker using his divine power to help someone on the margins of society toward full healing and restoration. But if you look carefully, the story before it informs this command to be open. In the story before this healing, Jesus himself had to be goaded into being open to another. We just for a second get a glimpse of Jesus as a human being—prone to all the weariness and challenges we all face.

Jesus has entered Gentile territory to the north hoping for a little R and R, his own version of Labor Day. Maybe if he goes up into Tyre and Sidon, no one will recognize him, and he can move about anonymously for a while until his batteries recharge. Yet no sooner does he get there, and settles into a house to cocoon for a bit, than some woman approaches him and bows down at his feet, cringing like a dog. And so, frustrated and exhausted, he looks on this woman from a wealthy region coming to dare ask him, an impoverished Jew, for healing, and he calls her just that. He calls her a dog, and declares her outside his mission to God’s chosen people. The bounty of his mercy is reserved for his own people, who have hard enough lives as it is. For a moment, his tiredness gets the best of him, and he claims that there’s not enough to go around. There’s not enough of Jesus to go around. And here this woman is, a cross between a mosquito and a dog, annoying Jesus with her request and her refusal to be shaken off.

Here it is the woman who displays humility and wisdom. Even as he tries to belittle her, to cast her as an outsider and unworthy, still she presses on. Maybe because she is not asking out of need for herself, but need for her beloved daughter. Still bowed down at his feet, she responds immediately: Yes, I may be a dog-- but even dogs get to eat the scraps that fall from the table. And that image of a table is a reminder of the abundance and mercy that Jesus has been proclaiming and enacting just so people won’t miss the point that God’s generosity and love for us is unlimited and life-giving. She reminds Jesus of the same thing our proverbs did: that we are called to be open, and generous with each other, rather than try to draw lines around who is worthy and who is not.

Even the wisest people lose sight of what is important from time to time—it’s part of being human. Jesus was fully human too—we are going to say that again in just a few moments in the creed. If Jesus can benefit from a reminder to be more open with others, there’s good news there for us all, as fallible and prone to pride as we can be. Through the woman’s humility, Jesus is reminded that God truly does mean that the table will be wide enough to hold everyone, and that all are not just worthy but are beloved—as beloved when they are in the wrong as when they are in the right. God’s table is open to all, to be accepted, valued, and cared for. And when people feels accepted and valued, they feel secure. And from that security, we can feel brave enough to treat each other with mercy and compassion. This is the purpose God displayed in sending Jesus to us, and in reminding Jesus and us of the wisdom that relationship is woven into the very fabric of our existence. Jesus is opened to that reminder by the woman, and that gift of understanding, of connection, of caring for each other in generosity, grace, and compassion.

And that is the beginning of wisdom.




Preached at the 10:30 am Eucharist, held online and in person, at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville.


Readings:
Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23
Psalm 125
James 2:1-10, [11-13], 14-17
Mark 7:24-37

Prayer, day 2791: On the Feast Day of Hildegard von Bingen

O God,

you are the foundation of everything,
giving us abundantly all that we need:
earth, sky, and water,
beauty, science, and music--
all signs of your tender love for us.

Lead us into wisdom,
O Spirited Light,
that we may lift our song with angels
praising and reverencing all creation,
even the dust from which we are formed.

Breathe your spirit upon us, O Christ,
that our spirits may be borne aloft
like a feather on the breath of God,
that we may devote ourselves to your path with joy.

With all our will,
may we assist you, O God,
in renewing and protecting the Earth,
in casting joy around us like a heavenly light
for the glory of your Name
as your beloved children.

Bless and preserve us in hope,
O Beloved Savior,
and shine the light of your countenance
upon those we now name.

Amen.

Prayer 2783

We lift our prayers to You
O Holy One, Blessed Be You,
for your grace and mercy sustain us
and fill our hearts with light.

God of Seeing,
look deeply into our hearts,
and purify us by the power of your Spirit.

Guide us deeper into faith and charity,
O Source of All Wisdom,
that we may live by your precepts
of justice, mercy, and compassion this day.

Beloved Savior, Marvelous Counselor,
may we determine to follow in your path today,
and embody the healing and reconciling love
with which you gaze upon creation.

Spirit of Compassion,
grant your blessing to all who seek You,
and give your angels charge
over all those for whom we pray.

Amen.

Prayer 2699: Inspired by Matthew 18:1-9

Most Merciful One,
we bow before You.
With our lips and our hearts,
with our breath gifted by God, 
may we praise the Lord our Maker,
Sovereign of the Heavens.

May we mold ourselves
that we may reflect the innocence
and open-heartedness of children,
loving generously and without fear,
seeking knowledge and wisdom as holy and good.
For we are your children, O Blessed Lord Christ, 
hearing your voice
and secure within your embrace
that we may serve your purposes
for healing and transformation of the world.

Come Holy Spirit,
and shape us with your power
that we may be worthy vessels of the gospel.
Extend the awning of your mercy, O God,
over all who turn to You for comfort and aid.

Amen.

Accompanied by Love: Sermon for the Sixth Sunday in Easter A

In 1939, an incredible cinematic masterpiece burst onto movie screens all over America and all over the world. It was called The Wizard of Oz. The story of a simple, orphaned Kansas farm girl named Dorothy who was taken up in an enormous tornado to a land beyond the rainbow enchanted millions. And those millions needed to be enchanted. The entire world was in the grip of the Great Depression. The evils of totalitarianism, militarism, and fascism were sharpening their fangs and claws over much of Europe and Asia.

Transported from her dull gray world to a land of vibrant hues of yellow, red, and green, all Dorothy wanted was to go home—to her familiar life, even if it had been filled with hardship and misunderstanding. It was a longing that resonated with everyone whose lives had been changed by the worldwide economic downturn. Dorothy was Everyone. The story of her adventure offered hope for those suffering under the challenges and trials of that time.

There was promise embedded in this fanciful story. Even as Dorothy longed for home, she also kept and gained friends who accompanied her on her quest to find the person who supposedly had the power to return her to her home. Her little dog represented loyalty. The tin man, the lion, and the scarecrow represented wisdom, courage in the face of fear, and compassion. And they walked alongside her, loyally being willing to lay down their very lives to protect her from danger. Along the way, they defeated a malevolent presence, the wicked witch, and her minions.

Yet what they learned in the end was the most powerful magic of all. Dorothy learned that her power to return home resided within herself all along—she just needed to be strengthened and supported as she embraced her own abilities. She found out she had advocates and companions who championed her when she needed it most. And when she did return home, home seemed more loving and beautiful than she had previously imagined. But it wasn’t that home had changed. It was that Dorothy had been changed—changed by assurance of the steadfast love and companionship of her friends along the way.

Today in our gospel, Jesus too realizes that his disciples are afraid they will be orphaned, abandoned, unable to find their way home. And Jesus offers his followers the assurance that they too, will have an abiding advocate to remain with them always and to lead them to new knowledge about themselves and their abilities to see the world through eyes of hope. That advocate would be a teacher, a comforter, a companion. We know that advocate as the Holy Spirit.

Many of us have a sort of misunderstanding and even possibly aversion to the Holy Spirit. I know I did, growing up in Oklahoma, especially after my mom took me to some charismatic churches. A charismatic church is one that professes to invite speaking in tongues, prophecy, and other so called spiritual gifts. I know that this kind of worship is uplifting for many people. But as a small child, having a lot of adults all around me shouting, screaming, and dropping to the floor in a faint absolutely terrified me. I thought about those “tongues of fire” over the disciples’ heads in the Pentecost scene from Acts, and said a quick “No thank you” to God when it came to the Holy Spirit, at least. And so I spent a large part of my youth afraid of the Holy Spirit, mistakenly believing that the Holy Spirit’s work within a person was more like a possession or invasion and less like cooperation, a sparking of potential, and teaching.

In other words, I wonder if too often we have equated the Holy Spirit with the tornado that carries Dorothy away from all that she knows and loves. Instead, we need to see the Holy Spirit as being like Dorothy's companions on the yellow brick road: loyalty, wisdom, courage, and compassion.

Because that is exactly what Jesus is promising here. And the use of the word “Paraclete” is helpful, for its English translations are gentler, and comforting: Advocate. Comforter. Helper. This holy presence will remain and sustain us after Jesus’s ascension. The gift of the Holy Spirit in our lives reminds us that there is more to Easter than just the empty tomb. That resurrection isn’t just a moment in time but an ongoing reality and promise to us as Christians that eternal life is rooted in the present, not some distant future. And it is always, ALWAYS rooted in love. Love as an action and a force of life, not as a mere emotion.

As noted in the very first verse in our gospel today, Jesus links love and obedience to commandments together; love is the mark of obedience and discipleship. As Galatians 5:22-23 reminds us, the gifts of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control. The presence of any of these characteristics can be seen as a sign that the spirit of God is present and active in a person or a place. Symbols used in the Bible to depict the Holy Spirit include wind, flame, a dove, pillars of clouds and fire, and, in 1 Kings 19: 12 a “still small voice.”

In fact, that reminder is important. Too often, we think of the flames bursting out over all the disciples’ heads at Pentecost, and of the Spirit seizing control of someone and possessing them, like when we’ve seen depictions of people speaking in tongues. And so we fear the Holy Spirit—its power, its unpredictability from images like those.

But the gifts of the Spirit are all gifts that comfort rather than frighten or threaten a loss of control and independence. These are gifts which call us even deeper into ourselves, so that we may be empowered to continued Jesus’s work in the world. It is the Spirit that empowers Paul to give his great sermon at Athens that we heard in our first reading. It is the Spirit that gives him the wisdom to appeal to them not through castigating them or trying to frighten them. Paul knows he is in the center of learning and reason in the entire known world.

We have a lot in common with those Greeks. We worship all kinds of things— power, money, beauty, youth, celebrity being the most common in our culture. We see each one of these things as a highly desirable commodity, often one we are willing to risk our very lives or souls to obtain, when really they are a responsibility. And frankly that is our greatest challenge in this time of pandemic. We are hearing too much about people proclaiming, angrily and sometimes violently, their rights. And yet each right comes with an equally compelling responsibility—otherwise, chaos and destruction ensue. 

How can we recover the sense of community necessary for our mutual flourishing in this time of pandemic? What if we circled back to those gifts of the spirit again? 

What if we resolves to be motivated not by anger, ignorance, and self-defeating self-interest, but instead by

Love
Joy
Peace
Patience
Kindness
Goodness
Faithfulness
Gentleness
Self-control

Think of those gifts as filters and checks on the selfishness of those who insist in their rights regardless of the impact those rights have on others. We must meet the challenges of this time not with fear, resentment, anger, or lashing out. Instead, imagine how our world could change, even beyond the challenge of this pandemic, if instead, we rooted all our actions in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.

We have an opportunity right now to examine the parts of our lives before this pandemic that didn’t work, and dedicate ourselves to making our society better. Times of upheaval can be times of blessing if we use them to critically examine places where we were told we had to accept the inequalities and injustices of the times in which we lived as the cost for our own comfort. And that is okay to some people so long as it is other people who are suffering. But Jesus calls us to stand for true justice and peace for all. Jesus calls us to be an advocate for those who have no voice.

That’s why “Paraclete” may be a good synonym for us to get used to using when we talk about the Holy Spirit. The literal meaning of Paraclete is itself comforting—para means “alongside” and kaletos mean “to call.” In other words, the Paraclete is a tangible reminder of a leader who walks alongside us in empathy, in support, in sharing all our burdens—and who strengthens us to be able to be advocates and strengtheners for others, too. The leadership exhibited by Jesus and reinforced by the Holy Spirit is non-hierarchical. It’s balanced and compassionate. When have we ever needed such a model more than in a time such as this?

Jesus promises us an Advocate in the Paraclete—but other meanings of the word include Counselor or Helper. In the other mentions of the Paraclete in the Farewell Discourse, Jesus further defines the functions of the Holy Spirit to include teaching, reminding, abiding, and testifying to the truth of Jesus. The Paraclete is also not the property of an individual, but is sent to continue creating community. This is why the Church is mentioned in the section of the Nicene Creed that deals with the Holy Spirit.

God knows, many of us wouldn’t turn down the offer of an advocate to promote our cause, especially in times such as this. And to make sure we feel comfortable with the advocacy being offered, we are reminded that the Holy Spirit is ANOTHER Advocate to abide with us—the first Advocate is Jesus.

In our gospel today, one of the most touching things Jesus says about the Spirit is that she is sent to us so that we would not imagine ourselves abandoned, or more pointedly, as orphans. Any of us and those around us are struggling with that feeling right now. Those are important words for those of us living 2000 years after Jesus’s physical and historical life ended even in the best of times—and this time of uncertainty and fear only strengthens our tendency to lose faith in the love of God when times are in crisis. The Spirit is a powerful way we experience God’s presence, especially in times of turmoil or uncertainty—in other words, right now in the midst of this ongoing pandemic.

Jesus’s words in our gospel today speak to us precious comfort as we, just like those disciples, hang suspended between real and imagined and dreaded losses. That’s why we need to hear that God is always accompanying us—especially in times of fear and anxiety. We need to remember that Jesus is God’s way, truth, and life, as we heard proclaimed last week—especially in this time when some people profit off of truth-denial and fear-mongering. Instead, the Holy Spirit gives her powerful witness to a leadership model that does not seek to enforce the leader’s will, but walks alongside others in love, compassion, and empathy.

This is a time for us to call the Holy Spirit alongside us and lead us into wisdom, courage, and compassion. Not just for our own sakes, but for the sake of each and every person whose life we may inadvertently touch. In welcoming the life-giving power of the Spirit into our lives, we, like Dorothy, can be empowered to fight the forces of fear and greed that endanger all of us, and instead be empowered and encouraged to walk alongside each other—especially those who are vulnerable. 

Come, Holy Spirit. Strengthen us to be people who joyfully bear each other’s burdens, and who proclaim the comfort of truth in the name of love. United in love, we know you can lead us all home.

Amen. 

Preached at the 10:30 service broadcast online on Facebook Live from St. Martin's Church, May 17, 2020.

Readings:
Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:7-18
1 Peter 3:13-22
John 14:15-21

Prayer 2657

Most Merciful One,
Source of Light,
Ground of Our Being,
who is creating the heavens and earth,
we sing out to You in love.

O God, pour out your favor upon us this day,
and lead us into pathways of justice and peace.
Grant us courage to fight for justice and truth,
that we may be knit together
in hope in the cause of Love Incarnate.


Open our minds to your wisdom,
that we may be drawn deeper
into the mystery of your grace
with humility and gratitude.
Guide our steps in love and service,
that at day's end we are brought home to You, O Savior.

Holy One, by the power of your Spirit,
anoint us to your service this day,
and take us by the hand as we seek to follow You.
Blessed Jesus,
draw all those whom we remember before You
under the shadow of your wing, as we pray.

Amen.

Prayer 2655

Almighty, Eternal One,
we lift our hearts to you in hope:
fill us with your grace and lovingkindness,
that we may be witnesses to the world and beacons to your truth.

Your generous hand upholds us all,
O Great and Beautiful Mystery:
Your steadfast love is the foundation of all that is,
and we praise You and bless you with grateful voices.

The marvels of your creation dazzle our eyes,
and everywhere we look
we see the intricate work of your fingers,
O Foundation Wisdom and Truth.

May we stand in wonder in the paths of your compassion,
and humbly seek to embody your love, Lord Christ,
walking reverently upon the earth,
as companions in love and faithfulness.

Merciful One,
strengthen the hand and hearts of the healers.
Grant your protection
to all who place themselves in harm's way
for the sake of others,
and all whose needs we lift before You as we pray.

Amen.

Prayer 2578

The One who calls each tiny wren beloved 
has called us to rise and rejoice:
come, let us adore our Living God. 
Governor of the Worlds, 
Ground of All Being,
your love sustains us and nourishes us,
bringing our hearts to full flower:
shape us and guide us this day.

May we journey this day 
with Jesus as our companion and teacher; 
and embody his healing presence 
with integrity, honor, and beauty.

Fount of All Wisdom,
may we ever serve you with boldness,
proclaiming your saving power within our lives
as we turn our shoulders to the wheel of compassion
and serve each other with grace and truth.
May we link arms and wills
against the surging power of injustice and oppression,
knit together in love and faithfulness
to bear testimony to your glory, Lord Christ.

Blessed Savior, pour out your grace
upon those who turn to you in prayer and hope,
and grant your blessing to those for whom we pray.

Amen.

Prayer, day 2554: For an annual meeting

O Gracious God, we are your people, 
and we ask that you guide us this day to do your will.
Make of us a priestly people, 
dedicated to the ministry you have called each of us to do. 
Give us wisdom and love in equal measure,
that we may know how, as well as why, we are to follow your path.
Let us clasp hands around your altar as one people,
dedicated to the shared vision of building your kingdom.
Let us go forth then to be your disciples,
nourished by the love that draws us together.
Let us tend the sick, the sorrowing, the weak, and the lost in your Name,
with joy in our labors and praise on our lips.
O Loving Savior, You are with us always:
send, we pray, a special blessing upon those we now name.

Amen.

Prayer 2548

Creation stirs with a morning song of joy
and calls us into this new day:
may our praises rise with the mounting light
as your mighty arm upholds us, O God.

As the mown field welcomes each drifting snowflake,
let our hearts rejoice in the word of the Lord,
that your wisdom, O Holy One,
may fill our souls to overflowing
and we may stand upright and at peace before You.

Merciful God, help us to see clearly
the beauty of the Way of Compassion,
that we may place our feet firmly within your path
and be a blessing in your Holy Name.

Gather our offered prayers
within the hollow of your mighty hand,
O God Our Shepherd,
and extend the awning of your blessing
over all for whom we pray.

Amen.

Prayer 2489: For the Second Day of Diocesan Convention and Election of a Bishop

O God, You are our wisdom and our guide: 
bless and keep us this day. 

Send your Spirit upon us,
God of Grace and Mercy, 
and lead us into pastures of plenty, 
that we may be refreshed and restored 
to be your light and truth in the world. 

Make us bold in discipleship, 
steadfast in prayer, 
and united in spirit, Beloved Savior. 

Grant us wisdom and courage 
 that we may be resolute 
 in seeking your will, O God, in all things. 

Extend the shelter of your mercy 
over those for whom we pray this day.

Amen.

Prayer, day 2488: for Diocesan Convention

O God, You are our refuge and our rock: 
we put our trust in You.

Help us to work together in harmony
in the work You have given us,
and let our deeds bring honor to Your name.
Let us make your Word and commandments our sure foundation,
and seek always to forgive rather than condemn.
Let us remember the generous love You have given us,
and uphold each other in our trials and needs.

Help us testify to the world
about your grace and mercy
by our love and example, Blessed Jesus,
and help us lift up the banner of love and compassion.

Extend the shelter of your mercy
over those for whom we pray this day.

Amen.

Prayer 2443

Holy One, 
we give You thanks and praise 
for your grace and love that sustains us always. 

Steadfast Redeemer, 
lead us into all wisdom and truth, 
teaching us to live in humility, kindness and wisdom, 
walking gently with each other 
upon this beautiful earth of which we are a part. 
Bring us to new awareness, O Lord, 
of the web of life that sustains us, 
from the smallest bacteria to the teeming oceans. 
Make us steadfast witnesses, O God, of your abundant love, 
and make us bold in living out your gospel 
in all that we say and do this day. 

By the power of the Holy Spirit, 
anoint us to the service of hope and healing today, 
and grant your peace and comfort to those for whom we pray.

Amen.

From Season to Season: Speaking to the Soul October 3, 2019

It’s the first week of October here in the Midwest, which means that the leaf mold has started to spike and the trees have started to turn color, but it’s 95 degrees during the day and mosquitos still torment. We are told that it is autumn, and there is pumpkin spice everything, including, upon my honor, pumpkin spice mac and cheese, which would cause my sainted Okie Granny to haunt any of her grandchildren who brought such a concoction into our homes. 

Yet many of my friends are happy, eagerly anticipating sweater weather—but it seems that the seasons refuse to cooperate. And to be honest, our readings in the lectionary on Sundays the last many weeks have not actively been designed to contribute to joie de vivre—and just at the time when church program years start up and visitors dot our pews. I sometimes get a glance of the shocked looks on their faces as the readings roll out their depictions of anger and destruction. 

But scripture, at its best, both encourages and indicts. What speaks to us one moment can seem maudlin or saccharine or occasionally even out and out infuriating at another time. Different seasons in our lives sometimes bring us to encounter these texts in different ways. 

When I was in college, I had a poster in my dorm room of Eccelsiastes 3:1-8, written in calligraphy. Yes, I WAS that much off a Bible nerd, even one with a salty vocabulary. But also, college was, as for many of us, a time of great adjustment and stress. It was a season of growth and change, which is why Ecclesiastes 3 was so comforting to me. Ecclesiastes' wise observations provided a calming reminder to me when I would start feeling overwhelmed by all the things I had to do and learn as a first generation college student who was in three music ensembles and also working part-time at several different jobs. 

I thought of that poster again after thinking about the pretty brutal readings we have heard in the lectionary on and off for the last few weeks. Dire warnings from Jeremiah all the back through September about desolation, cursing, with talk of being joyless, and grieving starting off our readings on Homecoming Sunday! This Sunday we will hear Zion described in harshly denigrating terms, and hear Psalm 137 simultaneously describing devastating grief for Jerusalem from a position of exile and oppression-- and at the very end wishing a most violent fate upon the children of Babylon. 

"To everything there is a season," muses the Teacher in Ecclesiastes, "and a time for every purpose under heaven: a time to plant, a time to pluck up hat is planted; a time to weep, a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and time to dance...." Grief and anger side by side--- millennia before the birth of psychology, the truth that diverse emotions jog along side by side at times, and at other times they are piled atop each other like strata in a canyon. The Bible reminds us that the so-called "five stages of grief" are not encountered in a linear fashion, like beads on a rosary, but rather often carom off each other like a pinball. 

Haven't we all experienced emotions as strong as this? That's where our scriptures are a treasure for their acknowledgement of the unvarnished truth of human life in all its messiness-- and of how God, too, experiences anger and pain and suffering as well as love and delight and always, unfailingly grace and forgiveness. One of the great treasures of Biblical literature for me is that is relentlessly real when it comes to human emotion, reminding us of God's presence with us in good times yes, but especially in trials. 

And that's something for which we all can give thanks, even as we hear scripture readings that are less-than-rosy in their outlook. The reminder that there is a time and season for everything helps us to treasure those parts of scripture that boldly proclaim anger and helplessness as much as gratitude and triumph.



(This was first published on Episcopal Cafe's Speaking to the Soul on October 3, 2019, as well as as met priest's reflection in the St. Martin's Beacon newsletter).