"Lost or Found?" by The Rev. Donald L. Hamer, Rector

Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT

Year C, Proper 19

September 11, 2016

“Lost or Found?”

 1 Timothy 1:12-17; Luke 15: 1-10

          This morning’s Gospel passage contains two of Jesus’ best-known parables.  The first is about the shepherd who leaves his 99 sheep that are protected to find the one lost sheep; the second is about a woman who rejoices after finding a single missing coin: She had ten and lost one. As we recall these well-known parables, we usually focus on God’s assurance that God is always looking for us, that Jesus the Good Shepherd is always watching out for us. And indeed we believe and trust in that blessed assurance.

The challenge presented by such well-known passages from Scripture is that they become so familiar to us that we assume that we know what’s there and so we don’t need to give it any more attention. But then there are the things we do NOT notice. This happens to us in everyday life – the man you have known as having a moustache for years shaves it off one day and when you see him, you know something is different but wind up asking him something like, “Did you get new glasses?” Or a more personal one: A question for all husbands – have you ever failed to notice that your wife has been to the hair stylist and has her hair done differently? Never a good scene. If she has to ask, “Do you like my hair?” – it’s too late.

As with anything in life, we can become so accustomed to the familiar that we fail to notice nuance or subtle changes or things that just don’t jump out at us. And this goes for passages from Scripture that we think we know. We don’t spend a lot of time delving into them and so, we can easily miss some of what God has waiting for us there.

As we consider this morning’s passage from Luke, we know so well the

message of care and safekeeping that the two parables are meant to convey. But when we examine more closely the occasion in which Luke places the two parables, we can gain some fresh insights into the meaning of the parables and the message Jesus has for us this morning. Look again at how Chapter 15  begins: Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” The two parables Jesus tells are in response to the grumbling and criticism of the Pharisees and the scribes – the religious “insiders” who were surrounding Jesus. The radical hospitality offered by Jesus to people who were considered “outsiders” was an affront to the leaders’ sense of social etiquette and religious propriety. The scribes and Pharisees were the keepers of the social codes of “clean” and “unclean,” who and what was allowed and who and what wasn’t. Jesus was breaking the rules – and it made them uncomfortable.

And so when we reflect on the context in which these two parables are told, we are confronted with a very different way of understanding them: While we typically understand them in a way that emphasizes the redemption of the “lost,” we realize that the parables in their context are really meant to address those who are already “found.” They are meant to be as much of a challenge to those – including us – who are on the “inside” of religion as they are meant to be a comfort to everyone – both the insiders and the outsiders.

What about the threat of outsiders coming near? Chapter 15 begins with the words, Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near . . .” – that’s the beginning of the threat to the scribes and Pharisees. Now when you think about it, the tax collectors and sinners were always near – they were neighbors, they must have mingled in the streets and in the market places. So it wasn’t mere physical proximity that troubled them. What troubled the scribes and Pharisees is that one of them – the rabbi Jesus – was ignoring the rules of social propriety and religious custom by which they governed their own social conduct. He was inviting the outsiders inside. Jesus likes to do this around the imagery of a meal. Recall that just a few verses earlier in Chapter 14 of Luke, Jesus has told a story to a group gathered at the home of a Pharisee about a king who gave a great dinner and invited the customary invitees. None of them would come, saying they had other things to do. And Jesus continues: Then the owner of the house became angry and said to his slave, “Go out at once into the streets and lanes of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind, and the lame.” And the slave said, “Sir, what you ordered has been done, and there is still room.” Then the master said to the slave, “Go out into the roads and lanes, and compel people to come in, so that my house may be filled. For I tell you, none of those invited will taste my dinner.” Jesus’ table is always open to anyone who will come.

So what is upsetting the scribes and Pharisees in this morning’s story is not that the sinners and tax collectors are drawing near, it is that they are getting too near; that Jesus is ignoring the boundaries, the walls, the barriers that they – in organized Judaism – have set up. The sad reality is that whenever we define ourselves by our boundaries, it says very little about who we are or what we stand for. It only says something about who we are not, and almost always lifts man-made rules above the radical embrace to which Jesus calls us.

What are some of these traditions, these customs, these boundaries that are part of our own tradition and the traditions of other denominations? For starters, in the Episcopal Church, there is an official doctrine that one must have received the sacrament of baptism before one is allowed to receive communion. I know many of you from other parts of the Anglican Communion even remember a time when one was not allowed to receive communion until one was actually confirmed, never mind baptized. Where did this tradition come from? Is there any time in the Gospels when Jesus turns someone away from the table who faithfully desires to  participate? I am not aware of one. In most Episcopal congregations this doctrinal rule is not observed – it has not been enforced here at Trinity for over 30 years. Why? Because the rule does nothing to build up the Body of Christ, and only serves as a barrier to people who are not members of the organization – part of the in-crowd. I don’t believe that Jesus needs to be protected from outsiders. His church shouldn’t need protection, either.

Jesus’ challenge to the scribes and Pharisees is also one to his own followers in the Christian church. Jesus radically welcomed all who came to him in faith and hope. We are called to do the same. How can we do that?

          One example: Welcoming new neighbors who come to us as refugees or other immigrants seeking a new life. This is something we here at Trinity have done for more than 50 years. There is a lot of planning and effort that go into this – ask the dozen or so Trinity parishioners who are preparing to receive our refugee family from Syria. We know very little about them at this point, and we are working to receive them with a fully-furnished apartment, clothing and food. There may be moments of awkwardness or discomfort as we get used to one another and our respective traditions, beliefs, boundaries. The differences do not make our own values and traditions any less important or valid or even sacred – it simply means that Jesus has invited us to welcome these people into our space, into our lives,  and to offer them hospitality – seeing Jesus’ face in theirs, even if they are not Christian.

Another example: Welcoming people who are not regular worshippers with us on Sunday mornings but for whom this place is a refuge, a haven that brings their lives closer to wholeness and to a sense that they are beloved children of God. Examples?  Those whom we feed at Church by the Pond and at Loaves and Fishes; those for whom we provide space, such as the students and families of Trinity Academy, the men seeking to re-enter the job market through the Fresh Start pallet furniture program, the scores of men and women who meet here weekly for 12-step programs. Providing this type of hospitality are all 21^st century examples of what Jesus was talking about to the scribes and Pharisees. We don’t see our fellow human beings whom we serve or welcome as an inconvenience or in the way – they are beloved children of God, made in God’s image, for whom we are a pathway to God’s love and warm embrace. We do it because that is what followers of Jesus do.

Jesus understands that those who are not “members” of the church are not outsiders, but critical to what the Body of Christ should be in its fullness. From them, we learn more fully about the nature of God, and together with them, the Kingdom of God draws near. On this Homecoming Sunday when we enjoy fellowship with one another over a meal that we have all participated in preparing, it is important to remind ourselves why we call Trinity our spiritual home. Jesus calls us to continue to open our doors and rejoice as we welcome all to share in the generous banquet of life and love that He Himself has provided to us. AMEN.

When Pride Separates Us From Our Maker by The Rev. Don Hamer, Rector

Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT

Year C, Proper 17

August 28, 2016

“When Pride Separates Us From Our Maker”

Jeremiah 2:4-13, Psalm 81, Luke 14:1, 7-14

          In each of our three passages from Scripture this morning one finds the message that God will provide for God’s people. Now, that is pretty central to our Christian faith, and I imagine few if any of you would argue with the principal.

          The harder part of that faith – as with so many aspects of life in general and Christianity in particular, is to put that faith into actual practice. The prophet Jeremiah highlights the human tendency when times get tough to kind of forget about God and instead to try to go it alone. And when you come right down to it, he is really talking about human pride.

          Now I’m not using the word “pride” in the sense of “I take pride in doing a good job,” indicating one’s commitment to doing ones best with one’s God-given gifts. Nor am I talking about use of the word “pride” in terms such as “Gay Pride” or “Black Pride” or similar usages. In these examples the word “pride” is used as a reasonable, justifiable sense of one’s worth or significance, a synonym for “self-esteem” or “self-regard.”  In these senses, use of the word “pride” simply denotes claiming the dignity that is due by virtue of being children of God. It builds up our relationship with God. That is not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about the pride in our human nature, our own accomplishments, our own status that does not give the credit, does not give the glory, to God. This type of pride is more closely aligned with arrogance, conceit, pretension, vanity, or self-importance. This is the type of pride that at best discounts, and at worst tears down, our relationship to God. The apocryphal writer Jesus ben Sirach summarizes it perfectly: The beginning of human pride is to forsake the Lord; the heart has withdrawn from its Maker. – Sirach 10:12

And the community to which Jeremiah was writing was doing just that – forgetting that their community was founded upon, and gained its strength and legitimacy from, its relationship with God. It was a turbulent time: Israel and Judah were about to be overwhelmed by the Babylonians, who would put them into exile. And yet Jeremiah writes words of hope for the future, trying to call them back into relationship with God. As Kathleen O’Connor writes in her commentary to the Book of Jeremiah, Events in the past, promises about the future, and appeals to the reader in the present are all braided together. Memories of the past shape the present and remain alive in it, just as future hope changes perceptions of the present.” It was a time of rapid and confusing change, and rather to look to God, in fear they took to their own devices. God speaks through the prophet: “What wrong did your ancestors find in me that they went far from me? . . . They did not ask, “Where is the God who brought us up out from the land of Egypt, who led us through wilderness, deserts and pits, in a land of drought and deep darkness, in a land that no one passes through, where no one lives? He continues: . . . The rulers transgressed against me; the prophets prophesied by Baal.” At the end of the passage he concludes, “My people have committed evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water.”

And we are reminded of the words of Sirach: The beginning of human pride is to forsake the Lord; the heart has withdrawn from its Maker.  The term “pride comes before the fall” describes EXACTLY what became of Israel and Judah.

Pride was identified as one of the capital sins by Thomas Aquinas. He used the word “capital” not because it was worthy of death or capital punishment, but because the typical ends of such sins, such as the pursuit of wealth, the pursuit of power, or status, or control, are so attractive and so much a part of the human situation that it requires other sins to bring them to fruition. Like a pool of stagnant water attracts mosquitos who spread the Zika virus, this type of pride becomes a breeding ground for other sins.

Jeremiah refers to it as “building our own cisterns.” St. Augustine of Hippo, in his classic work City of God, described this destructive sort of pride as the original or source of all evil: Man regards himself as his own light. (City of God, 14:13).  In traditional Christian ethics, human beings are indeed the apple of God’s eye, to whom God has entrusted stewardship of the rest of God’s creation. But our value is not rooted in our humanness; our value exists ONLY in our relationship to the Divine. We believe that the Lord is our light and our salvation – not the other way around.

And this is where our pride can get in the way with our relationship with God – and, as Aquinas and Augustine warned, lead to messing up our relationships with one another.  When you take a look at the life and teachings of Jesus, the relationship with God was the hub through which all human relationships were understood. In Paul’s epistles, especially in 1^st Corinthians, Romans and 2 Philippians, he sets forth his understanding of the human/divine partnership in creating community:

-- Everything is God’s

-- Gifts are given to us as stewards to be used in service to others.

--Gifts are not to be hoarded but utilized and shared.

-- Always having regard for others as better and at least equally worthy as ourselves (cf: 2 Philippians 3, 13).

-- Everyone in the community is to have “enough” with the Old Covenant example of manna in the wilderness.

-- And finally, Paul taught that within every community of faith, God provides all of the resources that community requires to meet the needs of its members and to take care of those who cannot take care of themselves.

The author of the letter to the Hebrews put puts it this way in this morning’s passage: Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have; for he has said, "I will never leave you or forsake you." So we can say with confidence, "The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can anyone do to me?"

And in his parable in this morning’s Gospel, Jesus takes a simple lesson in social courtesy and turns it into a lesson about life: That all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. It is a reminder that in both the Hebrew and the Christian scriptures, God teaches that in God’s economy, the world’s values are reversed – that it is not the great, the privileged and the powerful who matter most to God, but the weak, those who live on the margins of society, and those whose voices are not heard. If we have power, if we have wealth, if we have privilege, Jeremiah and the Psalmist remind us that we enjoy those benefits by virtue of birth, happenstance, and the grace of God, and not by our own devices. To believe otherwise is to fall prey to the sin of pride, to regard ourselves not in the light of Christ but as our own light. Augustine had it right, didn’t he? We always look great in our own light!

Our Scripture passages today call us to look at ourselves and our relationship to our Creator, both as individual children of God and as the gathered Body of Christ. In whom or what do we place our trust? Do we use what God had given us for God’s glory, or do we hoard it in order to preserve it for ourselves? Do we trust that God will provide us with all we need to do the work we believe God calls us to do? Consider these words from Frederick Buechner: Self-love or pride is a sin when, instead of leading you to share with others the self you love, it leads you to keep yourself in perpetual safe-deposit. You not only don’t accrue dividends, but you become less and less interesting every day.

Let us pray: Generous God, the author and giver of all good things: Save us from the sin of human pride that draws us to rely more on our own human instincts than on your extravagant generosity. In Jesus, you show us a way of humility and hospitality with power to transform the world. Give us grace to love those things that please you and the courage to live them not to our own glory, but to yours. AMEN.

Sermon Proper 16C: Deacon Bonnie Matthews

Sermon

August 21, 2016

Year C Proper 16

Isaiah 59:9b-14       Psalm 71:1-6            Hebrews 12:18-29              Luke 13:10-17

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord my strength and my redeemer.

Today I have chosen to switch up the appointed lection for this week. This being year C in the lectionary we should have followed tract 1 with our Old Testament reading coming from Jeremiah. However, as preacher for this week, I elected to follow my heart with the appointed tract 2 Old Testament reading. I chose to take license by changing the lectionary readings because for me the words of Isaiah and The Gospel of Luke are intricately woven together.

Today’s reading from Isaiah is God’s response to the Israelites who have been complaining and blaming God for injustices they feel they have suffered.

What of God’s response?

God tells the people of Israel that salvation has already been granted. God tells them to stop looking inward. God tells them to look outward, to act outward. God tells them to stop berating themselves.

To paraphrase, God replies

“Look and care for those around you who are in need, your faith can remove your need. Remove the burdens you feel you carry. Look outward, stop imposing shame on others, don’t point fingers of blame. Rather, tend to those who are in need, feed the hungry, care for the afflicted. If you do this, your faith will make you strong.”

This message, God’s message, has not changed. These words from the Prophet Isaiah are just as appropriate today as they were when the Israelites began their return from exile.

This message is rooted in our belief. Our Baptismal Covenant is an expression of this care for all of God’s creation.

We are called to continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship through the breaking of bread and through prayer.

We are called to respond by proclaiming (evangelizing) the Good News of Christ through our actions.

We are called to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves.

Finally, we are called to strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being.

For me this is the link between our reading from Isaiah and The Gospel of Luke.

Over the past few weeks we have been traveling with Jesus to Jerusalem. We have heard lessons of salvation, salvation that has been granted to us through the blessings of a gracious God. These blessing are for all, not just some.

Jesus teaches this to the disciples through his action of healing the bent over woman.

In the Gospel of Luke, appointed for today, Jesus teaches the disciples about the character of God. Salvation has been granted to the woman who has been bent over for 18 years. She has been afflicted, she may be somewhat ostracizised by the community. Perhaps because of her faith and not her lineage, Jesus calls this woman a daughter Abraham.  I wonder, does Jesus call this woman the daughter of Abraham because of the faith Abraham had?

This woman has been walking with her head face down, not held high. She has not been able to look up or forward, most likely her head is turned sideways in what might be described as a look of shame.

This woman doesn’t ask for healing. She is one in a crowd of many. Jesus notices her. He calls to her and heals her.

Because this healing occurred on the day of Sabbath, the synagogue leaders are outraged. Through Luke’s account of healing on the Sabbath, I believe Jesus teaches his disciples, that in healing this woman, he has kept God’s day holy.

Jesus is acting out ministry for the Kingdom of God by healing this broken woman.

During the course of our lives we are both the bent over woman prior to healing and the bent over woman who has been healed. We are the person who is in need of emotional, spiritual or physical healing. We are the person who has been healed with a kind word or a smile, healed with medical intervention, healed by generosity, and most importantly healed through the miracle of direct or intercessory prayer.

As each of us has had a different experience, I put before you several thoughts I ask you to dwell on during your personal prayer:

If you are at times the bent and “broken” woman, who has God placed in your life to offer healing?

How do you respond when you have been the recipient of healing grace?

Do you rejoice and offer praise to God for those who have been placed in your path, offering love and healing?

What amount of faith has brought you to receive such grace?

Perhaps the bent over woman is a mirror image of people we meet today. People who have been afflicted with shame, afflicted with addictions, people who are hurting from lack of financial security, food security, and housing security. This bent over woman may be an example of people who have been made to feel less human by those who have more privilege.

Trinity Church has responded to this need, Trinity has been an instrument of God’s healing grace

Recent examples of this have been our generous donations of back-to-school supplies for children who can’t necessarily afford them, Loaves and Fishes lunch program, participating in Church by the Pond and its food program, participation in the first Women’s Empowerment Work Shop at Asylum Hill Community Center.

As early as late September we, in collaboration with the community of Trinity College, will have been trained to provide support to a refugee family.

Most likely this will be a family that has been afflicted with pain like the bent woman. We don’t know what country they have fled, nor do we know how broken they may be. We do know that we will support them by escorting them to healthcare appointments, we will find a place for them to live, we will furnish that home, and we will assist them in finding their way in the community, work and perhaps school. We will help them financially and spiritually, locating a community that shares their faith. I imagine the fall will be a time where both Trinity and the family we support will fully experience God’s grace.

And it doesn’t stop there. As this faith community further matures in to a more missional church, we have ample opportunity to respond to God’s call, offering grace and through that grace, healing.

Individually, each of us has had the opportunity to be the instrument of healing grace for another broken person. Perhaps they have been someone you know, or even someone with whom you have a chance encounter.

Again I ask that you dwell on these questions during personal prayer:

What has your response been? 

Did you follow the teachings of Jesus and the words given us from the Prophet Isaiah in keeping each of God’s days holy?

May God grace us with healing during times when we are broken. May God grace us with the call to be instruments of healing the broken. May we rejoice with praise to God when healing occurs.

Amen

A Sermon by The Rev. Frank Kirkpatrick: August 14, 2016 (Proper 15, Year C)

August 14, 2016

Trinity Hartford

The Rev. Dr. Frank G. Kirkpatrick

Proper 15, Year C

Isaiah 5:1-7

Hebrews 11:29-12:2

Luke 12:49-56

     Late in the year of 1776, in defense of the American Revolution against the tyranny of Great Britain, Thomas Paine wrote:
THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value.

In these words, Paine was in his own way echoing the words of Jesus in this morning’s gospel. Both men are reflecting on the divisions that occur when really important things are at stake and when one must make a choice as to what one truly believes and what principles one will adhere to even if that choice will exacerbate divisions between people who make different fundamental choices. We often think of Jesus as the ultimate peace-maker, the one who will heal divisions and discord, the Jesus who smooths over difference and disagreement. Thinking of Jesus in this way doesn’t adequately prepare us for the shock we feel at his words in the gospel we’ve just heard: not only does he acknowledge division among people, even within a single family, but he says even more provocatively that he intends it: Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!

     What are we to do with this statement?   I’m afraid the best I can do in explaining it is simply to acknowledge that when issues of fundamental rock-bottom importance, such as justice, love, and the restoration of our human nature are at stake, then it makes a real and significant difference where you think ultimate truth lies and what you are prepared to do about it. Perhaps the ultimate scandal of the Christian faith in an age of relativism is its claim that it sees and has accepted the truth underlying all of creation. To be sure, we must never forget that that truth is always seen imperfectly through a glass darkly and the treasure it reveals is filtered through fallible human vessels all of which will distort the truth to some extent. In fact, the dilemma of the Christian faith is that it must reconcile its conviction that it has seen the truth at the heart of reality and, at the same time, admit that how it conveys and acts upon its vision of the truth is often marked by the very arrogance and intolerance that create the wounds that beset those who have been kept from the fullness and restoration of who God created them to be.

But what is the truth the Christian faith at its best claims to see and with humility to proclaim? It is the truth that only love, compassion, mercy, and justice reflect the true heart of God, and the heart of God is the bedrock of true reality. If this is the truth of reality then we should be willing to proclaim it and act upon it, no matter how many differing claims to truth others might propose.  We should have the audacity to proclaim that the abiding and overriding truth is that, in the end, after all that has been said and done, only love trumps hate, callousness, fear, and injustice.

The irony is that it is also true that in proclaiming the truth of love we will upset those who believe something different, who hold to a different view of truth. Proclaiming the truth of love can be contentious and cause, as Jesus saw, divisions among people. Many will take offense at the assertion of the supremacy of love because it contradicts their claim that only the exercise of coercive power in pursuit of one’s self interest and the intent to exercise domination over others is the real truth about the world. Power over others, whether military, political, economic, physical, or psychological, when it is used for the advancement of one’s ego, becomes an instrument of exclusion, denigration, and humiliation of those who threaten one’s own inflated sense of self. It tramples on the bonds of communion and interrelationship that the Christian vision sees as the truth of human nature. Its victims are demeaned as losers and regarded as worthless. It feeds on fear of loss which can only be assuaged by defeating those who are regarded as threats to one’s self-exaltation. This exercise of power is real and increasingly prevalent.

Nevertheless, it should evoke in those of us who share the basic values of the Abrahamic religions, a clear and explicit rebuttal. It should encourage us to claim that this use of the power of exclusion and domination is perverse and contrary to the will of God and the truth of reality. And that claim should be uttered out loud, proclaimed with force and conviction by those who see a different truth at the heart of reality, a truth grounded in the reality of God and expressed through love and compassion, through inclusion in the community of all who find wholeness and restoration in the love of God and each other. When two fundamentally different views of truth are at stake there will be division. Peace-making between them can occur only when the reality of their difference is acknowledged and owned by both parties. We do no favor to the truth of God by refusing to confront its difference from opposing claims or pretending it doesn’t matter.  

If we truly believe that God showed us the truth of who we really are through the crucifixion, then we must not be afraid to witness to that truth by making ourselves vulnerable to the divisions that mark our public discourse. Vulnerability to loss and defeat, even humiliation by those who propound a muscular, dominating, and demeaning form of power should not make us retreat from the conflict of ideas that reflects the struggle for truth today. Thomas Paine reminds us that this is not a time for the summer soldier or the sunshine patriot who retreats when the going gets rough. The tyranny of dangerous ideas and ideologies, like hell, is not easily defeated. But, as Paine goes on to say, “the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value.”

When people argue for the truth of coercive power as the means by which others can be rendered worthless because they are of a certain color, or ethnicity, or religion, or sexual orientation, we should not shy away from openly contesting those claims. We should not retreat from boldly proclaiming our counter-truth: the truth of the supremacy of love.

Nor should we be cowed by the claim that expressing our counter-truth is a form of religious intolerance or an attempt to impose our values on others. There is a sense in which that criticism is valid:  we should be intolerant of intolerance based on fear; we should be willing to run the risk that urging people to live by and in love is the only way that we can all be what God has created us to be even if we offend people who don’t accept our view. We gain nothing for the truth if we hide behind the fear that our vision of the truth might upset others. We cannot combat the falseness of the view that dictatorial power used to belittle and dominate others is the only good power, without asserting its falseness and untruth. This is the sense, I believe, that Jesus intended when he said he came to bring division. The real truth about who we are created to be cannot be fully revealed unless false views of the truth are exposed and condemned for the worthless claims that they really are. Exercising power for the purposes of self-aggrandizement and the demeaning of others will never bring true restoration of the healthy soul, nor peace, nor self-fulfillment. Exercising power for the purposes of justice, mercy, and compassion toward others is the truth. Living in love may be seen by some as intolerant because it is proclaiming one truth above all others. And we should admit that it is intolerant of ideologies that sanction abuse and injustice. But this is an intolerance we should be prepared, in all humility, to live by and if necessary to die for. It is better to be defeated by a false view of the ultimate truth than to have refrained from acting on what we take to be the true view. If we are wrong and love turns out not to be the ultimate reality then it is better to have lived and died by love than to have cowered behind fear and hate because we don’t want to upset the hatemongers.

Sermon Proper 14C: Marie Alford-Harkey

Proper 14C
Marie Alford-Harkey
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford
August 7, 1016

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” I learned that verse as a very young person in vacation bible school, although I memorized it from the King James version as, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” And I always thought that it meant that I needed to be 100% sure of whatever I was being taught about God, or I didn’t really have faith. I thought that this verse meant that I need to be absolutely convinced of things I could not see, or I was a bad Christian.

Now I understand it differently. The author of Hebrews goes on to hold up Abraham and Sarah as models of faith. They struck off for an unknown land based on the conviction that God was calling them to do so. They must have had moments of doubt, but the author of Hebrews says that they did things “by faith.” They lived as foreigners in tents in the land they had been promised. They had a child in their old age. The passage ends by talking about how heroes of faith such as Abraham and Sarah are people “seeking a homeland.”

That’s one definition of faith – seeking a homeland, looking forward to the heavenly city, desiring a better country. But it’s not necessarily knowing how one gets there. God told Sarah and Abraham to leave their country and go to a place that God would show them. No plan, no roadmap. Just “leave here and go where I show you.” And the text tells us that they obeyed “by faith.” They believed that the place they were dreaming of existed, and they followed what they believed was God’s call, even when they couldn’t see any evidence of it.

I am not generally a person who talks a lot about things that are not seen. I’m a concrete sort of person and I like things I can see. And yet….

When my grandmother died back in 2004, I remember telling some of the older women at church that it felt like she was very near to me, much more so than in the later years of her life. One of them said to me, “I know. It’s like we get them back, isn’t it?” It was the first time in my life I was so certain of something that I couldn’t see. I knew that my grandmother was near to me after she died, and that she was pleased and happy with me.

When I was a kid, I spent two weeks every summer with my grandparents in Charlotte, NC. I absolutely adored my grandmother and the feeling was mutual. From her, I learned about unconditional love at a very young age. She delighted in me, and made me feel as if there was nothing more important in the world than me.

My grandfather worked as a caretaker of a large estate, so most of my time when I was with them was spent with my grandmother. They lived in a house owned by the owner of the estate, and it had a lot of land around it. My grandmother loved birds and wanted to attract them to their lovely property. She had bird baths and bird feeders all around the yards of their house.

My grandmother also had an ongoing, all-out war with chipmunks. Do you all know what chipmunks are? There don’t seem to be very many of them up here. They’re adorable little rodents, shorter than squirrels, generally a rich nutty brown color with two white stripes outlined in black on their backs.

But for my grandmother, there was nothing adorable about them. They were terrifying monsters, making use of the bird baths and scaring away the birds, and climbing up into the bird feeders to help themselves to what rightfully belonged to the birds. My grandmother tried all manner of ways to get rid of them. She bought bird feeders on metal poles and greased the poles. She would see them in the bird baths from inside the house and run out yelling, “Go on, get out of here!” I thought the chipmunks were adorable, but was wise enough to refrain from saying so. To this day, when I see a chipmunk, I think of my grandmother, and I’m not really sure how she would feel about that.

When I fell in love with April, I knew that my grandmother approved. There was no actual evidence of this, of course. My grandmother had been dead for many years by then. But our first summer of dating we were in separate parts of New Hampshire, and seeing each other as often as possible. And chipmunks kept showing up when we were together. I had never seen them in New England, so I told April that I thought my grandmother was smiling on us. We got into the habit of saying hello to her whenever we saw one. Even though I couldn’t see her, I knew that my grandmother was present, taking pleasure in my happiness, and urging me on in my journey.

Being with April was an important part of my journey, because she understood my call. She believed in me, and urged me to follow that call, even when it was difficult.

And of course I was looking for signs, both about my relationship and my call. Because it’s hard to know where God is calling us. It’s hard to know what our vocation is, or what’s the next right thing. I have often joked that I would give anything if God was just send a memo. Just once. So I took those chipmunks as “evidence of things not seen.”

It’s really always about faith. God says to us, leave your home and go to a land I will show you. And it’s up to us to decide whether or not to obey at that moment. Whether or not to take the risk, to have the faith that God really can show us a land that we long for, no matter how difficult the journey to get there. Sometimes we’re ready, and sometimes we’re not.

The gospel passage tells us that it is God’s pleasure to give us that longed-for homeland. God’s pleasure. Sit with that for a minute. God wants to give us what we seek. That’s how much God loves us. When we are brave enough to take off and follow what we believe God is calling us to do, God wants to give us God’s realm on earth.

But here’s the interesting thing. God is depending on us to make this world closer to that longed-for realm. Jesus’ parable tells us that we need to be “dressed for action.” It’s not because God is vengeful and is going to catch us sleeping and condemn us to hell. Rather it’s because we need to be ready at any moment to take the next step in our Christian vocation of creating God’s realm on earth. We need to be ready for action because we are all God has to help create God’s commonwealth on earth.

We need to be ready even when we don’t know the end result, only the next right thing. “Leave your home and go to a land which I will show you.” That’s God’s call – go … even if you don’t know where you’re going.

That’s not easy. Journeys are hard, especially when you’re not entirely sure where you’ll end up. I’m sure many of you, like me, have experienced setbacks, disappointments, even tragedies. And I bet that many of you, like me, have seen those life events transformed in ways that you never imagined. Losing someone dear to you allows you to be with someone else who is experiencing grief. Messing up in a big way allows you to sit with others who have messed up and connect with each other’s humanity.

In the gospel story, Jesus tells us that our heart dwells where our treasure is. That’s where our faith is. That’s where our longing is. It’s where our treasure is. What is the thing that truly encapsulates the longed-for common wealth of God for you? What inspires you to keep answering yes when God says “Go to a land I will show you?” Where is your treasure?  

For me, it goes back to my grandmother. For all the time that I knew my grandmother, she wore two rings that didn’t really fit together on her finger. One was a solitaire diamond and the other was a more ornate “vintage” ring. I know that one of them was her mother’s wedding ring and one was hers, but I can never remember which is which.

When I was an adult, my grandmother told me she was going to leave her rings to me when she died. This was well after I had divorced my husband and my grandmother knew that I was a lesbian. She must have believed that there was no prospect of my getting married. But she wanted to leave me those rings anyway. Not to my brother, who would surely get married, but to me. The only caveat was that I was not to alter them in any way. I wasn’t to make them into earrings or a pendant or anything else. They were to remain as they were.

These rings remind me of her faith. She was the only person in my family who was devoutly Christian. And she was the only person in my family who knew how to love me completely, and how to bless me with that love. Those rings are now my and April’s wedding rings. They serve to remind me every day of the love of God, as shown to me by my Grandmother. They also serve as a reminder of the journey, twisty, and full of chipmunks and love and heartbreak.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” May we all find our faith in the journey. Amen..

What Are We Really Praying For? by The Rev. Donald L. Hamer

Proper 12  - July 24, 2016

St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Bloomfield, CT

Donald L. Hamer, Rector, Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford

          In last week’s Gospel lesson from Luke (10:38-42), we heard the story about Jesus’ visit with Martha and Mary. I was privileged to be the preacher as three of our Episcopal congregations – Trinity and St. Monica’s from Hartford and St. John’s from West Hartford – joined our brothers and sisters at Christ Church cathedral for a Jazz Mass offered as part of the Greater Hartford Jazz Festival. I observed that I think the way that story is often interpreted – that Martha is somehow less devoted to Jesus than Mary—I think is a bad rap on Martha. I think that story, properly interpreted, speaks about relationship with the Lord. Both Martha and Mary are devoted to Jesus – Martha is working diligently to be a good hostess and she actually refers to Jesus as “Lord.” Mary shows her devotion by listening to Jesus’ words. Jesus’ remarks to Martha are not so much a put-down of Martha as they are a reminder that everyone can and should be a disciple of Jesus’ teaching. Another point of that story is that in order to be faithful followers of Jesus, we all need to have both a “Martha” side and a “Mary” side – we need to be, as St. Paul reminds us, both hearers of the Word and doers of the Word to be faithful Christians.

          This week’s passage, in which we hear one of the two original versions of the Lord’s prayer, is also about our relationship with God and how we nurture that relationship to the fullest. I’d like to take a few moments to explore our ideas about prayer and what Jesus has to tell us about prayer in this morning’s passage.

          The passage begins with Jesus praying, and the disciples want to learn how to pray the way he does. Let me ask you by a show of hands, How many of you get a little nervous when someone asks you to pray out loud in a group of people?  I know so many people who are not comfortable doing that. I suppose part of it is that we are Episcopalians and Anglicans – after all, we have this 600 page Book of Common Prayer – I think some of us think that unless you can construct a formal prayer like we can find in the BCP then it isn’t really a prayer.

          Now academic types will tell you that there are several classical recognized styles of prayer, each of which has a particular function in our lives. Among the most common are:

n Adoration in which we praise the greatness of God, and we acknowledge our dependence on God in all things. The Gloria is a good example of this type of prayer.

n Confession, in which we acknowledge our sinfulness and ask God for forgiveness and mercy.

n Intercession or intercessory prayers are those we pray on behalf of others, asking God to intercede for healing or for some other hoped for outcome.

n Prayers of petition are the type of prayer with which we are most familiar. In them, we ask God for things we need—primarily spiritual needs, but physical ones as well. Our prayers of petition should always include a statement of our willingness to accept God's Will, whether God directly answers our prayer or not. The Our Father is a good example of a prayer of petition, and the line "Thy will be done" shows that, in the end, we acknowledge that God's plans for us are more important than what we desire.

n Prayers of Thanksgiving are perhaps the most neglected type of prayer. While Grace Before Meals is a good example of a prayer of thanksgiving, we should get into the habit of thanking God throughout the day for the good things that happen to us and to others. Developing this as a practice also helps us to be ever-mindful of God’s presence.

To be sure, there is one central characteristic of all of these forms of prayer, and that is ALL of them are centered on God. The question is, what do we understand God’s role to be in our prayer? A few examples help frame the question:

n When a football player scores a touchdown, when David Ortiz hits a towering home run, when a soccer player scores a goal – so often in athletic events when a player makes a great play, you will see him or her look to the sky and give thanks, or bless themselves, or some other symbol of devotion. What are they doing? Are they thinking that God wanted them to hit the home run? If so, what does that say about God when we think of the equally religious pitcher for the other team, who prays to the same God that he will pitch well. Does God like the home run hitter better than the pitcher?

n Or what about when we do what we have done ever since the 9/11 attacks, which is to sing “God Bless America” at many athletic events. Yes, folks, it is a beloved American song – it is also a prayer. What are we praying when we sing those words? Are we asking God to favor America over other countries, no matter what? Are we assuming that God already favors us, an assumption captured in a term we are hearing a lot in this election, “American Exceptionalism.”. If that is true, it can only mean that God does NOT favor other countries in the world who pray to the same God for THEIR countries.

n A final example, and perhaps the most difficult one – one that pastors face all of the time. When we pray for an outcome – a relative or friend is cured of a dread disease, a family member find a job, that there be good weather for a parish event – when the desired outcome happens, so often we give thanks to God. And it is good that we remember God in that moment. But think about the alternative: If the desired outcome does NOT happen, we must then wrestle with the question, Does God NOT WANT the person to be healed? Does God not want the person to find a job? Did God want the picnic to be rained out?

All of these examples are to challenge us to stop and think about what it is we do when we offer prayer, and what it is we expect of God. And so it is a gift that this morning we hear Jesus’ response to the disciples who ask him simply, “Lord, teach us to pray.” We know this prayer so well that I think sometimes we can forget how powerful it is:

Father, hallowed be your name. Jesus teaches us that fundamental teaching of our baptismal covenant, that by adoption and our relationship with Jesus, we are children of God, in intimate relationship with him. That is the point of the concluding words of today’s passage – that as much as we would do anything for our children, so God will do even more for us. It also says that God is holy – above all things  and to be praised above all things.

Your kingdom come. In Jesus, God’s reign has come near. And yet the kingdom of God has not yet arrived here on earth. We pray for a more complete realization – that all people will come to know God, and that God’s kingdom, as understood in the life and teaching of Jesus the Christ, will be more fully realized here on earth.

And then there are three prayers of petition for three essential needs:

Give us each day our daily bread. Be with us as we seek all that we need in our daily lives, just as you provided for your people as they wandered through the desert. May what we seek be not simply for our OWN sustenance and benefit, but to sustain us on our journey with God as followers of Jesus, to God’s glory in helping make that Kingdom come alive in our world.

And forgive us our sins, as we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. Jesus assures us of God’s forgiveness, even as he reminds us of our need to engage in the never-ending process of forgiving those who have hurt us. This is also a part of making God’s kingdom come – engaging in the work of reconciliation among all of God’s creation.

And do not bring us to the time of trial. Because of the translation used in our traditional Lord’s Prayer (which I understand we will sing this morning), we usually think of this in terms of avoiding situations in which we may sin. And certainly this is a part of it, when we understand “sin” as anything that separates us from the love of God and relationship with God. But Jesus probably meant something broader than that – asking for protection from circumstances that test or endanger our faith, such as religious persecution. But such circumstances could also be those times when we have asked God for a specific result and that result has not materialized. When we’re honest with ourselves, those times test our faith also, and it is this that Jesus is also referring to here.

So what do we learn from this morning’s Gospel – what is the Good News? Jesus’ teaching on how to pray sums up who God is and our relationship with God as known in the person of Jesus the Christ. He teaches us that the purpose of prayer is not to pressure God into doing what we want, but to encourage us to find in our prayers what God knows we truly need. Prayer enlarges our world beyond that which we can see and comprehend to understand ourselves as part of that Jesus Movement that brings God’s kingdom ever closer. It draws us to two prayers that actually DO come from our Book of Common Prayer with which I will close:

Almighty God, to whom our needs are known before we ask, help us to ask only what accords with your will; and those good things which we dare not, or in or blindness cannot ask, grant us for the sake of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. AMEN.

"God, Bless America" -- A Reflection, by The Rt. Rev. Andrew D. Smith

The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost   July 24 2016   Trinity Church Hartford

 With this morning’s Scripture about praying, and finding ourselves in the midst of political party conventions in which God’s name is invoked, here are some musings about prayer, seeking God’s blessing, and politics

 Invoking God’s blessing:  it’s a practice particular to religious belief, about cherishing our relationship with God, in prayer.

 Hosea’s peers in Israel the Northern Kingdom had forgotten about prayer to God:  and it would be for them as if God had no pity, and they would be called not-my-people .  Can you imagine having children named, No Pity, and Not-God’s People?  (And yet, and yet, notice, there was the promise that they again could be called “Children of the living God.”)

 Saint Paul, writing to the Colossians, emphasized giving thanks, in prayer, rather than relying on philosophy or empty deceit.

 The disciples said to Jesus, John taught his disciples how to pray; would you teach us how to pray?

 He taught them about the compassionate God to whom we pray:

 Knock on a friend’s door in the middle of the night, and call out and keep knocking, and even though it’s the middle of the night, the worst of times, the friend will come to give you whatever you need. 

 And if your child in hunger asks for food, of course you’ll give the child food!

 And remember, said Jesus, your heavenly father is even more ready to hear, more generous to give, more responsive to us, than a friend or a parent ever could be.

 As Jesus taught them, he also gave them some words — what we call The Lord’s Prayer — when you pray,

 First of all:  give praise:   Father in heaven, may your Name always be held sacred.

 Next, ask for the blessing of all creation:  Your Kingdom come, your will be done on earth as already it is in heaven.

Then, certainly, ask for our particular physical and spiritual needs:  Give us bread for today; and forgive our sins, even as we forgive others their sins; and save us from the evil times and powers.

Finally, an addition of praise to God:  For everything is yours, today and for always.

 Prayer modeled:   Praise of God, asking for Creation’s blessing, then for our needs, including forgiveness, and finally praise again.

 This week again I’ve been thinking about how political speeches at political conventions, usually — always — since the time of President Reagan — now end with some triumphal form of   .. what?  .. “God Bless America.”

 Standing in this new tradition, Mike Pence in his acceptance speech at the Republican Convention ended with “”God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.”  Donald Trump left out “God bless America” altogether — the blessing that would tie us together — and just ended with “God bless you.”  (I wonder if that included just his supporters?)  I’m now curious to look for if and how the phrase emerges in the Democratic Convention this week.

 Where did “God bless America” come from?  Irving Berlin  wrote it in a song in 1918, revised it in 1938, and it has been made immortal, especially at Yankee Stadium,  by (the other) Kate Smith.

 The question I’ve been toying with, in light of the Biblical tradition and gospel teachings:  Is “God bless America” a prayer?

 If the expression indeed is meant to be a prayer, I wish there were a comma after “God.”  “God, bless America.”  In which case, God, bless America would be offered in the context of humility, hope, trust, sounding something like, “We praise you, dear God, and ask you, to bless this nation and all its people and endeavors.”

 Maybe it’s a command to God?  “God bless America!”  Frankly, that sounds like a claim on God, as if we’re the ones in charge and we’re demanding that God fall in line wth us, with what we want for ourselves.  The question then would be, Who’s in the driver’s seat?  Who is serving whom??

 Or, Is it an authoritative pronouncement of divine blessing, delivered?  To render holiness.  In our Christian tradition, the members of the Church who are entrusted to pronounce blessing (and forgiveness) (or withhold either) are our ordained priests and bishops.  And we’ve made quite an industry of it; we pronounce blessings on all sorts of things:  we bless houses, babies, animals, the fishing fleet, baptism candidates, the whole congregation at the end of the Eucharist, furniture, altar implements and liturgical hangings, backpacks, church buildings, hounds, graves, water, couples in marriage, rings, motorcycles, Iron-man athletes (this morning in Lake Placid).  Whatever, it’s the ministry of priests and bishops.  Nope, the phrase used by politicians can’t be a declaration or assurance of blessing. 

 Maybe the expression is a well-wishing hope.  Less intended or formed than prayer, more a secular expression.  As when we say, God bless you after a sneeze, or God bless you for having done a good deed, or God bless you in a time of great joy, or of trouble.  Maybe that’s what it is — a shadow of a prayer, if you will.  The opposite of an ill-wishing hope which replaces “bless” with “damn.”

 For better or for worse, whatever the motivations for its use, the expression is with us. So, here a couple of thoughts.

 1.     God already has blessed America.  Mightily.  What about our politicians’ thanking God for the blessings we have received, and stop acting as if God’s blessing is something unreceived that we deserve.

 2.  What if in public we asked for blessings for others, addition to America — God bless the whole world, those caught in poverty, or those in what we call trouble spots, or in, say, Syria, Greece, Congo?  What if we asked God for our enemies, as Scripture commends?

 3.  What if we implored not that God bless us — God already does that — but that we as a nation be empowered to be a blessing to God?

 4.  And what if our politicians, truly addressing God, following the example of prayer revealed in Scripture, even asked forgiveness for those things which they, or we as America, have done or not done, which like anything human, needs forgiveness?

Well, Whatever will be said, and for whatever reasons, the content in political speeches is beyond our control. 

 For us, then, when we think of our relationship with God, and blessings, let’s always remember how Jesus said  our heavenly father is more ready to hear, and more generous, more responsive, than a friend or a parent.

And imprint on our minds how Jesus taught us,

 First of all:  give praise:   Father in heaven, may your Name always be held sacred by us and by all.

Next, ask for the blessing of all creation:  Your Kingdom come, 

Then, for our particular physical and spiritual needs:  Give us bread for today; and forgive our sins, even as we forgive others their sins; and save us from evil powers.

Finally, an addition of praise to God:  for everything is yours, today and for always.

 It’s the relationship.  And prayer is the door for receiving and being empowered to give blessing.  From God through Jesus Christ, to whom with the Spirit be our honor and praise, now and forever.

Freedom and Hope in the Spirit by The Rev. Donald L. Hamer

Proper 11 – July 17, 2016

Greater Hartford Jazz Festival

Jazz Mass – Christ Church Cathedral

 “Freedom and Hope in the Spirit”

Luke 10:38-42

          Let us pray: Open our hearts and our minds, O Lord, so that we can understand the fullness of your Word. Fill us with the light of the Holy Spirit, and bless your servant chosen to share the Word proclaimed today. In the name of Jesus the Christ, your Living Word. AMEN.

          What a joy and a privilege it is to be with you all today here at Christ Church Cathedral. We have the Greater Hartford Jazz Festival going on. We have the Hot Cat Jazz Band. It is a beautiful summer day in Hartford. And – in a first as far as I know – we have four Episcopal congregations, who normally worship in four separate buildings at this hour on Sunday mornings, coming together as one to praise God.

          And even as we express our joy and celebrate the blessings of having the freedom and opportunity to worship together, we have occasion – yet again – to mourn an unthinkable loss of life in a previously unthinkable manner at the hands of a human being whom God created and human society has formed. This week we mourn the barbaric use of a commercial truck to kill over 80 innocent people and seriously injure scores of others who were celebrating French Independence Day. In recent weeks we have mourned the killing of two Black civilians at the hands of police officers, and the killing of five police officers while they were protecting the rights of citizens protesting those deaths.  Before that, we mourned the killing of 49 people at an Orlando nightclub that served the LGBTQ c. It becomes almost mind-numbing, and the danger is that is can become soul-numbing. WHEN – we secretly wonder – will life go back to normal? We dare not consider the possibility that this may be the new normal.

          So it is perhaps providential that this morning we celebrate Jazz Mass as part of a weekend celebrating the musical form of jazz. “Jazz evolved out of the blues,” writes Dean Nelson in a recent article in the Christian Century entitled, “Riffing on a Prayer.” The blues, in turn, “evolved out of spirituals, which evolved out of music sung in the fields by enslaved Africans, which evolved out of the cargo holds of slave ships. “Calls from family members separated from one another were early forms of what we know in the church as “call and response.”

Jazz was born of a people who had endured unfathomable loss – loss of homeland, loss of identity, loss of culture, loss of family, loss of control, loss of freedom – loss of virtually everything they had save for their dignity as children of God and, despite all evidence to the contrary, their unquenchable faith in that same God made known to them in the person of Jesus Christ and brought alive to them by the Holy Spirit. When colonial society had taken away everything else they had, the only freedom available to them was in their God and in their music. When we, in our privileged and relatively secure state, fear the loss of control and security in uncertain times, Jazz has a lot to teach us about ourselves and holding up the light of the Kingdom of God in a time of looming darkness.

You see, jazz music is in many ways so complicated, and yet there are no instruction books that can ever teach it. It is partly planned and partly spontaneous.  Even as the musicians perform a pre-determined tune, they have the opportunity to create their own interpretations within that tune in response to the other musicians' performances and whatever else may occur "in the moment" -- this is called improvisation and is the defining element of jazz. In the church, we call it “The Holy Spirit.”

Jazz and R&B saxophonist and pianist Archie Thompson says that when combined with worship “jazz music is not just about the musicians and the congregation. When you’re improvising,” he says, “you’re not supposed to be thinking about it. You’re free in the moment. That’s the Holy Spirit. When you’re free, something’s guiding you.”

But we in North America aren’t too sure about this spirit thing. We love the idea of the Holy Spirit – we’re just not so sure we want to be guided by it unless we know the end game. We’re generally not comfortable – as a jazz artist must be – in reading the cues as we go along step by step.  If we’re honest with ourselves, we will admit that we want to know in advance what’s going to happen – we find security in the repetition. Trusting in God and risking being surprised by the Spirit is not really in our repertoire. But that’s the way God works – that’s the way faith works. As we stand in awe of how the Spirit moves among our musicians this morning, the Spirit is inviting us to get over ourselves and our need to control and to manage and to see what good things can happen when we trust God to lead and we follow.

Which brings us to our Gospel passage this morning. We know the story so well that when I say the names “Mary” and “Martha” you probably have a mental image of the two sisters. The only other place they appear in the Christian Scriptures is in the Gospel of John, 11:1 – 12:8 with the raising of Lazarus. We really don’t know much else about Martha and Mary. Still, the name of Martha has become synonymous with the practical, efficient but overly-busy and dour housekeeper, and Mary synonymous with the dreamy, stars-in-her-eyes girl who is seems oblivious to her sister’s practical concerns.

          Both women are devoted to Jesus. Martha shows her devotion through her hospitality and her calling Jesus “Lord.” Mary shows her devotion through her interest in Jesus’ teaching. Jesus’ remark seems to be less a rebuke of Martha than it is an affirmation of Mary’s desire to learn– her hunger to be a disciple. It is Martha’s frustration with Mary and her distraction with her own busy-ness that Jesus is addressing in his remark. Jesus is reminding her that when hospitality is anxious and troubled, its focus moves almost imperceptibly from the guest to the actual logistics of the hospitality itself. Jesus is reminding Martha that the hospitality is not only in the food and the dinner, but in the relationship with the Guest.

          There is a lesson for us here that is certainly applicable to our lives in the church and just as applicable in other aspects of our lives. To be genuine, any act of discipleship – contemplative, active or otherwise – must be focused on Jesus. This was Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s concept of church, with Christ at the center. Everything else is just a means to that end. In her single-minded focus on the tasks at hand, Martha has lost sight of the very thing that Jesus has to offer.

          We need to recognize the importance of both the activist/doer Martha and the contemplative/thinker Mary to a healthy and lively faith. Likewise, it is important to be attentive to when one of those characteristics – either our Martha or our Mary side – is out of balance or alignment with the other. Both are important, and each suffers when the other is not in mutual conversation and harmony.

And this is where Jazz can be our inspiration. In his book, Finding the Groove: Composing a Jazz-Shaped Faith, pastor and jazz theologian Robert Gelinas writes, “Call and response makes listening to jazz music an adventure as you begin to hear the instruments as voices calling to each other and engaging in conversation.”

It has been observed that there is no better example of democracy than a jazz ensemble: individual freedom but with responsibility to the group. The individual musicians have the freedom to express themselves on their instrument as long as they maintain their responsibility to the other musicians by adhering to the overall framework and structure of the tune.

This can also be a good model for the church and a good model for our lives as we find ourselves in a rapidly changing world. We can become such creatures of habit and become so comfortable in that which is certain, that which is routine, that which is expected that we can become like Martha – distracted by the routine itself and losing sight of when that routine doesn’t fit the present time or circumstances.

          Jesus has given us the tune and he has set the tempo. He invites us to follow his lead by listening for the Holy Spirit in prayer, and by sharing freely what we discern with others. May the resulting harmonies be music to God’s ears, and signal to a troubled world that the Kingdom has drawn near.

          Let us pray: Grant us this day, O God, not be overtaken by anxious thoughts that can make us feel that you are not near. Give us the chance to sit at your feet, to enjoy every word and every musical note that we may feel your real presence and in turn live out that presence within our families, our communities, our jobs, our schools and in your church. Prepare us as we journey as your people, in the perfect freedom, hope and assurance that you alone can provide. AMEN.

Loving Our Neighbor, by The Rev. Bonnie S. Matthews, Deacon

Sermon

July 10, 2016

Year C Proper 10

Amos 7:7-17               Psalm 82                      Colossians 1:1-14                    Luke 10:25-37

In the name of God who, through Jesus, calls us into a new relationship to love our neighbor through acts of justice and mercy.

Because as Episcopalians our Catechism addresses the Summary of The Law, I would like to dwell on The New Covenant. Therefore I am stepping out of the standard format for a homily and begin with an interactive recitation of the New Covenant taken from our outline of faith (the Catechism) which is found in The Book of Common Prayer page 850.  

The New Covenant

We have work to do. Participating in God's Mission calls us to build bridges of love, justice, and peace. Grounded in God's love for us and our love for God, we are called to reach out to those around us who are hurting and those in need, extending God's love with ears that seek to listen, words that seek to comfort, touch that seeks to heal and hearts that seek to love. We are called to work of peace and justice, building bridges that connect us where we are still divided by "isms" of prejudice, oppression and difference. Fear cannot build these bridges, but we can -- when we are not trapped by our fears, but rather freed by God to walk in love. May we be about this work today and everyday.

I wonder, do I do enough work extending God’s love, building bridges that connect us with the plight of the other. I wonder what would happen if we all listened, touched hearts, spoke for peace, sought love and then acted. 

What would happen if we all worked for justice and peace?

          May we pray on these words and act accordingly.

During his address to the Episcopal Church, Presiding Bishop Michael Curry calls us to pray for the Human Family:

The Lord be With You

O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us
through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole
human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which
infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us;
unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and
confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in
your good time, all nations and races may serve you in
harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ
our Lord. Amen.

July 4: Reflecting on The Common Good by The Rev. Dr. Frank G. Kirkpatrick

July 3, 2016

Seventh Sunday After Pentecost

Trinity Church, Hartford

Galatians 6:(1-6)7-16

The Gospel: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

This is the Sunday closest to July 4, a time to celebrate the events and persons who helped to shape the new nation that emerged from the revolution that was instigated by the American colonies in July of 1776 against an unresponsive and unrepresentative mother country, Great Britain.  From an often chaotic set of relationships between divided colonies eventually emerged a united set of states comprising a single republic under a common government. On this July fourth weekend there is much to celebrate in our nation’s history and as Christians we should share in that celebration. But, there is also much to be wary of as we join in that celebration. As Christians we must pay heed to Paul’s injunction in his letter to the church in Rome, where he tells us that we are to be subject to the governing powers of whatever nation we are citizens of for these powers have been instituted by God for our benefit. At the same time, we are to avoid turning our nation into an idol, something beyond criticism and reform.

  America and its people, us, are as prone to sin and arrogance as any people on earth. As the great Christian ethicist Reinhold Niebuhr pointed out nation-states will use their collective power to defend national interests against other groups, both domestic and foreign, and to do so they will resort to actions that will not meet the highest of moral standards. Nations have to coerce their own citizens to do certain things that they would not do in the absence of coercion, such as paying taxes. Such coercion is less likely in smaller communities, such as families, where most members will freely give what they have to in order to meet the needs of other members of that family. But in nations it is rarely the case that people will voluntarily give more of their wealth to support the needs of the poor unless they are legally required to do so. And establishing those legal requirements for taxation is usually resisted vigorously. We often overlook this coercive side of our national experience because we tend to think of our national experience as one of being a righteous nation increasing the spread of goodness throughout the world. Over time many Americans have come to believe that our nation is an exception to the rules that seem to govern the histories of other, less-divinely favored nations. We believe that we provide more freedom to individuals; we have more robust expressions of democracy; we are richer and more productive with a more vigorous economy than many other nations. And yet our national pride is often tarnished by our failure to achieve other moral goals. We spent years as a nation denying rights to women and most egregiously denying freedom to the millions of Africans we had enslaved. And we paid for that denial by a bloody civil war just to restore unity to a fractured country. Today we still pay a price for many of our injustices which are built on the back of great accomplishments. Our vigorous economy, while producing enormous wealth for some has also contributed to a growing disparity in wealth and income among our citizens. While a small portion of the population has seen its wealth increase exponentially, vast numbers of the poor and middle class have seen their wealth remain stagnant or even decline in recent years. We even have the dubious honor of a kind of negative exceptionalism: we have poorer health outcomes and greater disparities in our access to health care than most of the other developed countries in the world. We have more gun violence and more access to guns than most of our neighboring countries. Exceptionalism can cut both ways.

But today should not be a time to weigh up two sides of a ledger of American greatness and failure. Rather it should be an opportunity to recapture one of the most important motifs in a storied American history: a theme which was present at the creation of the nation in 1776 but which is in danger of being forgotten or ignored in the midst of the clamorous rhetoric of the political campaign which is now deep upon us. It’s the theme of America as a people who emerged from disorderly division to choose to live together within the bonds of a united society, sharing their goods and fortunes with each other so that all could prosper. As the eminent American historian Gordon Wood put it in his book on the creation of the American republic, “the sacrifice of individual interests to the greater good of the whole formed the essence of republicanism and comprehended for Americans the idealistic goal of their Revolution.” It is what made their actions in 1776 truly revolutionary. They wanted to establish a commonwealth in which the common good, not simply the pursuit of the private good, would be the primary objective of government, government being the legislative will of the people as a whole. And we should acknowledge that much of the idea of what is called the common good came from the Jewish and Christian tradition in which God’s kingdom was to be established by the principles of justice for the sake of the community, the people as a whole, and especially the most vulnerable. Over time the utopian vision of the founding fathers and mothers gave way to a greater emphasis on satisfying the wants and desires of the individual, leaving the needs of the community as a whole to the vagaries and personal generosity of the successful. Meeting those needs was not to be the object of governance, or of social policies requiring citizens to give justly to meet the basic needs of their neighbors. President John F. Kennedy’s call in 1961 to ask not what your country can do for you but rather what you can do for your country is now a distant memory which has little resonance for a society in which the personal unlimited acquisition of goods seems to be the only driving force behind all that we do.  

     But a nation whose sole or overriding purpose is to satisfy the personal desire for the virtually unlimited acquisition of material goods is a nation which is in the process of betraying its rich and bountiful heritage of working for the common or public good. If we want to be a truly exceptional nation, without the pitfalls of arrogance or overweening pride, perhaps we might recall what it meant in 1776 in a steamy humid room in Philadelphia, for men of privilege to be willing to pledge their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honors to the cause of the revolution and its promise of a new and united nation in which the general welfare, not the privileges of the few, would be the guiding star of the government of the new republic. These so-called founding fathers asked the people to join them in an experiment in self-government in which the common good would take precedence over individual pursuit of gain. We did at least briefly in the first years after 1776 take seriously Paul’s injunction this morning to bear one another’s burdens because we were one people born out of many diverse locations, occupations, and personal interests. We pledged ourselves to E pluribus Unum: from many comes one. But that vision of unity or oneness eventually required a violent civil war as the nation struggled with the division caused by the continuation of slavery. We have paid for our precious unity with blood, sweat, and tears.

Today we face similar threats to our national unity as does the European Union, another unity born out of division and war, a unity under threat as member states begin to separate from it. And the threat comes in the form of fear of the immigrant, the other who threatens our superficial identity as a people defined by a predominant skin color, religion, or ethnic origin. But when those identifying markers turn out to be multiple, different, and diverse, then our unity, our common good, must be found elsewhere: it must be found in a deeper common humanity because we are all equally the children of God. As Paul says in this morning’s epistle, “if those who are nothing think they are something, they deceive themselves. All must test their own work; then that work, rather than their neighbor's work, will become a cause for pride. For all must carry their own loads.”

 The test, as Paul puts it, for our nation on this Fourth of July weekend is a commitment to do the work of justice in the cause of unity. What works are we as a nation going to do building on the accomplishments of the past in order to advance the common good today? How will we meet the needs of the poor for a robust and equitable health care system, safe housing, sound education, reliable infrastructure, employment at a living wage and freedom from the threat of gun violence? How will we tend to the needs of the refugees who come to our shores in order to share in the good things we have produced over the decades? How will we deal with the persistence of racism and homophobia which erode the fabric of our increasingly fragile unity as a nation? Even more parochially, how will we meet the challenges of the common good here in our own parish which is starved for financial resources in order to carry on the ministries we have declared to be part of our congregational identity and mission?

     This July 4 is an opportunity to rethink what our national and local priorities are: it is a time to re-imagine what it would mean to embody the spirit of 1776, to sacrifice individual interests to the greater good of the whole, to the common good. It is time to set aside divisions and exclusions based on race, class, religious difference, sexual identity, and ethnic background. The common good is what God intends for all of us and God knows, as we should also, that if we attend to the common good the private good will also be met because the meaning of God’s creation is simply this: we were made for each other and only in the good of the whole can we find the individual good for each and every one of us.