StAlbansChurch

September 21, 2025 Sermon by The Reverend Linda McConnell

It’s been another week for rage and tears. The growing response to Charlie Kirk’s lamentable and horrific killing has devolved into political threats carried through against whomever the current administration doesn’t like. It’s not an exaggeration to say that one of our bedrock freedoms – the freedom of speech – is under siege.

Let’s back up a minute. Are you in a church that is mostly progressive? Yes. So I just want to let you know that, in case you are new and wondering. We stand for the dignity of every human being and since Elizabethan times, back in England, we have affirmed the right of individuals to believe the way they want while also affirming the beauty of common prayer and gathering around a common altar. Our worship is both ancient and modern and personally, I am devoted to preaching from the scriptures without fear that it will look political – because often times it is political.

The prophets and Jesus spoke to the conditions of their times without fear and without favor – and our church attempts to do the same. And it is not possible at this time in our national history to just tuck our head down and be quiet and still be true to our faith. And so church, this church, is a place for tears, for lament, and yes, for rage.

There’s a young Episcopalian priest on Instagram, The Rev. Elizabeth Riley, who invites rage prayers – what do you need to scream at the universe about?

She says that when we are terrified and in despair, we need to know we ar not alone and that prayer is a way in which we can be unified. It’s a way we can speak truth. And it takes so many forms. Words. Lighting candles. Marching in the streets, writing postcards, banner drops along freeway overpasses. So this morning, if you are despairing for the world like me, here is one of her prayers:

let us pray +

Holy One, we see the pain and violence of the world, potential destruction and loss of life, the way in which we depart from love and peace towards hate and oppression and we fear for the world we find ourselves in, let us not make peace with this present, but continue to lift our voices in opposition, in truth – may we be loud where it is needed and gentle and comforting to those who are doing the hard and terrifying work of standing up to this incredibly deranged and oppressive power we find ourselves living in the midst of.

May we find our way towards peace. May we not lose hope that we can be voices for change, May we be inspired to continue to fight and speak for those in harm’s way. and let us not believe that this is how it must be, because we know, we know that there is a better way than this hell.

Lament is an art. It is a kind of praying that we have largely forgotten – that we are maybe embarrassed by or simply not familiar with – but it is a powerful form of prayer whether it is in words, in action, or in song.

Jon Batiste, a Grammy award winning R&B and Soul singer composer instrumentalist, wrote a song called Cry, Cry, Cry, and it could be straight out of the prophet Jeremiah.

Who do you love?

Who you gonna love?

Who do you love when push comes to shove?

How does it feel?

How’s it gonna feel?

How does it feel when it’s getting too real?

Why sometimes does it feel like all I wanna do

All I wanna do is cry, cry, cry

Cry, cry, cry

Floods keep on rising

Tears keep on falling down

Oh, why?

Cry

Cry, cry, cry, cry

For the loss of the innocence

For the struggle of the immigrants

For the wrongful imprisonment

Cry, cry, cry

Lament is for when hardship feels thick and hope seems desperately thin. Those times we all have. The doctor confirms your fears: the cancer has returned. Or your hope is crushed by the news of a miscarriage. For some of us, it’s rising to a new day only to be met by the dark and familiar clouds of depression. Or nationally: Charlie Kirk is murdered and social media and the White House kick into overdrive sowing further division between people and threatening one of the bedrock freedoms of our country: free speech. A shooting happens at Evergreen High School and is ignored by the same actors. Or internationally: the lack of any kind of restraint in the onslaught against Palestinian peoples.

At least 40% of the psalms are filled with lament. There is an entire book of the Bible called Lamentations. Jesus was filled with deep lament for the same reason Jeremiah is: the inability or unwillingness of the people to come to grips with reality and change.

Jesus is described as being so moved in his gut by lament that he wept over Jerusalem and the people who did not know what would bring them peace and consequentially were walking straight into disaster.

And it’s not just Jesus or the prophets who weep – it is God as well. If you look at this lament from our first reading – it can be difficult to separate out which is Jeremiah’s voice and which is God’s. They are intertwined.

My joy is gone, grief is upon me,

my heart is sick.

Hark, the cry of my poor people

from far and wide in the land:

For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt,

I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me.

O that my head were a spring of water,

and my eyes a fountain of tears,

so that I might weep day and night

for the slain of my poor people!

We are, for the most part, really uncomfortable with grief. With genuine heartbrokenness. We want to move it along. We want to fix it. To do something practical and helpful. Something that will change the situation.

But both prophets and psychologists invite us to allow ourselves space and time to grieve. To light a candle and offer prayers of rage and lament for truly lamentable situations.

One of our modern ecological prophets, Joanna Macy, who died this past July at 92 years old, spoke about our need to acknowledge grief and lament – not to wallow in it, but because it is the natural flip side of love. She often said that love and lament are intimately connected, and if we want to have hearts that are not stone, but hearts of flesh, as God promises, then we must let the truth of suffering penetrate us. Our pain for the world to touch us.

Church is a place we can do this. Where we can shed tears. Where we can give voice, alongside the prophets, to rage and lament. This is a place and a time in which our hearts can be warmed and revived so we don’t fall down in despair but move forward with greater resolve to stand up

because we are Christian, for the value and dignity of every human being;

and

because we are American, for the values of freedom of speech, freedom of assembly and freedom of religion.

We began our service with the cleansing lament of confession that we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves or God with our whole hearts, and we have been absolved, released, redeemed, strengthened in goodness, readied to receive the blessed body and blood of Christ and to be sent into the world in peace and strength and courage.

I just want to voice my own deep and profound gratitude for voices like Jeremiah’s, for the life and death and resurrection of Jesus, for the church, for you, for so many people of different faiths and of no faith, who courageously stand against oppressive powers on behalf of the suffering and for compassion and dignity and justice and all that is holy and blessed on this fragile and beautiful island home, our planet.

Sermons

September 14, 2025 Reflection by Steve Hitchcock

Earlier this year, I started wearing hearing aids. Of course, I didn’t I needed this expensive addition to my daily “wardrobe.” The problem was that people were speaking too softly and too quickly. And, if those British actors would learn to speak English, it would be much easier to hear them.

My hearing aids came with an app to put on my cell phone. This application enables me to adjust my hearing aids to account for different situations. The app also includes a way to track where your hearing aid is if you’ve misplaced it.

I’ve used that feature a number of times already.

If like me, you seem to be losing things more often, you may be re-assured by today’s Gospel reading about the lost sheep and the lost coin.

This theme of lost and found runs throughout Luke’s Gospel.

Very early on in Luke’s Gospel, Zechariah loses his voice when he doubts that Elizabeth will bear a son. Later on, Mary and Joseph lose the 12-year old Jesus when they travel to Jerusalem.

One of the most significant stories about loss is what we call the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which immediately follows today’s reading and is actually the conclusion to Jesus’ response to the Pharisees’ question.

The noted New Testament scholar Amy-Jill Levine suggests that this is really a parable about TWO lost sons. The younger son is lost, but he eventually returns – and is “found” by his father with great joy and celebration. But while this younger prodigal son is away wasting his father’s inheritance, the father loses his elder son, failing to keep him in the flock, so to speak.

It’s tempting to push this metaphor of lost and found even further. Zachaeus gets lost in the tree, for example, until Jesus spots him. But let’s not get carried away with this literary device.

These stories in Luke highlight a second theme of the Gospel: counting carefully to make sure everything is where it should be – including where your heart is.

Another way to describe this counting is “paying attention” or “hearing the word.”

Luke’s extended parable of the Sower is the framework for understanding the entire gospel. Luke, unlike Matthew and Mark, includes Jesus’ explanation of the parable. In chapter 8, we read, “As for the seed in the good soil, these are the ones who, when they hear the word, hold it fast.”

A few verses later, Jesus says, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.”

And Luke’s Gospel includes the memorable where Mary is praised for sitting at Jesus feet and listening to him.

Where these two themes come together is Jesus’ use of parables.

Luke, the longest of the Gospels, has more parables than Mark and Luke, including the Parable of the Lost Sons as well as the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

Parables – like the two we have in today’s Gospel – weren’t usually explained or made into allegories. Rather, they were meant to be puzzles or brain teasers. And the puzzle didn’t have a single, coherent solution. Rather, the listener was prodded – even provoked – to reflect on a question or quandary.

As Amy-Jill Levine, herself Jewish, says: “Jews never agree about anything. We love to argue.”

If we listen to today’s two parables, we can certainly find something to argue about.

As with many of Jesus’ statements and actions, today’s parables are quite absurd. Like healing a man on the Sabbath when waiting a day would have been no problem. Or provocatively setting aside common sense table manners.

Just think. What sheep owner in his right mind is really going to leave 99 sheep unattended? And more to the point, a sheep owner is supposed to keep track of his sheep. They are his livelihood.

And no woman would ever lose track of such a valuable coin. Those coins were her future. And she wouldn’t have wasted valuable resources on a big party.

But these parables prod us to pay attention, to think again, to let our hearts and minds be turned upside down. If we listen carefully, we will find something new that will make all the difference.

What we find, I think, is that Jesus is the lost sheep. Jesus is the lost coin. Jesus is the lost traveler who ends up in the ditch. And Jesus is the lost son.

In Luke’s Gospel, the women are the first to visit Jesus’ tomb after his crucifixion. They find the tomb empty, and two men in dazzling white tell the terrified women, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here. Remember what he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”

Today, like those women at the empty tomb, we are invited to hear and keep remembering the good news: Jesus, the lost son who gave his life for us, is welcomed by the Father.

And we are invited to the party, we are invited to live with joy, we live with hope because God keeps count, God doesn’t forget.

As we hear in Mary’s Song, from chapter 2: “For God remembered his promise of mercy, the promise he made to our fathers, to Abraham and his children forever.”

Hearing all of this together – with the Holy Spirit at full steam during this season of Pentecost – we are given the faith to trust that promise of mercy.

In the second half of Luke’s Gospel, which we know as the Acts of the Apostles, the Pentecost story reminds us that the Holy Spirit does her best work when we are gathered together.

That’s especially good news for people like me who don’t listen very well and don’t pay attention. But I suspect all of us are having trouble hearing right now. We are overwhelmed by negative noise, we are beside ourselves with worry about what’s happening to our country, and we are haunted by the silence of hopeful voices.

Being here with each other, all of us listening together, keeps our hearts and minds focused on our shared faith in God’s mercy.

In our Morning Prayer sessions each Thursday on Zoom, we pray together the Song of Mary. Near the end, we also pray the Suffrages. There are two beautiful versions of these Suffrages, but I especially like Suffrage B.

So, we – who, like the lost sheep and the lost coin, have been found by the Good Shepherd who gave his life for us – pray together the last two versicles and responses:

V: Lord, show us your love and mercy;

R: For we put our trust in you.

V: In you, Lord, is our hope;

R: And we shall never hope in vain. Amen.

Sermons

September 7, 2025 Sermon by The Reverend Jim Stickney

Last Monday we observed Labor Day. I’m going to use the idea of labor and work as a kind of lens though which I will view today’s lectionary readings.

Have you ever admired watching someone else show their skill as their job? It’s not so much that they’re working and you aren’t. It’s more the sense that it’s an unsung pleasure to watch a skilled worker plying their craft..

The prophet Jeremiah watched a potter working with wet clay that was turning on the potter’s wheel. This artisan tried to make something useful out of the first lump of clay, but his initial efforts did not meet his standards. Rather than toss the clay aside, he reworked it into a much better vessel.

Then it came to Jeremiah — God works like that. God’s original plan can change, depending on how responsive people are to different divine messages. God, the Creator of all that exists, shows greater skill than any human craftsman. God’s ultimate purpose will come about, even when there’s a change of plans.

I’m going to make a non-Scriptural digression here, about how artisans work. They take raw material and attempt to shape it to match a vision they have. Artisans do not simply impose their will in the process. Instead, there is a dialogue between the substance being shaped and the form that resides in the mind/soul.

You probably guessed I’m talking about stained glass here, and you’re right. Glass is basically silica, a very common element found in sand. When sand is melted in a kiln, the millions of sand grains lose their separate identity and are fused together. The temperature is lowered, and a new solid emerges.

I recently read about a group of Japanese artists who composed a manifesto, including this phrase: “Fracture and breakage is simply the revenge of the material for being extracted from the earth.”

It’s as if the raw material is somewhat sentient and can communicate. When I cut my fingers on glass, the material is talking back to me. “Slow down, or our revenge is going be worse. We went through the fire. Work with us.” The Angelic Doctor, Thomas Aquinas, put it more eloquently when he wrote:

“Production of one thing spells destruction for another yet in such a manner that the supervening form keeps the endowment of the original material and has much more besides.”

Are the atoms of silica grateful for their transformation into a new beautiful form? At least for me, I endeavor to respect the material I work with, and honor it. So — that’s the end of this non-Scriptural digression. Let’s look at our second reading.

We’re familiar with the phrase, “working like a slave.” Our country’s history is deeply entangled with the oppressive reality of slavery and the struggle against it. Some people just won’t deal with what scholars call “America’s original sin.” They want to erase awareness of this tragic and painful legacy, and forget about it.

The New Testament is remarkably passive about the institution of slavery. It’s almost as if the sacred authors could not conceive of an economy of free consumers, and instead encouraged the status quo: “Slaves, obey your masters!”

The exception is our second reading, one of the shortest Biblical books, “Philemon.” Philemon is a slave owner, & Onesimus was his property, working for his owner. Paul says Onesimus has now been doing God’s work, and works for his freedom. Paul is not above using guilt to work for freedom for this slave.

Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother– especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.

So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account.

I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it. I say nothing about your owing me even your own self. Yes, brother, let me have this benefit from you in the Lord!

I’ve been using work as a lens through which to consider today’s readings, and this reading from Paul’s short and very personal letter shows him at work — not with material tools, but with the craft of rhetoric. Paul uses a blend of gracious complements along with a sense of Philemon’s obligations to Paul. A Bishop in the early church was named Onesimus, perhaps this freed slave. Paul’s rhetorical skills paid off — his literary work really hit its target.

I invite you to join with me as I conclude with the Collect for Labor Day; It’s found on page 261 in the Book of Common Prayer.

Almighty God, you have so linked our lives one with another that all we do affects, for good or ill, all other lives: So guide us in the work we do, that we may do it not for self alone, but for the common good; and, as we seek a proper return for our own labor, make us mindful of the rightful aspirations of other workers, and arouse our concern for those who are out of work; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Sermons

August 31, 2025 Reflection by Steve Hitchcock

These days, I find reading the Scriptures to be both very troubling and, at the same time, very reassuring.

As I read and re-read today’s Gospel, I kept picturing all those people who have been told to leave the head table and take seats in the back – or leave the room entirely. Women, people of color, anyone born in a foreign country, and many others have been put in their place.

And it’s not just people. Character and virtues have been wiped off the table: fairness, compassion, kindness, and – perhaps most frightening – any use of knowledge or learning. The tables have been turned, and now cruelty revenge, and violence are exalted.

Please forgive me if I’m over-exaggerated or if I’ve taken us to too dark a place. But I suspect many of us are anxious and worried – for ourselves but even more so for others with fewer resources and protections. And for our children and grandchildren whose future now seems so bleak.

On top of this, many of us struggle with our own health – or the health of friends and loved ones. And while St. Alban’s is thriving right now, some of us wonder what our future as a congregation holds.

Yet, here we are today, and we have just heard from Luke’s Gospel, which should be capitalized as GOOD NEWS.

On the last day of summer, we’re a little over halfway through our reading of Luke’s Gospel, the longest of the four we have. Our reading today includes three themes we’ve heard many times: those frustrating Pharisees, the lowly and the powerful, and squabbles about the Sabbath.

In the second half of today’s reading, we hear an echo of what Mary proclaimed in her song way back in Luke Chapter 2: “the hungry are filled with good things, the rich will be sent empty away.” In Luke, Jesus begins his ministry by quoting the prophet Isaiah: “Prisoners will be set free, the blind shall see, and the last will be first.”

These stories and words invite us to be more than observers, more than literary critics. As Jesus says, “Blessed are those who hear the word of God and do it.”

Luke’s extended parable of the Sower – or rather the parable of the good soil – is the framework for understanding the entire gospel. In chapter 8, we read, “As for the seed in the good soil, these are the ones who, when they hear the word, hold it fast … bear fruit with patient endurance.”

A few verses later, Jesus says, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.”

Easier said than done. What are we to hear? And where will we get the strength and courage to do it – whatever “it” is?

In figuring that out, we should probably start with the Pharisees. One scholar has quipped that we knew more about the Pharisees 50 years ago than we do today.

We do know that during the time Jesus lived and preached in Galilee and Judea, the Pharisees were the good guys. The Pharisees were lay people dedicated to the Torah – translated more accurately as the Way rather than the Law. They were devoted to finding ways to live out God’s mercy and compassion.

Written a generation after Jesus lived, the audience for Luke’s Gospel was a non-Jewish Christian community away from Galilee and Judea. Luke sought to explain why a Jew from Galilee had inspired a fast-spreading religious movement. By Luke’s time, for reasons we’re not entirely sure about, the Pharisees had a stand-in for those religious leaders who both opposed and helped Jesus.

The Pharisees also represented those in Luke’s own community who were in danger of taking the first seat at the banquet, of finding fault and excluding those who didn’t share their wealth and power.

Complicating today’s story even more is that the makers of lectionary – in their tireless pursuit to give preachers something to complain about – have omitted the five verses about the healing of the man with dropsy or what we know as edema.So, today’s fracas with the Pharisees is not just about social standing, but also about expressing compassion and caring for those in need.

The healing of this man on the Sabbath is perfect example of how exasperating Jesus can be. The Pharisees were all for rescuing a child or even an ox on the Sabbath. But edema is far from a life-threatening disease. Jesus could easily have honored the Sabbath and healed the man the following day.

But no, Jesus has to make this all about turning things upside, upsetting good order, and extolling humility. If you really want to save lives, then relieving any kind of suffering right now is what God intends.

What Jesus goes on to agitate about who should be invited to a banquet would have been even more unsettling to Luke’s audience. The client-patron culture was an essential foundation for Greco-Roman culture of Luke’s educated audience. Those who were wealthy and powerful – the patrons – were expected to care for the poor and needy – the clients – who then obligated to the patron. This social structure was in everyone’s best interest.

Formal banquets were a way to maintain this system. The patron had equals, those were “friends.” Those were the ones who were invited to join him at banquets – and who invited him to their banquets. Here the patrons saw and mingled with the clients whom they looked after.

But Jesus announces that this orderly and seemingly fair system isn’t good enough. God intends for everyone to be “a friend,” for everyone to sit at the same table, to share in the same largess. For sinners to be forgiven and welcomed.

The bigger surprise – the scandal – is that for this to happen Jesus becomes the one who is humbled. Jesus suffers death and is buried. Jesus takes the lowest place. He becomes the last one for us.

Toward the very end of Luke’s Gospel, we will join the disciples on the road to Emmaus as they mourn Jesus’ death. As we take this journey, the Risen Christ helps us discover what the Word of God is: the heart of the Scriptures is that Jesus must suffer and die and be raised.

That’s the word we hear and obey. That is the word that invites and enables us to take up the cross and follow Jesus.

As follow Jesus and become part of his story, we are given the faith to trust the promise that God will humble the rich and powerful. And we trust, too, that God will feed the hungry and clothe the naked and heal the sick.

That is what is happening right now because we know our place – next to Jesus who took the lowest place. And because we sit next to Jesus, we can’t help but make sure there is room at the table for everyone. Amen.

Sermons

August 24, 2025 Reflection by Chanthip Phongkhamsavath

“And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?”

When I initially read the lessons and the gospel, I thought, “what a contradiction.” Much like the leaders of the synagogue in the Gospel, I thought, “well, didn’t the scriptures tell us to keep the sabbath and that it was supposed to be a day of no work?” Yet Jesus by example showed the work of God on the Sabbath and that God’s work of freeing a woman from bondage should be done even on the Sabbath or especially on the Sabbath.

The ox and donkey back in those days were untied and not made to labor, in part because the people were not laboring as they would on the other days. The labor, I am assuming, had to do with farming or carrying goods from one place to another for presumably sales or other things to enable the people to continue living. It was the day to day work, work that served the interest of the individual or their family or their employer. It was most likely work that benefited themselves.

Going back to work this week after my trip to France, the contrast was fairly apparent in how we approach our work in the United States versus how the French or Europeans approach it. This is the second time I visited France in the summer and one of the things that Mariah pointed out and friends who have lived in France also note is that many people take the whole month of August off. Restaurants shut down, offices are empty, people are away and resting. This is the norm. Whereas I know it was a struggle for me to take even ten days away from my job in order to take that trip. And I am not the only one.

According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics from March 2024, in the initial year in the Private sector people receive 11 paid vacation days and those in State and local government receive 13 days. After 20 years of service, those in the Private Sector on average receive 20 paid vacation days and those in State and local government receive 22 paid vacation days a year. That is after 20 years of service. Seems like a long time to have to work to be able to enjoy some extended time off. And oftentimes I think people do not actually take all their paid vacation days, which is why there is a limit on the number of vacation days you can earn and keep in any given year – I have seen multiple people in my current and previous organization regularly reach their maximum vacation days.

Work is necessary though since most of us need to earn wages in order to support our ability to have homes and food, in part because we are no longer growing our own food or building our own homes. Even within my work and our schools, there is an outlook to the future and a career. The Leadership Public Schools vision statement is, “Our vision is that all students enter adulthood with pride in themselves, a commitment to social justice, a plan for success in college and career, and the perseverance to see it through.” We seek to provide foundations so that our students will be successful afterwards which includes a career – which inevitably is work.

Yet what are we truly working for six days out of the seven when we are not holding the sabbath day for the Lord? What does it mean to “refrain from trampling the sabbath” that would cause Jesus to call the leaders of the synagogue hypocrites. What work are we being called to do or not do?

“If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.”

Seems fairly straightforward. Yet it isn’t. Our yokes are what we work for – the ability to live life comfortably, or to enjoy our pleasures. It is in our own interests. For some their work is to feed the hungry and serve the afflicted, yet in order to be able to do it they must often seek the support of others – a different kind of work to enable them to continue their own.

What of rest? While traveling, I stayed up late spending time with family and friends and got up early to start the day and experience the new places I was in. And then I flew back and was busy celebrating my great-nephew’s birthday and went back into the office. One night at dinner I couldn’t deny that my body was tired, my brain was foggy and I just needed sleep. I needed rest. Often taking the time to rest can be hard when I feel like there’s constantly something to be done, either at the office, at home, for my family, or my community. It seems sometimes there’s always more that can be done – especially when our communities and democracy feels like it’s under attack. There is always more work.

That rest, holding the sabbath for rest is work. It is a different kind of work. One of the reasons I know I come to morning prayer and services on Sundays is because this is where I work on God’s affairs. That’s where some of the hardest work takes place, to set aside my own interest and honor the lord. This is where we are challenged to reconsider what work looks like. To focus on our relationship with God, to pause and reassess on a weekly basis where we are according to the words of the lord. How has our week’s work aligned with God’s priorities versus our own.

God knows though that we will get distracted, focused on our own interests. So then the sabbath is our built-in, scheduled day, a reminder that there are things greater than our own interest. It is in these moments when we pause to listen to the readings that we keep our faith in God and affirm our hope. It is when we listen to what may seem like contradictions become an expansion of our understanding. This is the opportunity when we can stop and see that we do not refuse the one who is speaking.

It is also when together we will affirm our faith in God the creator and receive the strength to continue in the days ahead. It is in this rest from the outside influences that we are able to take stock of our own commitments to God’s love and to take that love with us to share with others. Because it is God’s love that blesses us and calls us. And because we need to be reminded of that love, we are asked to set aside the day, to rest and rebuild our strength through God’s continued messages. It is a constant rebuilding, in the same ways that our bodies need rest to be able to function, so too does our faith. It allows us to remember God’s work throughout the week and purposely set aside the Sabbath to build that time in so that we can identify how God leads us. It is when we reflect on how we show kindness to our neighbors and ourselves. How those in our Parish strive to meet the needs of the most vulnerable and ways we can continue to support that. That is part of work that we can do to keep the Sabbath holy.

It is a lifelong work to balance our own physical needs and interests with our spiritual health and well being. To not only work to continue to live but also work to spread God’s love. And as the days, weeks, months, and years cycle, we must be intentional in giving space to rest from our own interests and ensure we have the openness to hear, rebuild, and strengthen our faith so that we can do God’s work everyday. Especially on the Sabbath though we take the time to honor our Lord by listening, opening our hearts, rebuilding our spirits and affirming our faith, together.

Sermons

August 17, 2025 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Paula Nesbitt

How to interpret the present time! We may have our various opinions, but it’s hard to dispute that the present times are turbulent—in our nation, and certainly in the world. Each day, the turbulence seems to increase—amplified by media reports of climate change, natural disasters and those of our own making; as well as political, social, economic, and technological transformations. Recently, I’ve found myself longing for moments of peace, and the church to be an island refuge in this sea change. Perhaps some of you may have too.

In this way, Jesus’s question, “Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth?” feels particularly jarring. So often we hear, “Peace be with you,” or think of him as the Prince of Peace. But peace at what cost? Jesus is pointing out that there can be no real peace without justice, and faithfulness to the gospel is likely to put us at odds with worldly interests and egos.(1) There will come a point where we must choose one or the other. Jesus also is trying to get his listeners to consider the deeper, spiritual question, “what do you stand for?” He calls us to reflect on the deeper purpose of our life and our faith.

Sometimes we find ourselves in situations where we know that we have to take a moral stand, to say or do what is necessary for the sake of what we believe is true, right, or just, if we are to be at peace with our conscience and our faith convictions. In this regard, I often think of Bishop Mariann Budde, the morning after the Presidential Inauguration at the National Cathedral prayer service, when she addressed the President and others newly in power, speaking of the need for mercy and compassion to be considered and administered toward the most vulnerable, and those on society’s margins. A friend in the Church of England texted me that morning, saying, “she looked terrified.” Yet, as she continued her sermon, her voice was clear and calm, resonant with spiritual strength. She let listeners know that authentic religious faith is not a haven of peace devoid of justice or compassion.

How does one develop that strength of faith to stand calmly in the eye of turbulence? In the words of Bishop Budde, it means following our “north star” which, for Christians, means being guided by the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.(2) She reminds us that the north star is that fixed point in the night sky that is constant when everything else is changing. It “guides us when we aren’t sure of the road ahead,” or feel disoriented, or overwhelmed. Spiritually, it gives light to the direction we need to take, and the inner surety for whatever we may face along the way.

In a lecture titled, “Following Our North Star in Tumultuous Times,”(3) she said that the response to her sermon had taught her that simply professing values that we strive to live by, was for some, “like water in the desert for parched souls.” For others, it was “a cause of [ ] anger and even rage.” This is an apt description of what Jesus meant in our Gospel. Simply living and professing the values that Jesus lived and taught, while intended to bring about peace on earth, also can bring sharp divisions to the surface.

The mean-spiritedness and hard-heartedness that grips many today is a sign of spiritual crisis, much as it was in Jesus’ day.(4) We need no reminder that it was the religious factions who wanted Jesus crucified. Then, as now, some of this outrage comes from those who profess to be very religious, but who fail to take seriously the parts of scripture that call for compassion, mercy, and sharing their abundance with those who have little to none; or those who insist that their viewpoint is the only valid one.

Jeremiah warns us this morning of the temptation to fashion our image or understanding of God in ways that fit our desires or interests. None of us can presume to know fully the mind of God; doing so creates a false god of our making that is contrary to the one true and living God.. A God of justice is never on our side alone.

Another motivation for persecution is fear. Jesus and the early church were victimized by fear that increasing political unrest would trigger violence from Rome, which ruled the region. That former republic had turned into a brutal authoritarian regime. But fear cannot be a strategy or justification—then or today. This past week, Bishop Budde along with nine other Christian and Jewish leaders issued a statement on the military deployment in Washington DC that used a pretext of defeating crime, when crime actually had decreased. Authoring the statement, she wrote, “We call on our political and civic leaders to reject fear-based governance and work together in a spirit of dignity and respect—so that safety, justice, and compassion prevail in our city.”(5)

So, how do we stand up to strategies of fear that defy a “spirit of dignity and respect” as a peaceable basis for problem solving? For Bishop Budde, it’s her spiritual north star. In her book How We Learn to be Brave she writes about the importance of having a daily spiritual practice that helps us stay connected with that north star, and to build spiritual strength. Jesus was constantly trying to seek moments in the wilderness to pray. His spiritually focus allowed him to do and endure all that he did.

Even a simple practice that allows us to be fully present to God for a few moments each day is helpful. Our Collect this morning is one possible prayer to help focus on our north star. The first part of it reads, “Almighty God, you have given your only Son to be for us a sacrifice for sin, and also an example of godly life: Give us grace to receive thankfully the fruits of his redeeming work, and to follow daily in the blessed steps of his most holy life…”(6) We may not be called to his type of ministry, but we are called to live out his teachings in our life and work.

Occasionally, like Bishop Budde, we may be called into the fray, and may be forced to choose what we stand for. According to our reading from Hebrews, we can trust and rely on God’s power to do what may feel contrary to our desire to stay silent.(7) If we must stand alone, we find strength not only from our spiritual center but also from the great cloud of witnesses to God’s faithfulness, those who have gone before us, and whose lives reassure us that endurance is possible (Heb.12:1).

This past spring, Rev. Carter Heyward, one of the first 11 female priests ordained in 1974 spoke about that event at a colloquium on social justice. She and the other 10 women had different interests and ministries, but they committed themselves to standing together and upholding one another throughout the aftermath, enduring hostility, threats of physical harm, and seeing colleagues lose their jobs and their ministries because they had supported them. Reflecting on that experience and our present time, she said, “What gives me hope is that we are not alone.” She urged the audience to take “an issue that energizes you” and do something–but do it together, as a congregation or another group.(8) As our reading from Hebrews emphasizes, together we are even stronger than when we are alone.(9)

The church can help resolve the spiritual crisis of our day, as in Jesus’ day. The church can provide a place where others are accepted for who they are, and can help them locate the north star in their lives and be guided by it. The church offers a range of spiritual practices, including a community of prayer—where we can commune with God and pray for one another. It also helps us to live together in a spirit of dignity and respect, aligned with what our gospels teach. In a recent webinar from the Anglican Communion, a speaker from the troubled country of Mozambique spoke about the positive influence that people of his church were having in reaching others. He said, “When we live Christ, people ask for the church themselves.”(10)

Living Christ, guided by our north star, is something we all can do. We may do it in different ways, as we feel called. At the very least, all are able to pray and inspire hope in one another, and to treat all in a spirit of mutual dignity and respect. By living Christ, we can be agents of God’s compassion and love,
with spiritual calm in the eye of the storm.

What spiritual practice can help you see or sense your north star more clearly?

Where might you need it to guide you this week?

NOTES:
(1) Knox, John. “The Gospel According to St. Luke, Exposition Chs.7-12.” In The Interpreter’s Bible, George Arthur Buttrick, ed. Vol. 8, pp. 128-238. New York: Abingdon Press, 1952, p.235.

(2) Rt. Rev. Mariann Budde, “Following Our North Star in Tumultuous Times,” Inaugural Robert N. Bellah Lecture on Religion and Public Life, Graduate Theological Union, April 9, 2025. https://www.gtu.edu/robert-n-bellah-lecture-religion-and-public-life

(3) She gave it in Berkeley last April. See Footnote 2: Budde, “Following Our North Star in Tumultuous Times.”

(4) The New Oxford Annotated Bible. New Revised Standard Version. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991, p. NT 102, note 12:56.

(5) Rt. Rev. Mariann Budde, “DC Religious Leaders: Fear Is Not a Strategy for Safety.” Statement. August 13, 2025. https://cathedral.org/blog/dc-religious-leaders-fear-is-not-a-strategy-for-safety/

(6) “The Collect: Sunday closest to August 17,” Proper 15, Year C, Revised Common Lectionary. https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearC_RCL/Pentecost/CProp15_RCL.html

(7) Cf. Purdy, Alexander C. “The Epistle to the Hebrews: Introduction and Exegesis.” In The Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. XI, George A. Buttrick, ed. New York: Abingdon Press, 1955, pp. 577-763, p.731.

(8) “White Christian Nationalism and Abortion.” Episcopal Divinity School colloquium. February 13, 2025. https://www.eds.edu/programs/321/eds-colloquium-white-christian-nationalism-and-abortion

(9) Cotton, J. Harry. “Exposition: The Epistle to the Hebrews.” In The Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. XI, George A. Buttrick, ed. pp. 576-763. New York: Abingdon Press, 1955, pp.737-38.

(10) “Mission and Evangelism.” Phase 3—Taking the Lambeth Calls Forward and Involving the Communion. Webinar. May 14-15, 2025. Lambeth Conference. https://www.lambethconference.org/phase-3/phase-3-resources/mission-and-evangelism/

Sermons

August 10, 2025 Reflection by Christine Staples

Good morning, friends! I’ve brought visual aids….

About a week after I agreed to do today’s reflection, sight unseen, I did my morning rounds of household tasks before sitting down, at last, to read the lectionary.

I want to set the scene for you:

First I checked my moth traps: this is a pheromone trap for clothes moths; it lures in the males, who think they’ll mate with that alluring smelling creature inside, only to get stuck on the glue lining the enclosure. Last November I realized that we had moth larvae eating our beautiful wool carpet from their safe spot under the sofa – a sofa bed for larvae beneath the sofa bed for humans. Once I started looking around, I also found scads of them eating my second best shearling slippers in the closet, and I am still catching them in a dozen or more traps all over the house. I don’t know what they’re eating, but it’s driving me nuts! If I catch one, I’m glad, because that’s one more whose young won’t be eating our cashmere sweaters. But I’m torn, because it means they are still emerging from SOMEWHERE, eating something! What precious item are they nibbling upon? What will it take to rid us of these meddlesome creatures?

My pocketbook: this was sitting on the desk where I sat down to work. Some of you may know that I have a great fondness for these custom made leather goodies from a place in Santa Rosa. This one (dragon purse) is the one I bought last year, when the old one finally wore out – or so I thought! And this one (rose purse) is the one the other one was replacing. Aside from dragons vs. roses, can you even tell them apart? I bought this one in 2018. After six years of daily use, the zipper was broken and it was showing signs of wear. After I bought the new one, I sent the old one back to Santa Rosa; for $65 plus $10 shipping, they replaced the zipper, the strap, the trim and the hardware, reconditioned the whole thing, and voila! Truly, a purse which never wears out!

Right next to the desk was this suitcase: I found this cast-off but useable carryon in front of my neighbors’ house, and decided to make it our “go bag” – you know, the bag you fill with necessary items that you can just grab and go when there’s an emergency – like a tsunami, or fire, or earthquake. Documents, cash, charging cords, water, a portable litterbox, food for your cats, snacks – you know the drill! But one of the issues that comes up around go bags is that thieves target them; I’ve heard from my neighbors how when burglars broke into their house the first thing they looked for was their go bag, because they know folks keep cash in there.

So, here we are: Make purses for yourselves which do not wear out – which moths cannot destroy! You never know when the thief will come, so be ready! I’m all set, right? Needless to say, I had a very good chuckle, and also a LOT to think about as I read the gospel lesson!

Well, okay, but seriously; much as I would love to think that Jesus would appreciate my taste in leather goods, and approve that I patronize small local businesses and try to keep things out of the landfill, we know that Jesus is not talking about protecting our material valuables, making sure to rid our homes of moths, or that we buy a REALLY well-made custom pocketbook maintained by local artisans, because it will last so well, or making sure our go-bag is packed and ready, or how to keep thieves from finding the valuables therein. He is, of course, telling us that our real treasure is in heaven, and the best way to secure that treasure is through following his teachings of love and service and giving here on earth – and not putting our faith in earthly treasure.

But while he tells us to sell our earthly goods and give the money to the poor, I still believe that we do actually need to provide for ourselves during our time on earth – we don’t also want to have to ask for alms, after all! But one of the underlying concepts here is also this one: you can’t take it with you. Recalling last week’s gospel lesson, we might be thinking of building a bigger barn to hold our goodies – when we might go tonight! My dear mother of blessed memory once said to me that Americans are the only people on earth who think that death is optional. So, how do we find a balance?

The timing of all of this is extra interesting to me, because now that I am “retired”, I’m finally ready to get serious about estate planning. I imagine everyone here has already given a lot of thought to this. Should we file for social security now, or wait for a higher payment? Do we have enough savings to live on for the rest of our lives? How long IS the rest of our lives? What if the market crashes and inflation wipes it out? Will we have any left over that we need to make plans for? If we do, how much, and how do we divide it up? How much for our children, our grandchildren? How much do we leave for our beloved community, the long-term health of St. Alban’s, of Calliope, for the poor and hungry who will be here after we leave, and for the care and maintenance of our precious earth, democracy, and all that other good stuff? And tied up in all of that – knowing that no matter how well we plan, we might die tonight. The thieves may come in the night anyway. We might spend that money on a bigger barn and never get to use it! And being reminded of our own mortality is so hard.

Last week, Reverend Jim talked about Jesus’ parable about the guy who had the huge harvest and whose plan to solve his storage problem was to build a big barn and live comfortably off the goods for the rest of his life – eat, drink and be merry! And that God told the man he was going to die that night – don’t bother with the barn, dude! And Reverend Jim said that the main problem with the rich man’s plans was that they gave no thought to everyone else; he failed to share his goodies with others. That is something I know will stay with me as I begin the work of planning.

But the fact remains: no matter how well we plan, we might not see tomorrow.

A couple of weeks ago, Calliope presented a truly transcendent concert; you know the one – the jazz Celtic harpist, Destiny Muhammad and her trio. After a series of gorgeous pieces, she closed with one called “I AM”. It included quotes from scripture, memories of reading the King James bible with her mother, and then – then: she talked about planning for tomorrow, when tomorrow may never come. She was going to eat her childhood favorite ice cream, Carnation Neapolitan, TODAY, because tomorrow is not promised. And then she exhorted us to tell everyone that we love that we love them TODAY, because tomorrow is not promised. And she got up and went to just about every person in the room to tell them that she loved them. And that was the way the concert closed.

Well, I don’t have a nice solid answer on how to balance planning for the future with living right here and now, but I feel like Destiny Muhammad’s message builds beautifully on Christ’s message to us: it’s all about the love. We should share our treasure as an act of love for one another, and treasure isn’t only money – acts of love are themselves our greatest treasure! Acts of love include sharing deviled eggs and coffee cake at coffee hour – is there a greater treasure than Eric’s deviled eggs, or Beth’s coffee cake, or Becky’s pot of coffee with cinnamon? How about that basket of tomatoes from the garden you gave your neighbor. How about when you greeted strangers and friends on the street, patted their dogs and cats, watered the plants at the church, welcomed the new neighbors, thanked the clerk at the store and the customer service rep on the phone, your doctors, your pets’ veterinarian, your siblings in Christ? All of those acts of love are part of your treasure. Thank you for sharing it!

So, friends: following that profound example that Jesus and Ms. Muhammad made to us: here goes – I love you all. I am grateful to you all for this community. I’ll keep on trying to figure out how to do our estate planning, bearing in mind that tomorrow is not promised. And as I go, I will try to bear Christ’s words in mind: “Do not be afraid, little flock; for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

Sermons

August 3, 2025 Sermon by The Reverend Jim Stickney

Have you ever been to a book signing? I’ve been to at least one that I remember. It was Madeleine L’Engle, and the book was “The Sphinx at Dawn,” two imagined stories of the boy Jesus when the family was abiding in Egypt. What if, at that book signing, someone had walked right up to her and said, “Tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me!”

That’s the strange situation which begins this unusual parable in Luke’s Gospel. Here we have this astounding healer and teacher that people are calling “rabbi,” but while other people are trying to figure out who Jesus is, and what he’s really saying, here’s this money-grubbing clueless person trying to turn Jesus’s attention away from his true mission to get right in the middle of a family financial squabble.

I can imagine the crowd surrounding Madeleine L’Engle saying: “What are you here for? Get yourself some lawyer, and leave this author alone.” Maybe the crowd around Jesus said, or at least felt, something similar. Jesus simply replies, “Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”

But Jesus takes this out-of-the-blue question and creates a teaching story! Jesus tells us of a rich man trying to solve his problem without asking God ‘s guidance. What am I to do? I have no space to store my bumper crop harvest! Ah, I’ve got it — I’ll tear down my little barns and build on a much larger scale for my future.

We get to overhear him speaking to his own soul, as if to a pampered little pet: “Soul, you have ample goods for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” Years ago I’d see a bumper sticker: He who dies with the most toys, wins. This man’s chariot sticker could easily read: the one who dies with huge barns, wins.

This is the most boring parable in the Bible. I’m not trying to be flippant here, but I really want to point out the complete lack of any dramatic tension in this parable There’s really only one actor on the Biblical stage: a rich man talking to Self. All the other parables of Jesus have people interacting, but this is the only monologue. God said to him, “You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And these things you have prepared, whose will they be?…So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves, but are not rich toward God. We might ask ourselves, just what did this man do wrong? why was he called “fool”? Well, he never once thought of sharing his bumper crop with those less blessed. This particular rich man failed to invite anyone else into his story of great abundance.

This country we love is currently re-enacting today’s melancholy parable. The richest country that has ever existed suddenly refuses to share its abundance with poor people in poor countries. And at home, medical treatment will be curtailed, and legal immigrants swept away (presumably out of sight), while the rich simply build bigger barns to hoard their new riches.

But you already know all this only too well. You came here for hope, and good news. Everything we have comes from God, yes, but it’s crucial for us to break free of the power of our possessions to turn around and then possess us!

Jesus tells us not to store up treasures for themselves, but be rich toward God. Being rich toward God does not mean living without possessions — it means bringing other people into our situation; not hoarding goods, but sharing them. We have assumed that those in positions of power would reflect this generosity of spirit. Well, Joni and I worship most Sundays at All Souls Church in Berkeley, and the Rector there, Phil Brochard, put our situation very clearly a few Sundays ago. We can no longer rely on our government to do our Christianity for us.

And I do want to remind you of the Good News you already embody: You are already rich toward God. You are already generous Christians. Even when you are tempted to despair about what is done in Washington, you also know how pendulums swing, and that public opinion will change.

As that great Republican Abraham Lincoln once put it: “You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time.” You already are sharing your abundance with those in need. Be counter-cultural! Let other build bigger barns. You’ll help other people build their first.

There are so many ways we can do this — with Episcopal Charities, which does intake and houses more of the Bay Area’s homeless than any other agency. I have admired the work of Episcopal Relief and Development even before I joined the Episcopal Church — their outreach is both international and local. I’m sure you’ve got your own ways of reaching out to the poor and marginalized. And do not give in to despair. Don’t let the stinginess of politicians change you! You are God’s beloved in Christ! So make sure that you stay rich — toward God.

Sermons

July 27, 2025 Reflection by Larry DiCostanzo

Good Morning, dear People.

Who does not love the story of Abraham’s successive questions to the Lord regarding the fate of Sodom? It is dramatic and it is comical. Actually, maybe it is meant to be comical. It relieves the tension. Sodom is a serious topic, and isn’t Abraham pushing God hard.

In storytelling, a series of statements or events that gets repeated with just little changes as it slowly gets to a point is called “incremental repetition”. It is a very old technique. We see it in “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” as Goldilocks successively tests the chairs, the bowls of porridge, and the beds. We see it in “The Gingerbread Man” as he runs away from his various antagonists, and then as he moves in degrees from fox’s back to the tip of fox’s nose.

But in these stories, the repetition has a purpose. In Goldilocks, the tension breaks when the heroine gets discovered and we get the answer to the riddle whose house is this anyway. In The Gingerbread Man, the happy, self-loving cookie gets his comeuppance.

So, what is the purpose of Abraham’s repeated questions to the Lord? Actually, I don’t think there is one. Why? Because Abraham is lying. Or maybe I should say he has ulterior motives. Or maybe I should say he’s hedging, he’s avoiding what he’s really interested in.

To understand this, we have to go back a little and check out the story that comes right before today’s passage. We read some of it last week.

“Three men” were passing by Abraham’s camp at a place called the Oaks of Mamre. Abraham sees that the three men are on a journey. Actually, they’re on their way to Sodom to check out its wickedness. Abraham seems to know that the three men are divine beings and that the Lord is one of them and the other two are angels. Abraham urges the three men to accept his hospitality and stay a while, have a wash, and eat a meal. He gives them the first-class treatment. (This is the same story in which the Lord says Sarah and Abraham will have a baby, and Sarah laughs behind the scenes because she and Abraham are way too old to conceive.)

When the men leave, Abraham accompanies them at least so far as to point out the right way. At some point on the route, Abraham and the Lord stop and remain alone together. The other two men keep going on to Sodom. I imagine Abraham and the Lord looking at each other. The Lord asks himself whether he should tell Abraham what he’s thinking about regarding Sodom. He reasons that Abraham should know because he’s chosen him and his descendents to maintain the Lord’s way by just and upright living. I think the Lord is fond of Abraham and he wants to enter into cooperation with him. So the Lord does tell Abraham that he’s going to see for himself whether the outcries about the sins of Sodom (and Gomorrah) are true. Abraham can figure out the likely judgment and its execution. And so he begins his questions that we heard in the first reading today.

What is the purpose of Abraham’s questions. Is he probing to see what his Lord is like? To understand the degree of the Lord’s forbearance or how much evil the Lord will tolerate? How many righteous people might be sacrificed? How much does the Lord love the righteous? And so forth. By the time Abraham is through, what we know is that the Lord will tolerate Sodom’s wickedness for the sake of ten righteous men. We don’t ever get down to the question whether the Lord will save Sodom for the sake of one righteous person.

So, unlike in Goldilocks, the “incremental repetition” does not come to a climax – the value of one righteous man.

That is because Abraham does not ask the Lord for what he really wants. Abraham’s nephew, Lot, lives in Sodom, and Abraham does not want him to perish. And Lot might not even be a righteous man. Lot ended up in Sodom when he and Abraham had to separate because the land couldn’t support all their livestock. In fact, Lot picked the area of Sodom because it was more fruitful than Canaan was. (Genesis 13:5-13) And, even at that time, it was well known that the people of Sodom were vicious and sinners against the Lord. (Genesis 13:13) This was Lot’s choice.

But why doesn’t Abraham make the personal plea for Lot’s well being? Well, he’s facing for the first time a person of unimaginable power, who can destroy cities. He sees the immense distance between himself and the Lord. He’s scared. He does not know how far he can go. He picks a line of questioning that maybe doesn’t fit Lot’s character. So, he lies by concealment and invents a theological riddle.

The Lord does destroy Sodom. And he decides without any plea from Abraham to spare Lot’s life. (Genesis 19). As the Bible says at the very end of the story, he does this for Abraham’s sake. The Lord has kept Abraham in mind anyway. (Genesis 19:29) He knew what Abraham was really concerned about. So, he took care of Abraham’s problem himself.

I wonder if Jesus had Abraham in mind when he taught us the Lord’s Prayer and gave us the sermon that follows it in today’s Gospel reading. Jesus says we should be direct, more direct than Abraham was. He says, in effect, “If you want something, come out with it! Don’t hold back!”

The Lord’s Prayer is full of direct pleas. The one that is most direct, in my opinion, is “Give us this day our daily bread.” This is an everyday prayer for ordinary times. Then, there is the plea “Do not bring us to the time of trial.” In the version in Matthew’s Gospel, there is the plea “Deliver us from evil.” (Matthew 6:13) These are all really direct prayers.

Jesus goes further in today’s passage. He gives us some intense advice about prayer. “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” Please, God is listening to you. Look, he read between the lines when Abraham was in effect praying for Lot.

We may not get precisely what we pray for. In the prayer of St. John Chrysostom which we often pray at Morning Prayer, the words go “Fulfill now, O Lord, our desires and petitions as may be best for us.” Nonetheless, the point is that we should always ask directly. As Jesus says in his sermon, no parent will give a child a stone when he asks for bread or give a child a snake when he asks for a fish. This advice is urgent. It’s part of how we learn to approach God as our very own selves. It’s how we learn our place. It’s how we learn to trust God. And, if we trust him with ourselves, we can trust him with what is beyond ourselves.

Because we live in a world of doing things and of taking responsibility, we often pray that the hungry be fed, that there be peace in Gaza, that greed desist, that our political leaders be inspired, and so forth. All of this prayer for others and other things is fine and necessary. But I also think we shouldn’t be like Abraham and hedge when it comes to our own selves. If we’re facing health issues, it is ok to say, “Please ease my anxiety. Please do not let this hurt too much.” If we’re worried about our children, it is ok to say, “Please keep her safe while she’s driving home.” Or “Please make sure he drinks enough water at the Grand Canyon.” You can think of a million personal situations like this. Like the prayers about peace and world hunger, these personal prayers are a way of love too. Do not neglect the issues of the world outside ourselves, but do not be shy about yourself. God will not hand you a stone. And he may even make those green tomatoes ripen.

And please remember this. Jesus spoke the most ultimate of direct personal prayers in the Bible. It is an example to us in our praying lives. It goes: “Father, take this cup from me.” (Matthew 26:39 Also Mark 14:36, Luke 22:42)

Sermons

July 20, 2025 Sermon by The Rev. Canon Sally Bingham

It is really hard when you read or hear this Gospel lesson (Luke 10:38-42), not to compare Martha’s reaction to her sister’s sitting while she works—to the son of the farmer who stayed home and worked on the farm while his younger brother went out into the world, spent his inheritance and returned home having lost everything including his dignity. In both cases most of us can relate to an incident in our life where we did the right thing and we knew it was right, but someone else got the recognition and praise.

If you’re in the kitchen cleaning up and doing the dishes while the rest of your family and guests are still seated around the thanksgiving table chatting and having a good ole time while you work, you can emphasize with Martha. If one of your siblings or close friends got a bigger allowance that you did, but didn’t work for it, you can relate to the older brother of the farmer. We’ve all had these kind of experiences and we often look for someone to say. “You are the best” and that other person is just lazy and worthless. In this Gospel and the one of the prodigal son, Jesus give us another way of looking at those situations.

To Martha he says “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” He is saying that listening to Jesus and building the spirit within is the beginning. Begin everything with knowing Jesus is with you and then work.

Mary, sitting at Jesus’ feet, is a reminder that the core of our life—our spiritual identity—is not found in doing, but in being, belonging, in relationship.

Likewise. In the prodigal son story. Starving and broken, the lost son returns, His father runs to him, embraces him, restores him—not because he worked for it or earned it, but because he belongs. He is home.

The elder son is Martha, the Prodigal son is Mary and both stories send the message that grace is not something we earn. It is something we receive when we allow ourselves to stop, to come home, to sit at Jesus’ feet.

I wonder how many of us have been in Martha’s place—or the elder brother’s place—saying to God, “Don’t you see how much I’ve done for you?” Maybe you’ve been in the church for decades, served on vestries, taught Sunday School, baked bread, made coffee, chaired fundraisers. You’ve worked hard.

And yet, sometimes we can miss the joy. We can become so busy doing for God that we forget to be with God.

Jesus doesn’t scold Martha for working. He speaks with tenderness: “Martha, Martha.” This is not a rebuke—it’s an invitation. An invitation to come out of anxiety and into presence. It’s not that service is bad, but that it must be grounded in God’s love and in relationship.

John Lewis, a deeply religious man, who was a civil rights activist and served as a US representative for Georgia had much to say about working for justice. We just celebrated his birthday this week which is why he is on my mind. For a politician he was unusually vocal about service, duty and working for justice. We need his wisdom now during these disruptive times. Lewis’ activism was grounded in Christian values and that is what gave him the energy to work so hard for justice.

These are his words:

“Do not get lost in a sea of despair,” “Do not become bitter or hostile. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in “good trouble,” necessary trouble.

“My philosophy is very simple,” Representative Lewis once told an audience. “When you see something that is not right, not fair, not just, say something! Do something! Get in trouble, good trouble, necessary trouble.” He is famous for talking about good trouble and making it.

As Episcopalians, we have inherited a faith rich in tradition and action. But let us remember: the action grows from the encounter with Jesus. The service grows from the stillness.

The prodigal was welcomed because he came home. Mary was praised because she listened. You and I are not called to prove our worth to God. We are called to remember that our worth is already assured. That the Father is always watching for us. That Jesus is always speaking. That grace is always waiting.

So let us choose the better part—not instead of our service, but as the source of it. Let our work come from worship. Let our activism, our leadership, our stewardship, grow out of a deep and quiet love of Christ.

Because when we sit at the feet of Jesus, we are not choosing between one good and another—we are choosing to be filled so that we might go out and truly serve

Let me close with a simple image.

Imagine the altar here at church. The table is set. Bread and wine are placed there not because we earned them, but because they are gifts. The Eucharist is not a reward for effort. It is a reminder of grace.

In every Eucharist, Jesus invites us to do what Mary did—to stop, to listen, to receive. And from that table, we are sent into the world—like Martha, like the Father in the parable—to serve, to welcome, to rejoice. Let us go out into the world rejoicing in the power of the spirit.

Amen.