Author: StAlbansChurch

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/

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:

1. 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? 

2. 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!

3. 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.”

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.

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)

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.

Today’s readings are about God’s rules for us.  In the passage from Deuteronomy, Moses has given the Law to the people of Israel.  Now he’s encouraging them to obey the Law.  Surely, this isn’t too hard.  He says this, knowing that they probably won’t.  The psalmist begs God to lead him and forgive his sins. He knows he hasn’t been perfect in following God’s law. Next, we have the epistle, in which Paul urges the Colossians to be led by God.

Lastly, in the Gospel reading, a lawyer, or religious authority, asks Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life.  As in other places, when this question comes up, Jesus asks the questioner what the Law says, and again, this man replies, love God and love your neighbor as yourself, and Jesus says, you’ve got it.

But this man asks another question: who is my neighbor?

Kind of sounds like he’s looking for a loophole, doesn’t it?  Who, exactly, are these people I’m supposed to love?

So Jesus tells him the parable of the Good Samaritan.  Your neighbor could be anybody.

This is not news to any of us.  We’ve heard this story many times, and talked about it.  Your neighbors are the people who help you, or who need your help.  And they might not be the people you expect to be connected with. In Jesus’s time, the Samaritans were those neighbors the Israelites didn’t get along with.  Their religious practices were just different enough to make them unacceptable.

In the 21st century, we know just how big the world is.  We know there are a multitude of cultures and languages and religions out there.  Here in the Bay Area, we see people every day who don’t look like us or worship like us or speak our language fluently.  We’re mostly OK with that.  Yet still, we find people to vilify.

So what can we do? Especially now, when it seems as if everything we’ve been working for all our lives is coming down.  How do we love our neighbors?

Spoiler alert: I’m not going to say anything here that you haven’t heard before.  I just think we need to keep reminding ourselves:  do things that bring joy. Make art and music, grow flowers, feed people, laugh. Dance.  Be kind. Smile at people.  If they smile back, you both feel a little better.  If they don’t, let it go. If you have money to donate, give it to organizations that are fighting for the things you care about.

It’s tempting to let our anger at people who seem to be determined to set us backwards take over. Of course we’re angry.  We can’t help how we feel.  But we do have some control over our words and our actions.

Sure, it feels good to vent sometimes, and we can vent among ourselves.  When we’re talking to people we don’t necessarily agree with, I think it’s better to keep it positive. I don’t mean naïve, oh-everything-will-be-fine positive, but rather, talking about the specific things we are FOR.  Justice for everyone; food and shelter, healthcare and freedom from fear for everyone.  Kindness. Making the continued survival of people and animals and plants more important than how much money a few people have.

So let that be how we frame what we say.  It won’t necessarily change anyone’s mind, but who knows? It might. 

I think it’s important to stay positive, because it’s just more energizing, at least for me, than thinking about how awful things are.  It also seems like a more loving perspective.

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.

Imagine yourself in a large hall with forty other students in a seminary. The person in front, sitting on an elevated platform, has the task of introducing you, day by day, to various passages of Scripture. He explains his view of the meaning of this passage from today’s Gospel, The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. The teacher says that people are eager to turn their lives over to the grace of God, but they will need ordained ministers to assist them with their spiritual changes.

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.

Now I’d like to ask you to imagine another hall, a modest parish hall in Las Vegas, with weak air conditioning, in a neighborhood far away from the infamous Strip. Instead of one person sitting up high, you listen to people sitting around in chairs telling their stories of how God has given to each of them a call to minister.

Some years ago I attended that conference in Las Vegas, titled “Total Ministry.” We rejoiced that so many different ministries had come to fruition in people’s lives, not because of a speech given by a teacher on an elevated platform, but instead because, in the hearts of such people, God had been working in them for a long time.

We’re getting away from a vision of the church which viewed only the ordained people as the ones doing God’s work, while the people in the pews supported the clergy. The ministers of St. Alban’s Church are all its members. Each one of you meets people no other Christian might meet — in your words, in the way you conduct your life, when you stand up for what is right, & when you show mercy and turn the other cheek.

When you let someone else know that the love of God means everything to you, when you let them know that you care about them as a child of God — that’s ministry. Well, if that’s the case, then what are the ordained people supposed to be doing? Just this: since all the baptized are the ministers of the church, the clergy are called to help you perform your ministries. When you are perplexed or tired out, then the ordained are there to help you to renew your spiritual energy, to support you.

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.

In today’s Gospel passage, we hear Jesus giving some basic instructions to the first Christian ministers, to those going forth to spread the Good News. Imagine yourself among that company, doing something never before done.

Many who followed ancient religions (the worship of many gods) held feast days, placed offerings in front of statues, and recited formula prayers by rote. However, those pagans never said, “I am carrying on the redeeming work of Zeus or Athena.” But the followers of Christ Jesus are the ones who are carry on his work. What can we learn from the guidance which Jesus gave to those first disciples?

First, we should display a wise yet innocent spirit — as lambs among wolves. In Matthew’s version we have four animal images, where Luke has only two.

“I send you out as sheep among wolves; therefore be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.”

Jesus here corrects the ways we may have garbled the message of sainthood, of holiness, which is another way of saying “wholeness.” Are we too shy? Jesus challenges us to be bold! Are we too pushy? Jesus tells us to give way to children. If we’re too naive, we’re called to wise up! If too shrewd, we need to be gentle.

Next, we should project a spirit of peace. Have you ever visited a house and said, “Peace be to this house?” I’ve had that experience. At the blessing of a home — which by the way is something I love to do to make a sacred space out of a dwelling — I begin by knocking at the door, and when I cross the threshold I say: “Peace be to this house.” Even though most of the time we don’t say that upon entering, it should be in our hearts when we enter a home — especially our own!

Lastly we are to let people know that the reign of God has come near to them. How?

We can resist the atmosphere of cruelty and de-humanization around us.

We can support the immigrants among us, and confront bigotry when we find it.

It’s the challenge to make the link between our Sunday message and that Monday reality of a world crying out for tangible signs of God’s love.

I’m going to conclude this sermon by sharing a poem by Emily Dickinson. She was notoriously quiet and withdrawn, but even she had a sense of ministering, in her letters to support the people she know, into which she’d include a poem.

She’s happy, with a new Content — That feels to her — like Sacrament —

She’s busy — with an altered Care — As just apprenticed to the Air —

She’s tearful — if she weep at all — For blissful Causes — Most of all

That Heaven permit so meek as her — To such a Fate — to Minister.

–Emily Dickinson

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.

I read short, meditative messages from a variety of daily readers, and the one for last Friday particularly spoke to me:

Take a blessing with you wherever you go. You have been blessed, so bless others. Such stores of blessings are awaiting you in the months and years that lie ahead. Pass on your blessings. Blessing can and does go around the world, passing on from one person to another. Shed a little blessing in the heart of one person. That person is cheered to pass it on, and so God’s vitalizing, joy-giving message travels on. Be a transmitter of God’s blessing.

And wouldn’t you know it – later that morning, while driving around in my old Volkswagen Bug, the car attracted the attention of two two young men in a delivery van who pulled up next to us at a stop light. One of them had had a 1970s Volkswagen Bug, and they told us that seeing my Bug really cheered them up!

I often get another hopeful message from a friend concerning my expectations, which is:

“None of us is going to get out of this life alive, but the best is yet to come!” 

Today’s readings similarly urge us to look on the bright side, and transmit God’s blessings.

They speak of following God, no matter where our human frailties and desires lure us, and the fact that faith and good works, rather than ridged adherence to the yoke of human law, are the road to a fulfilling destiny. If we can love our neighbors as ourselves, by following him with faith and its corresponding good works, we will find the freedom from bondage that Jesus promised us.

—————

Larry’s excellent description of Elijah in last week’s Reflection reminds us that he was relentless and violent in his efforts to return an errant Israel to the Lord, to the point of killing every offending prophet at Baal. The God of Abraham is not a gentle one.

In this week’s Old Testament reading we find Elijah on his way to Bethel, where he is to be taken “up to heaven by a whirlwind.” On the way, he encounters a young man named Elisha, upon whom he placed his cloak; his “mantle.” Thereafter, Elisha started following Elijah.

As they walked, Elijah repeatedly urged Elisha to say behind, but Elisha refused.

So, they soldiered on with 50 other followers, and when they reached the Jordan, Elijah used his cloak to part the waters.

Elijah then “ascended in a whirlwind into heaven,” leaving behind his mantle for Elisha, who took it up, parted the waters, and crossed over.

As one commentator put it: “Elisha is the successor of Elijah. God’s person for that hour, as the 50 prophets announced, . . .”

————–

In the New Testament passage from Galatians, Paul is telling us to avoid the yoke of slavery to our sins, and embrace the liberty by which Christ has made us free.

The slavery he’s talking about is both our self-indulgences, and our becoming slaves to one another and the Old Testament’s Mosaic law. The freedom is found in loving our neighbors, because those who act as if they truly love their neighbors, have kept the law fully.

As written by one commentator: The Mosaic Law given by God emphasized salvation by merit, but Jesus put the emphasis on salvation by the grace of God, through faith in him. It is in concern for the well-being of the other person that the law is obeyed.

———–

That’s not to say that such freedom is an invitation to loose living. None of us (including Paul) is free from sin or controversy.

Even the Nicene Creed, which was an effort to calm warring factions in the Christian church and whose 1700^th anniversary was remembered by Larry last Sunday, is still the subject of controversy about its language and meaning.

But God will forgive us our imperfections as we move toward more loving relations with our neighbors. It is progress toward loving our neighbors that is required, not perfection.

As if to make the point, in today’s Gospel reading, Jesus rebukes James and John when they suggest retribution for the village of the Samaritans who refused to receive Jesus. That’s a demonstration of his loving all of our neighbors, even when we choose to turn the other cheek.

————-

But we’re still killing each other over territory and in the names of our differently conceived Gods, so is it realistic for us humans to aspire to use only non-violent boundaries when loving our neighbors as ourselves?

So far, the best we’ve been able to do collectively in dealing with the ongoing horror is work through human institutions and laws like the United Nations and the International Red Cross’ law of International Armed Conflict, but that has not stopped the bloodshed.

Doesn’t that amount to us, once again, relying on our own, admittedly limited, frame of reference and institutions, which, as Paul warned in Galatians, constitutes being enslaved by those institutions?

————–

What if we all made it a personal goal to embrace the grace of God, by good works undertaken to express neighborly love for one another? A friend of mine likes to refer to that idea as an exercise in “enlightened self-interest.”

We just experienced doing that sort of thing during the recent pandemic. In the face of serious adversity, many of us gave and received helping hands and a new sense of community. For me, it helped to restore my faith in God, and in the basic goodness in us all. Out of self-interested necessity, in times of crisis we come together for the common welfare.

Is it too much to hope that we can aspire to the same love for our neighbor on a more day-to-day basis, and without the need for at disaster to motivate us to go in that direction?

————-

I look for ways to cheer myself up, and have found that, as a general rule, being of service to others works pretty well. Even cleaning the cats’ litter box helps take my mind off my so-called problems, and the state of the world!

Something else that cheers me up is a rose bush in my yard, that blooms several times during the year. Its flowers are a slightly different color with each successive blooming, transitioning over the year from yellow to a kind of orangy-pink.

When we planted it over 30 years ago, I was what I call “a legend in my own mind,” who worshiped the material and enforced the law; and complained bitterly about how much the rose bush cost!

Now, by the grace of God, I expectantly await its first blooms each year, making sure that it is well cared for, and frequently going to the window or outside to admire its beauty.

When Mother Nature makes them available, its blooms adorn the house, and two of them were on the kitchen table with me as I wrote this Reflection.

————–

It also helps me to think of God in terms of Mother Nature. Acknowledging the relentless evolution of things all around us as being accomplished by Mother Nature is a way in which I am able to conceptualize, and even visualize, the infinite, which is God.

She can be both predictable and spontaneous, beneficial and destructive; but always, and I believe forever, uncontrollable by us.

We will never “best” Mother Nature, although as noted in the old Chiffon margarine commercial, we keep trying to “fool” her. As was said in that commercial: “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature.”

————–

The result of her often-dramatic actions (which are referred to in the law and by insurance companies as “acts of God”), is that we eventually have to surrender to reality, and cooperate among ourselves to adapt to her “new normal.”

That is more than a metaphor. For me, it better explains Paul’s injunction that if we Christians live by the Spirit; that is, love our neighbors as ourselves, we will inherit the kingdom of God.

———–

So, I respectfully suggest that God, in the image of Mother Nature, is a good place to look for things to do that will bring our “neighbors” far and wide, together.

In my case, the rose bush has grown high enough to be seen and enjoyed by several of my neighbors. I’ve also shared its flowers with others.

And our church’s neighbors are already tending some of its gardens, so let’s reciprocate by loving them, no matter who they are, what they believe, or where they came from.

————-

Mother Nature is not too concerned with such things.

Good morning, dear people.

Before I start my reflection, there are a couple of things that I feel I must say. The first is that, this year, we celebrate the anniversary of something that is way older than the Democratic Party, way older than the USA, way older than the current State of Israel. This is the 1700th anniversary of the Nicene Creed. This is what we say we believe. We also believe that we should love our neighbors as Jesus told us. But loving our neighbors derives from what the Nicene Creed recognizes – that Jesus is divine, the Son of God. In telling us to love our neighbors, Jesus wasn’t giving us some ethical advice. He didn’t come to found the United Nations. He founded the church in the world and this kinship right here. This is what Saint Paul was always yammering about over and over – that the Gospel derives from Jesus’ divinity.

The second thing has to do with current events. I am deeply unhappy about the attack on Iran and the escalation of war in the Middle East. And yet we sit here so safely. What is to be said? Well, the Vatican has probably the world’s greatest media empire. And the Pope addresses people every day almost. So, I looked to see what Leo XIV might have said. He said that we should look to diplomacy. Well, that’s true. Let’s hope. But he also said that war inflicts deep wounds on a people’s history. He also said it leads to consigning other issues to oblivion. And I ask, in this respect, where is the suffering of the people of Gaza in the newspapers these past few days? He said that victory is no compensation for the fear of children or for their stolen future. He said that no conflict is far away when human dignity is at stake. So, now, let’s turn to the message of today’s readings which concern, in their way, what we do for our children and what are God’s expectations of us.

So, onward.

The people we love – parents, children, spouses, friends — sometimes go through hard times. Then, we comfort them. But our job is really to help them get through it and often we have to push them really hard. The pushing can hurt everyone a lot and it makes us wonder if we’re doing the right thing. I’ve said this before: Love can be a sword that pierces your heart.

I’m most familiar with this dynamic, if that’s the right word, in the case of my children. I remember when our teenage daughter and we went to the airport for her travel to a whole other state to start college. Suddenly, a necessary farewell turned into mourning. Tears flowed. Finally, she, wearing a pair of red pedal pushers (if that’s the right word!) got on the plane to start out.

How can such a right thing cause so much pain? But, now, practically thirty years later, I see how she is a whole, healthy, highly competent woman, a mother and a professional. Perhaps it had to do with pushing her onto the airplane.

Twenty or so years ago, I pushed my son out the door to make him take a job offered to him in New York City. It had to be. He had to go out the door. It was painful and frightening for us all. (Parents get scared at almost anything.) But he ended up making a life for himself. It was not easy, but it became positive. And New York is now his home more than California ever was.

This dynamic of deciding, grieving, and pushing is something that we see in the Old Testament reading and in the Gospel for today. But, instead of parents, for example, it is God who does the deciding and the pushing. And I ask myself whether he also does not grieve.

Elijah is one of the great figures of the Old Testament. He was active during the reign of Ahab, King of Israel, who, as the Bible says, “did more evil in the sight of the Lord than all who were before him.” (1 Kings 16:30) One of his evils was to marry Jezebel who was not a Hebrew. The two of them institutionalized the worship of Jezebel’s false gods in Israel. And Jezebel made sure that as many of the prophets of the Lord that she could catch were hunted down and killed. This is the scene that Elijah steps into.

Elijah’s story is interesting and stretches over seven and a half chapters of the Old Testament. (1 Kings 17 – 2 Kings 2:12). He definitely has singleness of heart in trying to return Israel to the Lord. He is constantly on the road, constantly in danger. He seems powerful and he seems humorless. He is actually not the person I’d like to spend time with.

I think we all have heard the story how Elijah challenges the priests and prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. He and they are each to prepare a sacrifice and see which divinity will bring down fire from heaven to burn it up. (1 Kings 18:18-40). Elijah, or rather the Lord, wins. Baal does nothing, and the Lord consumes even the stones of the altar that Elijah set up for him. Then – tit for tat, I guess — Elijah had the people kill every one of the prophets of Baal.

Elijah runs away because Jezebel is out to skin him alive. He ends up by himself in the wilderness near Beersheba which is way down south in the Kingdom of Judah, far from Israel. And, at this point, the Bible gives us one of the first great descriptions of despair and depression. Elijah sits under a tree and asks the Lord to take away his life. He is exhausted. He is scared. He falls asleep under the tree or shrub. He awakes to the comfort of a simple hot meal. (I think we’ve all given unhappy people something to eat and said “this’ll make you feel better.”) Elijah falls asleep again. He gets another meal. And he is told to get up and get going. He gets going to Mount Horeb which is in the Sinai. Elijah finds himself, in the silence, in the very physical presence of God. He is able to explain less emotionally the reason for his being so far away from Israel. The explanation of his flight is rational. God really listens, but God has expectations for Elijah.. Elijah is sent on other tasks all to assure the continuation of God’s worship in Israel. (Our selection for today leaves his assigned tasks out.) God has pushed him on his way as we often do for loved ones.  

In today’s great Gospel reading, Luke gives us one of the great scenes of a confrontation with truly tormented insanity. Jesus heals this man who has seemed totally divorced from our reality, who is in such unimaginable pain. So what happens? The Gerasenes, who are the people of this area and are Gentiles, come down and ask Jesus to leave. They are afraid and upset because of his vast intrusion into the ways of their world – the healing, the loss of their pigs. They wonder what could be next. Jesus does go away. The man who has been healed begs to go with him. But Jesus says “No”. Jesus has expectations of him. He is to go to the Gerasenes and glorify God among them for the miracle of his healing. He is given a mission. He will replace Jesus who is being chased away. He is to become “Jesus” to the Gerasenes. He is pushed away.

The Bible is like a mirror of our lives. God intrudes on us where we are and as we are. The healing of Elijah and of the madman of the Gerasenes is like our giving comfort to our children. But when God sends Elijah onward and sends the formerly mad man on his mission to the Gerasenes, he is like us pushing our children away on their own path – to college out-of-state, to a job and life in New York City, and whatever the experience of each of us brings up.

We have expectations of the people we love when we need to push them onward. We want them to mature and grow. But what is God’s expectations of us? For surely God has them. They are more like what he wants from Elijah and the formerly insane man. Broadly speaking, he wants us to live the Gospel. But I sense that there is more detail than this bland statement about living the Gospel. Saint Paul, a great pusher if there ever was one, says that we are on with each other; that we are one with God; that we share God’s spirit because we are the Spirit’s Temple. And Saint Paul speaks a million times about the Body of Christ – well, I exaggerate: he talks about it three or four times. It is one of his lifelong themes. The Body of Christ is the church in the worldwide sense and as a local kinship, like us here in this room. The Body of Christ has many parts. Paul enumerates them – the teacher, the healer, the preacher, for example. (For example, 1 Corinthians 12:12-27; Romans 12:4-5) And we can go way beyond Paul’s enumeration of the parts — to vestry member, school teacher, retired person who volunteers, a person who prays for all and sundry, Bible student, theologian, observer of the beauty of the universe, proclaimer of the day of the Lord’s favor, and you name it.

And so our important question is: What does God expect of you as a baptized person? What does he push you onward to do? It may be something not so big, like a seed that sprouts and becomes a big tree. Jesus loved talking about seeds. Every little thing you do is a sprouting seed. Think about this! You may not know it, but you’re already doing it. Make yourself think about it!

We have also a great starter outline in the Baptismal covenant. Do we believe in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit? Do we continue in the Apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the Eucharist, and in the prayers? Do we resist evil and repent our sins and return to the Lord? Do we proclaim the Gospel by word and example? Do we serve Jesus in all persons and love our neighbors as ourselves? Do we strive for justice and peace? And as the Pope mentioned in his recent message that I referred to: Do we respect the dignity of all people?

Amen.