Category: Sermons

Today’s readings paint a pretty stark picture for God’s followers who do not do their best to treat their neighbors as they would like to be treated. 

In Amos, the Lord warns that it will be “darkness, not light” if religious practices are not centered on righteousness and fairness for all; thus “the day of the Lord” they are expecting will not be a day of deliverance for Israel. As one commentator puts it: “God will not tolerate comfortable worship, and social and political isolation. God will not tolerate a full church, and a vacuum of justice. If you don’t take care of the less fortunate, God does not want your praises and prayers. There is no form of worship, however devout or rightly observed or full of praise and prayer, that is invulnerable to the judgment of God.”  

In Psalm 70, David urgently seeks God’s deliverance, by praying for God’s help in dealing with his adversaries, and acknowledging his need for salvation, saying “Great is the Lord!” One commentator posits that such prayers are flawed in their understanding of God; “God never has to be called on to hasten. He is never tarrying uselessly or carelessly.”

In Thessalonians, Paul offers hope and comfort to the living about those who have died. One commentator says that Paul promises believers in Jesus that no one will be left behind: “Those who are alive will be caught up together with the Lord, and those who have already died will actually beat them to this ethereal encounter.” 

In the parable of the Ten Bridesmaids, Matthew reminds us of the importance of vigilance in uncertain times; that if we want to be properly prepared to enter the Kingdom of God, we need to always be ready “with our lamps full of oil,” or when the time comes, we will be locked out. 

These are descriptions of the “tough” love God provides to encourage all of Jesus’ followers to do our best to love our neighbor.

In past Reflections I have talked about my struggle to believe in something I cannot understand, finally coming to terms with the fact that all I need to know is that I am NOT God. I now believe in the loving God that Jesus taught, and that it’s not me. I try to keep it that uncomplicated so that in virtually any situation, I can call on God’s help by simply reaching outside of myself; by not going it alone. 

I know there is a God, because on more than multiple occasions things have happened to and for me “out of the blue,” when I most needed them; not a lot, but often enough for me to believe. I call them “God things.”

In my last Reflection I talked about the Rev. Harry Emerson Fodsick, who believed that the Bible is a record of the unfolding of God’s will, and is not the literal “Word of God.” He saw the history of Christianity as one of development, progress and gradual change, alongside, but not at odds with, those made by we humans.   

I recently ran across a quote of his that underscores the validity of a way I have come to visually depict God. 

Many years ago, I started attending an annual fishing trip on the Owens River, in the Eastern Sierras. I got there by driving through Yosemite, over Tioga Pass and South on U.S. 395 to a ranch near Mammoth Lakes. 

After I started my 12 Step journey and trying to “understand” God, a mentor asked me to draw a picture of God as I thought of him as a child, and then my present conception of God. The picture of the childhood God was one of a Santa Claus figure sitting on a cloud, but the present-day depiction was more difficult to imagine.

On one of these fishing trips, I had a pretty profound spiritual experience one clear night, as I walked back to my cabin after dinner. Looking up at the night sky, free from city lights and other obstructions, I saw the vast array of stars and suddenly realized that here was an obvious example of a “power greater than myself.” So, the picture I drew was of a bunch of stars. *

 The Rev. Harry Emerson Fosdick quote I referred to earlier says:

“The fact that astronomies change while the stars abide

is a true analogy of every realm of human life 

and thought, religion not the least of all.

No existent theology can be the final formulation

of Spiritual truth.” 

Another thing I have realized is that, as we humans “discover” things about our Universe, what we discover is “more.” 

Some years ago, a headline about the Hubble Telescope in the San Francisco Chronicle read: “Experts Discover New Universes.” But our “Universe” was already supposed to include everything! So, we had to make that word plural to begin to describe what we have “discovered!”

That pretty much says it all. We finite humans cannot fully understand the infinite, which is God.

In reviewing today’s Bible readings, and in these very difficult times, another Fosdick quote from his famous sermon Shall the Fundamentalists Win? – Or The New Knowledge of the Christian Faith hits home:

“I have heard stories from the depths of human lives where men and women were wrestling with the elemental problems of misery and sin – –  stories that put upon a [person’s] heart a burden of vicarious sorrow, even though [they]do but listen to them. Here was real human need crying out after the living God revealed in Christ. Consider all the multitudes of [women] and men who so need God, and then think of Christian churches making of themselves a cockpit of controversy when there is not a single thing at stake in the business. So much of it does not matter! And there is one thing that does matter – – more than anything else in the world – – that men [and women] in their personal lives and their social relationships should know Jesus Christ.”

In prior Reflections, I have also referred to Paul’s letter to the Galatians, where he concludes: “For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself,’” (Galatians 5:14). Romans repeats that message, concluding: “Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.” (Romans 13:10)

Paul emphasizes our actions, as opposed to what we’re thinking, telling us to treat our neighbors the way we want to be treated; those who act as if they truly love their neighbors, have kept the law fully.

The Universe, like Mother Nature, can be both predictable and spontaneous, beneficial and destructive; but always uncontrollable by us.  

That reality better explains Paul’s injunction that if we Christians live by the Spirit; that is, do our best to love our neighbors as ourselves, we will inherit the kingdom of God, whether we like it or not! 

Let’s keep loving our neighbors, no matter who they are, what they believe, or where they came from. Neither the Universe nor Mother Nature are concerned with such things.  

We can do this in a very tangible way during this Stewardship season by supporting St. Alban’s with our financial pledges, and in our works. As one member has said: we at St. Alban’s are a 21st Century version of First Century Christianity.

So, let’s give of ourselves and what we have in support of our efforts to keep St. Alban’s on this latter-day road to Emmaus, where we welcome all who want to walk with us.  

 

* I’m no artist! The drawings were very “rough.”

Today is the feast in which we remember that we are part of a large company – a whole cloud of witnesses. It is the Feast of All Saints.  

Our catechism puts it like this: The communion of saints is the whole family of God, the living and the dead, those whom we love and those whom we hurt, bound together in Christ by sacrament, prayer and praise. 

The Church is one place where the dead still have rights. Still have a seat at the table. Are remembered and honored and  have status. Where they live. The communion of saints is mentioned at every Eucharist, and it is a reality in which we live. 

This Feast is our chance to stop and acknowledge that we didn’t get where we are today without the contributions and work and blessings of those who lived and died before us, and that the blessings of those who have gone before continue to abide with us. 

Today, we stop and recognize our parents and grandparents and great grandparents who worked hard and on whose shoulders we stand. 

We stop and recognize the patriots who walked miles in order to cast their votes even when they continued to be denied that right. 

We remember the saints who laughed their way into the next life – who spread joy along the way.

We all have Saints in our lives. Right? Living. Dead. Some of our personal saints are Famous and Recognized by the church. But most of them are Unrecognized by anyone but those who know them. 

One of those Saints I want to bring to mind is Bishop Barbara Harris, who died in 2020. She was the first woman and the first African American woman consecrated as Bishop in the Anglican Communion. Her consecration broke centuries of precedent for tens of millions of Christians in the Anglican Communion, which has members in more than 165 countries. She received mountains of hate mail.

She said that joy in Christ was the source of her ability to overcome all the nastiness that came her way –

“Never forget,” she would say,  “that the power behind you is greater than the obstacles ahead of you.”

The power behind you is greater than the obstacles ahead of you.  I bring her to you this morning, because on this eve of momentous mid-term election, her teaching is powerful and helpful. Never forget that the power behind us around us, surrounding us, is greater than any obstacles ahead. 

The Communion of Saints – Christ – a great, great, great source of power. Never forget. 

And so, this is what I want to give over the rest of this time for. Remembering and sharing. There has been a lot of loss in this small gathering over the last several years. And if you would like to share a sentence or two about your particular saint, whether long dead, or recently passed on, I invite you to do that, so that we can all remember and rejoice in their life on earth, and their being now face to face with our Lord and part of the ongoing power that we draw on for sustenance, for guidance, and for courage.

Good morning, friends! I confess: when I saw that today’s gospel lesson was centered on “You shall love your neighbor as yourself”, the embarrassing thought “oh my goodness, how can I ever come up with something new to say on this?” passed quickly through my mind. But just as quickly, I realized that the reason this lesson comes up so often is, first of all, that this is God’s greatest commandment, (along with loving our God with all our hearts, souls, and minds).  And second of all: it comes up so often because it is not only the most important directive, but also, that even though it appears simple on its surface, it’s not easy, so we have to be reminded and coached and cajoled about it pretty much constantly. In fact, every Sunday when we get together, if we just said “love your neighbor as yourself, love your neighbor as yourself” over and over and over, that wouldn’t be such a bad idea!

So, I’d like to share a few stories about this.

The first one is literally a neighbor story. This month marks my 35th anniversary of moving into my wonderful little home in my wonderful West Berkeley neighborhood. Chances are most of us have fairly similar living situations: a driveway on each side of the house that’s so narrow that you have to move the car to take out the trash. Your neighbor’s garage wall functions as a partial fence between your properties, and yours does the same for the neighbors on the other side – and to the rear, as well! All too clear views and sounds from next door: a living situation which draws upon a term from my theatre background – a need for “the willing suspension of disbelief”. We wound up commissioning stained glass windows for the kitchen and living room so that we could “willingly suspend our disbelief” a bit more: “oh, that view of the sunrise over the hills is breathtaking!” – (and coincidentally, it does an excellent job of blocking the view of our neighbor’s bathroom window, too!) Truly, a living situation which calls on us to frequently reconsider “loving our neighbors as ourselves.” 

And when it’s time to build a new fence: oh, the challenges. Where is the property line, exactly? We did indeed need to build a new fence; one side of the yard, with one set of neighbors – easy! “Whatever you want, Christine, it’s all good!” But for the other side, there were already serious challenges in our relationship there, and we realized pretty quickly that we’d better have a survey done to sort out where the property lines lay, and then…. Well, things went even further south very, very fast. That neighbor was truly convinced, no matter what I did, and no matter how lovingly I tried to do it, that I meant it with “malice aforethought.” Worst of all: I saw her going to the easy-going neighbors on the other side to tell them tales about my perfidy – she was trying to turn them against me. Oh, it was a bad, bad time. The truth is, she really hated me. It seemed that somehow she had convinced herself that I was being hateful to her, and that gave her permission to hate me back, and now she was doing her best to get me to actually hate her, so that she could feel justified in her behavior. It was a horrible, horrible spiral. 

Along with dread, a sick stomach, trouble sleeping, and avoiding going outside whenever I heard her door open, I started to get really angry sometimes, too. I was trying, really trying, to love my neighbor, but golly, did she make it hard! Surely it was okay for me to be angry! And one day, suddenly the thought popped into my head: “girl, Jesus did NOT say ‘love your neighbor as yourself – unless they’re really irritating – then you’re off the hook!’” So, with difficulty, I refocused on the work all day, every day.

I’ll never know the real seeds of my neighbor’s hatred and anger, but I believe that she must have experienced pain and trauma in her life that led her to that place. With lots of reflection on my part, I came to feel compassion for her.  

And the thing is, my neighbor – the one who hated me – was also a devout Christian. I believe that she must also have suffered greatly at times, being under the control of those feelings; it must have been horrible, knowing that she was unable to love me when Jesus had made it clear that she was called to do it. 

As I focused on loving her, I released my need for her to love me back. I released my need for her to understand my good intentions. I did not engage in so much as an expression of irritation with her; I focused on love, on patience, and on kindness. I’m not saying that I came to like her – but I forgave her, and in every way I treated her with love, to the best of my ability. And over time, it became much, much easier; it became manageable. Without any fuel from me to feed her anger, over time, her overtly hateful actions also quieted, and living next door to each became better. I could go outside without peeking through the window first to make sure she wasn’t out there. As far as I can tell, she never came to love me, but she seemed to no longer actively hate me. She tolerated me. I pray that this ultimately brought her some peace.

The second story I’d like to share is about the rally sign I made for a big No Kings protest a year or so ago. I used a magic marker to create a sign that said “Love Your Neighbor as Yourself” on the top, and “Welcome the Stranger” on the bottom, with attributions to Jesus. I was walking around with my sign, up and down University and San Pablo Avenues, when someone called out to me “you know, it says that in the Old Testament, too!” 

Well, naturally, I had to go look it up! Indeed, it turns out that “love your neighbor as yourself” is first mentioned in Leviticus: “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Well, I have to say, that’s close, but not quite the same; I think Jesus took it a step further, as he often did: this interpretation of a “neighbor” implies that it just applies to your own people, while Jesus calls us to call ALL people our neighbors – no exceptions.

As for “Welcome the Stranger” – it’s also in Leviticus! “The stranger who resides with you shall be to you as one of your citizens; you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” So, indeed, these two important themes from the Gospel are a reiteration of directives given to us long before. And taken together, they illustrate that everyone is a neighbor. 

But somehow, these fundamental things have proven terribly challenging for us humans – including people who describe themselves as devout faith practitioners – our fellow descendants of Abraham. People go looking for excuses to make exceptions, to deprive people of their rights, to commit violence on their bodies or their property, to defame them. We’ve all heard the excuses – that that person isn’t really a neighbor – that we get to draw small circles of importance to define who deserves our love and care. I think Jesus, as well as his ancestors, make it pretty darned clear – we should love our neighbors as ourselves. And who are our neighbors? Everyone. Every single last one, near or far, is our neighbor.

I have one more story to share; as you know, many of us attend a weekly rally at El Cerrito plaza. This past Friday I was there, along with Beth and Jim Beller and Becky Osborn-Coolidge, and a dozen or so other folks. As Beth has described, these are generally peaceful events. A handful of seniors – I’m one of the youngest folks there! – hold up their signs and flags, wave, and offer peace signs.  A number of folks bring chairs and walkers and sit for an hour, holding up their signs. A large number of passing drivers honk, wave, offer peace or power signs to us, and yell their thanks and encouragement. Every week the positive responses grow in frequency and in volume. Some number of folks just drive by with no response. And about one or two folks a week will flip us the finger, or yell something rude at us. It’s interesting to see how our fellow protesters respond to the rude ones: some just smile, but sometimes one of those seniors will flip them off in return.

Very, very rarely, we get a passerby who goes ballistic. That’s what happened this past Friday. I arrived just in time to see a man screaming “you’re enabling pedophiles!”at a fellow protester. He was screaming so hard that the spit was flying. And the protester, a white-bearded man, blew him a kiss as the guy stalked off. The protester filled me in on the rest of what had happened: the passerby called the group Nazis and a number of other wild and nasty things. And the protester had said a few mild responses before realizing that he needed to shut it down, and he told the man he loved him; the man’s response was “liar!” I had arrived just after that had happened.

Given that I had just put the finishing touches on today’s reflection, this certainly got me thinking. I returned to talk further to our fellow protester; I asked him if he had a faith practice. He was a bit startled by the question, and answered “not really.” He went on to share that previously, when counter-protesters had flipped him off, he’d flip them off in return. But that lately he’s switched to blowing them kisses, or telling them that he loved them. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I went over to Becky to share that I’d asked him if he had a faith practice, and that he’d said “no”; Becky responded: “Oh, he has a faith practice, alright – it’s in here.” she said, pointing to her heart. And of course, I had to go home and rewrite my reflection!

I would like to leave you with one more thought. It is the season of stewardship, so I want to share this:  St. Alban’s is a very special place. A place where we come together every week to practice God’s love in action. It is a remarkable thing to feel so very comfortable and welcome here that we can share our deepest selves, our prayers, our personal and deep reflections on learning to follow Jesus’ teachings, and to express these things with complete comfort and joy. Every day, in every way, the commitment we make to this community spreads God’s love in ways that we may never see, but are very, very real. Our support of this community through our pledges, as well as through all the things we do to keep this work going, feed all the branches and roots it makes into the community.

Amen. 

(NOTE: Due to illness, Linda was unable to attend this service and her sermon text was read aloud by the congregation.)

I miss being with you this morning. Thank you for carrying on in true Christian fellowship fashion!

For this gospel passage, I have usually focused on Jesus’ agility in pointing out the hypocrisy of the religious leaders and offering them correction.

When Jesus asked for a coin, they reached into their pockets and handed him one. The coin they handed him bore Caesar’s likeness and was inscribed with the words, Divine Son of God.

Jesus hardly had to point out that this was heresy for Jews who recognize only one God, the Creator. And to carry this coin, within temple grounds, engraved with Caesar as divinity, was blasphemy.

So instead of answering their question directly, Jesus used the opportunity to remind them that their true wealth lay in creation, in their bodies and souls and minds which were indelibly stamped with God’s image. They belonged to God. And as God’s, they were of infinite value. Priceless. It was to God they owed their allegiance and their lives.

This is a message we can hear over and over again.

But in this short reflection for today, I want to turn towards the art of questioning, which this passage also highlights. These leaders did not come to Jesus with a real desire to understand what he thought. They already had a malicious outcome in mind.

And so I want to focus on this – this art of asking genuine questions and recognizing and disengaging with disingenuous ones. This art of building bridges rather than tearing them down.

Given the deeply polarized times we live in, this seems a helpful approach.

How do we engage others with genuine curiosity instead of with an agenda that barely hides an underlying lack of respect?

I have a relative that itches for confrontation – usually about something political or medical he has picked up on YouTube or TikTok. While he may start a conversation with something innocent like the weather, before long he will pose a question about something that has been in the news. I have learned that when I engage on his terms, I have almost always opened myself to a rant. On the other hand, when I simply shut down, I have, at some level, given up on the relationship. Neither of these approaches is satisfying to my heart.

Anyone else have this experience? Where there is no real desire for communication or for learning, just a black hole of pre-established certainties? And not had a clue as to how to skillfully engage in a way that at least has the potential to bridge the gap between you?

The gospel says that Jesus was fully aware of their malice. In other words, he attended to the vibe. He didn’t ignore the signals and blithely walk into the trap. Nor did he ignore them. He paid attention and shifted the momentum.

Like a martial artist, he turned the tables using their own question as the springboard – but unlike them, his aim wasn’t to put them down, or shame them. It was to use this as an opportunity to wake up into God’s grace and glory. To build relationship if at all possible. Or as St. Paul would later put it in Ephesians chapter 4, to build up the body of the people of God.

What a master of relationship! What a master of communication!

Of course we expect Jesus, the Son of God, to be fully awake and aware and capable in all situations, unlike us, who often can’t think of what might have been a helpful response until long after the moment has passed.

Still, as his followers, we have the potential and the mission to more and more recognize those moments that already have conflict embedded in them, and instead of engaging in what is pre-determined to be a losing game, to respond with clarity and affection.

We can learn to more skillfully approach others, and ourselves, with genuine curiosity and the desire to know and understand.

We can learn to recognize within ourselves when we are sure that we already know what to expect and have our judgement already in hand. And when we do recognize this, we can release that surety and open our minds and hearts to really listening – maybe to listening to what is not being said, as well as what is being said. We can open ourselves to what God may be teaching us through this other person.

Even when there is hostility aimed at us, we can train ourselves to remain grounded in our bodies, and in our breath, and in the confidence that we belong to God.

Then we can respond with wisdom rather than with the need to defend ourselves or get pulled into uncivil conversations that have no purpose other than to inflame greater conflict.

So this week, I commend practicing this kind of grounding. In your body. In your breath. In your awareness of God’s ever constant presence. In this way, your “vibe detector” will grow stronger and prevent you from mistaking a wolf for a sheep, to use Jesus’ turn of phrase. Will help you recognize, in the moment, when to dis-engage from the conflict, and find a different path forward. A path of genuine interest, of genuine caring. You cannot predict this path in advance – but only recognize it in the moment. And of course, forgive yourself when you only recognize it in hindsight!

So. Your body. Your breath. Your awareness of God’s presence. These are your tools for staying grounded in conflicted moments, so that you can tell the truth with kindness and clarity and make peace when possible.

Friends, may your wisdom grow ever more astute and your expressions of genuine interest in others grow ever more courageous.

Praise be to God to whom we daily offer our lives in thanksgiving and praise.

Denise Levertov was a 20th century poet prophet. Her poem “Making Peace” was not written for the Feast of St. Francis, but it could have been. 

A voice from the dark called out,
“The poets must give us
imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar
imagination of disaster. Peace, not only
the absence of war.”
But peace, like a poem,
is not there ahead of itself,
can’t be imagined before it is made,
can’t be known except
in the words of its making,
grammar of justice,
syntax of mutual aid.
A feeling towards it,
dimly sensing a rhythm, is all we have
until we begin to utter its metaphors,
learning them as we speak.
A line of peace might appear
if we restructured the sentence our lives are making,
revoked its affirmation of profit and power,
questioned our needs, allowed
long pauses . . .
A cadence of peace might balance its weight
on that different fulcrum; peace, a presence,
an energy field more intense than war,
might pulse then,
stanza by stanza into the world,
each act of living
one of its words, each word
a vibration of light—facets
of the forming crystal.

— Denise Levertov, “Making Peace”

This is who St. Francis was in his own time. A poet of peace who called people, and still today calls people, to restructure the sentence their lives are making, to revoke affirmations of profit and power, to question our needs, to allow for long pauses. 

He was a living icon of an imagination of peace ousting the intense, familiar imagination of disaster.

He was a soldier who relished combat until an injury forced him into a long period of convalescence – and it was during that long pause in his life that he came to know Jesus and became the poet of peace for which he is so beloved. 

He completely restructured the sentence of his life  and created a new life and a new community. 

He made that transition by physically divesting himself of all the trappings of wealth and status, literally stripping and appearing naked in the city square, loudly claiming God as his Father and Jesus, the Prince of Peace, as his brother.

The Bishop hurried forward, covered him with his Bishop’s robes and took him in.  

Francis formed a new order of monks and, along with his friend Clare, a new order of nuns. 

These communities, as in Denise Levertov’s poem, were balanced on a different fulcrum. They were dedicated to creating a cadence of peace, sending an energy field more intense than war, into the world, word by word, and action by action. 

He was immensely popular among the young who flocked to join his community. As always, it is the young who so often see the bankruptcy at the heart of empire and who reject its ways of profit and power and domination. 

In our time, that rejection of empire and its ways of profit and power leads to environmentalism. The young intuitively understand that the way we treat animals and water and air and the way we treat each other are interconnected.

In 2015 Pope Francis released his encyclical: Laudato Si’: On Care for Our Common Home, he reframed the entire issue of environmental responsibility along those lines —not as a side concern or technical challenge, but as a central moral and spiritual issue of our time.  Laudato Si’ is not just an environmental document. It is a profound call to integral ecology, a vision in which care for the earth, justice for the poor, and inner peace are inseparably linked.

The encyclical’s title comes from the Canticle of the Sun by Saint Francis of Assisi. “Laudato si’, mi’ Signore” (“Praise be to you, my Lord”) reflects gratitude and awe with for the natural world, not as something to be used or feared but as a brother and sister to be loved.

The central insight of Laudato Si’ is that everything is interconnected. Environmental, economic, social, cultural, and spiritual problems are not isolated. They are all symptoms of the same moral and spiritual disease: a failure to see the world as gift, as sacred, as shared.

This led Pope Francis to speak of integral ecology, which refuses to separate care for the environment from care for the human person. He insisted that solving the ecological crisis requires addressing poverty, inequality, and broken relationships. Ecological sin is not just about polluting the water; it’s about ignoring the cry of the poor, exploiting the earth for short-term gain, and forgetting that creation is a communion of which we are a part.

We in the church have adopted what we call The Season of Creation, in which our prayers reflect this care of our common home. And the entire Season of Creation invites all of us to an ecological conversion:  a spiritual renewal that changes not only how we see the world but how we live in it. Pope Francis wrote  that “[l]iving our vocation to be protectors of God’s handiwork is essential to a life of virtue; it is not an optional or a secondary aspect of our Christian experience” (§217).

This conversion includes small everyday actions: reducing waste, conserving energy, reusing resources, buying less, supporting sustainable practices, and spending time in nature. These acts, though seemingly minor, cultivate gratitude, humility, and a deeper sense of connection with creation.

We can also rediscover Sabbath and contemplation, to recover, as Pope Francis wrote, “a serene harmony with creation” (§225). In a fast-paced world, slowing down itself becomes an act of resistance and reverence. 

And I don’t know about you, but my Lila-dog invites me daily into slowing down, into moments of contemplation, into a deeper sense of connection not just with her, but with the birds that play in my bird bath, and the trees which give us all shade. 

It is a deep honor to bless these animals as they bless us so deeply. We pray, using Pope Francis’ words: 

All powerful God,

you are present in the universe

and in the smallest of your creatures.

You embrace with your tenderness all that exists.

Pour out upon us the power of your love,

that we may protect life and beauty.

Fill us with your peace, that we may live

as brothers and sisters, harming no one.

O God of the poor,

help us to rescue the abandoned

and forgotten of this earth,

so precious in your eyes.

Bring healing to our lives,

that we may protect the world and not prey on it,

that we may sow beauty,

not pollution and destruction.

Touch the hearts

of those who look only for gain

at the expense of the poor and the earth.

Teach us to discover the worth of each thing,

to be filled with awe and contemplation,

to recognize that we are profoundly united

with every creature

as we journey towards your infinite light.

We thank you for being with us each day.

Encourage us, we pray, in our struggle,

for justice, love and peace.

 

Jesus is a challenge to authority.

This chapter begins with him riding on a donkey into Jerusalem, the streets lined with people shouting Hosanna! Hosanna! Save us! Save us! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.

The gospel goes on to say that all of Jerusalem is in a turmoil – asking just who is this?

And the crowd responds – This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee!

And the next thing you know, Jesus is in the beautiful glorious Jerusalem temple throwing it into disarray – tables flipped over. Profiteers driven out. The blind. The lame. The poor. The children all welcomed in. A full on racket of a riot.

Of course the lawful, legitimate authorities are upset to say the least. And they confront Jesus – by what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you that authority?

It’s a question that permeates the Gospel of Matthew. This challenge to him over and over – Who are you? Where do you get this authority and how?

The chief priests, the scribes, the elders – everyone is clear about their authority. It is lawful and legitimate.

The chief priests’ is based on their birth, The scribes’ is based in their training,

The elders are wealthy – and wealth has always conferred power and authority. And all of them have made strategic alliances with Rome – which holds the political authority.

So in every way you can think of – culturally, socially, economically, religiously and politically – they hold authority.

But there are different orders of authority, right?

There is structural power that is based on your position within an institution.

The chief priests and scribes held this kind of power because of their position within the temple and with Rome.

In our world, I hold structural power signified by this collar and my title of Reverend, based in the institution of the Episcopal Church.

The President of the United States holds structural authority, based on the institution of the constitution and the rule of law. And even though the current President the entitlements of his office to almost comic out of bounds, it does not change the structural authority of the office.

So that is one form of authority – based on position.

But there is another more powerful form of authority that has nothing to do with position and everything to do with authentic knowledge. It operates by the currency of recognition by others that something organically and fundamentally true is being expressed. This intrinsic authority can overlap with institutional authority but it is not dependent upon it.

According to Mathew, Mark and Luke Jesus was known for this kind of true authority.

Matthew 7:29 (ESV): After his extensive teaching on the beatitudes” For he was teaching them as one who had authority, and not as their scribes.”

 Mark 1:22 (ESV): While he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernuam: The people were amazed at his teaching, because he taught them as one who had authority, not as the teachers of the law.

Luke 4:32 (ESV): After the testing in the desert, while he was teaching in the synagogue: “They were amazed at his teaching, because his words had authority.”

The truth of Jesus’ stories, the life-giving power of his actions, his life, death and glorious resurrection all established this alternate form of authority that was more powerful and basic than the structural authority of those who opposed him. And it threatened their sense of power.

While there are more chapters to read in this gospel – we are now on the downward slope that will lead inevitably to his crucifixion.

People whose claim to power lies solely on position – whose authority is not based in anything other than the entitlements of the office they hold have a choice to make when faced with authentic leadership, authentic intrinsic power. They can either recognize the one who wields true authority and learn, or arrest, deport, jail, crucify the one they only understand as a threat.

Jesus weeps over Jerusalem recognizing that most often the institutional authorities have responded to God’s truth telling prophets by trying to silence them, or by killing them.

Right before the challenge to his authority in today’s gospel and his story of the two sons, there is the odd incident of the fig tree. As he returns from teaching, he is hungry. There’s a fig tree! But instead of any fruit, he finds only leaves. He curses it, and it withers.

I bring this up because it holds the key to the parable we hear today. The tree appears to be one thing – healthy and life-giving – but it is not. It has no fruit. It has nothing of what it is meant to be – it is not actually life-giving at all.

Institutional leadership, if it is not authentic, is like this. It is all appearance. And no fruit. These leaders might give great lip service to the mission – yes father, yes father, we will do that – like the second son of the parable – but they do not. They go their own way, doing their own thing, without regard for the true purpose of the temple, the church, the government – which is to serve the people.

Real leadership does not depend on the words so much as on the action – the one who repents and changes course and actually does what the Father has asked, enters the kingdom of heaven ahead of those who rely on the trappings of their medals and their titles and their entitlements instead of simply doing the Father’s will – loving their neighbors, serving the poor and caring for the sick.

May we hear Jesus’ warning today. Regardless of our heritage, our bloodlines, our culture, our degrees, our institutional ranks, may we quietly and simply continually bring our hearts and lives into alignment with the Father’s will. May we bear the fruit of right action and enter whether first or last or in-between into the glorious and eternal kingdom of God.

It’s not fair! And it turns out even babies know when things are not fair.

Ira Glass on This American Life tells the story about the tattle phone some preschool teachers installed in their classroom. They got tired of adjudicating injustices all the time. After the phone was in, the next kid who came to say that their friend had just growled at them for no reason – “Tell it to the phone.”

When the child picked up the phone, a recording came on and said – “Hey there, you’ve reached the tattle phone. OK, tell me what happened after the beep. Tell me the whole story.”

The phone got constant use. Eli told me a lie. Seamus isn’t sharing with me. Nathan farted in my face and didn’t say excuse me.

Apparently, just telling the story was enough. Because the kids would tell the tattle phone, then go back to playing – many times with the same person they had just complained about.

My point in telling you this story is what you can see anytime you are around young children – even at a very young age, we are exquisitely attuned to what’s fair.

Where does this come from? Is it learned or is it hardwired? To find out, the researchers Brosnan and de Waal designed an experiment using capuchin monkeys and later gave a TED talk on what happens when you pay monkeys unequally.

They put pairs of monkeys in adjacent cages where they could see each other, and trained to take turns giving small granite rocks to their human handler. Each time a monkey relinquished a rock, she would receive a piece of cucumber as a reward.

Capuchins love cucumbers, so both monkeys played the game of handing over their rocks and receiving a cucumber with enthusiasm.

But then, the handler changed things up. After a few fair and even exchanges, the handler rewarded the first monkey with a chunk of cucumber as usual, but gave the second monkey a grape — in the monkey world a grape is the equivalent of fine wine or caviar.

Seeing that the game had changed for the better, the first monkey perked up, and very eagerly handed over another rock, expecting to receive a grape, too. But no — the handler gave her another piece of cucumber. To make things worse, the handler then gave the second monkey another grape for free!

The first monkey hurled the cucumber at the handler. She banged on the bars and threw her rocks in every direction. She made furious gestures at her grape-eating companion.

Friends, this is not far from what I have seen with my own children and grandchildren – and I bet you have too. We want things to be fair.

But if anyone is going to get it better – honestly, we want that to be us.

So when God asks Jonah: Is it right for you to be angry that I’m compassionate with these evil people? His answer is yes. It is right to be angry. They have done really bad things. They should be punished.

Plus, I have not done really bad things. I should be rewarded. And if not in this life, surely in the next.

It turns out though that God is far more concerned with what is needed and not so much with what is fair.

Yes, the Assyrians are violent and wicked, they are also more. They are a “great city”, God says, but they “don’t know their right hand from their left.” They are a lost and broken people – and they have listened to what Jonah had to say. Now the question is not what they deserve, but what they need. And what they need is compassion and better leadership.

It’s a bit humorous with Jonah as he throws a tantrum and sits under a tree waiting for God to come to his senses and strike the Assyrians down, and then God shows him compassion as well. It’s a very well told story.

But it’s not so funny when it comes to the vineyard laborers. This one hits closer to home as we can hear echoes of the fight for fair pay – so it puts our hackles up a bit more.

But what if the concern here is about something far more fundamentally human-and that is for everyone to be included, to belong – and for everyone to have enough.

What if the vineyard is a stand in for the field of relationally, as Cynthia Bourgeault puts it. And that God’s primary concern is that of extending the invitation to come be part of that relational field – to belong and to have what is needed. Isn’t that fundamental to what we want, really? To belong? To be invited in? To have enough?

And at our best, we want that for others as well. We can outgrow the tattle phone, we can grow out of looking into other people’s bowls to verify that we have more, and instead check to make sure that they have enough.

It turns out that a denarii, which was the pay the vineyard workers all received, is subsistence pay – it’s enough for the needs of the day. Enough for the day. Give us, this day, our daily bread.

There is no room for envy – honestly, in the mess we are in, with climate change and a tottering democracy, there is no room for envy – we cannot afford it. What we can do is live more and more in this relational field we call the kingdom of heaven where God’s values reign – compassion, generosity, making room for people to change, and welcoming latecomers without prejudice.

A friend just told me she regretted her last presidential vote. Having to preach on this parable helped me refrain from grinding my teeth, helped me refrain from saying I told you so, helped me open my arms and my heart even wider and say, “tell me more.”

May we follow Jesus and lead our lives with kindness, compassion, generosity and welcome. Life isn’t fair, and the truth is that God may not be fair either. Instead, God overflows with grace and abundance, ensuring that everyone belonging, and everyone has enough.

In his Reflection last week, Steve (Hitchcock) focused on Matthew’s gospel, noting that Jesus made him a disciple, even though he was a tax collector. According to Matthew the church has room for everyone, and dealing with the conflicts and suffering among its members is the way “the church lives out God’s endless, overflowing, never-give-up mercy.”  

I thank St. Alban’s for giving this former tax collector a church home where he can feel safe.

Today’s readings also show us the nature of that “tough” love God provides to all those who do their best to love their neighbor.

In Genesis, Joseph forgives his brothers for the wrongs they did him, saying, in effect, what happened has happened, and it was all part of God’s plan.

Psalm 103 reminds us that the Lord “will not accuse us, nor will he keep his anger forever,” and that “[a]s a father cares for his children, so does the Lord care for those who fear him.”

In Romans we are reminded not to judge others, because each of us will be accountable to God, and in Matthew, he reminds us that doing unto others as we would have them do unto us has the practical effect of avoiding God’s wrath being visited on us. However, if we treat others badly: “[s]o my heavenly Father will also do for every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

All in all, it is made clear that there will be consequences for bad behavior, but that God will be quick to forgive those who fear Him.

In prior Reflections, I have referred to Paul’s letter to the Galatians, where he concludes: “For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself,’” (Galatians 5:14), and last week’s reading from Romans repeats that message, concluding: “Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.” Romans 13:10.

Paul emphasizes our actions, as opposed to what we’re thinking, telling us to treat our neighbors the way we want to be treated; those who act as if they truly love their neighbors, have kept the law fully.

So, by singing hymns and confessing our sins, we acknowledge that we have not treated our neighbors as we would like to be treated, and ask for God’s pardon.    

I must confess that my favorite part of our services is our singing the old hymns, and several weeks ago we closed our service with a rousing rendition of the hymn “God of Grace and God of Glory.”

As I came to the bottom of the page in the hymnal, I noticed that the author of its words was the Rev. Harry Emerson Fosdick. For some reason that name rang a bell, so I looked him up, and found that he started out in 1904 as a Baptist minister in New Jersey, and after serving as a volunteer chaplain during WWI, in 1918 was called to the First Presbyterian Church in New York City.

There, he delivered a sermon entitled “Shall the Fundamentalists Win,” in which he presented the Bible as a record of the unfolding of God’s will, not the literal “Word of God.” According to Wikipedia, “[he] saw the history of Christianity as one of development, progress and gradual change.” The Fundamentalists were not happy!  

His preaching led to an “investigation” of his views by the national Presbyterian Church, and it is said that he escaped probable censure by the national Church’s General Assembly by resigning from the pulpit of First Presbyterian Church.

However, he was quickly called by a new type of Baptist church, whose most famous member was John D. Rockefeller, Jr., and who was later instrumental in forming and building the inter-denominational Riverside Church in Manhattan. In 1930, Fosdick became its first Pastor.

That year his picture was on the cover of the October 6 issue of Time magazine. The story inside recounted that he: “proposes to give this educated community a place of greatest beauty for worship. He also proposes to serve the social needs of the somewhat lonely metropolite. . . ,” noting that “[i]n ten stories of the 22-story belltower are classrooms for the religious and social training of the young.”

Fosdick authored the words of “God of Grace and God of Glory” for Riverside Church’s first service. Its five verses ask:

“God of Grace and God of Glory, . . . Grant us Wisdom, grant us courage

For the facing of this hour.. . . For the Living of these days. . . . Lest we miss Thy kingdom’s goal. . . . That we fail not man nor thee. . . . Serving Thee whom we adore.”

A brief paraphrase of its message: One day at a time, let us fail not man nor Thee who we adore.

I realized that the name “Fosdick” is familiar to me because in doing research on 12 Step programs, I learned that he was an early and public supporter of the first 12 Step program, Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). In 1939 he authored a very favorable review of AA’s principal text, and in his 1956 autobiography Fosdick said of AA: “Alcoholics Anonymous, grown to its present astonishing strength, is a godsend to us ministers.” He concluded: “I have listened to many learned arguments about God, but for honest-to-goodness experiential evidence of God, His power personally appropriated and His reality indubitably assured, give me a good meeting of A.A.!”

The 12 Steps speak of “God as we understood him,” challenging each member to choose their conception of God, or as some call it: “Higher Power.”

I have come to believe in the loving God that Jesus taught, and that it’s not me. I try to keep it that simple so that in virtually any situation, I can call on God’s help by reaching outside of myself; by not going it alone.

I know there is a God, because on multiple occasions things have happened to and for me “out of the blue,” when I most needed them; not a lot, but often enough for me to believe. I call them “God things.”

The reality is, whether I “know” it or not, each day I act on faith. So, just like I can’t say there isn’t a God, I can’t say that God cannot have parted the Red Sea for Moses and the Israelites, or that Jesus could not have made the bind see or have been resurrected. Others I respect believe, so why not me?

Another thing I have learned in my journey is that it’s ok to love someone, but not like them. Acceptance of them as a person does not mean I endorse the way they behave.

By way of example: some of my family members, here and departed have behaved in ways that I don’t approve of. So do others I encounter. But they’re all God’s kids, just like me.

In some instances, I’ve discovered things about them that tend to explain their behavior, and that helps me accept them, and believe that they’re doing the best they can.

With others, I avoid them, and try my best to politely tolerate them when they’re unavoidable.

But in all cases, I try to remember that what’s happening is part of the plan: not my plan; God’s plan!

If I try to love them as they are, in the fullness of time I may be blessed with a better understanding of why I experienced them as I did, and at least I will hopefully avoid the wrath of God that Matthew speaks of in today’s reading.

It also helps me to think of God in terms of Mother Nature. Acknowledging the continuing evolution of things all around us as being accomplished by Her 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 uncontrollable by us.  

That reality 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, whether we like it or not!

I am often able to get in touch with God in my garden. Some of our neighbors are helping us tend our church’s garden, and there are many other ways in our daily lives that we interact with each other.

Let’s keep loving them, no matter who they are, what they believe, or where they came from. Mother Nature is not concerned with such things.