The worker must have bread, but she must have roses, too.
Rose Schneiderman, Feminist Labor Leader, 1912
Rose Schneiderman, Feminist Labor Leader, 1912
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There is a theme that unites all of our readings today and that theme is new life. It can be hard to think about new life when the world around us seems bleak. These days, the news is filled with stories of war, violence, and corruption.
War, violence, and corruption were part of the every day lives of the writers of our scripture readings today, too. Ezekiel, John, Paul, and the communities to who they wrote, all found themselves living in times not so different from our own. Ezekiel was a prophet during the exile of the people of Judah into Babylon (roughly 597-528 BCE). The Babylonians made multiple excursions into Jerusalem where they destroyed virtually all the infrastructure, including the beloved temple built by Solomon. The Babylonians took all the middle and upper class people, marched them 800 miles to Babylon, and made them slaves. The poor they left behind to farm the land for Babylon. Those left behind struggled to survive, because the economy was shattered. The Babylonians paid meager wages. And, of course, those living in slavery in Babylon struggled mightily, as well. The introduction to Ezekiel in my favorite study bible describes the situation this way: "In Ezekiel’s world, superpower politics and small scale ethnic nationalism were buttressed by idolatrous practices that legitimated military alliances, violent crimes, and oppressive economic polices. In the face of Israel’s disintegrating independence and identity, old theological certainties collided with the massive shock of warfare, destruction, and deportation. Surrounded by political deportees suffering the consequences of imperialist terror, Ezekiel presents a barrage of evocative, disturbing, bizarre, and unconventional responses to the trauma of exile. Ezekiel’s goal is to constitute a people whose character corresponds to the holiness of the Lord, and whose identity declares the Lord’s righteousness and justice among the nations" (The New Interpreter’s Study Bible, 2003, p. 1153). For John the gospel writer, and his community, life in first century Palestine was equally challenging. This time, instead of being deported, the people were occupied. Roman occupation created economic hardship for them. The taxes were crippling. The violence was unpredictable. And while the Romans were known for Pax Romana, that peace was only truly felt by citizens at the highest levels of Roman society. Countries occupied by Rome were milked for whatever resources could be taken, all for the benefit of the wealthiest Romans. People from all over the Roman empire were captured and carried off to Rome as slaves. It was horrific. Roman occupation and oppression continued in Paul’s time. He and the church communities he founded all experienced hardship because of Rome. Rome continued to expand it’s reach and to extort resources from across the region. They called the Mediterranean basin Mare Nostrum (our sea). They controlled everything from Britannia to modern day Turkey and Northern Africa to modern day Germany. Shortly after Jesus’ crucifixion, Rome began periodic persecutions of Christians. Paul was martyred in Rome In the year 67. And yet, about ten years earlier, Paul wrote the words that we heard today, encouraging people not to focus on what is broken in this world (the flesh) but to remain focused on the things of God (the Spirit). So how could Ezekiel, John, and Paul all point towards new life when things seemed so bleak? Each of them had a profound encounter with God that fired hope within them. Ezekiel’s hope came from a series of powerful visions. We hear one of them this morning. Ezekiel finds himself in the middle of a valley filled with dry bones. As you can imagine, Ezekiel and the people of Jerusalem must have felt pretty dead and dried out themselves, after all that they’ve been through. So God tells Ezekiel to call the breath, the Spirit, and the bones are resurrected. These bones, that represent the people of Jerusalem, are given muscles and sinews, and then breath. They live again. Eventually, Ezekiel’s vision would come true. The people are released from captivity and return to Jerusalem where they reconnect with God, rebuild their lives, and even rebuild the temple. John can hope because John has seen Jesus risen from the dead. His gospel is replete with signs that point towards Jesus as the Messiah. Today’s story contains one of those signs. It shows Jesus having power over life and death. His raising of Lazarus from the dead illustrates this power. It also served to strengthen the faith of those in John’s community, who would have seen their share of hardship and persecution. But what about Paul? As a young man, Paul joined in the persecution of Christians, even participating in the stoning of Stephen, the first Christian martyr. But his perspective and his life changed when he had a profound encounter with the risen Christ. His new life in Christ prompted him to spend the rest of his life spreading the good news about Jesus and founding churches. For me, the strongest example of this transformation in Paul comes at the end of the chapter that today’s reading comes from. Here Paul’s words from Romans 8:38-39: “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” When I researched the lives of Ezekiel, John, and Paul, and what they experienced, my first thought was that there really is nothing new under the sun. We too are living in a time of war. We are dealing with disappointing political leaders at home and abroad. We are watching our immigrant neighbors face threats that would have been unimaginable eighteen months ago. These days, David and I can generally tolerate watching the news for about 7 minutes before we need to switch the channel to something far more relaxing - like a cooking competition! I find that my emotions move back and forth between fury and heartbreak with not much of a pitstop in between. Ezekiel had plenty of reasons to despair. So did John and Paul. So do we. Reading the news every morning, I see plenty of reasons to feel hopeless. Our situation isn’t so different from what our ancestors in the faith were experiencing. So how did they cope? How can we? There are two things that help me. First, I really, truly lean into these scripture stories about new life. The dry bones readings has always spoken strongly to me. I hope that I have even a tablespoon of the faith that Martha and Mary had when they told Jesus, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died." I remember Paul’s teachings about what faithfulness looks like and that nothing can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Truth: I don’t get it right. Not even most of the time. And, when I remember these things, I feel less despair. I also keep my eyes wide open for signs of new life and hope. Sometimes it’s as simple as watching the daffodils come up outside my office window, or noticing the forsythia begin to bloom in our neighborhood. I’ve been moved by the stories of gratitude that have been shared here each week during Lent. Our UTO moments of gratitude prompted me to think of my own moments of gratitude and to drop some cash in the mighty mite box. The Optimist section in the Washington Post shares stories that feature loving kindness. Each of these practices helps me. None of these things make what’s hard about this moment go away. But like the dry bones, and Lazarus, and Paul’s call to keep our minds on the Spirit, all of these present day stories about new life prompt me to look up and away from my despair and they remind me that our God is a god of life. Amen.
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3/15/2026 0 Comments Sermon for Lent 4A - John 9:1-41In all four gospels, we hear stories of people who have physical disabilities who encounter Jesus and he heals them. By far the most common one is blindness. And by far the most detailed story of Jesus healing a blind person is today’s story from chapter 9 of John’s gospel.
This story presents us with some troubling imagery to unpack. It’s troubling to me because it seems to use blindness to describe a spiritual failing. I find that troubling because there are people in my life who have been impacted by blindness and vision issues. Perhaps that’s true for you also. I need to name this reality at the outset. Because of my discomfort, I spent a great deal of time with this text this week. And I hope that as we make our way through the text together, we’ll see that there’s nuance in what’s happening here. And even while the story might make us feel uncomfortable, it also invites us to see things in new ways. Together, we’ll look at some of the challenges in this text and some of the invitations. Let’s start with the challenges. Right at the beginning of the story, Jesus says about the man born blind, “He was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” To me, that sounds like God made this man blind, and caused all the suffering he experienced, for God’s own purposes. It reminds me of the story of Job. But, I think what Jesus is saying is that God didn’t cause his blindness. Rather, the man is blind and in this present moment, God’s power of healing, through Jesus, is then able to be revealed by his healing. This story also highlights a troubling aspect of life in the first century. Having any kind of physical disability made a person a social outcast. Remembering this aspect of first century Roman culture can help us to understand the passage, even when we disagree with the perspective. First century Roman culture was obsessed with social status. There were many things that could help a person accrue status, or take status away. Having wealth, social position, and family connections conferred status. So did meeting societal standards of beauty or attractiveness. Lacking any or all of those things could take status away. Any physical disability was another of the things that could lower status. And while first century Palestine wasn’t Rome, it was occupied by Rome and influenced by Rome’s values and culture. The third thing that is challenging is they way Jesus labels those who are spiritually unaware as being blind. But if we keep stay with the text, we can see that Jesus is doing something quite different here. Jesus is flipping the assumptions of his world around. In first century Palestine, those who were blind had no status, no power, no way to support themselves, and often no home. I noticed in my reading and re-reading of today’s text that the man’s parents are still alive, but they are not caring for him. He has to beg to survive. However, by the end of the story, he’s the one who understands better than anyone else who Jesus is, while the Pharisees, who had way more power and status, who were supposed to be the experts on all things holy, didn’t get it at all. The person society places on the bottom, Jesus places on the top. It’s the kind of reversal that we see all the time around Jesus and his followers. In Paul’s day, one Roman writer actually described the social upheavals that Christians brought into his city as “the world turned upside down.” So now, how does this text invite us to see things in new ways? First, this text dispels any anxiety that we might have about why things happen the way they do. The disciples assume that someone is to blame for the man’s blindness. They ask, “Who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?” Jesus is quick to reassure them that the man’s blindness isn’t the result of anyone’s sin. Yet, the Pharisees are quick to label both Jesus and the man born blind as sinners because they don’t fit the Pharisees mold of faithful behavior. John warns all of us to hold our judgement lest we turn judgement back on ourselves. This instruction to not judge is a common gospel theme - take the log out of your own eye before you try to remove the splinter from someone else’s, Jesus teaches in Matthew (7:3-5). Next, this text invites us to notice that here, and in many places throughout the gospels, sin isn’t primarily defined as an action. Sin isn’t something that we do. Sin is defined as a failure to recognize who Jesus is. Jesus doesn’t like the Pharisees’ actions towards the man born blind. But the problem comes from their failure to recognize Jesus and his teachings. It is, in fact, their inability to see Jesus for who he is that is the source of their problem. The final new way this text invites us to see is in relationship to what we might call holy rules. One of these holy rules was around the sabbath. The third of the ten commandments is, “Remember the sabbath day and keep it holy.” By Jesus’ time that fairly straightforward commandment had developed into an elaborate set of rules about what was allowed on the sabbath. Throughout the gospels, Jesus and his followers get crosswise with some of the religious leaders for doing things on the sabbath that these elaborate rules prohibited. In this passage, Jesus does three things that break the sabbath laws. He made a paste of mud, then he smeared it on the man’s eyes, and then he healed him. There’s a moment in Mark’s gospel (2:27), when Jesus is criticized because he and his disciples pluck some grain to eat on the sabbath. Jesus responds by saying, “The sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the sabbath.” In this teaching from Mark’s gospel, and every time Jesus speaks about the sabbath, he is inviting the disciples, the Pharisees, and us to act in ways that prioritize people over religious rules and laws. When Jesus heals the man born blind, he changes that man’s life. He’s been homeless and marginalized by his blindness. Because Jesus heals him, he will no longer forced to beg. He’s restored to his community, at least until the Pharisees kick him out. After that happens, he chooses to follow Jesus and is brought into a new community of disciples. This portion of the text invites us to ask: What beliefs are we holding on to in a rigid way? Are we placing more emphasis on following a rule than we are on loving our neighbor? Who is excluded by our beliefs? This gospel text is a long and complicated. There are some important things for us to remember as we take this story with us today. It tells the story of a man born blind. It invites each of us to see a number to things. We are called to see how Jesus and his ministry turns the world upside down. We are invited to let go of our preconceived notions about sin and causation. We are invited to see Jesus and what he has to teach us. And finally, we are invited to see how religious rules or structures might cause us to exclude or limit others, and to let those go. In the end, this is a story about how Jesus opens faith and belief, welcoming and inviting everyone to see him and draw closer to him. We are invited to use the man born blind as our model and our guide. Amen. It seems to me that when Christians use the word blessed, we mean something different than what God had in mind when he said to Abram, “I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.”
I searched on Amazon this week for “blessed” merchandise. I found:
People say they are blessed in many different circumstances. You might hear a football player say it when they score the winning touchdown, or a baseball player when they hit the game-winning home run. After a disaster, you might hear a home owner say they are blessed, if their house is still standing, when all the others in the neighborhood have been destroyed. And I’ll admit it - I’m uncomfortable with what I sense all these scenarios are trying to convey. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up and start with Abram’s story. We meet Abram first at the end of Genesis 11. He is the son of a man named Terah, born in a place known as Ur of the Chaldeans. Abram marries Sarai, and together with his father and his nephew Lot, they leave Ur and settle in Haran. It is while they are in Haran that today’s Genesis passage about blessing takes place. God says to Abram, “I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing….” Then, following this promise of blessing, God calls Abram, Sarai, and Lot to leave Haran and continue on to Canaan. All sorts of things happen to them. A famine causes them to flee to Egypt. They experience ongoing infertility (despite God’s promise of offspring). A son is born when Abram forces a relationship on Sarai’s slave Hagar. And, let’s just stop to note that Abram’s actions are not a blessing to Hagar. Later, God makes another covenant with Abram that comes with new names - Abraham and Sarah. And finally, in their very old age, Sarah gives birth to their promised offspring - a son they name Isaac. So given all that happens to Abram - he thrives and grows rich, he becomes the forefather of a nation, and to this day, we know his name - we could definitely call Abram #blessed. But what does blessing mean in this context? My working definition of blessing is that it is a declaration of faithfulness to another person. And that faithfulness is shown by truly seeing that person, accepting them as they are, with all their faults and foibles. It is shown by honoring them and loving them. When God promised that he would bless Abram, God promised to faithfully see, accept, honor and love him. Note that blessing is not is a promise that we will all live happily ever after. Bad things will still happen. But blessing does mean that, no matter what we are going through, God is faithfully present with us, seeing, accepting, honoring, and loving us in the midst of whatever we are facing. Not only that, God’s blessing of Abram also comes with responsibility. God blesses Abram so that he will bless others. God’s expectation is that the blessing conferred upon Abram isn’t for Abram alone. It’s meant to be passed on. Abram is to approach others with that same attitude of faithfully seeing, accepting, honoring, and loving them, that God has shown to him. There’s also a part of this promise God makes that makes me deeply uncomfortable, and I need to be name it. God goes on to tell Abram that he will bless those who bless him AND curse those who curse him. What makes me uncomfortable is that it sounds like God is ready to pounce on people for failing. And that doesn’t ring true with how I experience God. But, in actual fact, things play out differently. Let me explain. Notice that God is setting up a series of reciprocal relationships here. If things work according to plan, God will bless Abram and Abram will bless God. Then Abram will bless others. They will bless him back. If this unfolds the way it’s supposed to, the world is filled with people who faithfully see, accept, honor, and love one another. But if the people Abram meets fail to reciprocate Abram’s blessing, then they find themselves under God’s judgement. That’s what the cursing part means. Things mostly didn’t work out the way God intended. Abram didn’t always bless God, despite repeated promises to do so. He didn’t always bless others. Others didn’t always bless him. And yet, despite the threatened curse, God kept coming back and remaking the offer. God gives Abram and others repeated opportunities to try again. Eventually, as we learned in the reading from John’s gospel this morning, because God loved this world so much, he sent Jesus. I kept coming back to this text this week because I have such a love/hate relationship with the word blessed. Our society seems to think that blessed means lucky, rather than being faithfully seen, honored, accepted and loved by God - and then passing that blessing on to others. Our society also seems to miss the “…so you will be a blessing” part. Whatever ways I happen to be blessed, that blessing isn’t for me to bask in and hold selfishly. If I feel blessed to have a loving family, then my obligation is to help other families be equally blessed. This question of what it means to be blessed and how we bless others came to the forefront for me yesterday as I was in the midst of writing this sermon. Along with all of you, I learned that our country is now at war with Iran. The news that we are at war is always hard news. This news hit me, and many in our congregation, particularly hard, because more than 20 of our siblings in Christ are from Iran. I know that many of our Iranian siblings still have family and friends in Iran. I know that the recently escalating violence in Iran has led to the deaths of some of their loved ones. I know that they fear for their loved ones’ safety and well-being, even more now than before. While their views are not univocal, they have no love for the Iranian leadership. They long for Iran to return to the way it was before a strict sharia theocracy took over Iran during the 1979 revolution - a theocracy that has become ever more conservative in the 45+ years since it was established. In a congregation that is politically diverse in a variety of ways, we come to this moment with different views about what is happening and how our government should proceed. This war, the broader political moment we find ourselves in, and the diversity of viewpoints about all of it, pushes us to ask what it means to be blessed, in order to bless others. What does it look like - right now - to receive God’s promise of faithfully seeing, honoring, accepting, and loving us? How do we bless others? How do we bless those with whom we disagree? There are thing we can do to be a blessing right now. We can donate to organizations that are helping people on the ground in Iran. A quick look today didn’t show many options yet. But I know that there is also grave need in the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem, related to the war, so that could be a place to start. If you are inclined to advocacy, you may want to follow the work of the Episcopal Public Policy Network, which does governmental advocacy on a variety of issues as directed by the resolutions of our General Convention. Each of us can pray - for a speedy resolution to this conflict and for the safety of the loved ones of our siblings from Iran. As I hear from our Iranian siblings, I’ll share more ideas of how we can bless and support them. In this country, blessed is a word that has become divorced from its biblical meaning. It’s taken on a sort of Calvinistic implication - if something good has happened to me, it’s because I am blessed, with the converse true as well. I call on each of us today to remember the biblical meaning of the word blessed. God saw Abram. God accepted, honored, loved, and was faithful to him, as Abram was. In return, Abram was called to bless God and those whom he met. Abram was to pass God’s blessing on. Blessing isn’t something to be grasped tightly. It was always meant to be shared. We bless others to make the world a better place, to fill the world with God’s love. God’s call to Abram is for us, as well: I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. Amen. Here’s a confession. In all the time I’ve been a priest (and this is my 20th Ash Wednesday preaching), I have never preached on the gospel reading assigned for Ash Wednesday. NEVER. This reading makes me uncomfortable. I have always struggled with the disconnect between what Jesus says in this Gospel reading and what we do on Ash Wednesday. Jesus says, “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.” And he goes on to warn his listeners not to give, pray, or fast like the hypocrites do. And here we are. Praying in public. Putting ash crosses on our foreheads. Talking about our Lenten practices. And then walking out of church with giant ash crosses on our foreheads. It’s as though we are proclaiming to the world that WE went to church on Ash Wednesday. (Or, honestly, here’s a much more likely scenario these days: We look like we haven’t washed up today and some well meaning soul says, “Excuse me, do you know you have a little smudge of dirt on your forehead?”) Anyway, this reading has always made me uncomfortable. So, this year, I finally decided to take it on. And I’m glad I did. Because I learned some things I want to share. First, let’s talk about the word piety. In English it means to be religious or reverent. Interestingly, that’s a leap from the original Greek where Jesus says to beware practicing RIGHTEOUSNESS before others in order to be seen by them. Righteousness does not mean an attitude of reverence. Rather, it means to engage in acts of justice. So what Jesus is saying here is that doing justice matters - but not if we’re doing justice just to show off how righteous we are. Then, Jesus names three spiritual practices and each comes with a different caution. The first practice is giving alms. “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others.” The second is praying. “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others.” The third and final practice is fasting. “And whenever you fast, do not look somber, like the hypocrites, for they mark their faces to show others that they are fasting.” Each caution follows this pattern: When you do X, don’t do it like the hypocrites, who do X in this way in order to be praised, or seen, or noticed. The word hypocrite comes from the Greek and it was originally a word for actor - one who “acted under” a mask. But it quickly came to mean two-faced even in Greek - acting one way, but (under the mask) being a different way. So, when we do these acts of piety, it’s not that we can’t be public about them. Rather, this text invites us to ask ourselves about our motivations. Why are we doing what we do? Are we engaging in a practice because it will draw us closer to God? Or are we doing it to show off our piety? If we are engaging in a practice in a public way so that we can be noticed or praised - that’s problematic. But if we are doing something in a public way to engage with others, or find strength from others on the journey, or as part of our desire to draw closer to God, then that’s totally different. So Jesus’ words aren’t about being secretive for secretivenesses sake. Rather they are about understanding our own motivations and checking our inclinations. I also want to call attention to the acts Jesus names: giving alms, praying, and fasting. These are three practices the church has long suggested as ways, in the words of our prayerbook liturgy, to have a holy Lent. They are practices that Christians recognize as things that can help us draw closer to God. Giving alms (giving money or goods to those who are are in need) is a tangible recognition of two things: First that all that we have comes from God and we have a responsibility to share what we have with those who are in need. And, we are called to share in caring for the world as God cares for the world. Prayer draws us ever deeper into relationship with God. Fasting, doing without something that we value or depend on, serves as a reminder that we are called to be dependent on God. People often fast from food, or alcohol during Lent. And it can be helpful to think about what things we have an unhealthy dependence on, and to contemplate fasting from that thing. And as some of you may know, I’m always a fan of making fasting count. If I choose to limit my food choices in some way during Lent, then I try to calculate what that fasting saves me, and then I give that money to our local food pantry, Share. If you are looking for a way to explore some of these practices this Lent, I invite you to join me in some Lenten micro practices. A micro practice is a small and achievable action that can usually be done in a few minutes or less. The folks at Vibrant Church Communications put together a series of micro practices that mostly fall into the categories of PRAYER, FASTING, GIVING ALMS, and SCRIPTURE. One micro practice is assigned to each day starting today, on Ash Wednesday, and ending on Easter Sunday. You can pick up a booklet with the micro practices in them on your way out today. There’s also a bookmark with the Ash Wednesday micro practice of the Ignatian Examen, if you would like to try that practice every day. Those steps are:
The idea with the micro practices is not necessarily that you would do every single one. Some may not appeal to you at all. (I can tell you that I’m not planting anything - I am terrible with plants.) Rather, the micro practices suggest a variety of practices that you might try. And if any of them feel right for you, you might continue them after Lent. I’m planning to make some notes in my micro practices booklet about which ones felt meaningful. And, if you’re on Facebook, you might consider engaging in some conversation about the micro practices, what you’ve tried, and how you felt about them. The season of Lent is designed to draw us closer to God as we prepare to celebrate again Christ’s resurrection on Easter Sunday. Whatever you do during this Lenten season may it be holy, may it be helpful, and may it help you to deepen your relationship with God. Amen. In today’s gospel, Jesus calls the people to repent because the “the kingdom of heaven has come near.” I talk about the phrase “kingdom of God” or “kingdom of heaven” quite a bit. In the past, I defined Kingdom of God/Heaven in this way. The kingdom of heaven is what the world will look like when God’s values reign, rather than the world’s values. And, honestly, that’s not a bad working definition. God’s values do rule in the kingdom of heaven.
But since the last time I’ve talked about the kingdom of heaven in a sermon, I’ve had a new insight. The word we translate as kingdom is the Greek word basilea. Basilea is most often translated as empire. Basilea is the word used when describing the Romans’ reign. So, what Jesus is doing here is setting up a stark contrast for the people living in the midst of the oppressive Roman basileia. He’s showing them something very different. He’s calling them to live, not in the basilea of Rome, but in the basilea of heaven. And how does Jesus set up this contrast? First, look at who he calls. In status conscious Roman culture, Jesus calls a bunch of dudes on a fishing boat. Fishermen might have a little more status than shepherds, but not MUCH more status. It’s very possible that Simon, Peter, and Andrew were illiterate. They were certainly barely educated, certainly poor. They are unlikely disciples - and they are the ones Jesus calls. Next, look at location. Jesus doesn’t hang in the center of power. He’s in the region of the Sea of Galilee. Nazareth didn’t have a great reputation. He’s hanging out where people are poor, and hungry. He’s in a place where people were experiencing the oppression of the Roman basilea, and he proceeds to show them how God’s basilea is different. How? Matthew tells us that Jesus: - Traveled throughout Galilee. - Taught in the synagogues. - Proclaimed the good news of the basilea of heaven. - Cured every disease and sickness among the people. What do these four things tell us? Jesus stayed where people were poor and struggling. He taught them where they were (and he was recognized as a teacher). He continued to point beyond the Roman basileia to the basileia of of heaven. He cured people of what ailed them. All of these actions directly contrast with the values of Rome. And on this annual meeting Sunday, they serve as helpful reminders about who we are and what we are called to do as those who follow in Jesus’ footsteps. Like Jesus, we are called to travel out beyond St. Thomas. For some of us that literally means going - whether it’s to a garage in Vienna to pack diapers for Fairfax diapers, to the grocery store to buy items for SHARE, to a Tysons Interfaith meeting, or to a rally in support of our immigrant neighbors, we are called to travel. This morning I read an account of what this looks like in real time. Lindsay Hardin Freeman is an Episcopal priest who lives in Minneapolis. She wrote the book Bible Women: All Their Words and Why The Matter that our Women Gathering group used for more than a year to learn the stories of biblical women. There’s an Episcopal Church in Minneapolis St. Nick’s/Casa Maria. They are organizing food deliveries to their immigrant neighbors who are afraid to leave their homes due to ICE. Lindsay and her husband signed up and arrived yesterday - and there were more than 100 cars waiting to do the same. These are Lindsay’s words: "We were assigned a family of three on the outskirts of Minneapolis. That’s all we knew. And that they wanted fruit. We went down the list and added items suggested by the food shelf. Milk. Vegetables: green peppers, onions, garlic. In-bone chicken, rice, beans and more. Because we’d called ahead, the recipient was waiting for us at the door of his apartment building. Shivering — in the -10 below cold. Standing by him was a little girl in a pink jacket and pink hat and black tights and a white tutu. No gloves. She smiled at me. I stayed with her as the car was unloaded. I could see the fear in the man’s eyes, letting his child stay with a stranger. She was about the same age as the children deported this week, flown to a concentration camp, excuse me, detention center, in Texas. And the man’s name? The shivering, hungry man’s name? Jesus.” We are called to teach. I know that makes some of you nervous - you think you don’t know enough. But, trust me. You know who God is. You know Jesus and his teaching. You know that our faith teaches us, among other things, to respect the dignity of every human being. You know what our common values are. You know what it means to be a Christian. These days, many people are teaching things that simply do not represent Jesus or what it means to be a Christian. When you hear that, teach. Speak up. Represent the basileia of heaven. We are called to proclaim. In the last few years, we’ve gotten good at evangelism at St. Thomas. Many of us have invited others to church. But proclamation is more than just inviting people to church. St. Francis is alleged to have said this, “Preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.” It’s a good word. An analogous saying can be found in the 1960s Catholic folk song, “They’ll Know We Are Christians by Our Love” written by Fr. Peter Scholtes. So many Christians aren’t very loving these days. I’ve had many people outside the church tell me that they aren’t interested in Christianity or in Jesus because of how they’ve seen Christians behave. We can show the world a different face. How we treat the check out person at the grocery story, the person who cut us off in traffic, or even that one person here at church who gets on our last nerve matters. PROCLAIM, in word and in deed, the love of God through what you say or do.. We are called to cure. Jesus literally cured people who were sick. And some of us have a gift of prayer for those who are suffering in some way. (And if that’s you, and you’re not already a prayer buddy, talk to me!) But there are so many places where the world is hurting now. Take what you know and what you can do and make some small effort to CURE what is ill and broken. Preparing for our annual meeting is always a good opportunity to reflect on the past and to anticipate the future. I hope you have read the very impressive Annual Report for 2025. In it, you’ll see that there are so many places where we already TRAVEL, TEACH, PROCLAIM and CURE. There are so many places where we exemplify the values of the Basileia of Heaven. And as we move more solidly into 2026, those opportunities will continue. Part of the work our Vestry will do this year will be to help all of us discern how best to use the gifts God has given to each of us individually and as a congregation. There may be some things that we are doing that it’s time to set aside. And there may be new things we take on because of the gifts and interests here now. But, wherever that discernment leads, I know this. There are so many places in the world where it can be hard to find hope. Our hope rests in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. And we can bear hope into the world as his followers. Today, I want to close with the collect that we heard at the start of our service: Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. 1/23/2026 0 Comments A REFLECTION ON JOHN 4:1-42 FROM THE DAILY OFFICE LECTIONARY (AS READ BETWEEN JANUARY 21 AND 23, 2026)If you ask me to name my favorite book of the Bible, my instant and immediate reaction is the Book of Revelation (but that's a different post). But if you want to know my favorite Gospel story, it's this one. John tells us the story of Jesus' encounter with the woman at the well. There are many things I love about it.
First, it's unexpected. Jesus is traveling from Judea to Galilee and John tells us that, "he had to go through Samaria. But he didn't HAVE to go through Samaria. It's out of the way. It's mountainous. There are easier ways to go that don't involve going through what could best be described as difficult hostile territory. And then, Jesus engages with this woman of Samaria. There was long emnity between Jews and Samaritans. And there were rules about what was proper for interactions between women and men. Jesus breaks them all. We can learn pretty quickly that this woman is suspect. She comes to the well to draw water at noon, in the heat of the day. Why? Likely because her life has left her ostracized, socially isolated. Jesus tells her to get her husband and she says, "I have no husband." Jesus answers, "You are right in saying, 'I have no husband'; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!" We've been told to understand that this woman is a whore, of ill repute. Maybe. But it's also true that women had no agency in the first century. A husband could have divorced her for any reason. She could have been a widow. It's as likely that she's victim as a whore. She's likely a victim of male biblical interpretation throughout the ages, just as she was a victim in her own life. But here's the thing - and why I love this story. JESUS DOESN'T CARE. Whatever has caused her to be in her current domestic arrangement, it doesn't matter to Jesus. HE SENDS HER TO TELL HER WHOLE VILLAGE ABOUT HIM. And this makes her the first apostle (from the Greek - one who is sent with a message) in John's Gospel. Before James. Before John. JESUS SENDS HER. And I love what happens when she gets back to her village. "Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I have ever done.’" I can almost imagine the crowd. "Honey, everyone knows everything you've ever done." But what happens? The whole village comes to believe in Jesus because of her testimony. John says, "So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there for two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Saviour of the world." This is my favorite gospel story because it clearly shows Jesus calling a woman to be the first apostle. It shows a woman with a reputation (deserved or not) being sent with a message. There is nothing that brings us out beyond God's love. There is no one who is unworthy to carry the story of Jesus. And this gospel proves it. On Monday January 5th, I flew to an undisclosed location because two women I knew were being detained by ICE and were being held in an ICE prison. (I'm tired of euphemism - its official name is a "Transitional Center." I did prison ministry when I served in New Hampshire, so I know that what I entered was a prison and not a "center.") These women are in the US legally. They have a pending asylum case. They were recently issued work permits valid through 2030. There is no reason for them to be held. And yet, they've been imprisoned since December 1, far from their home, their family, the jobs, and their church community.
Sitting in the airport and waiting to fly, I read Psalm 2: 1 Why are the nations in an uproar? * Why do the peoples mutter empty threats? 2 Why do the kings of the earth rise up in revolt, and the princes plot together, * against the LORD and against his Anointed? 3 "Let us break their yoke," they say; * "let us cast off their bonds from us." 4 He whose throne is in heaven is laughing; * the Lord has them in derision. 5 Then he speaks to them in his wrath, * and his rage fills them with terror. 6 "I myself have set my king * upon my holy hill of Zion." 7 Let me announce the decree of the LORD: * he said to me, "You are my Son; this day have I begotten you. 8 Ask of me, and I will give you the nations for your inheritance * and the ends of the earth for your possession. 9 You shall crush them with an iron rod * and shatter them like a piece of pottery." 10 And now, you kings, be wise; * be warned, you rulers of the earth. 11 Submit to the LORD with fear, * and with trembling bow before him; 12 Lest he be angry and you perish; * for his wrath is quickly kindled. 13 Happy are they all * who take refuge in him! Reading the Old Testament, particularly Joshua, Judges, 1 and 2 Samuel, and 1 and 2 Kings, you can see the story of the people of Israel develop. They move from being a nomadic tribe to a more settled nation. And they plead with God to give them a king like the other nations around them. They are sure that if they have kings, they will be more powerful. You can sense that they feel that they system of judges, with God as their true king, just doesn't have the weight, the heft, of an actual KING. Eventually, God gives them what they ask for. But before long, the kings are a disaster, ruling with their own interest at heart, rather than the good of the nation. Quite a bit of ink is spilled, in the psalms and in the prophetic writings, lamenting the selfishness of kings. We read about kings who fail to look after their nations. Kings who put their own interests above those they are supposed to serve. Kings who fail to do right. Kings prone to violence and tyrannical behavior. It wasn't lost on me that as I traveled to visit women being detained for no apparent reason other than their country of origin, that I was reading a psalmist's lament about the bad behavior of kings, of political leaders. The psalmist's words rang true. They serve as a reminder that leaders have a responsibility to act with justice and mercy. When I read this Gospel passage for the first time this week, it felt to me that there was a really obvious thing to say about it. So let me just get the obvious thing out of the way first. Jesus was a refugee. When He was still a toddler, his parents fled with him to Egypt to save his life.
The official definition of a refugee is one who flees their own country due to violence, environmental disaster, or persecution because of who they are or what they believe. That persecution could be based on race, political views, religious beliefs or practices, sexual orientation, gender, gender identity, or other forms of discrimination. There must be a credible threat to the person’s life or safety for them to be categorized as a refugee. For Jesus, the persecution was political. In the early part of our Gospel story this morning, we hears how wise men from the east come to King Herod’s palace in search of the newborn king. Their assumption was that a newborn king must be found in a place. But of course, there was no newborn king in Herod’s palace. Herod becomes unhinged. He’s totally threatened by the idea that there is someone with designs on his rule over Judea. He tells these magi to alert him to where this new king is so that he can worship him - but his secret plan is to kill the usurper. Joseph is warned in a dream to flee, so he and Mary escape to Egypt with Jesus. The threat Jesus was facing was real. In a part of the story we don’t hear today, when this newborn king (aka Jesus) can’t be found, Herod orders the killing of all the boys under two in the area where Jesus and his family were staying. Truly, the threat Jesus was facing was real. I sometimes don’t understand the lectionary shapers. Because there are a couple of OBVIOUS Old Testament passages that make clear the importance of Egypt in the story of the Israelites. They shed some light on why, beyond proximity, the Holy Family might have fled there. At multiple points in the Old Testament (see for example: Exodus 22:21, Deuteronomy 15:15, Deuteronomy 24:18, and Leviticus 19:34), God reminds the people of Israel that they were slaves and sojourners in Egypt and that they should treat those foreigners who live among them well. Here’s just one example, the passage from Leviticus: The foreigner who resides among you shall be to you as the native-born, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were foreigners in the land of Egypt. The obvious thing to say about this passage is that Jesus was a refugee who fled political violence. Scripture enjoins us to care for those who find themselves in our midst. This truth is very much on my mind as I prepare to travel to Florida tomorrow to stand with our sisters in Christ, as they have their habeas corpus hearing on Tuesday. That hearing is protesting their illegal detention. But there’s something else to say about this passage that, while less obvious, is equally important. Liturgically, we are still in the season of Christmas, the Feast Incarnation. We are still in the season where we celebrate the reality God took on human flesh and came among us as a fully human person. God came among us as one of us in the human person of Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus, who was born in a stable, a child of Joseph, who likely worked as day laborer to build the Roman city of Sepphoris. God came among us as one of us and became a refugee before he was three. And ultimately, God came among us as one of us and was crucified by the Roman Empire. Crucifixion was the most shameful and painful way the Romans used to kill those they deemed a threat. And they crucifixion to send a message to anyone else who was considering rebelling against Rome. It was a threat. Don’t rebel, or this could happen to you. The good news of the incarnation is that God came among us as one of us in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, to enter fully into the human condition, to be with us in all that we face in this life. In the incarnation, God entered into the messiness of humanity. Through Jesus, God experienced the mundanity of daily life, the joy of family life, the love of friends, and the pain of family separation. Through Jesus, God experienced some of the worst things that can happen to us as humans. Through Jesus, God truly experienced what it means to be human - the best and the worst. Why is the Incarnation Good News? It means that God is with us in the messiness of our own lives. When life is feeling good and joyful, God is with us. When the bottom falls out from under us, God is there too. God knows what it means to be human and walks with us in the stuff of life. Sometimes God’s presence is easy to feel. I can definitely look back on my life and remember moments when I felt God’s presence with me. I felt God’s presence when a way opened up towards ordination, as I struggled through a difficult ordination process. I sensed God’s presence the day I met David and throughout our subsequent courtship. I first came to know God from my father, and what he taught me about faith, with his words and his actions. These were moments where I felt the presence of God with me. But there were also times when it felt like God was totally absent from me. 1996 was a very difficult year. In early January, the bookstore I managed burned to the ground. That same summer we elected a bishop in Western Massachusetts who did not believe that GLBTQ+ persons should be ordained. I served on that search committee and his floor nomination and subsequent election was a blow to all of us. Then, in November, my dad died. He’d entered hospice, but no one expected his death to come as speedily as it did. For more than a year, I felt like God was beyond reach, on the other side of a wall. What kept me going in that terrible year, as hurt upon hurt piled upon hurt, was the support of my community of faith. St. James Episcopal Church in Greenfield, Mass buoyed me up, prayed for me, and supported me in countless ways. Their support didn’t magically solve my sense of the absence of God. But their loving support, and the knowledge that they were praying for me when I could not pray outside of Sunday worship, sustained me. One of the things that I love about this congregation is that I see that same loving support in all of you. I see it in your prayerful support of our sisters in detention. I see it in how you support one another when life is rocky for whatever reason. I see it in your support of our larger community. I see it in your commitment to justice for people all around the world. It’s not that we are perfect. There are certainly times when we don’t get it right. But this love we have for one another is our DNA. It’s our commitment. The Good News of the Incarnation is that God came among us as one of us. Through the person of Jesus, God experienced the best and worst that life had to offer. And then, God gave the gift of the Holy Spirit, and through that gift empowered us to continue God’s work in the world until Jesus comes again. Amen. 1/1/2026 2 Comments Blog ResurrectedWell, it's been a minute since I've posted anything here!
I was motivated to revisit this blog because it connects to one of my goals for 2026. I am returning to the spiritual practice of praying Morning Prayer daily. (For those outside liturgical church traditions, Morning Prayer is a set of prayers along with a cycle of psalms and scripture readings. You can find a simple version online here if you are curious.) But I don't just want to read, I also want to reflect on some of what I read. So you'll find some reflections on the Daily Office Lectionary here. I'll also share sermons and other things I write in this space. We'll see how it develops. I sometimes hear from people that the Bible is an ancient text that has no relevance for our daily lives. I totally disagree. And after only a few days reading the readings assigned for each day, I find plenty in our scriptures that speak directly to our current experiences. I look forward to sharing this journey with you. 5/29/2022 1 Comment May 29, 2022 - A Sermon for the 7th Sunday after Easter: On Intimacy with God, Jesus and the Spirit; Baptism; and Gun ViolenceSometimes when I read John’s Gospel, I feel like Jesus is so opaque. Today is one of those times! I can read, re-read, and say out loud all those words, but it’s a challenge to tease out what Jesus actually means by them.
As always, we are helped in our discovery by the biblical context. Today’s reading comes at the conclusion of a section of John’s gospel scholars call “The Farewell Discourse.” It’s a multi-chapter section, near the end of the Gospel, where Jesus teaches the disciples and He prays for them. The very next thing that happens after today’s reading is that Jesus goes out to the garden where he is arrested, tried, and crucified. In other words, right before He is crucified, Jesus prays that His closest friends and disciples will be enfolded into the intimate, in-dwelling and dynamic relationship that exists between God, Jesus, and the Spirit. In this prayer, Jesus names the deep intimacy that exists between him and God (as you Father are in me and I am in you). He prays for that same intimacy to exist between his companions and God (so that they me be one as we are one, I in them and you in me). He prays that that intimacy will serve one purpose (that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me). And Jesus names the fact that this prayer is not just for those close followers. (I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one). In other words, all the followers of Jesus from then until now are included. We are the latest beneficiaries of this prayer. So, to super-simplify Jesus’ words, Jesus, God, and the Spirit are intimately connected. First the disciples, and then all who come to know Jesus because of the disciples, are enfolded into that intimate connection. And the primary purpose of that intimate and connected love is to show that love to others, so that they too can enter into this intimate love. And, I would add, because of who Jesus is, and how he lived out his ministry, that love isn’t just about feeling good about ourselves and our relationship with God. Rather, from that place of knowing ourselves loved and intimately connected to God, we can then go into the world to do the work of justice. And we get a picture of what that looks like from Jesus: hanging out with sinners, advocating for the vulnerable, and speaking truth to power. I’ve had two things on my mind this week as I’ve thought about this sermon. The first is Matt’s baptism and the second is the school shooting in Uvalde, Texas. And this text has something to say to both of those things. Matt, when you and I sat down on the front steps this week to talk about baptism, we spent some time talking about the baptismal promises. In a moment you will make those promises and the rest of us will recommit ourselves them. In brief, we promise to gather for worship and community; to recognize our own failures and turn back to God; to live exactly as this text calls us to do – as a living example of this intimate love; to work to see Christ in all others; and to strive for justice and peace among all people. Our response to each of those promises will be: I will, with God’s help. The things we commit to in these promises aren’t easy. Here’s some truth. I can usually see the face of Christ in the people I love. It’s so much harder for me to see it in those I disagree with. And, I can try to be a living example of the Good News of God in Jesus Christ – until I’m overtired, distracted, hungry, or otherwise miss the mark. But fortunately, it’s not all up to me. Because I am enfolded in the intimate love that exists between God, Jesus and the Spirit, that intimate love is the source of my help. And the same is true for each of you. There’s a super-fancy-sounding Greek theological word: perichoresis. Don’t be intimidated by it because it means something fun and wonderful. Perichoresis means to dance around. It’s one of the words that theologians use to describe the intimate and vibrant relationship between God, Jesus, and the Spirit that Jesus talks about in this prayer. And through this prayer, each of us invited into this dance. And it is through our participation in this perichoresis that we are formed. And that participation begins at our baptisms. It’s almost like DNA. Our intimate involvement in this loving dance molds us so that what becomes most important to us are the values that are demonstrated by the life and death of Jesus. Our Jewish siblings use a Hebrew phrase tikkun olam to describe this calling. Tikkun olam are the actions we take to repair and improve the world. Near the end of the book of the prophet Isaiah, after the exiles have returned from slavery in Babylon, God speaks through Isaiah and describes this calling, “Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.” (Isaiah 58:12) This week, I suspect we’ve all been deeply troubled by the horrific and senseless murders by gun violence of 19 fourth graders and two teachers in Uvalde, Texas. An additional seventeen were injured in that senseless act. And that act of violence was only ten days after ten people were killed by a racially motivated gunman in Buffalo and nine days after one person was killed in a hate-based shooting in Laguna Woods, California. In fact, they didn’t all make the news, but there have been 213 mass shootings already in 2022 (https://www.gunviolencearchive.org/query/0484b316-f676-44bc-97ed-ecefeabae0). A mass shooting is defined as an event where four or more people injured or killed. 213. Let that number sink in for a moment. 213 mass shooting events and it's only the 29th of May. No other country in the world experiences this epidemic of gun violence. (https://www.healthdata.org/acting-data/gun-violence-united-states-outlier) I come from a family of hunters; at one point in my life I owned a shot gun. I’ve eaten deer and bear that have been hunted for food by members of my family. I used to enjoy target shooting, and I was pretty good at it. And I know that things need to change in this country. The only reason to own an automatic weapon is to do maximum damage to humans. Let's face it, if you took an automatic rifle deer hunting, you’d be hard-pressed to find much left to eat. I read this week that 88% of Americans are in favor of common sense gun legislation. We are taught in this country that questions about guns all boil down to rights. The second amendment gives us each the right to bear arms. But questions of rights are not based in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. They are part of our cultural inculcation as Americans, and have nothing to do with Jesus and his teachings. Rights are about what I am entitled to. Jesus didn’t talk about rights. Jesus talked about justice. And justice questions have to do with what is right for everyone, not just me. Jesus’ priority was always the most vulnerable. Jesus intentionally engaged with children, women, and those on the margins of society. In a situation where individual rights and the needs of those who are most vulnerable come into conflict, Jesus can always be found standing with the vulnerable. There are many ways that we are called to live out the mission that we claim as ones who are in an embedded, intimate, active relationship with God, Jesus, and the Spirit. There are countless challenges in the world that need us to act as repairs of the breach, friends of sinner, advocates for the vulnerable, and speakers of truth to power. Right now we grieve this unspeakable loss. We lament this violence. But then we must act. We can take the despair we feel at the deaths of all these innocents, and work to repair the breach. Write a letter. Make a phone call. Donate to a group that is working on enacting common sense gun laws. That’s speaking truth to power. That’s advocating for the vulnerable. Our lives and the lives of all God’s children may depend on it. Amen. |
AuthorI'm Fran Gardner-Smith. I'm an Episcopal priest, a wife, a grandmother, a feminist, a writer, and an artist. Archives
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