5th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 10C

5th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 10C July 14, 2019 In her book-length study of Jesus's parables (Short Stories by Jesus, 2014, which we’ll actually being doing a study on this fall), Amy-Jill Levine, a Jewish scholar who studies and writes about Jesus, suggests that religion is meant "to comfort the afflicted and to afflict the comfortable." She goes on to argue that we would do well to think of the parables of Jesus as doing this afflicting. "Therefore, if we hear a parable and think, 'I really like that' or, worse, fail to take any challenge, we are not listening well enough." I’ve been wrestling with that this week. It’s difficult to hear this comfortable parable and feel challenged or afflicted. Then, a few days ago, a news story came across my Facebook newsfeed. It’s a story that is set near Jerusalem about a Palestinian doctor named Dr. Ali Shroukh. Dr. Shroukh, who is 45, was traveling with his brother to Jerusalem to join in Ramadan prayers, when he came across a horrible accident on the side of the road. Another Palestinian greeted him and told him that there was an injured girl in his car. Dr. Shrouk and his brother stopped to see how they could help, and he began to treat the injured girl. Soon, the medics arrived on the scene, and a Palestinian medic warned Dr. Shroukh that he needed to leave. He explained to Dr. Shroukh that the car had crashed after a Palestinian gunman fired on it, killing the driver, Rabbi Michael Mark, 46, a father of 10. His wife was critically injured, and one of the two children in the car, a teenage girl, was seriously wounded. The family was on its way to Jerusalem to visit Rabbi Mark’s mother. Dr. Shroukh had stopped to help a family of Jewish settlers who had been the target of a terrorist attack by a fellow Palestinian. But Dr. Shroukh would not leave until he was certain that the girl he had treated was being properly cared for by the medics. This modern day version of Jesus’s parable of the Good Samaritan helps us begin to understand a little of the discomfort that his original listeners might have experienced. It tells the story of long-time enemies, and how one overcame prejudice to help a person in need, regardless of nationality. If we are to be truly afflicted by this parable, then we must ask ourselves, who do I consider to be my enemy? Of whom am I most afraid? And then imagine that we are passing that person or group injured on the side of the road. Or even more afflicting is to imagine that we ourselves are injured and that one we consider to be our enemy is the one who stops to offer us kindness and aid. Amy-Jill Levine writes of this, “To hear this parable in contemporary terms, we should think of ourselves as the person in the ditch, and then ask, ‘Is there anyone, from any group, about whom we’d rather die than acknowledge, ‘She offered help’ or ‘He showed compassion’? More is there any group whose members might rather die than help us? If so, then we know how to find the modern equivalent for the Samaritan.” What does it look like for us, in our everyday lives, to show mercy or kindness to one we consider our enemy? It means really and truly seeing them in their weakness and vulnerability, drawing close to them, and then acting with compassion toward them. What does it look like for us, in our every day lives, to receive mercy or kindness from our enemy? It means allowing them to get close enough to us in a time of vulnerability so that they may offer compassion. Your invitation this week is to think about this parable in light of your life, in light of our country’s current political situation. Think about who you would recoil from if they stopped to offer help or if you found them in need of help. Who do you consider to be your enemy and what might be one small way in which you can show them mercy? http://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/1023-go-and-do-likewise http://mobile.nytimes.com/2016/07/06/world/middleeast/west-bank-israel-palestinians-attacks.html?smid=fb-nytimes&smtyp=cur&_r=0&referer=http://m.facebook.com Amy-Jill Levine, The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus (San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 2006), 148-149. This three part synopsis of the parable inspired by David Lose’s blog post at http://www.davidlose.net/2016/07/pentecost-8-c-the-god-we-didnt-expect/

Funeral Homily for Reba Daniel

Funeral Homily for Reba Daniel July 8, 2019 There is one, single word that multiple people have used to describe Reba Daniel. That is “impeccable”. Reba always looked impeccable—never a hair out of place, makeup always done, and dressed to the nines. Reba was beautiful, and she took great care in her appearance and in how things were in her home. She liked everything to be orderly and in its place, and she had a gift for making things lovely. Reba was always kind and she was also always determined. Her son Randy shared with me that when he and his brothers were teenagers and things would not be up Reba’s expectations at home, then she would live with it as long as she could, and then she would come in and whip them into shape “like a drill-sergeant”. “It was amazing what we could get done!” Randy said. Another parishioner at St. Thomas shared with me how she would always see Reba and another beautiful, well-dressed lady out walking on the bluff with their wine in the evenings. When I asked Reba’s sister Wanda about this, she laughed and confessed that she and Reba would regularly go out walking together down the bluff. Reba would pour their beers into red solo cups and assure Wanda nobody would know they had their cocktails with them. Wanda said that they would walk and see lots of folks they knew, and they always knew they had their cocktails in their cups. Reba was a long, faithful member of this church. She loved St. Thomas; she raised her boys here. Together, she and Sax enjoyed being greeters. She would always bring food when we needed it. She was a member of the altar guild and worked at the thrift store, and she and Sax helped redecorate the nursery, and Reba was one of our first baby rockers in our nursery. She shared with me how she had regretted falling off from St. Thomas after Sax died, and she was grateful for the ways that the people of St. Thomas stayed connected with her, especially in her most recent illness. Reba suffered a great deal of loss in her life. But she never complained. She worked hard, and she determinedly did what she needed to do, whether it was taking care of her 3 sons and raising them after her first husband died or whether it was trying to see her cancer treatments through to the end. Reba was strong and determined. In her determination, she loved her family fiercely and unconditionally. Today we gather to give thanks for Reba. We commend her to God’s care and keeping, and even as we mourn her loss in this life, we remember the hope of the resurrection: that death is not the end but a change; that when our mortal body lies in death, there is prepared for us eternal a place in the heavens. We hold fast to the promise that Jesus’s resurrection from the dead gives us: that Jesus who loves us has gone before us into eternal life and prepares a place for us; and that through Jesus’s resurrection, God’s love has proven to be stronger than absolutely anything—stronger than sickness and cancer, stronger even than death. We give thanks that Reba is feasting now at God’s heavenly banquet, a table even more beautiful and abundant than the Yacht Club at the holidays (which she loved!), and we give thanks that we will one day feast again with her and with all whom we love who have gone before.

The 4th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 9C

The 4th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 9C July 7, 2019 A couple of weeks ago, I did a funeral for someone I had never met and who didn’t really have ties to this church. His name was Victor Evans, and he was 35 years old. He died of a drug overdose. Over my years of priestly ministry, I have learned that there is no more important kind of hospitality a priest and her church can give than to do a funeral for a family who needs a place to have a funeral. So I said yes. During Victor’s funeral, I was struck by how the church was mostly full of Victor’s peers—other 30-40 year olds. And as the weeks have gone by since Victor’s funeral, when I am out and about at various places in greater Savannah, someone will come up to me out of the blue and tell me that they had been at Victor’s funeral and how they just wanted to tell me how much they appreciated it. These encounters, along with our readings for today, have served as important reminders for me. In the Old Testament reading, Naaman, a foreigner general who suffers from leprosy, finds healing through unexpected sources. God uses Naaman’s wife’s slave girl, the prophet Elisha, and the Jordan River to not only heal Naaman but to also bring Naaman to conversion, confessing that the God of Israel is the only one (this is in verse 15 which we don’t read today with the rest of the passage). But Naaman, who shows up with all of his wealth and prestige and power almost misses it. He is offended that Elisha doesn’t even come out to meet him and that his cure is one that is too simple-almost beneath his dignity. It’s only by listening to his servants, who urge him to at least try to cure given him by Elisha that he does and through which he is healed. In the gospel reading, Jesus sends out 70 of his followers in pairs to spread the good news. Some of the highlights of this story include that Jesus sees abundance where others see scarcity (“the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few”). Vulnerability is implicit in discipleship (take nothing with you and eat whatever they give you). The faithfulness of the 70 leads to successes that have unexpected results (not only do they spread the good news but they discover that even the demons submit to them). And even though the 70 disciples receive great power from God, the greatest benefit of their faithfulness is their relationships with God develops and deepens through their trust in God and not in their own power. In all of these (the Old Testament and gospel readings for today and in the encounters with people around town who attended Victor’s funeral), I have been reminded that God’s power works through unexpected sources and God’s healing and abundance is freely shared when we are faithful. Jesus’ knows that there is an abundance here in this community, even when we are tempted to only see scarcity or what is lacking. It is important for us to remember that it is God who is the agent of healing and growth—not us. We are called to pray for healing and growth, to be open to healing and growth and to organize and work together in a way that anticipates that God will show up in unexpected ways and people, and that people will respond to the work that God is doing here through us in spreading the good news of God’s love through the person of Jesus Christ. This week, I invite you to pray for St. Thomas. Pray that we may be faithful and follow where God leads and that we may see God when God is revealed in unexpected people and ways. If growth here is important to you, then I invite you to pray for that as well and to pray that we all will be open to growth and willing to work together for that. In closing, I want to share with you a prayer/blessing by a woman named Kathy Galloway. Bless us Our brother Jesus, you set our feet upon the way and where you lead we do not like or understand. Bless us with courage where the way is fraught with dread or danger; Bless us with graceful meetings where the way is lonely; Bless us with good companions where the way demands a common cause; Bless us with night vision where we travel in the dark, keen hearing where we have not sight, to hear the reassuring sounds of fellow travelers; Bless us with humor—we cannot travel lightly weighed down with gravity; Bless us with humility to learn from those around us; Bless us with decisiveness where we must move with speed; Bless us with lazy moments to stretch, rest, and savor; Bless us with love, given and received; And bless us with your presence, even when we know it in your absence; Lead us into exile, Until we find that on the road Is where you are, And where you are is going home. Bless us, lead us, love us, bring us home Bearing the Gospel of life. i. i. Kathy Galloway, in Coracle 3, no 11 @Iona Community, 1992.

Funeral homily for Phil Hodgkins

Phil Hodgkins funeral homily June 29, 2019 We gather together today to celebrate the life of Phil Hodgkins, to mourn his loss among us, and to commend him to God’s care and keeping in his new life eternal. Phil was such a gentle, funny, and faithful man. He loved well: his family, his friends, his church; and he cared for two wives who both experienced long, debilitating illnesses. At St. Thomas, he was always here when we needed him: singing in the choir, taking pictures at church events. I’ll never forget the first time we had an event at church, and I had forgotten to ask Phil to bring his camera to take pictures. But he showed up with his camera anyway, and he took pictures. I spoke to him afterward, thanking him for doing it, and I realized then that Phil just seemed to know when we needed him, and he would show up and humbly and faithfully share his gifts without being asked. That was the kind of guy he was. And what a gift he was to this community of faith! Phil was gently funny. Phil cracked “dad jokes” before dad jokes were cool! His jokes always made you have to think a bit, especially his puns, and he would deliver them in this quiet, sort of off-hand way that would catch you off-guard and would make them even funnier. Phil had a deep faith which had room for scholarship and questioning, as all healthy, adult-faith should. He was deeply committed to his Cursillo reunion group and the relationships formed in that community of support, and he has been a faithful member of the St. Thomas community for many, many years. Phil also had a gift for seeking and finding beauty in God’s creation. I’ve lost count of how many photographs of flowers of his that I have looked at, and his most recent pictures from Yellowstone show discerning eye and his wonder at God’s creation to their fullest. But Phil didn’t just find God and God’s beauty in the natural world. He also had a gift for seeking it out in us: pictures of children during Youth Sunday and Vacation Bible school and backpack blessings; pictures of us worshipping together, breaking bread together, playing together. Phil captured the beauty of God’s creation in us as well. Phil’s favorite hymn was hymn 409, the one we just sang. He was always asking Bernadette if we could sing it in church. The hymn is all about the beauty of God’s creation and how creation sings together to glorify the God who created her. The last half of the last verse really gets to the heart of who Phil was: “In reason’s ear, they all rejoice, and utter forth a glorious voice; for ever singing as they shine, ‘The hand that made us is divine.’” Phil lived a good, long life. He lived and loved well. His final days were spent trekking across the country marking sights off his bucket list. His sudden death of a major cardiac event is sad and shocking, and it is not how any of us would have wanted him to die. (I know I would have liked to see him finish his trip and have many more adventures with his family in Alaska as he had planned.) But even as we mourn Phil’s loss among us in this world, we give thanks that “gentle death has led back home this child of God.” We remember that death is not the end, but a change. And we remember the hope of Easter, the light and the hope that Phil lived his life in: that through Jesus’s death and resurrection from the dead, God has shown that God’s love is stronger than absolutely everything…even death. As I was looking through some of Phil’s photos on his Facebook page the other day, I came across a post that was shared by his niece Amanda. It was a post that Phil wrote in 2016 after having returned from his sister’s funeral, and it seems appropriate to share these words of his with you today: “Back from Mary K’s memorial service. There are 7 of the 9 kids still living (I’m the oldest). This group portrait is the first time all of us have been in the same place since 1991 (or thereabouts) when Mom had a heart attack. 9 of us met at the hospital where she had a protracted stay. She passed shortly after and Dad the next year. We sang ‘The strife is o’er, the battle won’ at Mom’s funeral, and at Mary K’s memorial. I have not been able to sing more than half a stanza without choking up. One of the things I have had driven home to me is that life and family are too valuable to hold back from seeing and knowing what you can of your siblings, however far flung and cranky they may be. Life is too short not to love those who love you.” “Life is too short not to love those who love you.” Amen and thank you, Phil. May you find joy with the God who created you, as God welcomes you home and says, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Funeral Homily for Dale Hendrix

Dale Hendrix funeral homily July 3, 2019 “Love the Lord with all your heart and with all your soul; love you neighbor as yourself.” Not surprisingly, this was Dale Hendrix’s favorite scripture. But he would also add a line to it. “‘Love the Lord with all your heart and with all your soul; love you neighbor as yourself.’ Then everything else will fall into place.” It’s the gospel according to Dale; truly how he lived his life. I don’t need to tell any of you that Dale Hendrix loved well. He loved God, who was “his friend and not a stranger”. He loved Genell, with whom he created a wonderful life and family together for 62 years. He loved his children, his grandchildren and his great-grandchildren. He loved this church, and her people; he loved his friends. When you were loved by Dale, you knew it, not because he was loud or showy about it. He loved you in a quiet sort of way. He cherished you. I suspect every one of his family can easily call to mind a specific time when they felt cherished by Dale. For his grands and great-grands, perhaps it was in the ways that he was always your biggest fan. For his children, perhaps it was in how proud he was of you, how we relished spending time with you, how he loved your spouses as if they were also his children. For Genell, perhaps it was in the millions of small and large things he said and did. Genell told me about the time when she came to work for the company, and on her first day, Dale had put a fire extinguisher by her work station. He told everyone in the office that Genell was “going to set the world on fire!” He cherished you. In his love, he treated you like the rare and precious gift he knew you to be. And that is a rare and exceptional way to love. Dale was a leader who inspired people. He was incredibly successful in business because of his giftedness in leadership, and also because he lived by his word and a handshake. He was honorable, and because of that, people trusted him. I could go on and on—about the little nicknames he gave those he really cherished; about his gracious hospitality-- when I would visit Dale and Genell in their home, he always wanted to get me a drink (or often another drink) or walk me to my car; his humor, his deep joy for life. He was a wonderful man, and his loss to all of us is most grievous. We will miss him terribly. Today, even as we remember Dale, as we give thanks to God for his life and his love among us, as we mourn his loss in this life, we remember the hope of our faith, the “everything else will fall into place” part of Dale’s own faith. That is that through Jesus’s death and resurrection, God has shown that death is not the end but a change; that when our mortal body lies in death, there is a dwelling place prepared for us in God’s kingdom; that through Jesus’s resurrection from the dead, God has shown, once and for all that God’s love is stronger than absolutely anything….even death. So even as we mourn, today we give thanks. We give thanks to God for Dale. And we give thanks that we will, someday, all feast together again at God’s table. In the meantime, “‘Love the Lord with all your heart and with all your soul; love you neighbor as yourself.’ Then everything else will fall into place.”