First Sunday of Advent Year B 2020

First Sunday of Advent Year B November 29, 2020 This past week, one of my friends shared a bunch of music on Facebook, and I’ve been listening to one of the songs, over and over. It’s call “Dark Turn of Mind” by the singer Gillian Welch. The song is about how the singer has been treated unkindly by a lover in the past, and this has opened up for her a new way of seeing the world that at first appears to be a burden but turns out to be a gift. Her way of seeing the world with “a dark turn of mind” opens her up to seeing beauty that is found in melancholy, in sorrow, in the shadows. Welch sings: “Now I see the bones in the river And I feel the wind through the pine And I hear the shadows a-calling To a girl with a dark turn of mind But oh ain't the nighttime so lovely to see? Don't all the night birds sing sweetly? You'll never know how happy I'll be When the sun's going down And leave me if I'm feeling too lonely Full as the fruit on the vine You know some girls are bright as the morning And some have a dark turn of mind You know some girls are bright as the morning And some girls are blessed with a dark turn of mind”i Today is the first day of the new year for the church. It is the beginning of Advent, a season of longing and of expectation, a season where we are invited to have a dark turn of mind, for at least a little while. Our readings for today certainly offer us this lens to look through. Isaiah gives us a song of lament from a people in exile who are longing for God to break into their reality and to restore them to their rightful place in the promised land, to once again give them the gift of peace and hope and belonging. And today, we begin in Mark’s gospel, not at the beginning, but near to the end. Jesus is approaching his crucifixion, and he invites his disciples and us to dwell with him for a while under the shadow of the cross that is looming over him. While the disciples may not fully grasp the dark clouds that are gathering, the original hearers of Mark’s gospel are no stranger to them. The earliest of all the gospels, Mark was written right after a Jewish uprising brought down the full wrath of the Romans upon Jerusalem, and these early followers of the Way are living in the rubble of the destruction of their city and, perhaps even more grievously, the temple. This Advent season, in the midst of chaos and disease and turmoil, we are invited to recognize the longing of this season by seeing the shadows of despair, war, sorrow, and hate, in our own hearts and in the world around us, even as we are actively waiting for Jesus to come, lighting candles of hope, peace, joy, and love. “Likewise, to really hear what Mark is saying, we first need to enter the shadows, those places where all hope seems lost. Roman armies desecrate and destroy the temple, ruining the sacred heart of the world — not just in first-century Palestine, but also here and now. And in a time of pandemic, many people are already in the shadows of suffering, anxiety, exhaustion, and grief. A key message of Advent and Christmas is that such shadows are precisely the place where Jesus comes, and where the church is called to go.” ii One of the commentaries that I read this week had this to say about seeing the world through a dark turn of mind this season and dwelling in an among the shadows this Advent: “I recall a comment that our country has changed over the past years from one that wanted to be good to one that wants to feel good. We see some of this desire every Christmas season as people run from store to store… searching for the things that will bring them and their families some sort of fulfillment and happiness. Peace, the kind of peace that the world is hungering for, will not come from trying to fill ourselves up with material things. We try to stem our hurt and pride by running away from pain and caring only about what is ours. We cannot create peace through selfishness, but by opening ourselves to hope. Hope is what is left when all your worst fears have been realized and you are no longer optimistic about the future. Hope is what comes with a broken heart willing to be mended.” iii So many of us are longing for peace that we often try to create it, to manufacture peace ourselves. But Advent is an invitation to all of us to dwell for a bit in the darkness, to come along-side the suffering, the longing, the heartbreak until we can become friends with it. When we allow this world to break our hearts, then we create space for God to fill us with hope, and it is only then that we discover true peace. Your invitation this week is to spend some time with the shadows, to open your heart to the suffering that you feel or that you encounter in the world around you, and then offer that to God in prayer. And as you begin to make friends with the shadows, to see the world through a dark turn of mind, may you also begin to look for signs of hope. i. Dark Turn of Mind by Songwriters: David Todd Rawlings / Gillian Howard Welch; https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=57ms9XDjs64; ii. https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/2017/11/27/keep-awake-lectionary-commentary-advent-week-one iii. Feasting on the Word Year B Vol 1. Ed Bartlett and Brown. WJK: 2008. Pastoral Perspective: Isaiah 64:1-9 by Patricia E. De Jong. P 4.

24th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 28 A 2020

24th Sunday after Pentecost--Proper 28A November 15, 2020 A few years ago, I read a blog post by the Quaker spiritual writer Parker Palmer. Palmer was writing about his own discernment work that he was doing as he move further into his 70’s. He had been pondering the question: “What do I want to let go of, and what do I want to hold onto?” But, he realized that he needed help in this discernment process, and so he assembled a group of trusted friends whose work was not to answer the question for him but to help him see the issue with a greater clarity. He writes, “Their role was not to advise or ‘fix’ me, but to ask honest, open questions and simply listen to me respond, giving me a chance to hear my own inner wisdom more clearly. He continues, “I emerged from that little gathering with something more important than an answer. I emerged with a better question. I’m no longer asking, ‘What do I want to let go of and what do I want to hang onto?’ Instead I’m asking, ‘What do I want to let go of and what do I want to give myself to?’” Palmer concludes, “I now see that ‘hanging on’ is a fearful, needy, and clinging way to be in the world. But looking for what I want to give myself to transforms everything. It’s taking me to a place where I find energy, abundance, trust, and new life.”i There are many different ways we can read Jesus’s parable for this Sunday of a harsh but generous master who gives three servants three different astounding amounts of money. For me, during this strange, fearful season, it is helpful for me to use the parable as a lens for my own life, to examine the places where I have been so fearful that I buried gifts and to examine the places where I have stepped out in faith with bold daring to brave a new venture through the gifts or resources God has given me. And truthfully, we are all a strange mix of the fearful and the bold, the daring and the overly-cautious. This is why Parker Palmer’s question is helpful for me these days. It is a way that I can look at my life through a different lens and seek to discern where I am putting my energy and if there are better places, better ways to share my energy, my attention, my time, my money, my resources. “What do I want to let go of and what do I want to give myself to?” We can’t hold on to everything, and we need to hold on to some things, to give ourselves whole-heartedly to God, to each other, to causes greater than ourselves. Your invitation this week is to spend some time in discernment with Parker Palmer’s question: “What do I want to let go of and what do I want to give myself to?” Are there things that you have been holding on to that you can ask God to help you relinquish? Are there things you need to take up, to give yourself to, that you can ask God to give you courage and daring to do? I’m going to conclude with one my favorite poems by Mary Oliver. It is titled In Blackwater Woods. Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond, no matter what its name is, is nameless now. Every year everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this and the black river of loss whose other side is salvation, whose meaning none of us will ever know. To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.ii i. https://onbeing.org/blog/the-choice-of-hanging-on-or-giving-to/ ii. Oliver, Mary. American Primitive. Back Bay Books: 1983.

23rd Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 27A

23rd Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 27A November 8, 2020 When I was going through the process to become a priest, I had to answer a series of questions about my personality and my theology. One of these questions that I’ve been thinking about lately is “How are you with uncertainty?” It’s really a horrible question, and I have no idea how I even answered it in all my 25-year old glory. How are you with uncertainty? Over the years, I’ve pondered why they would even ask us this question: How are you with uncertainty? And the older I get, the more I realize they ask us this question: “how are you with uncertainty?” because nothing, really, is ever certain. Our readings highlight that for us today. The community in Thessolonika are upset because they had expected Jesus’s imminent return, and yet some of their community have died before Jesus has returned. Paul seeks to reassure them in their uncertainty. And Jesus, near the end of his earthly ministry, tells a parable that is all about uncertainty and about how different people deal with it. Some people, who he calls “wise,” try to be as prepared as possible for uncertainty, while others, who he calls “foolish,” find themselves unprepared for uncertainty, and as a result, end up being locked out of the party. We who are no strangers to uncertainty, this week, this last 7 months….We might wonder what we must do to be prepared for uncertainty? And really that’s the better question, isn’t it? Not so much “how are you with uncertainty?” (“Fine?” she says uncertainly?) But really how do you prepare for uncertainty, in your life, in the world around you? What are the spiritual practices that you deploy during times of uncertainty, and what are the spiritual practices that you normally access to strengthen your spiritual muscles for when you must face uncertainty? Jesus parable has a hint for us there, too. One of the spiritual practices we can deploy in both uncertain and in more stable times is to be surprised by joy. Because that’s what the wedding banquet is; it’s an invitation to be surprised by the joyful, unexpected, and long-awaited presence of the bridegroom. It is the invitation that all, the wise and the foolish, have received to the joyful occasion that is the wedding banquet, and it is the reminder that we must position ourselves so that we are fully present when the party starts, and not racing around looking for that which is unimportant to try to stave off our own anxiety and uncertainty and unpreparedness. So, what are ways that we might be surprised by joy? One of those is through a regular practice of thanksgiving. A few weeks ago, we began the annual giving campaign here at St. Thomas which is titled: Sheltering St. Thomas: Giving in Gratitude. It has been such a gift to me to listen to how different parishioners are grateful for the life and ministry of this place, and their stories continue to feed and nurture my own gratitude. Also, for the rest of this month, we’ll be doing the litany of thanksgiving that is found in our BCP to help us strengthen our gratitude muscles. It’s something that you could make as a daily practice during this season if you are so inclined. Another way to be surprised by joy is to do something creative. The creative process is chock-full of uncertainty. You never know exactly how the creative process is going to turn out, and for me this week, I’ve found creative outlets in the humble and mundane practices of singing and cooking. I was also delighted this week with Peggy V’s video where she talks about how they’ve been surprised by joy through creatively connecting with St. Thomas during this past summer. The third way is by paying attention to what is going on around you. When we are fully present in the moment (as opposed to be checked out in our own worries or on our phones, we are more likely to be surprised by the goodness of what is in our immediate vicinity. And the fourth and final way to be open to being surprised by joy in the midst of uncertainty is in remembering and giving thanks for joyful moments from the past. This past week, Jim Joyce has offered me a wonderful example of this in his Facebook series “Project Spread Joy” where he’s been sharing photos that are chock full of the joy from their life together. Your invitation this week, in the face of uncertainty, is to reflect on how you prepare for uncertainty and how you deal with it in the moment, and to create space for you to be surprised by joy.

All Saint's Day-Year A

All Saints’ Day Year A November 1, 2020 A letter to all the faithful of St. Thomas Isle of Hope on this All Saint’s Day Dear Beloved of God, It’s our first day in over 7 months to be back in worship in person together, and yet still, we are spread out-in our pews and chairs and in our homes--among three services, one of which is virtual. It is 2 days until the most difficult and contentious election of my lifetime. We all need some good news. It is my usual custom when we have a baptism to write a letter to the baptismal candidate or candidates about what we believe we are doing when we baptize them. Since All Saints’ day is one of 7 major feasts of the church when baptism is especially appropriate and when it is also appropriate to renew our baptismal covenant when we don’t have a baptism, I thought we all might benefit from a letter to all of us who will be renewing our baptismal promises today. Our epistle reading for today reminds us of the truth of our baptism: that each one of us is God’s beloved child; that we claim that belovedness in and through our baptism and we recommit ourselves to living as God’s beloved every time we renew our baptismal covenant. It is a reminder that “we are the people who love one another” whether that is the strangers we meet, the people in our lives or in our households, and especially those we know too well and don’t like very much or disagree with. Our gospel reading for today is the portion of Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount that is known as the Beatitudes. It is an unorthodox list of blessings that Jesus promises to his disciples who have gathered near to listen to him on the mountain. It is both “a description of and a summons to a new kind of life, kingdom-life…Jesus is trying to help his disciples and us envision what life will look like when we live according to God’s will and rule.”i It is also an important reminder for us that “when God is present and we live according to the logic of the kingdom, all is not as it seems. Note that the list of those ‘blessed’ does not align even remotely with a typical list of the blessed:” those who are wealthy, powerful, independent, beautiful, charismatic, healthy, happy. Instead, Jesus lists as those who are blessed those whom the world would consider to be cursed: “those who are mourning or are humble, or [those who] extend mercy rather than exact revenge, or [those who] strive for peace rather than exert their will through violence, just to name a few.”ii And today, on this All Saint’s Day, especially, we remember and lift up this kingdom notion that all is not always as it seems as we remember and believe that those who have died are still near us, surrounding us, upholding us with their prayers and presence. We remember and hold fast to the hope that is woven throughout our burial liturgy: that death is not the end but a change and that when our mortal body lies in death, Jesus goes before us through death into the resurrection to prepare a place for us there in God’s kingdom that is both already and not yet alongside the vast company of all the faithful who have come before us. This sermon on the mount and our renewal of our baptismal covenant this day both serve to invite us to transform our vision of where God is at work in the world in and through us. God is alongside and at work in the poor, the mourners, the meek, the hungry, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted. And God is alongside and at work in and through us when we renounce evil and proclaim the good news of God in Christ; when we seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves and strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being. Beloved, this week will be difficult, and it will probably be divisive. One news source reports that 70% of Americans are anxious about the election. The renewal of our baptismal vows and the reading from the Beatitudes on this All Saints’ Day are timely reminders of a truth articulated by Richard Rohr: “voting is a deeply moral act-a decisive statement of Christian faith that I matter, that justice matter, and that other people matter.”iii As followers of Jesus, we are called to live out the principals of our baptismal covenant and to vote for leaders who will lead us to be our very best selves. Today, it is also important to remember, through the glorious example of the saints in light, those who have come through their own ordeals of their own times and entered fully into God’s kingdom; may they remind us of the hope of our calling: through Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection, God has shown, once and for all, that God’s love is stronger than absolutely anything. God’s love is stronger than Covid-19. God’s love is stronger than partisan politics and a deeply divided nation. God’s love is stronger than the forces of anxiety, grief, and fear that threaten to overwhelm us. God’s love is stronger than anything, even death. As we renew our baptismal covenant today, let us recommit ourselves to following the way of God’s beloved, to following the way of self-giving love. And may the Holy Spirit renew in us the faith, hope, and love that we need to face the days ahead. i.David Lose in his blog post for Nov 1, 2020: http://www.davidlose.net/2020/10/all-saints-a-transformation/ ii.Ibid. iii.Adapted from Richard Rohr, “A Deeply Moral Act: Voting Is a Decisive Statement of Christian Faith that I Matter, Justice Matters, and Others Matter,” Sojourners, vol. 47, no. 10 (November 2018), 19;