23rd Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 25B

23rd Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 25B October 28, 2018 I want to start with a quick Q&A today. What is the worst, most unhelpful thing someone has said to you when you were suffering? How about one of these… “I know just how you feel.” “It’s for the best.” “Keep a stiff upper lip.” “At least...” “You should or shouldn’t” “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” “It’s God’s will.” “Suffering is good for you. It builds character.” (That’s what they used to say to us in seminary…) How many of you have had someone say one of these things to you? I won’t ask you how many of you have been the well-meaning friend who said one of these to someone else who was suffering, but I suspect none of us is immune from having done this either. In light of all this, the book of Job may have been written for us. Now, I know what you’re thinking because I’ve thought it too: “Ugh, Job! I hate that book! Why on earth would anyone want to preach on that?” Well, friends, I don’t really know the answer to that. All I know is that I (and the other two preachers who have been in this pulpit over the last three weeks) had managed to successfully avoid engaging the book of Job for the last month, but today that success has come to an end. So let’s talk about Job. We’ve heard four different passages from this book over the last four Sundays. It’s a book of the bible whose time setting is deliberately ambiguous beginning with the line: “There was once a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job.” The beginning goes on to tell us that “Job was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil.” But of course, don’t you know, there has to be drama. At the heavenly convocation, the adversary engages in a bet with God saying: “Does Job fear God for nothing?” Have you not protected him and everything he has and have you not blessed all the work of his hands so that his possessions increased? “But stretch out your hand now, and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” And God takes the bet, and tells the adversary that Job is now in his power but he can do anything except to stretch out his hand against Job and harm him physically. So the adversary wreaks all kind of disaster on Job: his oxen and donkeys are stolen by the Sabeans; the fire of God falls from heaven upon all his sheep and burns them up; the Chaldeans make a raid and carry off all his camels; a great wind blows upon the house where all Job’s children are eating together and all of them are killed; and all of his servants (except three messengers) are killed in all these simultaneous disasters. Job responds by tearing his robe, shaving his head, falling on the ground and saying: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” So the adversary goes back to God and says that’s all fine and good, but I bet if you let me harm his body, he will still curse you to your face, and God says, ok, give it a try. So the adversary inflicts loathsome sores all over Job, from his head to his foot. Job’s wife encourages him to curse God and die, but Job responds to her: “You speak as any foolish woman would speak. Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?” (And that’s just the first two chapters of the book!) The next 29 chapters of the book consist of round after round of debate and rants between Job and his “friends.” They are debating the notion that is prominent in scripture of retributive justice: “that God so orders the world that everyone receives reward or punishment commensurate with his or her behavior, thus maintaining a morally coherent environment that encourages ethical responsibility.”i In other words: good things will happen to good people and bad things will happen to bad people. In our world view, we refer to this as “karma.” Finally, after Job has questioned and ranted about God’s justice and demanded an audience with God, God shows up in a whirlwind and instead has some questions for Job: “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?” This goes on for a while, and then Job, having received the audience requested from God answers God meekly with our reading from today: he tells God that he had heard of God but now he has encountered God directly, and he seems to be transformed by this encounter. God tells Job he needs to pray for his awful friends, and after he does, God restores everything to Job in even greater abundance, including giving him 10 more children. I don’t know about y’all, but part of the reason that I have always struggled with Job is because this happy ending rings hollow for me. And maybe that is the point. When we experience great suffering, it changes us, and no matter how hard we might try, we can’t just wish our way back to the way we were before. The lesson that this difficult book has taught me in the wrestling with it this week is that when we try to explain or even understand suffering in our world and God’s part in it, we fail. God is good and the mystery of God’s fullness as well as the way that our actions (both good and bad) affect us and each other will always be unfathomable to us in this life. Sometimes things happen and there is just no explanation, just no reason. But Job and Jesus show us that God does not abandon us, even when it feels like it, even when we are at our lowest. God is present and suffers with those who suffer. The Facebook “On This Day” feature revealed to me a post I shared three years ago titled When the Going Gets Tough… by Katrina Kenison. It gets to the very heart of what we are called to when the going gets tough, either when we are suffering or when we are called to sit with someone else who is suffering. Rather than offering one of those easy, empty sayings that none of us appreciate hearing, here is a different way: “When the going gets tough may I resist my first impulse to wade in, fix, explain, resolve, and restore. May I sit down instead. When the going gets tough may I be quiet. May I steep for a while in stillness. When the going gets tough may I have faith that things are unfolding as they are meant to. May I remember that my life is what it is, not what I ask for. May I find the strength to bear it, the grace to accept it, the faith to embrace it. When the going gets tough may I practice with what I’m given, rather than wish for something else. When the going gets tough may I assume nothing. May I not take it personally. May I opt for trust over doubt, compassion over suspicion, vulnerability over vengeance. When the going gets tough may I open my heart before I open my mouth. When the going gets tough may I be the first to apologize. May I leave it at that. May I bend with all my being toward forgiveness. When the going gets tough may I look for a door to step through rather than a wall to hide behind. When the going gets tough may I turn my gaze up to the sky above my head, rather than down to the mess at my feet. May I count my blessings. When the going gets tough may I pause, reach out a hand, and make the way easier for someone else. When the going gets tough may I remember that I’m not alone. May I be kind. When the going gets tough may I choose love over fear. Every time.”ii When the going gets tough, may God be with you, and may you know the strength of God’s presence. Amen. Throntveit, Mark. Exegetical Perspective for Proper 24 from Feasting on the Word Year B Vol 4: WJK, 2009, p. 175 https://onbeing.org/blog/when-the-going-gets-tough/

Rebecca and Jason's Wedding Homily

Rebecca and Jason’s wedding October 13, 2018 I was struck by a common theme weaving through the readings that Rebecca and Jason have chosen for this holy day. It’s the theme of blessing. In the reading for Tobit, Tobit and Sarah pray together to bless God and then to ask God’s blessing to be upon their union. The Ephesians reading offers God’s blessing to its reader/listener. And of course the Beatitudes are the quintessential passage of blessing in the gospels. This common theme shouldn’t be surprising, perhaps, because, after all, isn’t that what we are gathering together to do today? (It even says it on the front of the bulletin. It is the “celebration and blessing of a marriage.” But there is something surprising about all of this. That is the unexpected nature of the blessings that these scriptures talk about. Tobit talks about the blessing in marriage of finding a helper. He also asks God that they “may find mercy and grow old together.” The unexpected blessings in Ephesians are that the readers/listeners may be “rooted and grounded in love” and that they may be “filled with the fullness of God.” And then the gospel reading is all about unexpected blessings—how those whom the world would scorn for their suffering or their littleness are actually the ones who will be blessed by God. Jesus teaches that God’s unexpected blessings will be found in times of mourning, persecution, and peacemaking. Today, Rebecca and Jason, you will make your vows to one another before your gathered community of faith and your family and friends. And you will kneel before God to receive God’s blessing upon you both and upon your marriage. We will ask that God will pour out the abundance of God’s blessing upon y’all—defending you from every enemy, leading you into all peace. We will ask that your love for each other may be a seal upon your hearts, a mantle about your shoulders, and a crown upon your foreheads. We will ask God to bless you in your work and companionship; in your waking and sleeping; in your joys and your sorrows; in your life together and in your deaths because your marriage will encompass all of those things and more. But the thing that I want you to remember today, and especially in all the days to come, is that I invite you every day to look for the unexpected blessings that marriage brings you. Look for the ways that the other is a helper to you and for the ways that you can be a helper to the other. Pay attention to the ways that you both find mercy together. Seek out the blessing of your love in times when each of you individually and both of you together mourn. And listen for the ways that God blesses you in your peacemaking-out in the world and in your life together. What a joy it is for us to share this day with you. In the days and years to come, may you find God’s mercy and much joy and may you grow old together. Amen. Amen.

20th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 22B

20th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 22B October 7, 2018 “Sometimes the issue isn’t the issue.”i I was reminded of the truth of these words this past week, as I gathered with colleagues from around the diocese to learn about conflict management. In fact, I would go so far as to say that most of the time, in conflict situations, the issue isn’t really the issue. Those of you who are familiar with organizational development theory will remember the diagram of the iceberg. And those of you who know the story of the Titanic will remember that it wasn’t the part of the iceberg that they saw above the water that did the damage to the Titanic. What they saw wasn’t the issue. It was what was under the water that sunk the Titanic. The Lutheran pastor David Lose starts his blog post this week with that line: “Sometimes the issue isn’t the issue.” And he’s talking about the gospel passage for this Sunday. Our gospel for today is one passage in a series of passages where Jesus has been specifically teaching his disciples about discipleship. Then, Mark tells us that the Pharisees come to where Jesus is teaching in public and they seek to test him by asking him about divorce. Jesus answers them with a question, and then responds that the law was written “because of [their] hardness of heart.” When they are alone, Jesus’s disciples question him further about what he has said, and he elaborates further. And then we see him become indignant with his disciples when they try to keep people from bringing children to Jesus for his blessing. Now there is much that has been written about Jesus’s stance on divorce in this passage. It is certainly difficult to hear in our modern context, where I doubt there is anyone here in this church who has been untouched by divorce in some form or fashion. And I will remind you that in Jesus’s time, women and children were property, and the Jewish law said that a man could divorce a woman “if she does not please him because he finds something objectionable about her…” (Deuteronomy 24:1-4) And in Palestine, women were not even allowed to sue for divorce at all. (If you struggle with this scripture, and want to talk to me more about it, then I hope you will call me.) But I want us to remember that “sometimes the issue isn’t really the issue.” The issue here isn’t really about divorce. Sure, that’s what the Pharisees bring up to try to trap Jesus. But the issue here, Jesus is saying, is really hardness of heart. The Pharisees have it. The disciples have it. We have it. And we can see the opposite of hardness of heart in the open-heartedness of the children and the people who bring them to Jesus for his blessing. It is our hardness of heart that leads to our sin and our broken relationships with each other. It is for our hardness of heart-to protect us from ourselves-that God gave us the law. And it is for our hardness of heart that Jesus died on the cross and rose from the dead, transforming all of creation and us through the power of God’s love. We are saved, over and over again, from our hardness of heart through the grace of God in the Holy Spirit working in and among us, in our lives, in our world. This past week, one of my colleagues and I were talking about how we had seen God this past week in our conflict management training. He observed that we were all asked to bring a conflict to talk about, so we all came with these conflicts, some of which were clearly very painful situations for the individuals involved and the churches. We learned some tools to use to assess them, and we prayed about them together, and we talked about them together, and we created action plans. Then we laid our conflicts and our action plans on the altar at the closing Eucharist where they were --all of them--blessed. Where we came with these messes that we were feeling frustrated about, and probably a fair amount of hardness of heart, we left finding both ourselves and the situations transformed by the Holy Spirit’s gift of new ways of seeing and a good dose of hope. Sometimes the issue isn’t really the issue. If you find yourself in conflict with someone else, I invite you to take a step back and to consider if there might be more to the matter than first meets the eye. Then, I invite you to remember that the only person you can control is yourself. I invite you to ask the Holy Spirit to remove from you your hardness of heart and to help you be more open-hearted. And then pray for the person with whom you are in conflict, or pray for the one you consider to be your enemy. Ask God for that person to receive all the good things that you would want for yourself. God wants us to be in relationship with God and with each other; God’s grace can and will transform us if we will have it. i. http://www.davidlose.net/2018/10/pentecost-20-b-the-issue/

18th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 20B

18th Sunday after Pentecost- Proper 20B September 23, 2018 What does it mean to be the greatest? This question resonates across the centuries from the disciples’ quarreling to our own day. From a pop song called The Greatest (which I threatened some of our youth that I would rap in the sermon today), to the popular movie The Greatest Showman to the political slogan “Make America Great Again,” our culture seems to be obsessed with greatness. So, this gospel reading for today is really difficult for us because we know, deep down in our hearts, that just like the disciples, we don’t really get it either. Jesus has, for the second out of three times in Mark, taken himself and his disciples away from the crowds, so that he can tell them about his impending death and try to help prepare them for when he’s gone. But they just can’t get it. We see they are so confused and afraid that they cannot even formulate questions for him about what he is trying to teach him. They try to fill that void of confusion and fear by arguing over who is greatest. Instead of the self-sacrifice and service and courage that Jesus is trying to teach them about, they become fearful, close-minded, and self-absorbed. So Jesus sits down with them (which is the posture that Rabbis would take when teaching), and he tells them: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” And then he brings in a child, the lowest of the low in that society, and tells them this is what they must be: vulnerable, powerless, and dependent. Jesus is telling his disciples and us that as his followers, we must look out for the nobodies; we must be the nobodies. This is the counter-cultural definition, both then and now, of true greatness. It’s interesting because I think that a desire for greatness is often a reaction to our being in a position of vulnerability, of insecurity, of suffering. (All the examples from above came out of this place—the song The Greatest comes out of failure in love; the movie The Greatest Showman comes out of childhood poverty and insecurity; MAGA…a desire for employment, stability, and working together to meet the American dream…) It seems to be our default as humans to seek to be the greatest, especially when we are feeling vulnerable. Last week, I read an older blog post by the Quaker teacher and writer Parker Palmer titled Heartbreak, Violence, and Hope for New Life. Palmer starts his blog post by sharing the following Hasidic story: “A disciple asks the rabbi: “Why does Torah tell us to ‘place these words upon your hearts’? Why does it not tell us to place these holy words in our hearts?” The rabbi answers: “It is because as we are, our hearts are closed, and we cannot place the holy words in our hearts. So we place them on top of our hearts. And there they stay until, one day, the heart breaks and the words fall in.” Palmer goes on to talk about how violence is what happens when we do not allow ourselves to feel suffering. When we try to avoid pain, we fall into practices that do violence to ourselves and to each other. Palmer writes, “Sometimes we try to numb the pain of suffering in ways that dishonor our souls. We turn to noise and frenzy, nonstop work, or substance abuse as anesthetics that only deepen our suffering. Sometimes we visit violence upon others, as if causing them pain would mitigate our own. Racism, sexism, homophobia, and contempt for the poor are among the cruel outcomes of this demented strategy.”i We see this happening in the gospel reading for today. The disciples are anxious and confused and upset as Jesus is trying to tell them about his impending death. And rather than dealing with their own pain, they turn to arguing about which one of them is the greatest. And we do the same thing, don’t we? But it isn’t as easy to identify in our own lives, in our church, in our greater common life, even in our country. A few years ago, I had an encounter that helped me identify some of these issues in my own life. It’s an important reminder for me today. I was driving home from Wednesday night programming one evening with the kids when I discovered that my van’s gas tank was completely empty. Since I had already passed the gas station, I dropped the kids off at home and went back out for gas. This was around 7:30 at the end of a long day. When I got to the gas station, all the pumps had people at them, and there were more people waiting. I got more and more frustrated as I watched people maneuver and cut in front of others to get to the open pumps, and so finally, I went to one of the pumps on the back of the lot and pulled up behind a woman to wait until she was done. As I waited with my window rolled down to enjoy the beautiful night, I watched this woman be completely engrossed in her cell phone as she pumped her gas. The truck in front of her left, and she was still pumping, but I couldn’t get around her car to get to the open pump. So I waited. Finally, the woman’s gas was finished, and she slowly close up her gas tank, never taking her eyes off her phone screen. I waited a couple of more minutes as she stood there looking at her phone, and she realized that she had to push the button if she wanted a receipt. (“Please, don’t want a receipt,” I said to myself, but alas it was not to be.) She continued to be consumed with what was on her phone as her receipt printed, and she slowly pulled it and made her way into her car, maneuvering herself into the driver’s seat while not taking her eyes off her phone. (At last, I thought, I will get my gas and get home to eat supper and put my children to bed! I put my car into drive with eager anticipation.) But it was still not to be. The woman turned on her car, and sat there looking at her phone. At this point, my curiosity about this woman and her obsession with her phone had turned into acute irritation. But what to do? I didn’t want to be rude (because I had just talked at church that night about how I try not to drive like a jerk because I have a church sticker on my van), but this woman had been obliviously blocking two pumps for a while now, and I didn’t want to wait any longer. So I hung my head out my open window and yelled nicely, “Would you please pull your car forward?” I got nothing except curious and startled glances from the people at the other pumps. (Who is this crazy woman in the van trying to talk to other people at the gas pump?!) So finally, I just couldn’t stand it any longer, and I did it. I honked my horn. And what do you think happened? The woman jumped-startled when I honked, and then she put her phone down so that she could have both hands free to make rude gestures at me in her rear view mirror. Then, FINALLY, she drove off. Well, I was livid! How dare she make rude gestures at me when she had been so self-absorbed that she had been blocking not just one but two pumps while a bunch of other people waited?! I pulled down the row to the first open pump where the gas attendant was walking over to empty the trash can. I said to her, full of my righteous anger, “did you see that woman blocking two pumps while she was on her phone?!” and the gas attendant said to me tiredly with her bag full of trash, “Honey, they all be like that. Every day.” As I stood there in my collar and pumped my gas, I thought about the gas attendant, what she said, what her life must be like having to deal with that level of self-absorption day in and day out. And I realized that, even though she didn’t mean it this way, when she said “They all be like that. Every day.” Her “they” also meant me. And I knew, in that woman I had encountered someone that Jesus meant when he said we are called to see the nobodies and to care for them, and I was simultaneously chastened and hopeful that I could be better, could do better. I had been so full of my own self-importance that I hadn’t even really seen this gas attendant who had to deal with people puffed up on our own greatness, people like me and the cell-phone obsessed woman day in and day out.ii How are you called to see the nobodies in your life and world? How are you called to care for them? How are we, as followers of Jesus, called to be nobodies in a culture obsessed with greatness? i. Palmer, Parker. Heartbreak, Violence, and Hope for New Life. April 15, 2015 https://onbeing.org/blog/heartbreak-violence-and-hope-for-new-life/ ii. This story was first used in my Proper 20B 2015 sermon.

Claire Harrison's funeral homily

Funeral homily-Claire Harrison September 20, 2018 One of Claire’s gifts is that she could find joy in small things. She found joy in her cats. She found joy in dressing up. She found joy in a nice shade of bright, red lipstick. Claire found joy in sitting near the wine table at Wednesday night supper (and she always remarked on how good that little sip of wine was that she would get when I would take her communion in the nursing home, so I’d always make sure to fill the small cup full); and oh, how she loved to go out to eat! She found joy in birthday parties put on for her by her friends, and she found joy in Christmas presents from her sister. Perhaps one of her most joyful moments was when John and Tara got married at the nursing home, so that Claire could be there for the wedding—she talked to me about that often. It is a gift to be able to find joy in small things, especially since Claire’s life has not always been joyful. In fact, it has been especially difficult in these her final years. She faced many challenges, but she was always able to hold on to these small sources of joy. We gather today to give thanks for Claire and her life, and to celebrate that she is no longer suffering, that she has been received into the dwelling place of God, prepared for her by Jesus who loves her. The reading from Revelation has a vision for what heaven will be like for us, the faithful: “[God] will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’ And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’” What a wonderful gift for Claire and for us all, to be made new once again! So today, we remember that death is not the end, but a change. And we give thanks that Claire has been received into the kingdom of God where there is no more pain or sorrow or suffering. In fact, she is, even now, feasting at God’s heavenly banquet! And don’t you know that her joy is now complete, and she is sitting at the table near the wine!

17th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 19B

17th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 19B September 16, 2018 Our gospel reading for today is the mid-point of Mark’s gospel, and it is also a crossroads for Jesus. In the first half of Mark’s gospel, Jesus spends all his energy on “creative resistance against death-dealing forces”. He is healing the sick, casting out demons, feeding hungry people… Our reading for today shows Jesus shifting focus. Today we see Jesus predicting his death for the first time out of three. We see Jesus looking toward the cross and sharing that those who follow him will walk a similar path. This week, I encountered a couple of different ideas that I will share with you today. The first is a lectionary commentary that had this to say about the gospel reading. “St. Augustine (and many theologians after him) often spoke of sin as a form of being curvatus in se, “curved inward on oneself” - the implication being that God’s redemption helps us unfurl and open up. It’s a helpful image for conceiving what Jesus is getting at when he speaks of “losing” and “saving” our lives. What’s the “for-the-sake-of-which” that animates our days? Are we living for ourselves, trying to save ourselves? Then we’re curved inward, like an empty fist. Are we living for each other, for the neighborhood, for the good news of God’s love and mercy? Then we’re curved outward, like an open, loving hand. But please note: the idea here is not to demean ourselves, or damage ourselves, or masochistically seek suffering for its own sake. Those are parodies of Jesus’ teaching, 180 degrees off the mark. Truly living for the sake of the Gospel means recognizing God’s love for each one of us, including ourselves. And think of how much stronger, how much more flexible, capable, and beautiful is an open hand, rather than a closed fist, tightly grasping at nothing!”i The second is the Lesser Feasts and Fasts commemoration for this past Wednesday that we marked at our weekly healing service. It was the feast day of John Henry Hobart who was bishop of New York in the early days of our country and our Episcopal Church. The collect for the day reads: “Revive your Church, Lord God of hosts, whenever it falls into complacency and sloth, by raising up devoted leaders, like your servant John Henry Hobart whom we remember today; and grant that their faith and vigor of mind may awaken your people to your message and their mission; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.” Our meditation for the day from the priest Sam Portaro had this to say about Hobart and the collect: “The collect for the commemoration of John Henry Hobart is a prayer for the revival of the church, a prayer to rouse us from ‘complacency and sloth,’ words we do not like to associate with ourselves. Yet we are complacent; if we did not like things the way we have them, we would make bolder moves to change them. And we are slothful; we do not exert ourselves on behalf of our faith with anything like the energy we can put forth for the things in our lives we deem worthwhile.”ii This brings me back to a question from the first passage: “What’s the ‘for-the-sake-of-which’ that animates our days?” Is it our work, our family, our children’s extracurricular activities, our vacations? Is it our college football team? Is it our status, our wealth, our reputation? Is it our church? What would our true faith look like; what would our relationship with God through God’s son Jesus Christ look like if we put as much energy into our life of faith, as we do into all these other things? Your invitation this week is ask yourself, what is your ‘for-the-sake-of-which’ that animates your days? Do you put as much energy into your relationship with God as you do other areas? Then invite God to show you the areas of your life where you are curved in on yourself and for God to show you the ways that you can become more curved outward. i. http://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/2018/9/11/crossroads-salts-lectionary-commentary-for-seventeenth-week-after-pentecost ii.Potaro, Sam. Brightest and Best… John Henry Hobart September 12th. Cowley.

16th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 18B

16th Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 18B September 9, 2018 This is a difficult gospel passage for us today. Our lectionary gives us two seemingly unconnected healing stories in Mark’s gospel. First, we have Jesus’s encounter with the Syro-Phoenician woman. Jesus is fresh off a challenging encounter with the Pharisees (which we saw in last week’s gospel reading). They are challenging him because his disciples do not follow the Jewish dietary laws. And Jesus counters with the fact that the Pharisees are a bunch of hypocrites who put more emphasis on following human traditions than having their hearts be aligned with God’s teaching. At this point in Mark’s gospel, Jesus is exhausted, and he goes on retreat to the remote area-the region of Tyre. But his rest and retreat do not last long as word gets out he is there. Mark tells us that the Syro-Phoeneciann woman bursts into the house where Jesus is staying. She is Greek which means that she is both a foreigner and a Gentile. And she has burst uninvited into this houses to confront Jesus and demand healing for her demon-possessed daughter. Commentators on this gospel interpret what happens next in the story in two different ways. Jesus is a real jerk to the woman, calling her a dog and refusing to heal her sick child. One way commentators interpret this is to say that Jesus knew how the woman would react, and so he provokes her with the harsh language and the challenge to her request—pushing her to demonstrate her faith. The other way of interpreting this encounter is that Jesus is tired. He’s digging in and sticking to his guns about what he believes is his mission—to minister to the “lost sheep of Israel.” And he rests in the cultural norms and religious expectations of his day—that he didn’t need to help this woman or her child because they are not Jews. This second interpretation is actually the more challenging (and because of that, I think, the more interesting interpretation) because Jesus seems to be doing to the woman exactly what he criticizes the Pharisees for in the verses just before this encounter. And yet, the woman persists, and Jesus changes his mind and heals her daughter. Just like God changes God’s mind when faced with compelling arguments from Abraham and Moses against God’s chosen course of action against God’s wayward people, Jesus changes his mind, expands or opens his understanding of his mission when faced with the arguments of the foreign, Gentile woman But that’s not all! Our lectionary gives us a second story this week-the story of the deaf man with the speech impediment who is brought to Jesus for healing. Jesus takes the man apart from the others, and he heals the man by touching him, using Jesus’s own saliva, and commanding the man: “Ephaphthah” which means “Be opened” in Aramaic. This story is important to read with the first story because we see Jesus acknowledging how his own faith, his own sense of his mission has changed as a result of his encounter with the woman. Jesus, himself, has been opened. And that’s really the nature of faith, isn’t it? Being opened. None of us, not even Jesus, ever arrives at the fullness of our faith in this life. Our whole life-long, faith journey is the process of being opened by God and to God, through encounters with the sacraments, with God’s grace given through the Holy Spirit, and through encounters with each other. There’s an individualistic component to this. We can ask ourselves this week: “Are there any areas in your life, or in your faith, where you need to allow Jesus to come and open, perhaps areas that you shut long ago?”i But there’s also a corporate (church-wide) component to this being opened as well. I sometimes listen to a lectionary-based preaching podcast called “Pulpit Fiction.” One of the two hosts is a United Methodist minister, and in this week’s episode, he talked about the long-standing Methodist ad campaign: “Open hearts; Open minds; Open doors.” He said that some people in the Methodist church critique this slogan because they say that the church isn’t truly open to all people. And the minister said that he sees Jesus’s words “Open up” or “Be opened” in conjunction with this saying-not so much as adjectives but as verbs—as a prescription of what we are supposed to be doing—working to actively be open. He then shared a prayer for illumination that his church uses prior to the reading of scripture every week: “Holy Spirit, open our hearts to the story of your love. Open our minds to new ways of knowing you. Open our doors to whom all you would welcome. Amen.”ii Now, lest we start thinking too highly of ourselves as Episcopalians in this, let me share with you a couple of details. The first comes from an article that the bishop sent all the clergy of the diocese this week. The article is by Dan Hotchkiss and is titled Five Lies We Like to Tell About Church Growth. The very first “lie” is that friendly churches grow. Here is what Hotchkiss writes about this: “Declining churches often marvel at how many visitors show up once and don’t return. ‘But we’re so friendly!’ Like most lies we tell ourselves, this one has a grain of truth in it: a visitor who gets a friendly greeting is more likely to return. But most church consultants know that the more vehemently leaders say their church is friendly, the more likely it will feel quite cold to visitors. When people say, ‘Our church is friendly,’ generally they mean ‘My friends are here.’ Visitors to ‘friendly’ churches see the backs of people’s heads—heads gathered into tight, impenetrable groups of friends. Churches that excel at hospitality are more apt to give themselves a B+ or C– in the friendliness department—and appreciate that hospitality takes effort.” I’ve heard this described as the difference between being a friendly church and a church of friends. A church of friends is the phenomenon that Hotchkiss writes about, when visitors only see the backs of peoples’ heads. This is something that we need to be attentive to, asking ourselves often if we are truly a friendly church or if we are being, instead, a church of friends. The second detail is a reminder of the Welcome survey I preached about a few months ago. We left copies in the narthex and church office and asked people to fill it out and turn it in, and we gave you a little over a month to do this. We had 13 of those surveys turned in, which tells me either a. we don’t like to fill out surveys or b. we aren’t very interested in assessing how welcoming we are. So how do we as a church live more deeply into this call of Jesus? To “Be opened.” At this beginning of a new program year, what are ways that we as a church can be opened—expanding our understanding of our mission and ministry, growing deeper in our faith together to opening to those who are different than us—different faiths, different socio-economic classes, different skin colors, different political parties? Let us pray. “Holy Spirit, open our hearts to the story of your love. Open our minds to new ways of knowing you. Open our doors to whom all you would welcome. Amen.”iii i. From Pray as you go podcast for September 9, 2018 ii. From Pulpit Fiction episode for September 9, 2018 iii.From Pulpit Fiction episode for September 9, 2018