King Baby

Christ the King Sunday, November 25, 2018

Cathedral Church of St. Paul, Burlington, Vermont

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Theologian in Residence

Revelation 1:4b-8

John 18: 33-37

Let us pray:

            Come, Lord Jesus, and speak truth.

            For four years, I was part of a program called Education for Ministry, which was held weekly for nine months in the rector’s office. In his closet was the picture of a puppet, whose head was in a guillotine, and the words below it said, “The truth will set you free; but first it will make you miserable.”

I don’t know about you, but transitions and holidays can stir up a lot of feelings in me. At times like these, we can easily get emotionally out of whack, lashing out at others with angry and resentful words, overreacting to people rather than responding to them, and stuffing our feelings as well as our faces. Some of us refuse to talk about certain issues, or with certain people, or we just avoid them altogether. And yet, as a recent FaceBook post related, “Of course your family pushes your buttons…..they installed them.”

There is a description of a certain personality type called King Baby. It describes someone who thinks he (or she) is the center of the universe and expects everyone to do as they want. Like a king, they rule with single authority. Like a baby, they are emotionally undeveloped. Take for instance the young crown prince in Saudi Arabia. Mohammad bin Salman is only 33 years old and has been accused of ordering the murder of journalist Mr. Kashogghi. He has made unilateral decisions about changes in their culture and spent millions of dollars on questionable items. One might call him a King Baby.

I’m sure you can think of others just like him. What seems especially egregious is the use and misuse of power. And the responses of people around them. Presumably, the crown prince had ordered the death of this journalist, primarily because he did not like his public criticism. If true, the crown prince thought that because of his power, position, and wealth he could order someone to be murdered, and without consequences. Despite layers of denial and self-protection, cries of protest have echoed throughout the world.

The emperor of Rome ruled his empire from a distance, and with similar characteristics. Governors, like Pontius Pilate, were appointed over regions like Judea in order to extend the emperor’s rule. Pilate’s job was to prevent revolutions and maintain firm control over people of diverse cultures and faith. He also had the power to execute someone. Such was the case in Jerusalem at the time of this gospel writing.

The Jewish people in Palestine had a governing council they called the Sanhedrin. The “Jews”, often referred to in the gospel of John, were actually the Jewish leaders, the chief priests of the Sanhedrin, who ruled over their people with religious laws, and the power of their positions. They had a small police force, mainly for keeping order in the Temple. (HSB, p2027)

During the time of Jesus, the Jewish people often chafed at the high taxes of the Roman government and the demands of their own religious leaders; and so when they gathered together in large numbers, they would often protest. Some, like Barabbas, became well-known criminals. Others were known as prophets. During religious festivals tensions would run especially high, and so Rome would send more troops into the city to keep potential riots under control. Think about troops being sent to the borders of our country, or to major cities when racial tensions erupt.

Jesus had often angered the religious leaders because, like the crown prince, they did not like being publicly criticized. Jesus was part of those crowds that came for the Passover in Jerusalem, and when he arrived, people did not cry out, “Look! He is coming with the clouds” but rather “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” Threatened by his power, the chief priests sent the Temple police to arrest him, but they were prevented by the crowds. And so they solicited Judas to betray him secretly, and then they accused him unjustly. Caiaphas, the chief priest, said, “It is better that this one man die than for him to cause trouble for all of our people.”

Truth-telling can make people angry, especially if it threatens their power or their image of themselves. And speaking truth to power can get you killed. Jesus was one of those prophetic messengers. Giving voice to the powerless, He spoke truth to the people in power, and the powerful people did not like it. “Truth that is pure and simple is the luxury of the zealot,” wrote Katherine Grieb, who teaches New Testament at Virginia Theological Seminary. And Jesus was zealous for God - for God’s power, not his own.
            Did you ever play truth or dare? It’s an old and classic party game when people take turns asking each other “truth or dare”? When someone chooses truth, they must answer the question truthfully regardless of how embarrassing it is. When someone chooses dare, they are given a task to complete. But I wonder, how do you know if someone is telling the truth?

“Baby boomers might also remember the TV show called Truth or Consequences, which started out as a radio program in 1940. Contestants are asked a thorny question, and if they get it wrong, which was typically the case, they had to participate in a stunt—which was the consequence.” (Claudia Gryvatz Copquin)

Enter Pontius Pilate and Jesus. Of the four Gospels, John provides the most detailed account of the encounter between Jesus and Pontius Pilate.           Jesus was caught in a game of truth or consequence between the religious leaders of the Temple and the Roman political leaders in Jerusalem. He dared to speak truth to power. And so, Roman soldiers and Temple police arrived on the Mount of Olives in the middle of the night to arrest him, his consequence for speaking truth. Despite Peter’s attempts to defend Jesus, he refused violence. “My kingdom is not of this world,” Jesus said. “If it were, we would fight against you.”

 Jesus was first taken to Annas, the previous high priest, who privately questioned Jesus. “Why do you ask me,” Jesus said. “I have spoken the truth and I have spoken it openly.” Transferred then to Caiaphas, and later, to Pontius Pilate, and not wanting to defile themselves, the chief priests waited outside, accusing Jesus of treason, and demanding the death penalty.

Unlike the other gospels, the gospel of John emphasizes that Jesus claimed to be a king, in opposition to the Roman emperor. Publicly ridiculing Jesus about his kingship, Pilate challenged the Jews to declare the Roman emperor as their one and only king. Soon after Jesus’ death, “Pilate was recalled to Rome for his own trial, facing accusations for cruelty and oppression. His callousness was legendary: if you could choose your judge, you would not want Pontius Pilate,” said Katherine Grieb. (November 10, 2015)

Pilate is famous for his question, “What is truth?” Here in the United States, when we’re brought to trial, people will raise their hands and swear on Bibles, promising "to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." So help them God. But as Katherine Grieb reminds us, "the truth is rarely pure and never simple. Not one of us sees with the eyes of God. Our truths are often partial, incomplete and biased.”

In scripture union on-line this week, Paul Oakley wrote, “ St. Paul describes a society in which it is difficult for truth to have a fair hearing. Similarly, the concept of truth does not sit well in twenty-first-century Western culture. It does not matter whether a statement made by a public figure is factually accurate or not – what matters is that it is repeated loudly and frequently so that people believe it and act on it. Ultimately, truth is not a statement but a person: Jesus. Our strategy is not to shout loud and long, but to reveal Jesus by integrity of word and life.” Paul Oakley (wordlive@scriptureunion.org.uk)
            “The Gospel of John uses the word "truth" more than any other book in the Bible. In the beginning, we remember that "the Word of God became flesh, full of grace and truth." And "for this Jesus was born and came into the world, to testify to the truth." Jesus said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. If you listen to me,” Jesus said, “you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.”

We now officially begin our run-up to Christmas, when we remember that Jesus is our true King Baby, the Son of God, who came into the world as a powerless infant, who spoke truth to power as one of us. He is our Crown Prince, not of war and violence, but of Peace. Today, listen to the One whose words testify to the truth and so we pray, “Mercifully grant that the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought together under His most gracious rule.”

Living Stones and High Crosses

Cathedral Church of St. Paul, Burlington, Vermont

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Theologian in Residence

November 18, 2018

Psalm 16
Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
Mark 13:1-8

Let us pray:

           Be our light in the darkness, O Lord, and the leaven in our spirits.

Paul and I have a family home on Cape Cod. Looking for something to do one summer, I decided to make a small pathway with stones from the beach. Every day, I would walk down to the beach with cloth bags, pick up heavy stones, and carry them back to the house. Like my thoughts and prayers, I would pick them up and put them down. I walked slowly, methodically, and patiently. Except one time, when a snake slithered right in front of me, and my pace improved. Fear of another such encounter slowed my building program for a few days.

During this same time in my life, I served at Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin, Ireland. It is a large stone Cathedral built on a small hill in the city, where they welcome visitors and tourists from all around the world. They have a faithful community that worships every Sunday morning; and at noon during the weekdays, they pray for peace. There, in Ireland, I found the Celtic Way of spirituality to be alive and well, in the people, in the churches, and in their land.

Margaret Silf wrote a book called Sacred Spaces. In one chapter devoted to touchstones and high crosses, she wrote, “in Celtic times the standing stones and high crosses were the village’s library, its pulpit and its art gallery, watching over the community, focusing the people’s gaze always to something beyond themselves.” I think that this Cathedral here in Burlington is like that. You have a high cross standing on these stones of concrete on a small hill in Burlington. You are a living library, a moving art gallery, and a community that watches with love.

Perhaps you know the story of The Stone Soup. In it, a traveler passes through a village with no food or shelter. When she asks villagers for something to eat, they decline for various reasons. And so, the traveler goes to a river, takes a large stone, and begins to cook it in a pot. When villagers pass by and ask her what she is doing, she tells them that she is making stone soup, and how much better it would taste if it had a potato, or some meat, or a vegetable. Soon enough, villagers were bringing one thing or another, and then together they enjoyed a very different kind of stone soup.

In Sacred Spaces, Margaret Silf, describes human beings as islands of disconnection; and yet, underneath all of our individual islands there is a bedrock that connects us all. This bedrock is where creation is held in unity, and reminds us that there is something and Someone far greater than all of us combined. In these times of turmoil and unrest throughout our world, when it seems as if nations are rising against nations, when earthquakes, famines, and fires are as frequent and as devastating as mass shootings and gun violence, it is comforting to hear Jesus say, “Do not be alarmed” even as he issues his own prophetic warnings.

Easy for Jesus to say, I thought to myself. “Little old me” who has a fear of snakes, setting off alarm systems, bursting pipes, and dark nights of the soul. Little old me that is reminded in daily news about climate change and nuclear powers, viruses at Wake Robin, shameful ownership practices at Pillsbury Manors, and tent cities in California. We live in fearful and anxious times; and fear and anxiety are contagious. We are constantly being told to “beware” of this or that, of being led astray by false prophets or fake news. Apocalyptic visions and warnings generate fear; so too does the reality of our lives.

 Stephen Fowl wrote about a time when his priest asked a question from the pulpit, ‘Do you know what the antidote for fear is?’ The answer jumped into my head immediately, wrote Stephen. “Perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:17, NASB). But then (he added) since it’s generally frowned upon for a member of the choir in an Episcopal cathedral to shout out answers to rhetorical questions, I kept quiet.”
            “By the time you read this, Stephen continued (which was in November of 2012) “the presidential election will be over. No matter what the result, no matter which candidate we elect, many people will be angry, anxious and fearful. Although I am neither a prophet nor a prophet’s son, (he said) I predict that the traditional media outlets will be full of apocalyptic visions that will stoke those anxieties and fears. Without love, fear can truncate and focus our vision so narrowly that it renders us almost blind.”

Jesus was a prophet who challenged the political and religious leaders of his time. This chapter in Mark’s gospel is known as a mini apocalyptic vision.  As Jesus foretold the destruction of the temple, and warned his disciples about wars and rumors of wars, he also comforted them. The end will come, he said; but this is only the beginning of the birth pangs. He is using the imagery of birth not death. The antidote to our fear is Jesus, whose birth we’ll celebrate very soon.

Like the disciples, we too may wonder when the end will come, and how it will happen, whether it’s our own personal end of life or something more universal. Stephen Fowl claims that, “Fear is the enemy of faithful living in apocalyptic times. Fear narrows our vision so that we fail to see the good in those who disagree with us. Fear-induced blindness causes us to fail to see the great host of witnesses that surround, support and sustain us.The onset of apocalyptic times calls not for split-second judgments but for clear vision, faithful insight and patience.” I think this Cathedral community has those gifts.
            There is a bike trail on Cape Cod that I often use for prayer and exercise, when I’m not picking up stones off the beach. At one stopping point along the trail, I found a box with stones in it, each painted with a word or a phrase, and a sign inviting us to pick one up or drop one off. I took one that said, “Pray for Peace.”  In a town in Kansas, I learned that “little painted river rocks had started turning up, among tree roots and under park benches, with messages like “You’re beautiful. “ Have a nice day!” and one that said, “Survive.” (Christian Century, October 9, 2018)

Author Brad Roth claims that sometimes we need that kind of ‘grit your teeth’ encouragement in the face of worrisome events. He also argues that we “want more than survival. We long for meaning, purpose, and a sense that our lives contribute to a good greater than ourselves.” (Christian Century, October 24, 2018) Succinctly put, we want to thrive, not just survive. We need places like this Cathedral Church that point to a higher power and a greater purpose. A place that makes meaning out of the meaningless, that makes sense out of the senseless, that builds community, and helps us to focus our gaze on Someone and something beyond ourselves.

On the side of the road to the beach, there is a long mound of stones, and at the head of these stones is a wooden cross and the words: Here lies Chester. Our burial sites, often marked by stones, are sacred spaces that point to Life and Love beyond this world. Our churches today are built upon the foundation of apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone, and the bedrock of our faith. This brutal stone Church stands on a little hill in Burlington, watching over this community, acting as a library, a pulpit, and a center for the arts, and as a witness to people from our past, present, and future.

As I listened to violin and piano music on Tuesday afternoon, I looked at the altar behind me. The letter to the Hebrews reminds us that Jesus is our great high priest, who sits at the right hand of God, and who has made a footstool of all his enemies. Unlike the priests of the Temple in Jerusalem, Jesus offered himself once for the sins of the whole world. As disciples of Christ, we are living stones who are following his pathway to heaven. Do not be alarmed, Jesus said; for perfect love casts out fear.

Cathedral Church of St. Paul, hold fast to your confessions of hope without wavering. Provoke and encourage one another to deeds of love.  Pray for peace and bless those who curse you. Be a high cross on this little hill in Burlington and be a touchstone of Eternity for all to come.

In God we Trust

Cathedral Church of St. Paul

Burlington, Vermont

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Theologian in Residence

1 Kings 17:8-16
Psalm 146
Mark 12:38-44

Let us pray: Lord show us your love and mercy; for we put our trust in you

Today, I want to talk about something very fundamental in our relationships. It is often taken for granted, until it is lost. It is often assumed, until it is broken. It is so important that we even put the words on our money. In God we trust.

            I think life is a process of giving ourselves away. Our bodies are like beautifully crafted vessels of water, jars of meal, and jugs of oil which have been filled with abundant gifts from our Creator. Throughout our lives, we offer the contents of these vessels, sometimes dramatically emptying them in intense moments of love; more often consciously controlling the speed of our flow. Unaware of the tiny cracks in our vessels, we leak.

            This process of life, of giving ourselves away, involves some choices on our parts. We decide to whom, and to what, and for what we are willing to give our time, talents, and money. We raise our voices and cast our votes, depending upon our passion for the people or the issue. Sacrificially, we offer ourselves, “This is my Body given for you.” And hopefully, we make last wills and testaments as our final gift.

In today’s passages from scripture, we hear about two widows making choices and sacrifices. One widow gives part of her last meal to a stranger; the other drops “everything she had” into the Temple treasury. There were no pledge cards in those days, only duties to be paid, laws to be obeyed, and certain expectations of everyone. The Temple was Israel’s religious and political center and the scribes and the chief priests were their leaders.

            Harper’s Study Bible says that the “status of widows in ancient Israelite society was precarious. They often had no means of economic support, and if they were not sustained by the king or by the religious community, they were quickly reduced to poverty and forced to become scavengers and beggars. Having no inheritance rights and often in want of life’s necessities, they were exposed to harsh treatment and exploitation.” (p. 547 and 1132) This kind of treatment was not limited to widows however; not unlike today, children, minorities, people with mental, physical, and emotional disabilities, immigrants, the poor, sick, weak, and lonely are all vulnerable people. Thank you for your involvement with STEPS, JUMP, Cathedral Square, migrant workers, refugee resettlement, and other Jubilee Ministries.

“Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers.” These scribes were the legal experts of the Temple, keeping and making sure that Jews obeyed their religious laws, and enjoying the benefits of their positions. Their long robes indicated that they were men of leisure and honor. Although they were expected to work for a living, people thought it was their duty to keep their rabbis in comfort. They also felt entitled to the financial support that they received from others, often at the expense of vulnerable people. Unfortunately, women and especially widows, were most likely to be exploited.

            The widow and her son were preparing to die when Elijah arrived. She had only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug, and was gathering sticks so that she could prepare a final meal for them. Then Elijah arrived and basically said, “Give me your last supper.” Was this an example of a powerful person exploiting someone who was powerless, of a religious leader feeling entitled to her support, of a man who felt his needs and life were greater than hers? Or just used to getting what he wanted?

Understandably, this widow initially demurred, explaining to Elijah that she really had nothing to give him except some meal in a jar and a little oil; but Elijah insisted. “Give me this and go get that,” he said to her. “After you’ve made my cake, then you can make one for yourself and your son.” Now, I know neither the tone nor the intent of his words, and yet once again, I wondered, did he not care?  Was he making false promises in the face of his own need? To maintain his own exalted position? Did he value his life more than hers and her son?

Many years ago, our house was broken into, and the door was violently pried open, which reminds me of a favorite joke. “A burglar got into a house one night. Shining his flashlight on the floor in the dark, he heard a voice saying, “Jesus is watching you.” The burglar nervously looked around, shook his head, and kept on looking for valuables. He again heard, “Jesus is watching you.” This time he shone his light all over the room, where it finally rested on a parrot.”
            “The burglar asked, ‘Did you say that?’ The parrot admitted that he had, saying, ‘I’m just trying to warn you, that’s all.’ The burglar said, ‘Warn me, huh? Who are you? What’s your name?’  ‘Moses’, replied the parrot. ‘Well, what kind of stupid person names a parrot Moses?’ the burglar asked.  And the parrot replied, ‘I don’t know. I guess the same stupid person who named his Rottweiler, ‘Jesus.’”
            The gospel says that Jesus was watching people put money into the Treasury. And from what I know about the gospel of Mark, to the delight of the crowds, Jesus was watching the scribes and chief priests and making them nervous. In fact, upon arriving in Jerusalem, the first thing that Jesus did was to cleanse the Temple, accusing their leaders of exploiting the poor for their own self-serving ends, and making the Temple into a ‘den of robbers.’ Then, he publicly denounced the scribes and warned his disciples. From then on, the political and religious leaders kept looking for a way to kill Jesus.

Beware of these people, Jesus told his disciples, and then he pointed to the widow. “Look at what she has done.” Both widows gave freely and faithfully, indeed sacrificially. There was something almost reckless in their actions, perhaps because they thought that they were at the end of their lives and had nothing left to lose. Despite their vulnerability and fragility, they were being dutiful, displaying deep trust in God and trust in their religious community.

The psalmist reminds us that the nature of God is to feed the hungry, care for the stranger, sustain the orphan and widow, and frustrate the way of the wicked. In Christian Century, Brad Roth writes, “This widow puts her money where Israel’s mouth is, choosing to believe that the people will step up to the writ of the law and provide for those who have no allotment or inheritance. Whatever the abuses of the temple hierarchy, this is her sacrifice, freely given to God.”

In Meditations for Women who do Too Much, the author suggests that there is a direct correlation between trust and control. The less trust we have, the more we will try to control the people and events in our lives. The less trust we have in God, the more we will look to ourselves for self-sufficiency. The more we hunger and thirst for God, the less we will hunger and thirst for material things. Paradoxically, indeed counter-intuitively, the more we give, the more we get. The more we give, the more we grow. The more we give, the more we trust God to provide.

 There is a great deal of mistrust, harsh treatment, and entitlement in our country these days. Jesus walked the talk: This is my body given for you. Ever the teacher, he reminded his disciples that it is not about getting something but giving something. To obey God’s commandments, does not mean being legalistic, but being faithful to God and finding ways to be of service to others.

Our giving is not necessarily measured by the amount that we give, but rather by the spirit in which we give it. We can be grumpy or cheerful, giving from our poverty or abundance, fearful or faithful. Do not be afraid, Elijah said. For with God, the jar never empties; indeed it is often re-filled to overflowing. And despite the failings of our religious and political leaders, and ourselves, and the fluctuations in our bank accounts, ultimately it is in God that we trust.

Saints in Transition

Sunday after All Saints’ Day
Cathedral Church of St. Paul, Burlington, Vermont
The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling. Theologian in Residence

I am delighted to be with you this morning at St. Paul’s Cathedral in Burlington, Vermont, although I must say, it is a hard act to follow your recent Dean Jeanne, and a Bishop with a lovely British accent. To Bishop Ely and your wardens, Lisa and Paul, as well as your Canon Precentor Mark, and Deacon Stan, I am most grateful for their invitation to be among you during this time of transition, and for your wonderful and warm welcome. To the vestry, thank you for the “oh so good” Vermont food basket. Our daughter graduated from medical school at the University of Vermont, and Megan has told me that Burlington is the best place in the whole world to live! And here I am! Loving, exploring, and serving with you today.

 I have a long and checkered past history, both with cathedral ministries and with people and places named Paul; and so it seemed a good and right and joyful thing for me to be with you at your cathedral of the same name. I am also delighted to be here on this particular Sunday morning, when we celebrate the major feast of All Saints’ Day and the recent ingathering of your stewardship offerings.

I must confess to you at the beginning of our short relationship of two months, I am a person who loves content more than process, and so I am someone who is often thanked for my “full and thoughtful” agendas, or my sermons that give you “lots to think about.” In fact, I was once accused of being like a fire hydrant on a hot summer afternoon. And so, like you and your own discernment process, I try to remember space, pace, and grace. Besides, it’s almost winter in Burlington.

In preparation for today, I started with a question for God. Oh Lord, where do I begin, and what do I say, with such a cornucopia of blessings  spread before me, with such a beautiful feast to behold in this special place, and my temptation to do too much? I decided to start, and maybe even limit myself (ha ha) to focus on the feast of All Saints; and yet I have to start with that beautiful name of Paul.

I've have been married to Paul Gossling for 44 years, and because of him, the churches in which I have served, and the author of so much of our new testament scripture, many of my sermons have involved thoughts about St. Paul. Despite his sometimes unfavorable ratings, I do love St. Paul. In his theology of the cross, he claims, along with Martin Luther of the Reformation, that we are both sinners and saints, simultaneously condemned and forgiven. Through our God named Jesus, whose home was among mortals, we become justified, that is made right with God. We are sanctified through the Holy Spirit and in baptism, we are raised to new life. In Christ, we all become saints, new creations, reclaiming the inner landscape and beauty of our goodness.

Now, there’s my “theologian-in-residence” message for the day, maybe even for the next two months, although I sincerely doubt it! So back to St. Paul and all those saints that we remember today. My particular Paul, that is my husband Paul, loves the hymn, “I sing a song of the saints of God” in which different kinds of saints are named: one was a doctor, and one was a queen, one was a shepherdess on the green, one was a soldier, one was a priest, and one was slain by a fierce wild beast.

As a doctor in the newborn intensive care unit, our daughter sees death at the very beginning of life, which is heart-wrenching, and grief-producing. Our son, who works with homeless communities in Boston, sees lives that end far too soon because of addiction, mental illness, and poor health. Both of our children attended Sandy Hook School, long before the tragic shooting in December of 2012, when so many young lives were slain by a fierce wild beast. My father, God bless and rest his soul, left a legacy of both faithfulness and humor, when nearing his own death at age 86, quipped, “Only the good die young.”

Understandably, we often console ourselves with images of saints in heaven, imagining them singing songs of joy under the able leadership of someone like your canon precentor. We console ourselves with words, saying that they’ve “gone to a better place”, and yet, why is it that no one is in a rush to get there? We describe these saints through many hymns. They are watchers and holy ones, angels and archangels, patriarchs and prophets, first-responders and martyrs, who now from their labors rest. In the wake of yet another tragic shooting in Pittsburgh, today we sing a song of the saints of God with tears streaming down our cheeks.

 People were weeping in today’s gospel. Jesus was disturbed in spirit, not only once but twice, because he loved, explored, and served with all God’s people. Grief is grief. Understandably, and realistically, we are sad when someone dies, regardless of their length of time here on earth, and most definitely with tragic endings. Often times we complain as Mary did, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." Like the Jews in today’s gospel, we might ask, "Could not he, who opened the eyes of the blind man, have kept this man from dying?"

In self-reflection or outward blame, we may ask, “Was there anything else I could have done? Or the doctors? Or the politicians? Or the schools or the faith communities or our law enforcement to help protect us from these untimely deaths? Is God just a distant king of glory, riding his horse around heaven, like a certain bare-chested president in a foreign country, aware of human suffering, and yet doing nothing about it? Or is God now here, at home among us mortals?  And if so, is God wearing a flak jacket too?

Saints have many vocations, not just doctors, priests, queens, and soldiers; and these vocations are as diverse and beautiful as our humanity. Indeed, every vocation is equally important to our health and our well-being as a society, and we need to celebrate and honor all vocations with equal voice and song. Together, as sinners and saints, we can love, explore, and serve in Christ’s name; for baptism is our primary vocation. Through discernment, we can ask, “What part will I play in this unfolding drama of life?”

Vocare: Latin, to call. When I was called to serve as the rector of St. James’ Episcopal Church in Glastonbury, Connecticut, their  #1 goal was mutual ministry. In Connecticut, Bishop Ely was known as a forerunner of collaborative ministries among small parishes there. Around the city of Hartford, we were a cluster of saints, from various church communities, who were committed to serving God in different locations and through various vocations, sharing our resources for the greater glory of God. The Cathedral Church of St. Paul is called by God to love, explore, and serve. How will you continue to do that now and into the future as an urban cathedral?

As you know from these current political and ecclesiastical times, transitions of any kind can bring out the worst and the best in ourselves. Like transitions at childbirth and at death, and every transition in between, whatever size or shape, however big or small, transitions are hard and holy work. Especially during this time in your cathedral, I encourage you to name and claim your gifts, both as individuals and as a cathedral community. During this time of stewardship ingathering and outpouring, you become a visible witness to the love and power of God. With a variety of gifts and the same Spirit, you are the saints of God past, present, and future. We are saints alive! Imagine that!

As Paul and I grow older, we are ever more aware of the fragility and shortness of this life. Long ago, I attended an adult formation offering based upon a book entitled “Ready to Live. Prepared to Die.” When we are living our lives consciously and faithfully, and fully prepared to die, we are ready to live. I recently spoke with a friend from Connecticut, who is, as she describes it, “on her way out”, because of a tumor that has spread throughout her brain. She spoke to me about the importance of her legacy to her children and grandchildren. She wants to faithfully model her transition from this life into the next with courage and grace. Despite the cruelty of this disease, and the impact on her family, I am amazed at the legacy that she is living and giving right now. I know that our memories will fade; and yet I trust that the bonds of our love, and God’s love, are stronger than death. See how Jesus loved Lazarus. See how Jesus loves us.

In a meditation for young adults, Chris Roberson writes, “There’s nothing fun about pain and suffering. If we could avoid it most of us would, choosing instead to live in a world with nothing but unicorns, rainbows, and butterflies. But unfortunately, that’s not how life works. Everything belongs: good and bad, light and dark, hope and despair, heaven and hell. It’s all there, right in front of us, all around us. And so is God, which is why we have nothing to fear.” (www.d365.org 10/28/18)

"See,” explains the author of Revelation, “God will be with us. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.” Babies are born, people get married, new clergy are called, and people will die, and yet, each day is a new beginning. Ruth Casey writes, “I’ve come to believe in the ‘Sacrament of the Moment’ which presupposes trust in the ultimate goodness of my Creator. Each breath we take is Spirit-filled. This moment and all moments are sacred.” (Each Day is a New Beginning, July 16)

On this Sunday after All Saints’ Day, it’s a time to reflect upon our own developing sainthood and the transitions in our lives. Sinners and saints of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, YOU are sacred, YOU have gifts to share, and YOU have legacies to leave. YOU are saints alive! So unbind yourselves, and let your selves go. For the One who is seated on the throne is making all things new, and did Jesus “not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”


Psalm 24: 1-10
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44