Toys

 The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling    

One of my new and favorite meditation books is called The Language of Letting Go. Two post Christmas reflections encourage “growth” and “moving on.” How apt for my new-year’s resolutions! How apt for our pandemic hopes! It makes me wonder, “How do I let go of this past year, which was filled with personal, familial, and vocational challenges, and move on to yet another year of growth opportunities?”

I like the idea of old toys and new toys. With three grandchildren ranging in age from 3 to 1 1/2 years old, I’ve been learning all over again about toys. Some of the “old” toys are still the best. They have stood the test of time and still deliver! Some are broken and need repair or even the trash. Unfortunately, I’ve discovered that some toys don’t hold my attention any longer. So it is with me and my prayer life. So it is with me and some of my relationships, like with those squirrels at the birdfeeder. So it is with me in discovering new ways to let go, move on, and grow.

Melody Beattie writes, “Just as when we were children and grew out of favorite toys and clothes, we sometimes grow out of things as adults - people, jobs, homes. When we were children, we may have tried to fit into an outgrown article of clothing. Now, as adults, we may go through a time of trying to force-fit attitudes that we have outgrown. What worked last year, what was so important and special to us in times past, doesn’t work anymore because we’ve changed. We’ve grown. We can put away last year’s toys and make room for the new.”

Moving on involves letting go, which involves a process of grief. It can be confusing. There is a rainbow of feelings, changing daily like the news. The reasons for “letting go” and “moving on” are varied; and so the toy metaphor begs me to ask some questions, “What old toys do I need to leave behind in order to move forward? What new toys can I unwrap in this new year?”

Donna W. Michael, RIP

Celebration of the Life of Donna W. Michael      February 5, 1951 - November 21, 2020
Omps Funeral Home, Winchester, Virginia          1 Corinthians 13:1-13, John 14:1-6
The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling, virtual officiant

I am honored by Steve’s request for me to join you today and I only regret that my husband Paul and I cannot be with you in Virginia. I have heard so many stories about Donna and Steve over the years from my husband, who was a business partner of Steve’s and close friends of them both for decades. They are what Paul calls “foxhole” people. You never have to look over your shoulder to see if they are still there. When the chips are down, they are still at the table, and betting that in the end, Love wins.

These are hard times. Steve used the word “rough.” The winds of grief are blowing across our country, crossing our state lines, and leaving so many of us fearful, sick, and tired. Unexpected diagnoses and deaths, like Donna’s, have sent us reeling in disbelief. It is like pouring salt on a wound and into our broken hearts. Tears are real and appropriate, even as we gather to celebrate Donna’s wonderful life. She was one of a kind. And a very kind and loving one at that.

Listening to Steve talk about Donna reminded me of St. Paul’s letter to the church community gathered in Corinth. It is more often used at weddings, and yet this scripture passage is also relevant for this occasion. After all, these are sacred and special moments in our lives, like birthdays in February, and anniversaries in June. They are all about love, unselfish giving, and wanting to please another person. Donna was like that, a big-hearted and beautiful woman, who respected the dignity of every human being.

Donna was a person of faith, hope, and love; and today we celebrate her life and her love, most especially for Steve. She had faith in God. She had hope for better things to come. She had love. “No worries,” she said to Steve. “If the chips are down, we still have each other. When life is at its hardest, I will still be by your side.” She was happiest when she was with Steve; and as Victor Hugo once said, “to love another person is to see the face of God.”

At times like these, I trust in God’s promises, as revealed to us in the person of Jesus. I trust that this same God who created Donna and Steve, who created you and me, also loves us even beyond the grave. Jesus knew what it is like to grieve the loss of a loved one; Jesus also faced his own death unexpectedly and suddenly. When He knew that his end was near, and that his death was imminent, He gave his friends and disciples a new commandment: that they love one another as He had loved them. “Don’t worry,” He said. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in me; believe also in God.”

God’s love is unconditional, undeserved, and eternal. On the other side of this dark day of loss is Resurrection life, when our Life will be transformed into something more glorious than we can ever imagine. “This is my way, my truth, and my life,” said Jesus. This is God’s Way of Love.

The gate to eternal life may seem rusty and creaky and in great need of repair right now. Such is the process of grief, and the journey we take without our loved ones. But on the road ahead, there is a mountain. And as the prophet Isaiah once said, “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines. And he will destroy the shroud that is cast over all peoples; he will swallow up death forever. Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and it will be said on that day, ‘Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us. Let us be glad and rejoice in our salvation.”

I believe that Donna is at peace on this holy mountain and has found a new room in God’s house. With her body restored to health, I imagine her planting vegetables in the garden, playing with Spanky and Buckwheat on the deck, feeding the birds in the air, and preparing gourmet meals in God’s kitchen, while trash talking with her friends. There she waits for Steve to join her one day.

Until then, “Look all around you,” she will say to us from that distant place, “and you will see signs of God’s love everywhere. You will hear me whisper in the silence, and you will know that I am there with you. Don’t stop sharing God’s love,” she will remind us. “Until we meet again, keep the faith. Hold onto hope. And love fiercely.” Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Encouragement

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                                    

1 Thessalonians 5:11 “Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.”

I posed the question, ‘What exactly do you need?” to the vestry members of St. Peter’s Church in Cambridge yesterday. While God knows our needs before we ask, it’s good to verbalize them to ourselves and to others. 

It was November of 2012 and I had just written a letter to the good people of St. James Episcopal Church in Glastonbury, Connecticut. I had served as their rector for ten amazing years and felt that God was calling me (and them) to something new. I knew not what. I knew not where. I just knew it was time.

That very same month, Brother Curtis from the Society of St. John the Evangelist, in Cambridge, Massachusetts (SSJE) had been invited to Connecticut to offer some reflections at our clergy day. I had never met him before and to this day I still remember his words on encouragement. Who knew that 8 years later I would be living right down the street from SSJE and Brother Curtis? Who knew that those were the very words I needed to hear then and now?

Encouragement is a matter of the heart, coming from the French word “coeur.” We look for courage within us, perhaps saying to ourselves in a moment of challenge, “With God’s help, I can do this!” Or, as a community, we look for encouragement, saying to each other, “Together, we can!” Without encouragement our hearts become hardened. With encouragement, our hearts are softened, healed, and strengthened for God’s mission of love and reconciliation.

Brother Curtis suggested that there are two groups of people who need the grace of encouragement: (1) the least, the lost, and the last; and (2) leaders. God knows there are plenty of us who feel least, last, and lost. God knows that the leaders of our churches, our communities, our nation and our world need the grace of encouragement now more than ever. Indeed, St. Paul knew it when he wrote his letter to the Thessalonians in the 1st century.

Encouragement dissipates fear. “What do we need?” To lean forward in faith into the unknown mystery of the future. We need the grace of encouragement.

Revelation

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling, All Saints Sunday

Revelation 7:9-17: After this I, John, looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands. Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, "Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?" Then he said to me, "These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

The Rev. Cathay Venkatesh recently offered some words of wisdom to our contemplative prayer group. “Abnormal and extraordinary acts of hate and violence are often what is communicated in the news,” she said. Or as many people are fond of saying, “If it bleeds, it leads.” Terrorism and violence have been with us for a very long time. No news there. And yet, it still horrifies us. It is still abhorrent. 

So, in the news, we recently heard of the presumed terrorist attack on three people in the basilica in France. We heard of the shooting and violence in Philadelphia, where another black man was killed by police and rampant looting and deaths ensued. We heard of an abandoned newborn in an Australia airport and the subsequent invasive body checks of women taken off the plane. There is political and religious vitriol. These are people that come from “every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages.” And while it may seem like the “new normal”, it’s not.

Lamenting is frequent these days. We grieve the loss of our loved ones from the pandemic. We cry for our beloved country and our world. We are poorer in spirit if not in our bank accounts. We remember our lives before COVID-19; and we want to go back to those ways in which we “lived and moved and had our beings.” “Blessed are those who mourn;” said Jesus, “for they will be comforted.”

We are people who have “gone through a great ordeal.” The vast majority of us routinely offer acts of love, mercy, and kindness. And so we persevere, buoyed by our faith, hope, and love. Created as God’s beloved, we have been knit together in one fellowship, a common communion of humanity, that spans all time and space. All Saints’ Sunday reminds us of this eternal truth.

And John reveals that vision of hope. On that day, when we approach “our God who is seated on the throne” we “will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike us, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be our shepherd, and he will guide us to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from our eyes."

Bring it on, I pray. Ineffable joys. Maranatha.

Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

Guerrillas of Grace

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                            

Ted Loder, Guerrillas of Grace: “Precious Lord, grant me a sense of humor that adds perspective to compassion, gratitude that adds persistence to courage, quietness of spirit that adds irrepressibility to hope, openness of mind that adds surprise to joy; that with gladness of heart I may link arm and aim with the One who saw signs of your kingdom in salt and yeast, pearls and seeds, travelers and tax collectors, sowers and harlots, foreigners and fishermen, and open my eyes with these signs and my ears with the summons to follow to something more of justice and joy.”

Lately, I have needed an attitude adjustment, almost on a daily basis. Despite the bright blue sky overhead, occasionally I have felt like Linus in that cartoon series called Peanuts. A rain cloud will appear over me no matter where I walk. And I have walked plenty of places: flat surfaces, hills, valleys, and beaches. Rural places, suburbs, and cities around our world. And what do I see? Not the beauty of God’s creation but the ugliness of humanity. It is all in my head, and not in my eyes. I need an attitude adjustment.

I like Ted Loder’s title “Guerrillas of Grace” for many reasons. Guerrilla warfare is occupying my brain. I need grace! That undeserved and unmerited love of God for everyone and everything, even me. The pandemic and politics have limited my viewpoints, narrowed my perspective, and pulled me into a shell of isolation. I need to look beyond the barricades. I need to link “arms with the One who saw signs of God’s kingdom” everywhere, and then ask God for an attitude adjustment. “Grant me a sense of humor that adds perspective to compassion, gratitude that adds persistence to courage, quietness of spirit that adds irrepressibility to hope. Open my eyes and mind; help me follow You and find justice and joy.”

Despite his age, Moses still had plenty of vigor, and so he climbed Mount Nebo to be alone with God. There, from that vantage point, he could see farther than the plains of Moab. He saw valleys, the Mediterranean Sea, the Jordan River, and palm trees offering shade in the desert. He saw cities, both great and small, that dotted the landscape. There, he had a vision of God’s promises. He saw a land of opportunity. He imagined a future with many good things.

Centuries later, Jesus walked this very land. He saw “signs of God’s kingdom in salt and yeast, pearls and seeds, travelers and tax collectors, sowers and harlots, foreigners and fishermen.” He brought justice and joy with Him everywhere He went, promising good things, not just on the sunny days of summer, but also in the dark times of winter. Even though ploughshares were beaten into swords and pruning hooks into spears, Jesus brought peace to the middle east.

“You will see God’s grace,” Jesus said. Just open your eyes to “see God’s hand at work in the world about you.” And so, today, I link arms with God, and look for the guerillas of grace all around me. I pray for an attitude adjustment once again.

Ted Loder, Guerrillas of Grace: “Eternal Friend, grant me an ease to breathe deeply of this moment, this light, this miracle of now. Beneath the din and fury of great movements and harsh news and urgent crises, make me attentive still to good news, to small occasions, and the grace of what is possible for me to be, to do, to give, to receive, that I may miss neither my neighbor’s gift nor my enemy’s need.

Deuteronomy 34:1-12: Moses went up from the plains of Moab to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, which is opposite Jericho, and the Lord showed him the whole land. Moses was one hundred twenty years old when he died; his sight was unimpaired and his vigor had not abated.

Speechless

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                

Matthew 22:1-14:    Once more Jesus spoke to the people in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.’ But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests.

“But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.”

Speechless

We’re hearing a lot of speeches these days by people in power, by people with strong opinions, and by people who have become harsh in their criticism of others. Sometimes, I wish they would just shut up. There is an acronym “SMH” which means “shaking my head.” Sometimes we’re rendered speechless. We see things we can’t believe. We hear things we wish we hadn’t. Tempted, we may respond in kind. Enraged, weeping and gnashing our own teeth in disgust, we want to throw people into the outer darkness, or under the bus. Sometimes, I can only SMH.

It’s always a question in my mind as to whether or not I should speak up or remain silent. Is it anger or fear or gratitude or amazement that opens or shuts my mouth?  Like the king I can become enraged, most especially at “isms”, injustices, prejudice, and inequalities. “Do I need to hit the mute button before I react?” I ask myself. Am I afraid of retribution? Is this the time to speak up even though my knees are shaking and my voice is quivering?

In this parable told by Jesus, I wonder who “he” is. Was it the king who was speechless, after he had invited his friends and honored guests to the wedding banquet, and they didn’t come? Perhaps the king was angry that his generosity had been met with disrespect, that people were “too busy” to come to the party, and that his slaves had been killed? They made light of this significant event; and now this man from the streets wasn’t wearing the right clothes. Was the king speechless in his disbelief?

Or was “he” the man without the wedding robe? The one who had been invited by the king’s servants to join the party? I imagine that he was delighted to be there, enjoying a feast of royal delights and well-aged wine! Why then might “he”, the man without a wedding robe, be rendered speechless at the appearance of his host? I would think that he would gush with praise, bow down with respect, and offer words of gratitude, unless of course his mouth was full of fatted calf. Or he was afraid. Then he might be speechless.

People in royal garb can intimidate us. Some call it “power-dressing” others call it “fitting clothes” for their leadership positions. Powerful people can render us cautious as well as speechless. Suddenly in their presence, we may find ourselves bowing and scraping, fawning and obsequious, kissing rings and kissing up. We offer effusive words of praise, that are as empty in nutritional value as cotton candy, or we just stay silent.

When asked a simple question, like “how did you get in here dressed like that?” the man at the wedding banquet couldn’t answer. Perhaps he never expected to see the king at all, and when he suddenly found himself in his presence, he choked. Maybe he was rendered speechless out of fear. Or maybe it was the mystery and awe of this royal power that had him shaking in his boots, dropping to his knees, and silencing his quivering heart.

Apparently, this guest stood out in the crowd because he was dressed differently than the others. The king “called him out” but why did he call him "friend"? “Just go out on the streets and invite everyone to the party,” the king had told his servants. What exactly did he expect? Who did he think was coming to dinner? The good, the bad, and the ugly, Jesus told us. In light of that, doesn’t the king's response to this man’s wardrobe seem a little harsh?

Here’s what I think. I believe that God does become enraged by our bad behavior; and yet, in the end, God preserves our life. Stretching out his arms of love on that hardwood of the cross, Jesus invited everyone to the party. Then, when we find ourselves in that royal  banquet hall, on that holy mountain where there is a rich feast of select foods and choice wines, our disgrace will be removed, and our tears will be dried by God. “Don’t worry about what you’re wearing,” Jesus will say to us, as we will kneel in wonder, love, and praise. With hearts filled with love, we will be speechless in the presence of God.

Matthew 25:27-28:    Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you.

Isaiah 25:6-8:    On this mountain, the Lord of heavenly forces will prepare for all peoples a rich feast, a feast of choice wines, of select foods rich in flavor, of choice wines well refined. He will swallow up on this mountain the veil that is veiling all peoples, the shroud enshrouding all nations. He will swallow up death forever. The Lord God will wipe tears from every face; he will remove his people’s disgrace from off the whole earth, for the Lord has spoken.

Wild Grapes in the Vineyard

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                   

Isaiah 5:1-7

Let me sing for my beloved

my love-song concerning his vineyard:

My beloved had a vineyard

on a very fertile hill.

He dug it and cleared it of stones,

and planted it with choice vines;

he built a watchtower in the midst of it,

and hewed out a wine vat in it;

he expected it to yield grapes,

but it yielded wild grapes.

 Psalm 80:7-14

 7 Restore us, O God of hosts; *

show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.

 8 You have brought a vine out of Egypt; *

you cast out the nations and planted it.

 9 You prepared the ground for it; *

it took root and filled the land.

 10 The mountains were covered by its shadow *

and the towering cedar trees by its boughs.

11 You stretched out its tendrils to the Sea *

and its branches to the River. 

12 Why have you broken down its wall, *

so that all who pass by pluck off its grapes?

 13 The wild boar of the forest has ravaged it, *

and the beasts of the field have grazed upon it.

 14 Turn now, O God of hosts, look down from heaven;

behold and tend this vine; *

preserve what your right hand has planted. 

The imagery in these passages is ripe, fruitful, and evocative. There is a vineyard on a fertile hill. Picture it. There is a worker digging up stones and planting vines. This beloved worker creates a watchtower which offers us perspective and a vision of things to come. After a while, the hard labor bears fruit; and the wine vat reminds us that some things need to be pressed in order to create new spirits. The beloved worker expected a good harvest; and yet the grapes were wild! “Why was that?” the prophet asked.

The psalmist reminds us that God was the Creator of this vineyard; and that God is also the beloved worker. God had invited God’s people to be co-creators and co-laborers in God’s vineyard. At first, the vines of God’s people stretched out their tendrils to the sea; they extended their branches from deep roots. Mountains and trees provided shade. Rivers and seas ran clear; and yet God’s precious grapes ran wild. They set God’s teeth on edge.

God expected peace in the land and yet saw bloodshed. God expected love and saw hate. God expected justice and mercy; and yet the scales in their courts routinely tipped out of balance. The country had become overgrown with briars and thorns. Hedges that had once protected the fruit were trampled down. Boundaries were frequently violated. People plucked the fruit of other people’s labors without permission; and wild beasts roamed the streets, ravaging the hard work of those who had planted seeds in the vineyard.

At this moment in history, back then and even today, the vineyard is not a pretty picture. There is a drought in New England, fires on the west coast, hurricanes in the south, and windstorms that sweep across the plains. The climate control switch has been turned off; and the vineyard has become a desolate wasteland. It is filled with fearful people struggling to breathe.

Indeed, the reality of injustice, violence, lawlessness, and inequality was evident in the disordered lives and chaos. People became sick. They were sick and tired of being sick and tired.“Why is this happening?” the prophet asked. “Who is to blame? And who will help us?” they shouted at God. “You made us. You planted us. You can stop this,” they demanded.

When life and our world seem to be spinning out of control, we can begin with prayer. Like the psalmist, we can ask God to “Restore us, O God of hosts; show us the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.” Save us, even if it is from ourselves and from our own doing. “Turn now, O God of hosts, look down from heaven; behold and tend this vine; preserve what your right hand has planted.”

Please help us, we pray to the distant landowner, to the Son who was crucified, and to the Spirit who empowers us to tend the vineyard. Please help us, we pray to the One who gives life, one breath at a time.

 Matthew 21:33-46

Jesus said, “Listen to another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. Again he sent other slaves, more than the first; and they treated them in the same way. Finally he sent his son to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.” So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” They said to him, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.”

Seeds of Hope

 

St. Barnabas Church, Falmouth            The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

             According to my HarperCollins Study Bible, today’s passage from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans is introduced with the headline, “Marks of a True Christian.” It is a list of imperatives, drawing on the wisdom tradition of scripture, like the book of Proverbs. It focuses on social relations, which St. Paul offers as guidelines for the budding Christian community in Rome. During these times of COVID 19, systemic racism and violence, political battles, and social unrest, how many of us can claim these marks for ourselves? Not me!

            The marks of being a true Christian suggest ways we can become better versions of ourselves; and yet holding myself up against this yardstick of perfection, I find myself sorely lacking. My battle with the squirrels brought out the worst in me, “Vengeance is mine!” I would yell as they scurried away from the birdfeeder. Or listening to the news, I would find myself despairing. How do you not curse some of these people? How do I hold fast to what is good when I want to heap burning coals on their heads?

St. Barnabas, whose feast day was this past Monday, was known as both the “son of consolation and the son of encouragement.” When I read this passage from St. Paul’s letter, at first, I was neither consoled nor encouraged. We live in dark times. The pandemic is still virulent, Jacob Blake was shot by the police in his back 7 times, and violence is erupting in our cities. Many people are feeling helpless, powerless, and hopeless.

Sometimes I wonder about us humans!  How can we behave like “that” and still call ourselves people of faith or “true Christians” or just decent human beings? Discouraged by what I see and hear, I weep with those who weep; and then I look for some relief from the pain. I look for temporary distractions, not to avoid or deny the reality of what is going on, but rather to pause and reflect on how I might respond. I want answers to the chaos and confusion in our world, and scripture stories remind me of God’s steadfast love, justice, and mercy.

Moses was born as a Hebrew child, and yet raised by Pharaoh’s daughter in Egypt, after her father ordered all the Hebrew baby boys to be killed. As an adult, Moses began to understand his own heritage; he saw firsthand the oppression and forced labor of his people. When he saw an Egyptian beating one of his kinsfolk, he made sure that no one was watching, and then he killed him. He took justice into his own hands.

“When Moses went out the next day, he saw two Hebrews fighting between each other; and he said to the one who was in the wrong, “Why do you strike your fellow Hebrew?” The man answered, “Who made you a ruler and judge over us? Do you mean to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?” (Exodus 2:11-15) Violence is prevalent when unjust systems exist; and during times of high stress, people react poorly. We turn against one another. We kill our own people. And yet, St. Paul reminded the Christians in Rome, who were being persecuted at that time, to leave room for the wrath of God.

John Fraser, the European correspondent of the Globe and Mail, one of Canada's national newspapers in 1985, told a story about his daughter Jessie to the late Henri Nouwen. In his book called Seeds of Hope, Nouwen recalled John’s story. “One morning Jessie, who was 4 years old at the time, found a dead sparrow in front of their living room window. When she saw it, she was both deeply disturbed and very intrigued. Jessie asked her father, “Where is the bird now?”

            “John said he didn’t know; and when Jessie asked why it had to die, he replied, ‘because all birds return to the earth.’ ‘Oh,’ said Jessie, ‘then we have to bury it.’ A box was found, a procession was had, the grave was dug, and a cross was planted on top of it. The 4-year-old girl then offered a prayer, “Dear God, we have buried this little sparrow. Now be good to her or I will kill you. Amen.” (Seeds of Hope, p.214)

When we are sad or really angry, and our feelings are out of control, it is tempting to threaten people, or in worse cases, to take justice into our own hands. The seeds of good and evil are planted early in our human hearts. How we nurture these seeds, however, remains up to us. Hate will consume us. Rage will burn buildings and set fires of destruction. Only Love will save us.

Perhaps the silver lining in times like these is that everybody gets “woke up.” Everybody’s attention becomes focused on the problem at hand, like COVID 19, or those issues lying beneath the surface, like systemic racism. In today’s reading from Exodus, God woke up. “I have observed the misery of my people and I have heard their cry,” he said to Moses. “Indeed, I know their sufferings. So, I want you to go back to Egypt; I want you to deliver my people.”

One of my favorite distractions is to watch the Celtics basketball team. As a season ticket holder, I love the diversity and variety of the fans as well as the players. I love the passion and culture of this team, and how they console, support, and encourage each other, not only in their work but also in their lives. Since the Pandemic, they have been playing in a bubble in Florida and had just entered the playoffs when Jacob Blake was shot. In a show of solidarity against systemic racism, they postponed their first play-off game until today.

Jaylen Brown, a 23-year-old rising star on the team, wears the number 7 on his jersey, and the word “liberation” on his back. In a recent interview, he said, “When I woke up after the shooting of Jacob Blake, everything in me was on fire.” According to Taylor Snow, “what angered Brown was the familiar nightmarish scenario that African Americans continue to endure in the United States, along with the commonplace attempts to minimize such events.”

 “I now see my number 7 and can only think of a black man being shot seven times. There is an emphasis in this country on the framing of these instances,” Brown explained, “‘Well, he was a convicted felon. Well, he had a history of police brutality. Well, he possibly had a weapon.’ This framework is not unfamiliar to people of color and African Americans, nor does it constitute death or being shot seven times.”

“People of color have histories of the plague of systemic oppression, the lack of education, economic opportunity, housing, systemic racism and injustice. Yes, we are athletes being paid to play the game we love; but we are also human beings, family members, and members of our communities back home.” (Taylor Snow @taylorcsnow Celtics.com, August 25, 2020)

So, perhaps like Jaylen’s team members, perhaps like you and me, we need to keep asking that question, “What should we do now? And what exactly can I do?” “Extend hospitality to strangers,” St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Christians in Rome. In “Hostility to Hospitality” Nouwen claims that “hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. It is not to bring people over to our side, but to offer freedom not disturbed by dividing lines.”(Seeds of Hope, p36) Together, in our communities and our churches, we can make space for transformation. We can educate ourselves out of ignorance. We can build bridges of hope, plant seeds of love, and accept all people as beloved children of God.

In his letter to the Romans, St. Paul said, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God-- what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Being perfect means having integrity. It means that our words and actions are consistent with who we claim to be. We strive to love one another with mutual affection, outdo one another in showing honor, not lag in our zeal and spirits, and walk the talk with our brothers and sisters.

 “Do not repay anyone evil for evil but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all,” wrote St. Paul. “So far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all” people. St. Paul’s words are aspirational, and they are intended to be words of both consolation and encouragement. “Never, never, never give up,” said Winston Churchill; for “it all seems impossible, until it is done,” claimed Nelson Mandela.

“Set your mind on divine things,” Jesus told Peter. When we are patient in our suffering, and persevere in our prayers, we can rejoice in hope with others because we trust that God will lead us out of this darkness into light. We may even find ways to bless our enemies. When the Son of Man comes with his angels in glory, he will make reparations and restore the breach that divides us; for, as MLK, Jr. once said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Battle at the Bird Feeder

 

St. Barnabas, Falmouth, Massachusetts    August 23, 2020            The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Jesus said to them, “But who do you say that I am?”

Jesus had come to a point in his life when he needed to ask this hard question of those closest to him. “I know what others are saying about me,” he said. “But who do you say that I am?” “Well,” they replied, “some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” And then Peter stuck his neck out and said, “No. You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

Location is important. Not speaking from a convention in Bethlehem, cleaning out the temple in Jerusalem, or teaching in a synagogue in his hometown, Jesus was talking to his disciples in Caesarea Philippi. Jesus was on his proverbial campaign trail, stepping far away from his family, his religious party and its leaders, and the political rulers of his country. He had traveled north with his disciples to reflect upon his own identity.

Identity politics is a buzzword and a trigger for many people. Now before you react to these words, in an article by German Lopez in August of 2017 entitled “The Battle over Identity Politics, Explained” he wrote that (quote) “identity politics isn’t just a tool of the left. The right has used it again and again. At the crux of both sides of identity politics is a simple problem: No one wants to get left behind.” (end quote) And so, our battles continue.

My recent battle started out innocently enough; and yet it has taken on “wings of its own.” I call it the battle at the bird feeder. You see, our son Brian created a bird feeder for my birthday. Initially, when my husband Paul and I began sheltering on the Cape, we placed the bird feeder on our deck. We were delighted and amazed at the variety of birds that arrived to eat. Then the raccoon appeared, followed by rabbits and chipmunks, and finally an army of gray and red squirrels.

At first, we would bring the feeder into our house at night, which made the squirrels so angry that they chewed through our screen door. One day, Paul found the leader of the pack happily helping himself to food in our living room. So, we decided to leave the bird feeder outside, where it was routinely occupied by the squirrels. The birds, chipmunks, and rabbits watched from a distance, feeding on whatever fell to the ground or scattered on the deck, and only after the squirrels had left. Apparently, the raccoon had moved on. There was no justice and no peace at our bird feeder. And it made me angry.

Our deck soon became littered with birdseed, animal waste, and property destruction. It looked like a city street after a bad night of protests or partying. And so, Paul and I decided to move our bird feeder to a different location and put it on a pole. We thought that the birds would then have total access to the food; but squirrels can jump; and they climbed the pole, even after we had greased and pepper sprayed it.

Some years ago, during my sabbatical from parish ministry, I took a course called Jesus in Palestine at St. George's College in Jerusalem. For two weeks we learned about Jesus and the ongoing battles between the Palestinian Christians, the Arabs in surrounding countries, and the Jews who inhabited the country of Israel. One day, we visited the northern district of Caesarea Philippi.

In ancient times, Caesarea Philippi was a pagan holy site. It had a deep spring of water inside a dark cave which inspired awe and mystery. Worshipers would throw human beings into the pool of water at the back of the cave as living sacrifices for their god. If the body disappeared, they believed their sacrifice had been accepted; if the body or blood rose to the surface, then the sacrifice had been rejected and they would try again.

When this territory became occupied by Alexander the Great, an altar was erected to the Greek god named Pan, who was believed to be part human and part goat. Goats were considered sacred; and so, like my squirrels, they had enormous freedom to frisk about in this grotto. They nibbled on the leaves and the gifts of food that had been left on the altar. After all, their god was part human and had to eat more than just leaves!

Now, in this very same location, which was now occupied by the Roman government, Jesus asked that question about his identity, “And who do people say that I am?” he asked. “You are the Messiah,” Peter claimed. That is “You are the anointed one, our divinely appointed king, who will save us from the religious and political leaders of our time. You are a human being just like us and yet you are the Son of the living God.” “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven,” Jesus responded.

“From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the religious and political people in power. “It will be me,” Jesus was saying to his disciples, “who will be thrown into that cave, but my sacrifice will be once and for all people. Although you will see my body and blood on the cross, you will not have to try again. So, present your bodies as “living sacrifices, which is your spiritual worship, and love others as I have loved you.”

Battles have raged over people, places, and things from the beginning of time, and power has shifted from one group to another with regularity. My innocent battle at the bird feeder got me thinking. I have been sorely tested by those squirrels in my backyard. As a mother against gun violence, and an opponent of the death penalty, at times I was tempted to hurt the squirrels. In my anger, I wanted to defend our property and stand my ground. No one wants to have their homes invaded, or their property destroyed. I wanted justice.

The bird feeder was created to feed birds; and yet my handouts were going to the squirrels. I looked at those “Have-a Heart” suggestions and thought of ICE: Immigration Control and Enforcement. But I know that relocation does not always solve our problems; and those squirrels keep coming back. As an advocate of open communion, I began to wonder. Perhaps I should welcome the squirrels to my bird feeder?  “No one wants to be left behind,” right? Everybody’s gotta eat!

Identity is important. “Who are you?” my daughter once asked me when I did not behave like her mother. Well, that depends, I thought to myself. Politically, I am red, blue, purple, and green depending upon the issue. Spiritually, I can fly like the birds. Sometimes, I can even behave like those squirrels. But if I identify myself as a baptized Christian, then you will know that I am a member of Christ’s Body, who has renewed her covenant with God in front of God’s people, with regularity.

This past week, Brother James from SSJE wrote about dignity. He said, “In our baptisms we pledged, with God’s help, to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being. But we cannot do that if we are constantly elbowing people out of the way in order to get what we think we are owed. We cannot do that if we fail to see the image of God in the faces of those whom we deem to be insignificant, or least, or last.” And I would add or different from us.

On that day in Caesarea Philippi long ago, we renewed our baptismal promises in the trickling waters of the Jordan River. We made the sign of the cross on our foreheads and promised to respect the dignity of all people. We promised to care for all of God’s creation. While my battle at the bird feeder, the political and religious battles in our country and throughout our world are not yet over, in the end, the victory is ours. For the crux of the matter is that God does not want anyone, or any part of God’s creation left behind.

As Christians, we believe that God’s mission of reconciliation was accomplished in the person of Jesus, who was fully human and fully divine. Through Him we are forgiven, restored, and set free; for despite his initial request for secrecy, the identity of Jesus was revealed on the cross. Peter got it right. Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God, and that is good news for all of us, maybe even for the squirrels.

 Romans 12:1-8        Matthew 16:13-20

 

Begging for Mercy

 

August 16, 2020        The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling        Begging for Mercy

 Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly. (Matthew 15: 21-28)

Have you ever had to beg for mercy? If you are anything like me, you prefer not to ask for help, because you like to be in control. You like to be independent, self sufficient, capable of handling whatever happens. And so asking for help is difficult, and begging for mercy is nearly impossible. Things have to be pretty bad to sink that low, to become that vulnerable. Like the first time I had to ask for help when a family member was struggling with an addiction.

Begging for mercy was also the case with the woman in today’s gospel. She was a Canaanite, in other words an enemy of the Jews. She was one of those people the Israelites had to conquer in order to receive the land promised to them by their God. And she was unclean because she was a Gentile. A Gentile, and a woman! No wonder Jesus, who was a good and faithful Jew, gave her the silent treatment. No wonder the disciples wanted Jesus to send her away.

According to the Bible, we are made in the image of God. We have been created with minds to think, hearts to love, hands to serve, and the freedom of our wills to decide what we will or will not do. I often think that I should be able to handle things that I can't. Sometimes I understand what’s happening and why; other times I can only "smh"- shake my head. Jesus thought that he had been sent by God only to his people. And now here was this Gentile woman begging him for mercy.

Jesus told her that it wasn't fair, that it wasn't right, that he should give Israel’s food - that is the mercy of God- to the dogs - a Jewish euphemism for Gentiles. Initially, he intended to send her away. But this woman was desperate, as those of us who have ever faced the loss of a loved one can be. At times like these, read pandemic, we'll do anything, try anything, say anything to hang on to what we know and love - whether it be a person, a job, a teaching, or even an addiction.

I worked for a year as a chaplain at Bridgeport Hospital. On a Friday that I will never forget, I was the chaplain who was called to the emergency room. In the trauma room was a young Korean woman in her early 20's. She had drunk approximately 3 gallons of cleaning fluid, and had been discovered in the bathroom by her younger sister. The doctor asked me to inform the mother and sister that she would not live. The social worker escorted me to the family room, where I met the mother and her other daughter for the first time.

The mother was understandably hysterical, and as she spoke to me in Korean, her daughter translated. She told me that her older daughter could not die, because they were Christians, and if she died she would go to hell because she had done this terrible thing. I told her that I also was a Christian, but did not believe that. I told her that I thought that there is a wideness in God's mercy, and that when she died, she would not go to hell. I told her that while the doctors did not expect her to live, I also told her that I believed in miracles. And that all that we could do at this point was to pray - pray for her life and pray for God 's mercy.

Together we went to the trauma room to say some prayers, where the older daughter lay, with black fluid draining from her body, and a team of physicians and nurses surrounding the table. Before I could open my mouth, the mother began to pray in Korean. Weeping and praying, hands outstretched over her daughter, she continued until the doctors told us that it was time to go. Her daughter was then wheeled from the trauma room to the Medical Intensive Care Unit in order to die.

I accompanied the mother and the younger sister to our chapel in the hospital, where I offered to stay with them and pray. The mother indicated to me that she was fine being alone, and so I returned to her dying daughter in the MICU to say some final prayers of my own. Like the woman in today’s gospel story, I couldn't bear the grief of this mother, perhaps because I am a mother myself. I couldn't bear the thought of this young and beautiful daughter dying, perhaps because she was so close in age to my own daughter. And I was angry because I thought that there must have been something awful that happened to drive her to such an extreme. Certainly God wouldn't condemn her for such a decision. And so at her bedside in the MICU, with tears of anger and grief in my eyes, I prayed very briefly beföre I went home. "Lord Jesus, you said that if we asked for anything in your name, you would do it. So do something!"

Although not Jewish, I do have a lot of chutzpah. And although bold, I have never been quite so bold, before or even after that Friday. I have not demanded certain outcomes from God since then; and yet I have begged for mercy on many occasions. As my anger subsided, my grief did not, and I found myself praying all weekend, begging for mercy. I imagined laying my hands upon this girl's head and praying for her healing. When I returned to the hospital on Monday, I learned that her mother had spent the whole weekend on her knees in the chapel.

That Monday morning I received a phone call from the social worker, who has never been a big fan of hospital chaplains. The emergency room was her territory, and she never saw the need for chaplains. With awe in her voice, she told me that on Sunday the black fluid in the tubes suddenly turned clear. The young girl was out of intensive care and resting comfortably in another part of the hospital. At the very least, the doctors told her that she should have burned her esophagus and stomach from all the chemicals that she drank. On that Monday, she was only suffering from a slightly sore throat.

When I saw this young Korean girl later that day, I learned that her uncle had suffered from such severe depression in Korea that he had thrown himself off of a roof. She was told that she needed medication for her own physical and chemical imbalances. When her mother walked me out of the room, after our visit, she hugged me in the hallway. With her arms in the air and a smiling face, she kept saying, "Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.”

I don't tell you this story in order to impress you with any great powers that I might have in prayer, nor likewise for the Korean woman, or suggest that if you stay on your knees long enough, you'll get what you want. For I have prayed long and hard for things that seemingly never changed. But I do believe in miracles, and I know that there are plenty of things well beyond our human understanding.

I also know that just as we change our minds and our wills at different times in our lives, so too did Jesus. He kept his mind and his heart open for new directions from God. What never changes, however, is the unchanging love of God for our health and our salvation. Mercy is the steadfast love of God, and it endures forever. For in his tender compassion, with no begging on our parts, Jesus stretched out his arms of love on the hardwood of the cross so that we might know the healing power of God’s love and the promise of resurrection life. Thank you Jesus. Amen.

 

The Pity Pit

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

August 9, 2020

Genesis 37: 1-4, 12-28

The Pity Pit. It’s always tempting to throw ourselves into it for different reasons. Maybe we’re like the brothers of Joseph, jealous of their younger brother’s favored status with their father, feeling sorry for our “unloved” selves. Maybe we’re like Joseph, envious of the work that his brothers enjoy, and so we snitch on them. We report badly about them to “our father,” or obsess over unfair benefits. Perhaps even Israel knows the pity pit. Because of his declining years, he just can’t do things the way he did when he was younger.

Self-pity is a common temptation for us all. Especially during these pandemic and political times, it can be easy to feel a little sorry for ourselves. Nothing is the same. Everyone is doing it wrong. Anger and resentment rule our lives. We are critical and judgmental. What’s a person to do when we’ve fallen into the pity pit? When we’re having our own little pity party? 

Choose gratitude. Love the life you have on life’s terms. Keep your expectations realistic. Focus on yourself and not the actions and attitudes of others. Comparisons aren’t helpful, and incessant complaining only magnifies the problem. Don't “take” offense; and don't make mountains out of molehills. Shrug off the hurts, be good to yourself, and laugh a little with others. Dwelling on the past, which we cannot change, or imagining a future that may never happen, can drive us into the Pity Pit.

Today is all we have, how will we use it?

Cancel Culture

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling            August 2, 2020                    Cancel Culture

 Romans 9:1-5: I am speaking the truth in Christ-- I am not lying; my conscience confirms it by the Holy Spirit-- I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people, my kindred according to the flesh. They are Israelites, and to them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship, and the promises; to them belong the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, comes the Messiah, who is over all, God blessed forever. Amen.

What is it like to be cut off from your own people? To be cut off from your own flesh and blood? St. Paul claims that for him it is a great sorrow and unceasing anguish in his heart. As a Jew who came to believe that Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah, he felt cut off from his own people. Ever felt that way too?

Cut offs are common in our relationships. It happens when we are so angry, bitter, and resentful that we cut people out of our lives. We stop speaking to them. We avoid them. We “unfriend” them. In today’s jargon, we call this our “cancel culture.” “The truth is,” as St. Paul once wrote to the Romans, “I am not lying, my conscience confirms it,” everyone is bleeding. Everyone is hurting when there are cut-offs. And it doesn’t have to be so.

“One can tell that the people who hear these words from St. Paul are people who have gone through deep and long-term continuous suffering of some sort,” wrote Gary Simpson in Christian Century. You know who they are, right? People of color and abject poverty, victims of violence and unrelenting oppression, groups of people who suffer injustice and inequality throughout our world. All of us, today, are currently suffering through this pandemic. “The truth is,” as St. Paul once wrote to the Romans, “I am not lying, my conscience confirms it,” we are cut off from each other by pandemics, political and religious disagreements, international warfare, and the never-ending “isms” that cause us such great sorrow and unceasing anguish. We keep cancelling each other out. And it doesn’t have to be so.

Perhaps like you, and St. Paul, I feel great sorrow and unceasing anguish over the current state of affairs. Paul’s core message, however, was one of reconciliation. In Christ, he claims, there are no “cut-offs.” No one is cancelled out. In his letter to the Romans, he reminds them that nothing can ever separate us from the love of God, not even death. For we have all been adopted by Christ, grafted onto the same tree of life, and destined for the same everlasting future. St. Paul’s message is good news for us in the midst of so much real sorrow and anguish, both back then, and even now. We all just need to stay connected to one another through God. May it be so.

Weeds

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

July 19, 2020

Weeds 

Romans 8:18-25: I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us.

What exactly is the problem with weeds?

A few years ago, when I was going through yet another transition in my life, brought about by expected and unexpected changes, I decided to make a stone walkway. Changes happen every day, whereas transitions are a long game. Transitions are those times when we endure “the suffering of this present time,” waiting patiently for them to end; or we love them so much that we want to stay there forever.

The beach is a lovely place to spend time in transition, or any time for that matter. Like this long green season of COVID 19, the ocean stretches out as far as the eye can see. When I began to create my stone walkway a few years ago, I had nothing else to do, and plenty of time to do it, and time stretched out endlessly before me. It took me many months of slow, painstaking work to transfer the stones from the beach to our house. Like my indoor puzzles, I would lay down one stone, or one piece of a puzzle, at a time. Frankly, I hoped that as I created this walkway, a path would appear, leading me from one way of living to another.

There were no weeds on my stone walkway, at least back then. And yet, when I recently returned to the beach house for some self-imposed quarantine, prayers, and projects, I found plenty of weeds. They had completely overtaken my stone walkway. A sign of the times, I thought to myself. And I had plenty of time on my hands again.

At its original creation, I had placed my rocks on shallow ground. Now, not only had moss spread around the rocks, weeds had sprouted up everywhere like a bad pandemic haircut. My husband suggested that we rip the whole thing up and begin again. What?? I reminded him how hard I had worked, and that tearing things down is far easier than building them up. Such is life.

Fortunately, his enthusiasm for that complete overhaul disappeared like fog on a sunny day. Besides, he had already found something far more interesting that required his full attention. Tuna fishing! Why sweat over hard labor when you can be out on the deep blue sea? I had to work on my sprouting resentments.

I do not like to fish. I prefer solid ground under my feet. I wanted my walkway restored to its original beauty, and yet I was a little overwhelmed by the work it would take. Weeding is tedious and boring work; pulling up those suckers hurts your back, your knees, and your fingers. “Weeds, what’s so bad about weeds?” I thought to myself.

Well, for one thing, they block the beauty of the original creation. Theologically speaking, weeds are “our sins.” They block our goodness! They will eventually choke the life out of us; and like change and transitions, they will always be with us. Until the Son of Man sends his angels to collect us, we will have weeds.

Recreation is what we do for fun, like working on puzzles and fishing. If we hyphenate the word recreation, however, we get re-creation, and this is what restoration specialists do. Whether it is a house damaged by smoke, an original artwork clouded by years, or a walkway overrun by weeds, restoration specialists slowly and painstakingly clean up the mess. They do not throw it away and start all over again. With the Spirit as our restoration specialist, we can pull up our weeds every day, whether we are on land or at sea.

I have come to believe that there is a stone walkway that will lead us to a new place. Anchored safely in the harbor is a boat, and on the beach, there is a roaring fire. The Son of Man welcomes us, takes the weeds from our hands, and throws them into the fire. Then Jesus invites us to sit down and eat the fish that Paul has caught. When that great transition happens, we will want to stay there forever.

Matthew 13:24-30

Jesus put before the crowd another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So, when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ The slaves said to him, ‘Then do you want us to go and gather them?’ But he replied, ‘No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.’”