Sunday, January 19, 2020

Called for a Purpose


Old North Church, Boston
2 Epiphany, January 19, 2020
The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Do you ever feel like you have labored in vain? I think the prophet Isaiah must have felt this way. “I have labored in vain;” he wrote. “I have spent my strength for nothing.” Similarly the author of Ecclesiastes once declared, “All is vanity. What do people gain from all they toil under the sun?” And then there is Jesus, who must have felt this way at times, most especially when he was dying on the cross.
Are there times when, despite your best efforts, you feel empty-handed, occasionally despairing, and wondering if it was worth the effort? We carefully construct our homes and churches, our job skills and bank accounts, our policies and programs only to see them wiped away by a fire, a tornado, an illness, or a sudden death. A change in leadership, a new way of thinking, or a shift in priorities. Do you, like me and Isaiah, ever feel as if you have labored in vain?
Today, I’m delighted to be preaching in Old North Church for the first time. It is a church of long and deep historic significance, and I can’t help but think of how our country began. Fighting for independence, with people divided within our own country, we built our government and our Episcopal church on the blood and backs of many people. We created bi-cameral systems, canons and constitutions, that are intended to preserve our democracy, guarantee our freedom, offer equal opportunity, and protect our human rights. People worked hard for these things!
Watching our political process these days, and the on-going challenges in our churches, cities, and throughout our world, I see the same old issues appear, disappear, and then reappear. “Is there anything new under the sun?” the writer of Ecclesiastes once asked. Sometimes I even find myself wondering, what’s the point of trying? If I put my time, talents, and money into this or that, will it really make a difference? Or will I labor in vain like Sisyphus, the king of Corinth, who was condemned to an eternity of rolling a boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down again, and again?
This world view may seem cynical, lacking in hope, and downright pessimistic, and who needs that, you might ask? I come to church to be inspired, enlightened, and hear some good news, not to be dragged back down the hill. As a Celtics basketball fan, I was even surprised to hear the players talk about their season as a long slow grind, and how hard it is to remain enthusiastic and consistent from beginning to end. 
Jaylen Brown, a rising star on the Celtics team, recently said, “The NBA season is “a journey,” and at times, it can feel quite repetitive. It’s easy for us to feel like we’re stuck on a hamster wheel, going around and around until the postseason arrives. Little things matter,” Brown said. “Just finding ways to stay energetic throughout the season is important, and we all have our various ways of doing that.” 
Recently, I joined a group of Christian businessmen who live in Minnesota. On January 1st we began reading one chapter a day of a book called The Purpose Driven Life, by Rick Warren. For 40 days, every day through email, we share our thoughts, comments, and questions with each other. Now I don’t agree with everything I read in this book but I do like the focus of those three words: purpose, driven, life. And I really like doing this activity with other people. 
Rick Warren claims that “without a purpose, life is motion without meaning, activity without direction, and events without reason. Without a purpose, life is trivial, petty and pointless.” In other words, a life without purpose is vanity, and our labor is in vain. It’s like rolling a ball up a hill all by yourself, and never getting to the top or over it. It’s like playing basketball alone and never getting the ball into the hoop or knowing what it’s like to win. But our purpose as followers of Jesus, as disciples of Christ, is different.
In the gospel of John, beginning in the very first chapter, Jesus knows exactly what He is doing and why. And John the Baptist doesn’t equivocate. He testifies to the purpose of Jesus saying “Look, here is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”  He is the Messiah, the Son of God, who when He was defeated on the cross, didn’t cry out to God, “Why have you forsaken me?” Nor when He was crucified, did Jesus say to God, “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” No, in John’s gospel, the very last words of Jesus were, “It is finished.”
Now my Harper’s Study Bible tells me that this Lamb of God, identified by John the Baptist as Jesus, wasn’t your typical lamb used for ritual sacrifices in the Temple. No; bulls, goats, and sheep were used for that. Rather Passover lambs were slaughtered the night before the Israelites made their exodus from Egypt, and whose blood on the doorposts told the angel of death to pass over them. Pointing to Jesus, John declares, “Look here is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”
Notice that John the Baptist uses the word “sin” instead of sins. Sins, I believe, are those nasty things that we do to ourselves and to other people throughout our lives. We cheat. We lie. We steal. We commit flagrant fouls that result in technical penalties, lost jobs, and even ejections from the game. Instead, the sin of the world is something existential, something deeper, something more systemic, like all those “isms” that we try to dismantle, like racism, sexism, and ageism. Or those powers and principalities that we cannot explain and show up in scary movies and our nightmares. 
Sin is evil, and we are not. Sin is death, and an outrage to God, who created us for life. And so, John points to Jesus who takes away that sin. This Jesus is our Passover Lamb, whose blood we see on the cross, who liberates us from oppression, and tells the angel of death to move along. This Jesus is the One who leads us into our own Promised Land.  
Instead of a hamster wheel, I like to think of our life as a journey that includes a carousel, a merry-go-round, like the one we see on the Boston Common. It is a ride that we can stop and take along our way. The colorful animals remind us of the beauty of all God’s creation. Whether or not we’re riding, sitting, standing, or one of the workers on the Common, we can hum along with the music, and wave to the people all around us. Sometimes we’re up, sometimes we’re down, and sometimes we just go round and round!
Most of us, at times, need to find ways of staying engaged and enthusiastic in our journeys, especially when life grinds us down. When the music stops playing, when we’ve been defeated one more time like last night for the Celtics, or when we’re just feeling as if we’ve labored in vain, we need to find meaning, joy, and purpose once again. Remembering our salvation story, and believing that God stoops and hears our cry, helps me to sing a new song. 
God’s particular purpose for Jesus was accomplished on the cross. God’s mission of reconciliation was finished when Jesus stretched out his arms of love so that everyone might come within the reach of His saving embrace. His purpose was to bring light and love into the world, and to show us that there is resurrection life beyond the grave. When the buzzer goes off at the end of the game, and the carousel stops going round and round, there is still a party going on in Paradise.
Here is our good news. Jesus did not labor in vain. The sin of the world is not only forgiven, it is wiped away. Here is our hope. Our hope is in the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Death has been defeated and the victory is ours. When our world seems unfair, meaningless, or just boringly repetitive, there is a light that shines in the darkness, whose name is Jesus.
This year the Celtics acquired a new point guard named Kemba Walker. Not only is he an all-star, he’s a great teammate, who works hard and plays hard. Leading with love, and blessed by God, Kemba is a person of faith, who loves to win and never gives up. Although recent injuries and the flu have caused problems for him and his teammates, people can't stop talking about Kemba’s leadership style, his humility, and his poise. He is always ready to contribute to others, even when he’s sitting on the bench.
Do we labor in vain? Not if we remember that we are called for a purpose: to be rooted in the Life of Jesus and to reflect His Way of Love. To speak God’s words and to act in God’s ways. We are team members of the Body of Christ who have been set free to live and love, to work and play, to labor on. “Listen up, people. Pay attention,” said Isaiah. God knows us. God named us. God formed us. “Away with gloomy doubts and faithless fear. Claim the high calling the Gospel gladness bear.” (#541 Hymnal)
When we believe in the good news of our salvation, we shall never labor in vain. In fact, we’ll shine like stars in the night. We become beacons of faith, hope, and love wherever we are and whatever we do; for we believe that in the end - God’s Love wins; and we are gospel bearers of that good news.

Isaiah 49:1-7
1 Corinthians 1:1-9
John 1:29-42
Psalm 40:1-12



Saturday, January 11, 2020

Anne with an E


Anne Shelby Clark, RIP                               September 29, 1939-December 10, 2019
St. David’s Episcopal Church                     Austin, Texas
The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

            It is a privilege and honor to be with you today, especially with you my dear friend Ted, celebrating the life of Anne with an E, as she would sometimes introduce herself. Perhaps you know that Anne with an E has some very special people bearing the same name; and I’d like to tell you briefly about three of them. First, there is Anne with an E, who was the mother of Mary, and the grandmother of Jesus. Honored by Jewish, Christian, and Islamic traditions, Saint Anne, was one of the patron saints of women in labor. Now our Anne with an E, is a mother to Shelby and Kevin, grandmother to their children, and fondly called PiPi Anne by the Karen community, despite her gentle reminders to just call her Anne. She would also argue that she is no saint, and yet the remembrances today, and our final hymn, tell us a different story.
            A second historical figure named Anne with an E is Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry the 8th, who became Queen of England after King Henry divorced his first wife. Unfortunately, unlike Ted and Anne, there were no 56 years of marriage for her. Angering many people, Queen Anne expropriated the money and lands from their monasteries for the relief of the poor. Accused of adultery, she was executed by her husband at the tender age of 26, after serving less than three years as Queen of England. Soon enough, Queen Anne’s nickname became “Anne of the Thousand Days” unlike our own queen Anne of 80 years.           
Finally, there is a popular and current day Netflix series called Anne with an E. Perhaps you’ve watched it? The show reimagines the classic book about Anne of Green Gables. It is a “coming-of-age story about a young orphan who is seeking love and her place in the world. Anne was a 13-year-old girl adopted by an older couple and proved to be a uniquely spirited, imaginative, and smart young woman, who transforms the lives of this couple and everyone else in their small town.” Aside from the differences in their ages and hair colors, these two Annes share some similar traits.
            Today we celebrate our own beloved Anne with an E who has made her own mark in history and in our lives. A grandmother and mother in her own right, she was always ready and willing to take people of all ages and cultures under her wing, caring for them pastorally like a good shepherd. As an adopted child of God, through her baptism into the life of Christ, our saint Anne would welcome the stranger, offer gracious hospitality, defend human rights, and lift up the lowly. She was a faithful member of Christ’s church, modeling her life after the Good Shepherd who we call Jesus, gathering flocks of people into small communities everywhere she lived, and caring for them as if they were her own.
            It is tempting to lament the loss of such a person in a world that sometimes feels cold and dark, unjust and without mercy. Despite her elder years, her death still came as a shock to so many of us; and tears for our loss are appropriate. As a member of a community of 12 friends from Trinity Church in Newtown, Connecticut, who gather every year in the Adirondack mountains, I’ve known Anne and Ted for over 35 years, and I always thought of her as someone who embodied our Christian faith, in both her words and her actions. It grieves me to think that we are now only 11.
Elegant in her cross-country skiing, genuflecting as she fell, graciously smiling and encouraging those of us who were struggling, Anne with an E seemed to wait patiently for good things to happen. She was child-like in her joy. One year she gave the women in our group solmate, eco-friendly, mismatched socks, because life is too short for matching socks. We giggled with delight while taking pictures of our feet.        
Life is precious and too short; maybe like the rains in Texas, it’s here today and gone tomorrow. I know Anne liked to travel, and so I imagine her exploring new landscapes in that heavenly country where pain and sorrow are no more. Life everlasting was promised to us by our Creator and revealed to us in Jesus; and so the words of scripture remind us that “God shaped us for this very end.”
 As St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Corinthians, we are bound by our earthly frames, and “even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. This slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure.” Anne with an E has been released into freedom, like a caterpillar who begins to fly like a butterfly, with the wings of an angel, in order to arrive at God’s heavenly home. Anne with an E. That E stands for eternal.
            No wonder we do not lose heart with the troubles of today, and the grief and losses that we endure. If we keep our eyes fixed on the things that are unseen, we will always have hope, and hope does not disappoint us. I know that Anne loved the Rocky Mountains, and I also like to imagine her there, on God’s holy mountain, where the Lord of hosts makes “a feast of rich food, and of well-matured wines. On this mountain God swallows up death forever and wipes away the tears from all our faces.” This is the Lord for whom Anne with an E has waited; and so let us be glad and rejoice in her salvation.

Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 106: 1-5
2 Corinthians 4:16-5:9
John 10: 11-16

Sunday, January 5, 2020

A Living Hope


2 Christmas, January 5, 2020
The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling
Church of the Good Shepherd
Reading, Massachusetts

Ephesians: I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe.

Blessed Savior, in love you came to us as a child.
Enlighten our hearts, that we may more deeply understand the richness of this gift and practice more faithfully your call to give of ourselves in love. (Daily Prayer for All Seasons)

I’m delighted to be with you again at Good Shepherd, filling in for Brian after these busy Advent and Christmas holiday seasons. As St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Ephesians, “I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and I give thanks to God for all of you.” Now, here we are, on the 11th day of Christmas, with eleven pipers piping, and wise men carrying five golden rings to Bethlehem. We have turned the corner of our calendars from 2019 to 2020, and tomorrow we will begin the season of Epiphany, a time for revelation. I don’t know about you but I’m already eager to move from the dark, cold nights of winter into the longer, warmer days of spring.
Not so fast, I say to myself. Such is my abiding sin of impatience; how I can turn the page too quickly, not yet finished reading the one that I’m on. Truth be told, I was impatient for 2019 to be over. Perhaps some of you were as well? There were people with heart troubles, relationship issues, cancer diagnoses, mental illness, brain bleeds and brain tumors. Some people died far too soon; and then there is the impeachment, violence in synagogues, wildfires in Australia, and threats to our embassy in Iraq. “Where is God in all of this darkness?” we might wonder. “Where is Jesus, who is the reason for this season, and what is the good news?”
During Advent, I doubted my faith in our religious, political, and socio-economic systems, and I was sliding on that slippery slope into despair. Spiritually, I found myself struggling; and in my darkness, I was blind to God’s grace. Preparing for today, I thought about those three wise men bearing gifts, and I recalled a Christmas present given to me by a friend: a wall hanging that said, “if the three wise men had been women, they would have asked for directions, helped deliver the baby, brought practical gifts, cleaned the stable, and made a casserole.”
 I don’t want practical gifts and dirty stables, I told God. I don’t want church casseroles, messy lives, and blue Christmas services. I want clear directions on a straight, and well-lighted path, and not to wander through a dry desert wondering where my God is. Give me gold and sweet-smelling frankincense, not the gifts of myrrh and embalming oils. Give me spiritual food and merry feasts so I can be overwhelmed with joy. Give me a newborn king and a living hope, I cried to God.
Now I am not usually someone who enjoys shopping, except for groceries, but Christmas is the season for gift-giving and receiving, right? And so I decided to engage in some shopping therapy, hoping that God would bring me some good cheer. I bought a few new sweaters for myself, two Celtics outfits for my twin grandsons, and make-believe clothing for my granddaughter. I put Christmas greens in our common hallway and decorated our tree with bright colored lights. I soon realized, however, that practical gifts will satisfy me for only so long. I needed something more, something deeper, something more substantial.
Indeed those three wise men had been shopping at home before they headed east to a foreign country. Maybe they were like me, in search of a different king, looking for a new year, and not knowing exactly where to go. Guided by a single star in the dark Arabian nights, traveling into the bright lights of Jerusalem, and finally arriving in the little town of Bethlehem, they brought impractical gifts for a newborn child. Opening their treasure chests, they offered Jesus not church casseroles and baby wipes, not a new sweater or a make-believe crown; rather they gave Him frankincense, gold, and myrrh.
Like the wise men, I left the comfort of my familiar home, crossed my own little desert, and started searching diligently for the Christ child. I went on a retreat called “Waiting in the Dark” at the Society of St. John the Evangelist, where with empty hands and a hurting heart, I received three practical gifts from Brother Luke. First, he gave me some clay and invited me to pray without words. “When it is hard to pray, it is a way to quiet the mind, a way to let go and be surprised, a way to listen to God with our bodies,” Brother Luke said.
Alone in my room, I put down my monkey mind and picked up the clay. At first, I felt the strong resistance of my will. The clay was cold and hard to manipulate; pieces broke and crumbled in my palm. I began to slowly restore the clay, patching it back together again into one piece. Then angrily I pounded the clay to flatten it, realizing how the weight of sin and sickness, sorrow and suffering, death and dark times can take the fire out of our souls, the sparkle out of our eyes, and the bounce out of our steps.
Next, rolling my pancake of clay into various sizes and shapes, I felt my spirit soften in the hands of God. I laughed at the images I had created. There were french horns and basketballs. There were candy canes and Christmas wreaths. Joy and light began to seep back into the cracks in my heart. This is creation and re-creation, I thought to myself, remembering that I am a clay vessel in the hands of God. Eventually filled with a peace that passed all understanding, I put the clay back into the baggie and wiped my hands clean. That clay was pure gold.
Feeling proud and successful with this new way of praying, I was ready to receive Brother Luke’s second practical gift; and so I walked to the 3rd floor of the guesthouse where art supplies sat like elves on the shelves. “When words are few, when it is hard to pray, when we feel inadequate, a way to quiet our minds, a way to let go and be surprised, is to open ourselves to a different interplay with the Spirit,” said Brother Luke.
With empty paper, an old magazine, and a pair of scissors in my hand, I created my contemplative collage. I cut and pasted pictures and words from this magazine until my prayer meditation was finished. Looking at it, and hoping to find another gold ring, at first I was deeply disappointed.The dark pieces of my world were pasted together into one unsettling picture, a gift of myrrh and embalming oils, and not a gift for someone who was looking for new life.
            I asked God to help me see in the darkness; and then I smiled. With the eyes of my heart enlightened by faith, I began to see God’s amazing grace even on that page. Words and images suddenly appeared like photos emerging in a dark room. Below the surface of this practical picture was a spiritual message just for me. My heart began beating again like a little drummer girl. My flickering spirit began to brighten. Hope blossomed once again within me like a Christmas desert flower.
As I waited for the light bulb to go on in my brain, and the spirit of Christmas to fill my lungs, Brother Luke, a wise man indeed, offered us a third practical gift. It is called a body prayer, and I will show it to you now. If you like, you can join me in the body movements in your seats. Turning my arms and palms up like this, I pray, “You are the God of all creation.” Bringing my palms together in front of my heart, I pray, “Be still and know that I am God.” Giving myself a hug, I pray, “You are my beloved with whom I am well pleased.” And finally, placing my empty hands with palms up in front of me, I pray, “Into your hands.”
 “Ah,” I said, to God, “into your hands I commend my spirit.” Ah,” I said to God, “into your hands I commend everyone and everything.” “Ah,” I said to God, “Into your hands I give you my heart.”
Saint Francois de Sales reminded me, “Do not look forward in fear to the changes in life; rather look to them with hope, that as they arise, God, whose very own you are, will lead you safely through all things; and when you cannot stand it, God will carry you in His arms.” Like footsteps in the sand, even when we are crossing our own little desert in the dark, God is there, carrying us home.
No matter which road we take, whether we are coming into Jerusalem riding triumphantly on our donkeys or stumbling on our way to the cross, whether we are riding a camel across the desert to Bethlehem or returning home by another road, the Spirit of God is leading us and guiding us, like a beam of bright light in a starry night. God gives. We receive. And then repackaging and regifting, round it goes, this eternal cycle of love.
This past Advent, I walked to Bethlehem, carrying my gifts of sorrow and struggles, of death and darkness, and laid them down in front of the manger. Kneeling in homage to the Christ child, with incense rising like prayers in the darkness, I received God’s Christmas gift once again. With the eyes of my heart enlightened by faith, I saw the riches of God’s love, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and the immeasurable greatness of God’s power in this newborn king. A living hope and an epiphany revelation indeed!


Jeremiah 31:7-14
Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a
Matthew 2:1-12
Psalm 84 or 84:1-8