Barking Dogs

 Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Priests love to talk about how this third Sunday in Advent is called “Stir-Up” Sunday, when our liturgy begins with the words “Stir up your power, O Lord, and with your great might come among us.” Lord knows, we’ve been stirred up a lot lately in our nation and throughout our world. Lord knows, I’ve been personally stirred up in many ways as well. Perhaps you have been too.

A parishioner frequently reminded me that she had the devil sitting on one shoulder, and the angel of God on the other. Forces that lie in and all around us may come from God or they may come from our own pain, sin, and human suffering. Maybe they even come from “forces unknown.” As we journey on that highway, the Holy Way of God, to the manger in Bethlehem, we will have options, each and every day of our lives. 

Which way we look and to whom and to what we will listen is our choice. As Brother Jack, from SSJE, recently wrote, “We do not have the power to reform other people’s behavior, but we do have the power to choose our attitude in responding to other people’s behavior. Jesus had patience, but he wasn’t afraid to confront someone if their behavior wasn’t good for the whole. We have to live in a tricky balance of patience and honesty, with the same mind that Jesus had.” (Brother Give us a Word, Dec 2 2022, Br. Jack Crowley)

The author of the letter of James raises the issue of patience. Now I wish I had a nickel for every time someone asked me to pray for them so that they might become more patient. And truth be told, I’d be a richer woman today if I had just a penny for every time I prayed for patience for myself. I find that frequently these requests for prayer are made at times of illness and worry, when temptations abound. When we become impatient we can make bad choices. We can take wrong turns. We can listen to the voice of fear. We often bark at other people.

Many years ago, there was a story in the Anglican Digest, written by John F. Waldron, about his father who was a priest. He wrote, “I recall my father preaching on the importance of being “stirred up” for righteousness’ sake and the constant need for new and dynamic “stirrers” in life and in the church.” Of course, he noted that stirrers can vary in their extremes, both for good and for ill.

John remembers his father’s story about their dog, a lovable, red Dachshund, who had survived World War 2 and who answered to the name of Adolph. His father spoke about going downstairs at 6 o’clock on Sunday mornings and letting the dog out into their fenced back yard. The dog would then begin his ministry of stirring.

  “Adolph hurried to the farthest corner, and facing the rear of Paul Wilkerson’s Funeral Home, began to slowly bark. He barked faster and louder until he had Wilkerson’s hunting dogs up, and barking in their pens. He then padded over to the south end of the yard and repeated the same procedure, for the benefit of the alley dogs that lived behind Starr Avenue.”

“Once they were sufficiently disturbed, Adolph moved along the fence to its west side, and barked toward the Parlett house, until old Wally came out of his box and joined the wailing chorus. Finally, Adolph did the business he was sent out to do, and then scratched the door to be let back into the nice, warm kitchen. Our dog had “stirred up” every dog in the neighborhood and for no good reason. And so, for his shameful performance of willful and noisy arousal, my father declared that Adolph suffered from “CAS or Chronic Agitation Syndrome.” 

I can think of many reasons why I have been stirred up recently; and I have come to realize that I have many barking dogs in all corners of my life. Sometimes I hear them howling in the middle of the night. They often wake me up with the morning news. Holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving can stir up my dogs, who previously had been sleeping quietly at my feet by the fire. Wake up, the dogs will bark at me. Can’t you see that something is wrong? Isn’t it time for you to speak up? Or to do something about this?

John the Baptist and Jesus, like Isaiah, were barking dogs. They were chronic agitators, which begs some questions. Are you a chronic agitator for the good of the whole or merely someone engaged in the noisy and willful arousal of others? Are there good reasons for your agitating words and actions, or are you a chronic complainer, unhappy with your own lot in life? Do you speak words of fear or words of faith, hope, and love? Are your actions kind and prophetic or shameful and self-indulgent?

John the Baptist had been imprisoned by King Herod because he was a chronic agitator for the good of the whole. Herod had worked for the Roman government, wore soft clothes, abused his power, and took advantage of his privileges. He was disconnected from the people he was called to serve, often making decisions that benefitted only himself. John had publicly rebuked Herod for moral improprieties and Herod didn’t like it. So Herod used his power to presumably shut him up.

John the Baptist’s imprisonment didn’t stop him from stirring up the people however. John didn’t wait passively in prison for his personal release, whiling away his time with resentment, or changing his tune for his own benefit. Instead, he sent word by his disciples to Jesus, asking Him if He was the one to come, or should they wait for another? John was both patient and persistent in his barking, relying upon the power of God to make things right. Like the prophet Isaiah, he believed that God would eventually come and save them.

I will hear the news about viruses and violence, about politics and privileges, about injustice and injury, and I get agitated. I can hear those dogs barking from every corner of our world. And for what purpose we might ask ourselves? Is this the voice of a dog named Adolph or a prophet like John the Baptist? Is this the voice of a prophet like Isaiah or a king like Herod? Is this the voice of God, or someone who just wants attention? 

Chronic agitation syndrome seems to be the new normal, and yet, most of us just want to find a nice warm kitchen, in which we can lie down by the fire, and find some peace. Or pulling the covers back over our heads, we just want to go back to sleep, and ignore the painful realities of our lives, or those fears that go bump in the night.

Wake up, the prophet Isaiah said to the people in Jerusalem, warning the Israelites that if they didn’t start paying attention to God, then their lives, their homes, and their beloved city would come to ruin. If they did not stand firm in their faith, they would not stand at all. So don’t wait passively on your spiritual journey to Bethlehem. Pay attention to the quiet voice of God who sits on your shoulder, and will guide you on what you are to say and what you are to do. 

At times like these, and especially during the season of Advent, we look for hope, as the world literally and figuratively darkens around us. And Isaiah paints us a visual picture of hope. Your knees will become firm, and your hands will be strengthened. Creation, like flowers in a dry land, will bloom and blossom. Waters will break forth in the wilderness and streams will flow in the desert. The lame shall leap like a dear and the haunt of jackals will become a swamp. Everlasting joy will be upon our heads; sorrow and sighing will flee away.

In words later echoed by Jesus, the eyes of the blind will be opened and the ears of the deaf will be unstopped. Or as Mary once sang magnificently, the proud will be scattered in their conceit and the mighty will be cast down from their thrones. The cry of distress and barking dogs will no longer be heard in our land. Our souls will proclaim the greatness of the Lord.

Dog spelled backwards is God, who is scratching at the door of our hearts, even now. Jesus wants to come in, offering us a peace that passes all understanding, showing us how to speak and how to act in the Way of Love. And the fire of God’s Holy Spirit will stir us up to be messengers of God’s amazing grace. 

So bark less and wag your tails more often. Then wait patiently, actively, and persistently; for the love of God will soon arrive in human flesh. And we will know Christmas joy even in our pain.

Do Good

 Evensong, Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

I find early Christian history to be fascinating. Our women’s Bible study group has been reading St. Paul’s letter to the churches in Galatia, which was written around 50 AD and well before the Christian churches were officially organized and recognized. And so I was curious about tonight’s reading from the 1st letter of Peter. 

First of all, despite the attribution to his name, St. Peter did not write this letter. It is believed to have been written sometime between 70 and 90 AD many decades after St. Paul wrote his letter to the Galatians. And thanks to St. Paul’s faithful and passionate missionary work, Christianity was now widespread throughout Asia Minor. 

The author of the 1st letter of St. Peter was apparently writing from Rome and to the five Roman provinces in Asia Minor. Throughout this time in history we hear about various conflicts going on in these regions. There were cultural clashes between Romans, Greeks, Jews, and Gentiles. There was tension between men and women, slave and free, the rich and poor. The conflict between Jesus and his religious leaders was escalating, and his entrance into Jerusalem only heightened it. 

Now the first letter of Peter tells us to imitate Christ by “doing good and not retaliating against those who slander their community.” So how is it then that we can justify the behavior of Jesus in today’s lesson from Matthew when he overturned tables and drove out the money-changers? Certainly his actions seemed neither gentle nor reverent!

Is Jesus doing good or is He retaliating against members of his own community? Does he need a class in anger management? Or is he acting according to God’s will and suffering for doing what is right? Should we imitate Jesus and walk through Redeemer’s upcoming Christmas market, overturning tables of wreaths and greens, demanding that our church be a house of prayer and not a den of robbers? 

Long ago, when I was involved with a transitional living facility for homeless women and their children in Connecticut, I invited the residents to our Christmas holiday party at Church. It was painful. There was them and there was us. They sat at one table and we sat at another. They were black and we were white. We were rich and they were poor. Later in the week, I bewailed my experience of the party to their executive director, who reminded me that while the impact of this event was difficult for everyone, our intentions were good. 

In the case of Jesus, his religious leaders were presumably appalled at his seemingly destructive and irreverent behavior in the temple. In what is described by some as his righteous anger, Jesus is “zealous for doing what is right.”  And as the author of 1st Peter suggests, there is no harm in doing that. The money changers have been taking advantage of the poor, who are required to make sacrifices in the temple, as part of being a faithful Jew. With little money to spare, the poor are being price-gouged by their religious leaders.

Now, let me be very clear, I am not accusing Redeemer’s leaders of doing anything wrong, irreverent, or even price-gouging. In fact, both their intentions and their impact are for the good; for the proceeds from this Christmas market actually benefit the poor. This event is about “doing good” in the name of Christ, and where is the harm in that? So too is your current involvement with Habitat for Humanity and the many and various ways in which you imitate Christ in your homes, at work, and throughout your communities and the world. Thank you for all that you do in the name of Christ with your time, talents, and treasure.

At this same time in history, Roman political leaders were becoming increasingly nervous about the spread of Christianity, and its potential threat to their power. Soon after the letter of 1st Peter was written, if Christians did not make sacrifices to the emperor in Rome, they were condemned to death. Those who refused to renounce their belief in Christ and the hope that was in them were killed and then called martyrs by their fellow Christians. Understandably, Christians would hide their religious identities; and their leaders began arguing about what it meant to be faithful. 

Meanwhile families struggled with divided loyalties and the changes in the patriarchal structures of their culture. According to my HarperCollins Study Bible, “Roman society included the fear that conversion would reverse the established hierarchical relationships and cause women to misbehave. They thought that Christianity caused immorality, especially adultery, insubordination within the household, and sedition against the state.” And so, Jesus began the liberation movement with his entry into Jerusalem where “he died for sins once for all, setting free all the people of God so that he might bring us to God.” As St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Galatians, in Christ, there is no longer slave nor free, male nor female, Jew nor Gentile. 

Tonight we remember St. Cecilia, “that” woman who was martyred in Rome sometime in the early 3rd century. According to A Great Cloud of Witnesses, “she was of noble birth and betrothed to a pagan, who along with his brother, converted to Christianity. Because of their conversion they were martyred and, while broken-hearted St. Cecilia was burying them, she was also arrested. After several failed attempts to put her to death, she died from injuries sustained by her ordeal. Much later, in the 14th century, she was remembered for her passion with which she sang the praises of God; and so she became the patron saint of singers, organ builders, musicians and poets.”

The author of 1st Peter recognizes that when we do good in the face of evil and hate, prejudice and oppression, it may cause us suffering and pain. He claims, however,  that it is better to “suffer for doing right, if that should be God’s will, than for doing wrong.” And yet, that begs the question, how do we know? We may think we’re helping someone; and yet in truth we’re enabling their disease. We may make a decision to follow a certain path and soon discover that it leads us down the road to regret. Or we make a commitment and then are filled with 2nd thoughts. 

Keep your conscience clear, the author reminds us. Know what you are doing and why. In community, we can always ask ourselves, as well as others, if what we are doing seems good. We can pray that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven. And we can focus only upon our intentions and then leave the rest to God. 

In all things, we can imitate Jesus, trusting that the cosmic Christ, our King of Kings and Lord of Lords, will be victorious in the end. For as Bishop Desmond Tutu once said, ‘Good is stronger than evil; love is stronger than hate; light is stronger than darkness; life is stronger than death. Victory is ours, through him who loves us.’ And, I would add, Jesus loves us, this we know, for the Bible tells us so. Amen.

1 Peter 3: 13-22

Matthew 21: 1-13

Keep Swimming

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill        The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

2 Thessalonians 3:6-13

Luke 21:5-19

When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately,” Jesus said to his followers. “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.” This was Jesus speaking to his followers many centuries ago and even to us today.

We live in terrifying times.There are threats of nuclear attacks; and at times, public figures and celebrities seem to have no boundaries. The self-appointed moral police oppress others in the name of God; people lose control of their bodies, minds, and souls and commit unspeakable acts of violence. Conspiracy theories abound through social platforms; and then, there’s Mother Nature, wiping out vulnerable people with torrential rains and devastating mudslides. 

To be honest, I’m tired of the news and the destruction all around our world. I’m tired of looking for people who speak the truth without hidden agendas, or refuse to speak up in support of others, because they fear their own personal consequences. “Beware of false prophets,” Jesus warned us. And false promises, I might add. And so I find myself in times like these looking for ways for us to “endure to the end” so that we gain “our souls.” I mean, isn’t that the end game for us all?

I just arrived back in Massachusetts yesterday, having spent the last 3 days in Nashville, Tennessee, celebrating the blessing of a marriage between two young adults. The love that they share for one another, their families, and their friends is admirable. After preparing this couple by zoom over the past year, I was deeply impressed by their diversity and the loyalty they promised to one another. At the foundation of their lives, they share some very basic core values. 

To say that it was a mixed crowd at the wedding in politics, age, class, socio-economics, and religion is an understatement. And yet the two of them stood there, exhorting and encouraging all of us with these words from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans; “hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor.”

We frequently tend to hang out with people who are similar to us and for certain activities and relationships that is a good thing. And yet, regardless of our choices, I dare say that most of us are disgusted by the disrespectful dialogue, the dishonesty, and the lack of civility that is evident in our discourses. Our refusal to engage in honest but difficult conversations and debates is worrisome. 

Many of us have become distrustful about what is being reported and what is being promised by our political leaders. Some of us are fearful about the future of our country and indeed even our world. We feel guilty about our privileges and frustrated with our inability to help. And most of us feel that it will take a very long time for us to heal and to reconcile such deep and bitter divisions among us and around the world. 

“Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right,” wrote St. Paul to the Christian community in Thessalonica. And yet, I wonder, is our current time any different from those historical times long ago? Reflecting back over the ages, and how history repeats itself, no wonder we are weary!

Perhaps you’re familiar with this story. While serving our country in World War 2, before he was elected president of the United States, John F. Kennedy had to swim 3 miles to shore after his PT boat was destroyed by the enemy. With words that were sometimes encouraging, and at other times demanding, Kennedy exhorted his companions to keep on swimming, and not give up. They could see the distant land; and they hoped that they could make it. But first, they had their work cut out for them. They had to swim.

In a more recent but equally compelling story, three childhood friends had gone fishing when their 24 foot boat sank in the Gulf of Mexico, after winds and waters escalated without warning. With just life vests and coolers to stay afloat, as the storm washed them away from the oil rig to which their boat had been tied, they attempted to SOS the coast guard. Their phone battery had drained to 5% when they saw a shrimp boat in the distance. One man decided to swim alone towards it, as their last shot for a rescue. Before he left, he gave one of his life vests to his friend whose own vest was failing.

The two friends who were left behind soon began to endure shark attacks. Their life vests were ripped apart, and their ice chests began to sink. Meanwhile, the shrimp boat suddenly powered off in the opposite direction of the man who was swimming towards it. As a last ditch effort, he took a screenshot of his location and texted it to a friend on shore before his phone cut off. All three men prepared to die as they continued to fight for their lives. 

Fortunately, the text was received and the Coast Guard rescued all three of them. With deep gratitude, one man exclaimed, “Oh, man. That feeling of getting pulled out of the water was the best feeling ever. I was like “I can stop swimming. I can stop. I could really stop now.”

At times of high stress and transition, it is easy to lose our focus, or to panic, and forget the basics of how to swim in cold waters. We all know the end game will eventually come but it often takes a crisis to remind us. It may feel easier to tear things apart and to drag people down rather than doing the next right thing to make it better. “Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right,” wrote St. Paul, which means we will share our life vests. We will exhort and encourage others to keep on swimming. We will hold fast to our core values. 

I know it’s hard to endure losses, life’s disappointments, or deep divisions within our own families and our country. It’s hard to watch wars and poverty from a distance and feel helpless. Yes, there will be dark nights that crowd out our distant hopes, and threats of death may encircle us in deep waters. Sometimes the Promised Land will seem very far off. Then, it appears far too close, and we feel as if we will surely drown in our own tears.

Regardless of our political party, our race or gender identity, our socio-economic or marital status, regardless of our positions within our own families, communities, businesses or church, we are very much like those 1st Christian communities. We too can see the unjust political, economic, and religious systems that are crushing hard-working and faithful people. Like the people in Thessalonica, it can be tempting for us to become mere busybodies, all talk and no action. It is easy to become weary. 

So when we’re feeling as if our lifeboats are too small, and we’ve lost the energy to keep on swimming, we can remember to keep it simple. We can focus on doing the next right thing, remembering that Jesus is our ultimate life-jacket, and the Spirit of God’s power will keep us afloat.

The day that Jesus claims is coming belongs to God alone. And that time is both now and not yet. “Do not be terrified,” Jesus said. “Not a hair on your head will perish; and by your endurance you will gain your souls.” Stones and temples and churches and buildings, indeed even our relationships, may crumble but the Master Architect has the blueprints to our life and saving our souls is part of God’s plan.

The promises of God are eternal.The presence of God is everlasting. We have been tied to an oil rig that will not sink. If anyone asks you about the challenges that we face, that will be your opportunity to testify that God is with us, swimming one stroke at a time, one breath at a time, until we reach that distant shore. So keep on swimming dear friends in Christ until Jesus pulls you out of the water. Then and only then can you stop swimming.

Sacred Dance of Love

The Wedding Ceremony for Zachary Grano Gordon and Maura Elizabeth Kean

Nashville, Tennessee The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling    Romans 12: 9-13

Good evening, family and friends of Zach and Maura! We are delighted that you are here to celebrate the blessing of their marriage and their love for you and for each other. My name is Nancy Gossling, and I have been a priest in the Episcopal Church for over 20 years. I am honored and deeply humbled to have been invited into the lives of Maura and Zach this past year, as I prepared them for this day and for their marriage in the years to come. As they make their vows to one another today, they have also invited God to be part of their union. It is no longer a two-for but a 1 + 2 = 3.

Music is important to both Zach and Maura, and in the Sound of Music, the nuns sing a song about Maria, how hard it is to “pin her down.” That was my problem with both Zach and Maura. He writes songs like the Irish and she cooks pasta like an Italian. He chops veggies with meticulous precision while she creates a gingerbread house in minutes. Maura can sit down at the piano, read the notes, and begin to play, while Zach just needs to hear the melody.

No less important to Zach and Maura is dancing. Concentrating on getting the steps to the foxtrot just right, Zach has taken his dance lessons seriously, while Maura is a girl who, in the words of Zach, “just wants to have fun.” She can line dance with the best of them and he can cover the runway, with spins and dips like a twirling dervish. 

Admirably, they encourage each other to dance to their own music and to sing their own songs while maintaining a solid foundation. Their home has been built upon shared values, honest conversations, and love. Side by side, dance partners for life, they create beautiful music together. 

There is a term in ancient Christian history called perichoresis which is also used for a typical Greek wedding dance. In this dance, there are not two dancers, but at least three.They start to go in circles, weaving in and out, faster and faster, while staying in perfect rhythm with each other.They are dancing so quickly, yet effortlessly, that they become a blur; all the while maintaining their individual identities. 

The Church fathers described the Trinity as a perichoresis, a holy and harmonious relationship in which there is mutual giving and receiving between the three persons of the Trinity. This is God’s sacred dance of love. So, “let your love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor.”

While today may seem like a blur, and the dancing may leave you breathless at times, Zach and Maura, you will have each other, your families and friends, and God to sustain you in the years to come. 

There is a song about Jesus called Lord of the Dance with a refrain that goes like this: "Dance, dance, wherever you may be! I am the Lord of the Dance," said He. "I'll lead you all, wherever you may be, And I'll lead you all in the Dance," said He.

Dear Maura and Zach, when you’ve forgotten your love song or the steps to your own sacred dance, or the needle keeps skipping on the vinyl, don’t forget that the Lord of the Dance will lead you, wherever you may be. And the sound of music will echo once again in your ears. Amen.

Habakkuk

 Church of the Redeemer Chestnut Hill The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Habakkuk, who lived during the height of Babylonian power, most likely in the decade around 600 B.C, was a prophet who is revered by Jews, Christians, and Muslims, all who claim Abraham as the father of their faith, and through whom God’s promises would be fulfilled. Almost all information about Habakkuk is drawn from the book of the Bible bearing his name, with no biographical details provided other than his title, which was ‘the prophet.’

Scholars have concluded that Habakkuk lived in Jerusalem at the time he wrote his prophecy. He is considered unusual among the prophets because he openly questions the working of God, confronting the profoundly disturbing problem of why a just God is “silent when the wicked swallow those more righteous than they.” He sees the injustice among his people and asks why God does not take action. "O LORD, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? Or cry to you “Violence!” and you will not save?"

Does God care about you and me? Does God care about us and the injustice in our world? Has God turned off God’s hearing aid, tired of listening to our never-ending complaints and laments? Or is our sound system in need of repair? Do we feel as if God has turned God’s back upon us, and that we no longer live under God's protection and care?  That God is a Deist watch-maker, creating us and then allowing us to wind down over time? 

I wonder if, at the depth of the prophet’s cry, there is a feeling of worthlessness, a concern that his life and the lives of the Israelites are of no value to God. For in the history of Israel, in one of the most memorable and profound acts of loss and terror, was the time when the Babylonians, or current day Iraq, attacked the country of Israel, destroyed their capital city of Jerusalem, and exiled the Israelites into foreign lands. Habakkuk wrote his words in the aftermath of this national tragedy.

In an endless loop of lament, Habakkuk prays, “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not listen? Or cry to you ‘Violence!’ and you will not save? Why do you make me see wrongdoing and look at trouble? Destruction and violence are before me; strife and contention arise. So the law becomes slack and justice never prevails. The wicked surround the righteous—and therefore judgment comes forth perverted.”

I wonder if this is how the Ukrainians feel today. Does God care that their country has been invaded, property and lives have been destroyed, and parts of their country have been illegally annexed by Russia? Is this how members of any small country feel when a “super-power” casts its long shadow across their borders? Fire missiles over their territory or suppress the rights of their own people within it? Is this how Floridians feel, after enduring the cruel and violent winds and waters of hurricane Ian? Or perhaps, closer to home, is this how you feel after the loss of a loved one? 

And so like Habakkuk, we too may cry out to God in our pain and fear, wondering where God is, if God is even aware of our turmoil, and whether God cares?  Indeed, we may wonder if we have any value just by our very existence or only by our productivity and power?

Now the issue of our worth, to God, to ourselves and to others, is an age-old problem; and the value of human life is an oft-repeated ethical question. When confronted with things like war, abortion, and violence of any kind, the sanctity of life becomes a focus in the debate. After enduring the loss of our health, our relationships, or perhaps even our jobs, we may question our value. 

Like Habakkuk, we may call upon God and one another to make things right. Repair us, we beg! Restore justice, we demand. It’s time to build and rebuild our nation, we exhort one another. Redeem us in your mercy, we plead with God.

My husband Paul once gave me a meditation book many years ago entitled, “Meditations for Women Who Do Too Much.” With a loving note attached, he said that of course he wasn’t suggesting anything to me in particular, but he thought that I might find this book helpful in my work. Responding to him that there was a similar companion book for men, I graciously thanked him for his gift. 

So I looked up the word “unworthiness” in this book and found this quote: “Workaholism is the addiction of choice for those who feel unworthy.” Now such seeds of unworthiness are planted in our childhood, often unintentionally by well-meaning parents, teachers, bosses, and clergy, who suggest that our value is measured by what and how much we do. I once saw a bumper sticker that said, “Get busy. Jesus is coming.”

Perhaps filled with shame, for things that we have done or left undone, like the tax collector last week and Zacchaeus this morning, we know that we are sinners. Guilty, yes, but “shame is the belief that you don't deserve happiness, that you're fundamentally flawed and unlovable,” wrote Beverly Conyers, “and that nothing you do can ever make you worthy of love. And when you feed off of shame, it destroys hope.” (November 12, 2021: Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation: How to Find Peace and Acceptance as a Family Member)

This year our women’s Bible study group is reading St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians, which was written sometime around 50 A.D. St. Paul is clearly angry with the members of this newly formed Christian community because some leaders have argued that they must obey the Torah in its entirety, be circumcised, and observe their dietary laws or they will not be saved. St. Paul, a liberal and radical Jew, who had become an apostle of Jesus, taught them otherwise. “You are saved by the grace of God,” he claimed; “have faith and put your trust in the love of God and the redeeming work of Jesus.” Full stop.

We may question our own worth at times, but God does not. Yes, we may err and stray like lost sheep, but we are made worthy by the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. Guilty and yet forgiven, we believe that we are renewed, restored, repaired, redeemed and reconciled to God by the death and resurrection of Jesus. And we have inherent value as the beloved children of God, created by love and for love from the very beginning of time. Full stop.

When we are feeling distant from God, and wondering about our worth and our world, we can ask that age old question, “Who moved?” Like Zaccheus, who was searching for something more, something better, and something different from the life that he was leading, we can climb that tree and look for Jesus. Or we can post ourselves on that rampart and become sentinels like Habakkuk, looking for the vision of God to come.

Yes, we are saved by grace; and yet our belief in God’s saving work also invites our response. We can pray, move our feet, and open our mouths. It means we will be faithful witnesses to God’s everlasting love and dedicated to the ministry of reconciliation. It means we will accompany others who are suffering, trusting in God’s presence, praying on their behalf, and offering them words of hope. It means we will respond with grateful generosity just like Zacchaeus. 

Habakkuk waited and the Lord answered. “There is still a vision for the appointed time; it speaks of the end, and does not lie. If it seems to tarry,” the Lord said, “wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay.”

This vision eventually did become clear many decades later after Habakkuk lived. It was written on that tablet, on that tree known as the cross, for all the world to see. “This is Jesus, Savior and Redeemer of the World.” It was also spoken by Him for all the world to hear. “Salvation has come to this house,” Jesus told Zacchaeus, “for the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.” 

When you’re feeling lost, lonely, and worthless, listen to Jesus. Climb a tree or a rampart and look for God; and then wait for the Lord to answer. For, as Habakkuk once said, “the righteous live by faith.”

Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4

Luke 19:1-10

Anger

 Choral Evensong, Church of the Redeemer The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

“Let every man be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not work the righteousness of God.”

“If anyone thinks he is religious, and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this man’s religion is in vain.” James 1:19-27

I beg to differ. I have to admit, I get a little crazy when I hear scripture lessons telling me to be slow to anger and bridle my tongue. Perhaps you have been told repeatedly that anger is sinful. That ladies especially need to bridle their tongues. Put a bit into our mouths so that whoever is riding our horses can pull us this way or that, without a complaint, despite the harm that is being done; otherwise our religion is worthless; and our efforts at piety are in vain.

Last Sunday morning, as I was driving to Redeemer for our worship service, I listened to reporters talking about the tragic events of 9-11. I heard one ex-Marine, who lost both his legs in a war against terrorists, claim that he didn’t have hate in his heart but he still had anger in his soul. Every day! And then last Sunday, later in the day, in his powerful sermon at Evensong, I heard our rector ask for personal and communal forgiveness for the anger unleashed on our world from that event on 9-11. 

The gospel passage came from Matthew last Sunday evening, in which Jesus said, “You shall not kill; and whoever kills shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you”, Jesus continued, ‘that every one who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother shall be liable to the council, and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ shall be liable to the hell of fire.’” This evening’s passage from the letter of James, who is believed to be the brother of Jesus, seems tame in comparison. 

I have a group of friends from Trinity Episcopal Church in Newtown, Connecticut, who now live in different parts of our country. Once a year we gather in the Adirondacks for conversation, community worship, and fun. During our time together this year, we realized that many of us are angry, and that we are angry about a variety of things. 

We are angry about the injustices in our world. Angry about diseases that have claimed the lives of loved ones. Angry about unbridled tongues that spew hate, offer conspiracy theories, and encourage division. Angry about the betrayals of our bodies and the losses we’ve endured. Angry that inflation hurts the poor and that some of the wealthiest people in our country waste it unnecessarily. Angry with our political leaders, with our institutional Church, and some of us are even angry with God. 

Both as a lay person and as a priest I have been to many retreats in many places throughout our country. One of the very first retreats I attended was in 1995 at Holy Cross Monastery, which is a Benedictine community of men located in West Park, New York. The retreat was entitled “Seeking God in Your Anger” and was led by a married couple from Connecticut, the Rev’d Lyn Brakeman and her husband, the Rev’d Richard Simeone. In it, they explored the spirituality and theology of anger.

In her article entitled “The Healing Power of God’s Wrath” Lyn claims that “relational honesty must include wrath. God’s and ours. Holy anger,” she argues,” is fuel for justice, for creating necessary changes, for ministry, and for healing by confronting evil.” (Mundi Medicina, June 1994)

It has always been confusing to me how Jesus condemns anger out of one side of his mouth, as he did last week in the scripture lesson from Matthew, and then acts out his own anger throughout the gospels. In righteous anger, He overturns tables in the temple. He rages against the Pharisees, and threatens and warns everyone about God’s impending judgment, no less than the prophets of old, or even some of the prophets today. “What’s up with that?” I keep asking myself, if I am to take Jesus seriously, as our rector has reminded us. And “what exactly am I supposed to do with my anger?”

 In another article entitled “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love,” by Beverly Wildung Harrison, the Professor of Christian Ethics at Union Theological Seminary in 1981, she wrote that “Christians have come very close to killing love precisely because we have understood anger to be a deadly sin. Anger is not the opposite of love. It is a vivid form of caring. It signals something amiss in our relationships and is a signal that change is called for, that transformation in (our relationships) is required.” 

This ex-Marine, who fought in a war against terrorists, confessed that he does not have hate in his heart but anger in his soul, every day. And we often hear those two words of anger and hate intertwined. Unfairly so, I believe. For the absence of love is not hate but indifference. Or as the great theologian, Martin Buber, once claimed: direct hatred is anger that has turned rigid, fixated, cold, or deadened, and it is actually closer to love than the absence of feeling.

Several years ago, more recently than 1995, I went on a silent 8 day retreat to Eastren Point, a Jesuit community of men in Gloucester Massachusetts. It was during a time of personal transition for me once again. I was angry with how events in my life had unfolded and systems that seemed unjust. Each day I would meet with a spiritual director who told me that I had to walk straight into my anger. That I couldn’t just push a button and let it go. 

Now this letting go of our anger is not like pulling the trigger on a gun or detonating a bomb, or even hurling words or fists at another human being; rather, it is letting go of our strong feelings of hate and anger, and giving them to God. She told me that I had to face my anger directly before I could “move on '' to a place of peace in my heart, in my soul, and in my relationships. She suggested that I talk directly to Jesus.

I’ve frequently been told that underneath our anger lies wounds that have not yet healed and a deep sadness that has not been fully grieved. So I considered my anger in the silence of this retreat, and like many times before, I realized how much I had been hurt. How deeply sad I was about some losses. Feeling guilty about being angry, I had denied, rationalized, and explained away the reality of my feelings without acknowledging their truth for me. 

And so, I realized that I needed first to address those deep wounds. I had to acknowledge the ways in which I had felt diminished, passed over, and ignored, regardless of whether or not someone’s actions were intentional. I had to acknowledge my sadness in lost relationships. I had to turn the power of my anger to the work of love that God was calling me to share. To walk in love as Christ loves us. To be angry but not sin.

So I went outside to walk the stations of the cross and to talk to Jesus about my anger, my wounds, and my grief. I went outside to verbalize my hurt in the silence of the forest; and then I suddenly came upon a station of the cross. With tears streaming down my cheeks, and angry words spewing out of my mouth, I told Jesus how deeply I felt. And there on the cross, Jesus showed me his hands and pointed to his side. He said, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it on my side.”

As I looked at the cross, I saw a human being. Certainly he had been hated, ignored, diminished, saddened, and hurt. Certainly He had been angry enough to overturn tables and call people hypocrites. Certainly he had been killed, not by a bomb or a bullet, but rather by a corrupt political and religious system, and an angry mob. His sentence of death was unjustified; and it came by crucifixion, which was intended to shame and humiliate the one who was suffering. 

And yet, Jesus’ anger, his righteous anger, called for peace; His sadness was not for himself but for the poor, the sick, the lost, and the lonely. He argued passionately for those who had been persecuted, oppressed, and diminished by unjust systems and abuses of power. Feeling forsaken, He had cried out to His Father in heaven, while forgiving us in the process.

“So why doesn’t God intervene now?” cried my friend in the Adirondacks. “Why doesn’t God stop this madness?”

Today, I offer two responses from that retreat long ago. The first is that God’s wrath is for goodness’ sake, and it works for healing through God’s people, for personal and systemic change. We use our anger to transform our lives.

The second response is an image of God, offered by the Rev. Lyn Brakeman. “I think for Christians, the Resurrection of Jesus is an expression of the healing power of God’s transcendent wrath,” she wrote. “Sometimes I imagine it like this; “the great Godmother Resurrection rages and roars down from the mountains of heaven with immeasurable speed to her son’s tomb.”

“She hurls aside the giant boulder as if it were a strand of straw, then reaches carefully into the darkness of the stone prison to scoop up the body of her son. Cradling him in her arms, she bellows a thunderous, a sundering, “NO! NO! This is NOT MY WILL. THIS IS NOT MY WILL. My will is for life, for life everlasting!”

As a mother and a grandmother, and as a disciple of Jesus, I can relate.

Duty and Love

 Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

The letter of St. Paul to Philemon can easily be glossed over in the writings of the New Testament. Tucked between Titus and the letter to the Hebrews, Philemon is only one page and 25 verses long. Would be that my sermons could be so short!

The late Phillips Brooks was an Episcopal bishop, noted preacher, and author, who once served as the Rector of Trinity Church here in Boston. Known for his writing of the lyrics of the hymn "O Little Town of Bethlehem" Bishop Brooks once said, “Duty makes us do things well. Love makes us do things beautifully.” On this Labor Day weekend, I often think not only about the duties of our human labors but also about the labors of our Christian love.

Duty and love are the twin forces of appeal that St. Paul uses in his letter to Philemon. For those of you who are not familiar with this letter, or need some refreshment, here it is. St. Paul, not to be confused with my husband Paul, has been imprisoned once again, not for his bad behavior but presumably for his enthusiasm for proclaiming the good news of Jesus Christ. His message was not welcome in many circles and so he was often accused of breaking both the religious and civil laws wherever he went. 

Obedient to his duty as an apostle, and his labor of love for telling others about Jesus, St. Paul often found himself in difficult positions. In a pickle, my husband is fond of saying. Or, because St. Paul finds himself in prison once again, he is labeled as a repeat offender, a term we use in our criminal justice system.

At this particular time in his life, some religious leaders were understandably suspicious of the sudden changes in St. Paul’s behavior. Known for persecuting Christians, he felt that it was his duty to respond with violence to protect the integrity of his religious beliefs. But then suddenly, on the road to Damascus, St. Paul was blinded by the light of Christ. He heard the voice of Jesus speaking directly to him; and subsequently, in a reversal of fortune so to speak, St. Paul became a man who could not stop talking about Jesus.

St. Paul was a dutiful and loving Jewish leader who became a dutiful and loving follower of Jesus. In his letters, St. Paul felt that it was his duty to proclaim that in Christ, and through Christ, and with Christ, we are all God’s beloved children, and therefore we are united by grace rather than by our affiliation with a political or religious party. We are united, then, now, and forever in an unbreakable chain of faith in God’s redeeming love revealed by the death and resurrection of Jesus. Indeed, in his letter to the Galatians, St. Paul wrote that in Christ, “there is no longer Jew nor Greek, there is no longer slave nor free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

St. Paul soon became known as an evangelist and missionary, a preacher and pastor, establishing new communities of faith wherever he traveled, and often writing letters to them for their discipline and encouragement. He is known for his way with words, sometimes too verbose, sometimes too direct, occasionally manipulative, and other times he masterfully persuades people with delicacy, diplomacy, and nuance. Not my strong suit!

In his letter to the Galations, perhaps the earliest letter recorded in our New Testament writings, St. Paul chastises them. “You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?” he wrote. “It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly crucified! Did you receive the Spirit by doing the works of the law or by believing what you heard? For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another.” 

Somehow, and somewhere, St. Paul apparently converted to Christianity, both a slave named Onesimus, and his master named Philemon. St. Paul reminds Philemon that he has a duty to listen to him as an apostle of Christ and reminds him about the labor of love that was once offered to all people by Jesus. He calls Philemon his brother, his partner, his friend and co-worker, while professing confidence in his obedience to do even more than St. Paul is requesting of him.

Now St. Paul does not address the general question of slavery as a social institution directly, nor does he discuss whether or not Onesimus should be set free. In fact, it is believed that Onesimus had actually set himself free, that is that he had run away, amidst speculation that he may have even stolen some money from his master, Philemon. 

A slave, who had deserted his master, could be severely punished and even put to death based upon Roman laws at that time; Jewish law, on the other hand, encouraged forgiveness and freedom since the Jews had been set free from slavery in Egypt, and all who entered the promised land were therefore assured of their freedom. (HCSB, p314) It is unclear, however, whether Philemon or Onesimus are Roman, Jewish, or pagan citizens who had become Christians.

In St. Paul’s letter to Philemon, which Onesimus was given to carry back to his master personally, St. Paul asks Philemon to accept Onesimus as a free man and a beloved brother in Christ. St. Paul wants Onesimus to be welcomed into Philemons’s house church, not as a slave, but rather as another beloved child of God, and an equally free family member in Christ.   

Clearly Onesimus’s duty to carry out the delivery of this letter was fraught with danger. Knowing that there may have been some financial losses for Philemon, either because of stolen money or because of lost property, for slaves were considered to be the chattel of their masters, St. Paul tells Philemon that if Onesimus “has wronged him in any way, or owes him anything, then charge that to his account.” 

St. Paul’s appeal is different in his letter to Philemon than the one that he sent to the Galatians. He affirms Philemon’s “love for all the saints and his faith toward the Lord Jesus.” He refers to duty but allows for Philemon to make his own free choice “Though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love,” he wrote to Philemon. He wants “that Philemon’s good deed might be voluntary and not something forced.”

At a church fair long ago, I saw a man wearing a T-shirt that had only two words on its front. In bold, dark, black letters, it said,

“Yes dear.” So I said to him, “I wish my husband would wear one of those.” And yet, truth be told, my husband would say the very same thing about me. In all our relationships that are truly free, there are both “yes dears” and “no dears” involved. There are both duties to be done and labors of love to be offered. So it is for us as citizens of our country, members of our families, co-workers, and as followers of Jesus Christ.

How then do I understand what Jesus said in today’s gospel passage from Luke, when it seems to me that Jesus exaggerates the dutiful aspects of following Him. He declares that we must hate members of our own families and even life itself, if we want to be his disciples, and claims that we must give up all of our possessions. According to my HarperCollins Study Bible, “these verses use prophetic hyperbole for the uncompromising loyalty required toward Jesus and the need for his disciples to maintain their firm loyalty to him.” (p 1989) But as you and I both know, they failed, St. Paul failed; and indeed we all fail.

Only Jesus was perfectly loyal and faithful to God throughout his life. He was dutiful in his own labor of sacrificial love, offering us freedom from the fear of death, and the forgiveness of our sins. Indeed he gave it his all in perfect obedience and loyalty to God. If anything is owed, He said to His Father in heaven, charge that debt to me. And set them free.

“Duty makes us do things well. Love makes us do things beautifully,” Bishop Brooks once wrote. As disciples of Jesus, it is our duty and our labor of love to treat all God’s beloved children as equal members of the Body of Christ. Do it well. Do it beautifully. Do it with love.

Philemon 1-21

Luke 14:25-33