Craving Help

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling,                                             St. Paul's Lynnfield

It’s good to be with you all again this morning, in yet another season of the year. A Sunday in February, another one in April, then June, and now September, with gratitude to Rob for his invitations, and to all of you for your warm welcomes, like a bad habit, I am back! You may remember that I love the Celtics basketball team, and right now I am excited about three teams. The Celtics season starts tonight at TD Garden, and I can’t wait! The Patriots are off to a slow start in football, but there’s no panic yet. And, yesterday, Paul and I were at Fenway, watching the Red Sox play the Yankees, and during which I caught a ball, then gave it to two boys, a Yankees fan and a Red Sox fan. Let them fight over it! Today, I wonder about our red and blue teams. Are we a divided house?  With sports teams and their fans, I think there is always a craving to win.

Unlike its name, the book of Numbers isn’t only about counting the Israelites who had escaped from Egypt, or gathered in their tents for a meeting, a political vote, or Sabbath worship. The book of Numbers has some great stories about our Judeo-Christian team and our long history together. It has stories about our journeys, our leaders, and our people. It records our wins and losses in battles along the way. Written with unfailing honesty, the author talks about our human tendencies to whine and complain, and acknowledges our strong human cravings. We weep with our losses and unfulfilled desires. We are jealous of each other’s gifts. We use power for the wrong reasons. We get fed up, displeased, and outright angry because we want certain things and we can’t get them.

Now the Israelites had escaped from slavery in Egypt, crossed the Red Sea, received the 10 commandments of God, and are now wandering in the desert of Sinai. Moses is leading them towards the Promised Land, and they are all tired from their long and difficult journey. There is no end in sight, and the people and their families begin to complain, first among themselves, and then to Moses.They remember the good times; and they demand relief from their suffering.

I love the descriptive language in today’s lesson. The crowd is called “the rabble” which means “a mixed group of people who were not Israelites.” They were a bunch of rabble rousers, people who had joined the Israelites’ journey for different reasons, adding their voices to a swelling number of people along the way. There is power when large groups of people gather; people often divide into camps, according to their families, or their interests, or for manageability and crowd control. Needs aren’t met, voices rise, and conflict erupts; sometimes things turn ugly, even violent. It has been said that the first casualty of war is truth; and when peace is destroyed; it’s a long journey back to reconciliation.

Scripture tells us that the rabble among the Israelites had a strong craving. Like people addicted to opiods, our cravings can be so strong that we will do anything, or say anything, to satisfy our need for relief. We want our team to win, and so we play dirty. We crave support for our beliefs and are angry when others disagree. We have real experiences that people neither understand or don’t believe. We rightly demand to be treated with respect and dignity; and yet our political and church leaders, not to mention our fellow human beings, continue to fail us with unfailing consistency. We all end up being losers when vitriol and uncivil discourse rule our land.

We are people on a journey from one land to the next, living in a country, some would even call the Promised Land. We come from diverse ancestors, in a land which was conceived out of religious and political conflict, and is dedicated to providing liberty and justice for all. We have human laws, based upon God’s perfect laws, to protect our civil, religious, and human rights. We want the scales of justice and mercy to hang in balance.

We crave certain things, sometimes doing harm to ourselves and to others, with angry outbursts, undignified behavior, deception, disrespect, and even death threats. We whine and complain, raising our collective voices of discontent, and begin to make demands of others. We say, “I’m sick and tired of this; and I want that.” We blame others for our suffering. “It’s all your fault that we’re stuck here in this desert. And if you weren’t like that, I wouldn’t be here now.” In the heat of our craving and our conflict, we demand relief. “Give us some meat,” said the Israelites to Moses!

The Israelites are tired and weak from their journey. They are hungry and sick of the daily bread that God has been providing, and their memories are short and selective. Now, safely on the other side of the Red Sea, with forks and knives in their hands, they recall only the good life in Egypt. With mouths salivating, they remember “the fish we used to eat in Egypt for nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic.”

Have you ever been around children or adults whose whining, complaining, and incessant demands start to get under your skin?  Perhaps in a moment of frustration, you will say, “Just stop it!” When I am hungry, angry, lonely, or tired, I remember that acronym HALT. When I begin to whine, complain, and demand relief from others, I tell myself to stop it and get back to basics. Basics, like self-assessment. Basics, like rational analysis and listening to other perspectives. Like remembering the dignity and equality of all human beings, even if I disagree or dislike them. Above all, basics that include asking God for help.

After its loss to the Detroit Lions last Sunday, quarterback Tom Brady said, “The process has been the same. It’s just not getting done on the field. And we have to get it corrected soon. It’s about hard work. It’s about being disciplined. We all (have) to look at ourselves and figure out what we can do to help.” And teammate Devin McCourty added , “We (have) to show character, keep working, and believe in our process and how we can get better.” (Tara Sullivan, the Globe, Sept. 24, 2018)

With great fear and trepidation, I raise the current Judge Kavanaugh situation. Today, I know it is tempting to take sides, to root for our team to win, to crave justice for one person, to complain about the process, and to demand that someone do something to make it right. Many of us are sick and tired of how the political games are being played, and the news that feeds us daily. Many of us are displeased, discontent, and like God, we are very angry.

Moses had been a faithful leader of his people, and throughout their journey together, he had often interceded for them through prayers and conversations with God. This time, however, he too was frustrated with the situation; and so he complained to God about how God was treating him. “Why have you treated your servant so badly? Why have I not found favor in your sight, that you lay the burden of all these people on me?  If this is the way you are going to treat me, put me to death at once—and do not let me see my misery.” Moses was demanding relief from God; and so can we.

“These are your people,” Moses told God, as if God didn’t already know. In a moment of pique, he said, “You created them; and so you should take care of them.” Scripture says that God was very angry. Had they forgotten all the good things that God had done? Had they forgotten that God provides? That God is always present, all powerful, and all knowing. That God would continue to liberate them, save them, and lead them?

Sometimes I wonder if anything good can ever come out of Washington, just as the people once asked that about Nazareth and Jesus. Today, Jesus talks about salt, and how when salt has lost its saltiness, it’s no longer good. When we get so worn out, hungry, lonely, angry, and tired, we lose our salt. We crave; we complain; we whine; and we demand things from others. We put up stumbling blocks. We remember only partial truths. We are jealous, suspicious, deceitful, and demanding. We forget to stop and ask God for help.

“Are any among you suffering?” asks the author of James. “They should pray.” I believe that we are all hungry for justice; that we are all angry about the uses and abuses of power; that we may feel lonely in our fight for justice, and I think it is safe to say that we are all tired of the way things are. HALT. News flash. We are all suffering. Even God.

Jesus proclaimed that “Whoever is for the goodness of God is not against God and so, do not stop them. Indeed remove the stumbling blocks or the parts of your Body that get in the way of the kingdom of God.” On this day when the Celtics season begins at home, I remember that there is no “I” in “team.” I remember that we are all equal and important members of the Body of Christ, with feet that stumble, hands that harm, and eyes that are blind. Today, I call a “time-out” in the games that people play. I call a recess in our House in order to pray and ask God for help.

“Moses, you need help?” God asked. “Call 70 elders and I will give them my Spirit” which blows everywhere, and gives wisdom to everyone. The Spirit is in this House today. Aside from our daily bread, God gives us the meat, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. God’s never-ending mission of reconciliation can unite us, bringing health and salvation to our broken and hurting world.

In the words of Jesus, ”Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.” In praying for these things, we are all winners. Amen.

Numbers 11:4-6,10-16,24-29
Psalm 19:7-14
James 5:13-20
Mark 9:38-50

Book of Common Prayer, p.461: “This is another day, O Lord. I know not what it will bring forth, but make me ready, Lord, for whatever it may be. If I am to stand up, help me to stand bravely. If I am to sit still, help me to sit quietly. If I am to lie low, help me to do it patiently. And if I am to do nothing, let me do it gallantly. Make these words more than words, and give me the Spirit of Jesus. Amen.

From Fear to Faith

SHE - A Women’s Retreat                                        The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Trinity Episcopal Church                                                     From Fear to Faith

Newtown, Connecticut                                                                     Herstory

Camp Washington, September 22-23, 2018

                       

In the beginning, I was created in the image of God, but I didn’t know it. What I did know was that I was the middle child, with an older brother and a younger sister, and that I grew up in a family steeped in fear, with histories of mental illness and addictions. Like many people, and for different reasons, I was afraid that I was not loveable; and so I sought various ways to find love. My best places were school, sports, and church. It was there that I could be fun-loving, social, and free. It was there that I could be me.

It is impossible for me to speak about how I moved from fear to faith without talking about my husband Paul’s decision to seek treatment for his disease of alcoholism. For addicts and their families, fear is daily bread. And at that time in our lives, I often felt vulnerable, alone, and terrified. Our family had been living in Sandy Hook and attending Trinity Church for about 5 years at that point. Our daughter Megan was in 4th grade, Brian was in 2nd grade, and I was doing a lot of volunteer work with Youth Services in Newtown and the Girl Scouts.

On Sundays, we would have breakfast at My Place and then go to church. Like eating vegetables, Paul and I felt Church was important for our children’s health, despite the drinking and smoking that went on at home. When we sat in the pews - our lovely, intact, blonde, and faithful family of four - I wanted to post a sign behind our backs. It said: Don’t let images fool you. We are not what we look like.

In December of 1989, when Paul left for the Hazelden/Betty Ford treatment center in Minnesota, I was invited to attend the family program. There I began to discover the benefits of 12 step spirituality for everyone. One al-anon book, called “Courage to Change,” writes, “Fear was a daily part of my experience of alcoholism, and I learned certain ways to cope with it. I often catch myself reacting to my fears in the same way today, even though my circumstances have changed.” I realized then in 1989, as I realize today and every day, that I do not want to live with fear controlling my life. I want courage to change. I want to live faithfully.

If you’ve ever struggled in your relationship with someone suffering from any kind of disease, or have one yourself, you can live in constant fear. Because we are not “at ease” with our “dis-eases”, we keep secrets, deny the truth, or become anxious and frozen in fear, waiting for we know not what, or the next shoe to drop. There are many types of fear: the fear of abandonment, the fear of failure, the fear of rejection, the fear of the unknown, the fear of harm, illness, death and loss. A therapist writes about the fear of scarcity, of us not having enough - not enough self-esteem, not enough confidence, not enough happiness, or not enough love. As if any one of these is a zero sum game. (Forward Day by Day, Aug. 22, Charles D. Thomas)

Fear pops up all round us. We worry about where our country is headed and if our world is doomed for destruction. Many of us are beginning to wonder about our safety in what seems to be an increasingly chaotic and violent world. We worry about economic security and how our health care will be managed. We wonder about the costs of our decisions, and what effect they will have on ourselves, our children, and future generations. For those of us in the later years of our lives, we might begin to wonder about death. It all begs the question: how much control do we actually have?

During that particular time in our lives, I worried all the time. My mind lived in a world of “what-ifs.” What if he died? What if he left me? What if someone found out? My fear colored all my relationships. I lived in an unrealistic world, in which I imagined everyone else had it “all together.” I went to Church but my spiritual life remained unknown and untapped. Anxiety and depression were my secret companions -that is, until I could no longer deny the truth. Identifying our fears is a first step toward faith.

 This bottom for me was one of many new beginnings. I knew that I needed help and I was ready and willing to find it. My move from fear to faith began with single steps, small groups, and simple actions; and the people of Trinity Church played a major role in that rescue mission. When we first moved into our neighborhood, Amy Dent had come to our door, with brownies in hand, and told me that we should attend Trinity Church, and not St. John’s, because ‘they don’t like women there.’ In Church, I realized that when I was in the sanctuary, a safe place for me, I could talk to God privately, and pray for my family secretly.

 In my very first month at Trinity, listening to a sermon, I heard myself say, “I want to do that.” It was an absurd thought and I immediately rejected it. Instead, when no one signed up for coffee hour, and we had nothing to drink that morning, I became its coordinator. I can do that, I said to myself. Besides, how can you have coffee hour without coffee? Like, how can you be a Christian without Jesus?

I needed pastoral care desperately, but I didn’t know it. After all, I had been raised in a culture of “fierce independence.” And so I was not only reluctant but a little bit resentful when Connie Weatherup invited me to be a part of a team. I was struggling with my own dinner time witching hours, with two toddlers and an absent husband, but who knew? Why can’t these people just order take-out, I wondered. They have husbands at home. Why is it that women are always the ones who provide the meals?  Clearly, my inner “She” was fuming and “She” was resistant.

I didn’t realize then, as I do now, how mutually beneficial it is to care for one another. Feeding other people is as old as the story of Adam and Eve. In one 12 step meditation book, the author writes, “Fear has a smell. So does love.” (WWDTM, Dec. 23) For me, love smells like home-cooking on Thanksgiving Day. It smells like cupcakes, chocolate, coffee, and champagne, like Breakfast Sundays, like candles and incense, like bread and wine at the Eucharistic feast.

 I went on my first silent retreat to Holy Cross Monastery with people from Trinity. Although I had never been to a monastery before, I was excited to spend a weekend away from my family, and going to a monastery with a Church group was a socially acceptable activity. I cried the whole time. I realized how much I was hurting and how scared I had become. For me, this was the beginning of the end of my denial. In silence, I faced some ugly truths. I dropped my bags and my baggage and asked God for help. The Cross is the Medicine of the World.

Little by little, my sense of self and power had eroded over time, and with the storm of this particular disease in our lives, I discovered that my house was not built on a rock, but rather on shifting sand. And I was sinking. I also learned that “fear is only an illusion, which creates the feeling of separateness - the false sense of isolation that exists only in our imagination. We are one. We are connected, and as we come to understand our connectedness, our fears will die.” (Each Day, Jan. 11)

Fortunately, I became connected to many people as I moved from fear to faith. It began with the 12 step community, with the single steps of 1, 2, and 3, in which I realized I was powerless over others, that a Power greater than me could restore me to sanity, and that I was willing to give God a “try.” It began with small groups at Trinity for Christian education, like EFM, Bible study, pastoral care, and prayers. It began with simple actions like attending the midweek healing Eucharist, finding a therapist, and bringing a meal to someone in need.

My small steps seemed enormous to me; and so I prayed for courage. Courage is faith who has said her prayers; and our courage helps us to take risks, and to try new things. (Dec 6, WWDTM)  When I first became a lector in Church, or opened my mouth at a meeting, my voice quivered so much that it didn’t matter what my audience looked like. Naked or not, I just knew that I was scared. And I still kept trying.

To help me find my “She voice”, I created a mantra. No matter how small the group, and how trusted the audience, I would pray a passage from Isaiah to steady my nerves. “O God, you will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are fixed on you; for in returning and rest we shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be our strength.”  With trust in God, I could move from fear to faith; I could go from strength to strength. I could “let go and let God.”

My faith journey continued to expand and deepen. I offered to serve on the vestry, as the outreach chair. Being involved with Amos House, Habitat for Humanity, the Local Housing Partnership in Newtown, and a prison ministry was a time of enormous spiritual growth for me. Teaching high school kids on Sunday mornings and going on mission trips to various places throughout our country was always a spiritual high. “Shifting our focus, from self-centered fears to another person’s needs, offers us a perspective on our own life. It also offers us a chance to let God work through us. Our own faith is strengthened each time we offer our services to God and to a friend in need.” (Each Day, April 17)

Matthew’s gospel, Chapter 6: 25-34, is one of my favorite gospel passages. It encourages us to orient ourselves towards God. In it, I hear Jesus say, “No worries,” and then counsels me to live one day at a time. He tells me that I am loved, that God will provide my basic needs, clothing for the lilies of the field and food for the birds of the air, and that I need not worry about my life or the future. Besides, “today’s troubles are enough,” Jesus says. “So, seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all else will be given unto you.” With God, there is no fear of scarcity, there is always enough. With God, there is no fear for safety; for Jesus said, “I am Resurrection and I am Life.”

There is a 12 step phrase that says we “come to believe” in a Power greater than us. We come to believe by taking single steps, like showing up - for a meeting or for Church or for a women’s retreat. We come to believe through small groups, where we hear each other’s stories, share our struggles, our fears, and our faith. We come to believe that we are connected, and that spirituality is essential  for our recovery. We come to believe in a Power that will heal us - trusting in that Power to guide us forward in faith, one step at a time.

Yes, before Hazelden and Trinity, I kind of believed in God, but my God was distant, and Paul’s God was a “gotcha God.” At that time in our lives, we knew only one kind of spirit, which came in a bottle; and as for Jesus, well only “other people” talked about him and that was embarrassing. It was through single steps, small groups, and simple actions that I came to believe in a God that was close, loving, and real. I came to believe in a God that had a name and a face. I came to believe that I was made in the image of God and that I was loved unconditionally.

I have researched the word “fear” in scripture so many times that it astonishes me. Despite my fear of abandonment, I came to believe that I am never alone, even when I feel lonely. Poems like “Footprints in the Sand” remind me that even if my house is built on sinking sand, there is a Rock beneath it, and that Someone will carry me. Even today, especially in the silence, I can hear, Jesus speak to me. “Why are you still afraid?” Jesus asks me, “O, you of little faith. It is I and I am here. Not just then,” Jesus says. “I am here with you now.”

Scripture reminds me that perfect love casts out fear. And there are plenty of love stories in the Bible. When we are brave and strong, like Mary, when we are loyal and generous, like Ruth, when we are prayerful and prophetic like Hannah, we reveal God’s love. Like Jesus, through our bodies, minds, and hearts, through our hands, feet, and voices, we are She together. United in a community, connected to God, we are incredible women, moving forward in faith, hope, and love. We are caring, creative, and compassionate. We are prayerful, passionate, and purposeful. Small groups, single steps, and simple actions can make a difference.

 Yes, fear is real, and fear is also realistic; indeed, it can teach us many things. And so prayer is critical. The serenity prayer still anchors me, accepting things I cannot change (like death and taxes), courage to change the things I can (like me and not Paul or our children), and having the wisdom to know the difference. Wisdom: She is Holy Spirit. She is experience. She is you! She is us!

The prophet Isaiah reminds me, “Surely it is God who saves me. I will trust in God and not be afraid.” In Women Who Do Too Much, the author writes, “As we face our fears, we will find a level of courage that we never knew existed, and everyday courage is all that we need. It takes courage to germinate and put forth new ideas. It takes courage to stand up for what we know in our hearts is right. Sometimes it even takes courage to take a nap.” (WWDTM.  Dec, 6)

It was through the grace of God, Jesus, and the power of the Holy Spirit that my journey began at birth; but it was set on fire at Trinity, in that community of love. For it is in the Church, that we are joined together and connected as the Body of Christ, and we are set free from our fears. Free to serve God. Faithfully, we can step up and step out, offering our gifts wherever we go and whatever we do. You and me. We are She. We are incredible women and we have stories to tell. Amen.

Come to Believe

Epiphany Church, Winchester, MA                                                The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

           

I’ve worshipped a lot of things in my life, most of the time not even realizing it. When I first began my vocation as a priest, I was horrified by an article in the local newspaper introducing me. The headline read, “Clothes and money held her fancy before Christ.” At first I was taken aback because I’ve never been much of a ‘clothes horse’ and while I love to shop for food, not so much for clothing. My first full-time job, however, was as an assistant buyer for Filene’s in Boston. (Not in the basement!) I was “into” buying clothes for other people, and selling those clothes to make money for the store.

            As for money, I grew up in a family of financial conservatism; in fact, my mother, proudly called herself, ‘Miss Pinch Penny.’ Similarly, my father was diligent in counting the costs of everything, and so I became not only reluctant to spend money but anxious to save it. Naturally, when I found my job working in retail clothing to be tiresome, I switched careers to banking. I figured I could help people save their money and help them to spend it wisely. No wonder the headline said that “clothes and money” held my fancy before Christ. No fake news there!

            I’ve also worshipped a lot of people in my life, again most of the time not even realizing it. Before ordination, a friend of mine liked to remind me of a statement I made in a Bible study long ago. I had decided to make Jesus first in my life and proudly told the small group about my decision. Number 1, numero Uno, top of the family tree, church hierarchy, and the corporate ladder, Christ would now hold my fancy. At the time, I’m sure my parish priest was thrilled, a man that I worshipped right alongside of Jesus. My husband Paul, however, was a little nervous; and so, I remember the words of my daughter, who said, “That’s OK Mom. Why don’t you just love us all the same?”

I have come to realize over the years that there is a difference between love and worship. You see, over the many years of my life, unknowingly, I had slowly become more absorbed with people and things as the source of my happiness and salvation. It was not in God that I trusted but rather in our back account. Increasingly, I looked to things of this world rather than to Christ for true freedom, unconditional love, and ultimate security. No human being nor any material thing can ever bear such an unreasonable expectation or burden.

At some point, probably because of a growing unhappiness with my life, and a realization that I was barking up the wrong tree, my soul became hungry and thirsty for something else, for something immaterial, intangible, and not of this world. Perhaps coincidentally, I was beginning to see that my idols had clay feet. I remember a neighbor of mine also challenging me, saying, “Nancy, you can’t keep riding the fence. At some point you need to decide.” And so, I decided to follow Jesus.

Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.” Even now, my most immediate response, even as a priest, is to say “Ew, gross. Who would want to do that?” No wonder the Jews were offended by Jesus’ words and complained about Him. No wonder the early church critics accused Christians of being cannibals. No wonder there was confusion about who Jesus was and what He was saying.

My own faith journey began very early in life, although I didn’t know it or understand it at the time. Fascinated by things that are holy and mysterious, and different from but similar to my own real-world experiences, I was drawn to stories about people.The Bible, I discovered, had plenty of them. From the very beginning, these stories told me about human drama and divine love, journeys about lost ways and liberation, death and life, and of families just like mine. In my high school yearbook, underneath my picture, I was quoted as saying that I lived in “East Jesus.” I lived on Journey’s End Road.

When I felt called to leave parish ministry five years ago as a full-time rector, and serve Christ in a different way, the road to me was unclear; indeed it remains filled with twists and turns even now. At first I reclaimed my fundamental identity as a beloved child of God, and then I began calling myself a “free agent in Christ.” Like Jesus and St. Paul, I became a missionary and evangelist. Two years ago, I attended a conference called Evangelism Matters because I thought, if I’m going to be a missionary and evangelist, I need to know how to proclaim my fancy for Christ, without feeling awkward and embarrassed.

I relish the words in today’s letter to the Ephesians. When feeling unclear about where I’m going and what I’m doing, and feeling that my flesh is useless, I am reminded to “be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power.” Walking has become a spiritual discipline and a form of prayer for me. It is a time when my thoughts and feelings rise to the surface, and I do battle with many people and things: you know those rulers, authorities, and forces of evil that seek to corrupt and destroy the creatures and creation of God. I am often encouraged by God when I remember stories about real people. I see Jesus walking on the streets and riding on the subways. I hear the Word of God spoken.

Recently I traveled to Charleston, South Carolina; and while sitting on a bench in the shade, and taking a break from the strong South Carolina sun, a young girl approached me. She was accompanied by a man and two other young girls. Stretching out her hand, she offered me a business card, and asked me if I already had one. Thinking she was selling me a product, I looked down and saw a black card with the letters DZHENOU. Not wanting to be rude, and feeling a bit cornered, silently berating myself for sitting down and becoming an easy target, I said, “No, I had not.” And then I got ready to say, “No, thank you” while getting up, and returning to my walk.

What she said next, however, shocked me. “Do you know Jesus?” she asked. Laughing, and recovering from my misguided expectation, I responded, “Yes, matter of fact, I do.” I also thought to myself, “Great. I’ll tell her I’m a priest and then we’ll all move on.” What followed next was a delightful and mutual conversation in which we talked about our lives, our faith journeys, and why Jesus was important to us. Baptists from Oklahoma, these young folks were on a mission trip. Not pounding nails or painting houses, as I have done, they just engaged people in conversations as they walked the streets in various cities throughout the south.

Now you and I both know that South Carolina is different from these New England states. And so, handing out cards and talking to strangers on the street, isn’t part of our culture. Which is why I like those three simple words of Simon Peter in today’s gospel lesson: “Come to believe.” I know that we must come to something, perhaps a brick wall, a failed relationship, a fork in the road, a park bench in the shade, a 12 step meeting, a church, an illness, or even our journey’s end before something or someone comes to us. First we come, and then we come to, and then we decide. Do I turn back, or do I come to believe in a power greater than me?

God understood our human predicament. God knew that we needed something more, something material, something real like human flesh and blood to speak to us directly and to show us the Way of God’s Love. And so the Word of God became flesh and dwelt among us. See me, Jesus said, and you will know God. Listen to me, Jesus said, and you will hear God. Believe in me, He said, and you will have eternal life with God.

When we come to know Jesus, and come to believe in Him, we begin to see God everywhere. Like Simon Peter, we will confess, “Lord to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life, and I have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” No matter where we go on our journey, we can stand firm in our faith because we know that God is our beginning and our journey’s end. We know that Jesus is resurrection and life, and that our spirits can ascend and descend like Jesus, returning us to where we began long ago, and fast forwarding us into a future beyond our imagination.

DZHENOU means “Does He know You.” And I can answer, “Yes, He knows you, and He knows me.” But a more critical question remains, “Do You Know Him?” Do you know Jesus?

Evangelism Matters. Get to know Jesus, and then find your own way to tell the story of God’s unfailing, unconditional, and eternal love. Fancy Christ more than clothes or money. Like St. Paul, put on the whole armor of God; pray fervently, persevere, and speak boldly. In so doing, you may save a life. Perhaps even your own.

Kings 8: 22-30, 41-43
Psalm 84 or 84:1-6
Ephesians 6:10-20
John 6:56-69

Mary

 St. Paul’s, Malden                                The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

I must start with a confession. I didn’t always have the greatest relationships with my mother or my mother-in-law, may they both rest in peace, primarily because we didn’t share the same interests. For instance, my mother was a scientist and a master-gardener; and my mother-in-law was the queen of hospitality and homemaking. But we also had some similarities, most especially a fierce and undying love for our children. Being a parent is the hardest vocation in the world, and one that also brings great joy. No matter your children’s age, we never stop being the parents of our children.

My parents named me Anne Louise Eaton at birth. That’s Anne with an ‘E’ and Louise was the name of my mother. My parents, however, called me Nancy for many reasons. First, they didn’t like the sound of Anne Eaton and thought that Nancy Eaton sounded better. They were also afraid that people might call me “Annie Lou”; and so they wanted to give me many options for when I got married. Actually, in the baby book,‘Nancy’ is a nickname for ‘Anne’ with an ‘E’. Who knew? And so, after years of trying to explain this to my teachers, the government, and the motor vehicle department, I changed my name to Nancy Eaton Gossling after I was married.

St. Mary, of course, had a mother, whose name was Anne with an ‘E.’ Today, as you know, Mary is famous for being the mother of Jesus or as Christians, we know her as the Mother of God. When St. Gabriel appeared in Mary’s room one day, the angel told Mary that she would bear a child, even though she was not yet married to Joseph. After only a brief challenge, when she said to Gabriel, “How can this be?” Mary then responded, “Yes, let it be unto me according to your Word.”

When I first heard this story, every fiber of my being reacted negatively. I was suspicious when Gabriel said that “the Holy Spirit would come upon Mary and overshadow her.” As a young woman, I found these words unsettling. Cynically, I thought to myself, “That’s a likely story to cover up her own premature behavior with her soon-to-be husband Joseph.” Perhaps, I had heard too many stories about women being in love with one man and forced to marry another. And so Mary’s “yes” seemed to me to be an old-school, subservient response to whatever a man desired - or her family or society demanded of her at that time. I wasn’t having it. I couldn’t relate to Luke’s story about the beginning of Mary’s motherhood.

            In recent weeks, we’ve been hearing about the story of King David and Bathsheba, and how the king used Bathsheba for his own personal pleasure, and then when he discovered that she was pregnant, the king had her husband killed in battle. Like the story of Bathsheba, I wondered if the story of Mary was no different. How much choice did women really have over 2000 years ago? What kind of protest might they be allowed to scream? And who would listen? Must a woman’s answer only be a quiet but perhaps unwilling yes? Was “no” ever allowed to be spoken to men in power? Oh, and those consequences that might then follow!

            As a mother, I wanted to teach our children, both our daughter and our son, what it meant to be a strong and faithful woman; and yet I came to realize that I could not do this alone. It took both my husband and me to teach them how to be human beings with both masculine and feminine spirits, just as Joseph and Mary did with Jesus. In fact, I realized it takes more than two parents, but rather a whole community to raise a child. It takes a whole village of mothers and fathers, of strong men and women, to teach our children what it means to say “yes” and how to say “no” with equal strength, courage, and power.

            Janet McKenzie is a strong woman and a faithful mother who paints sacred art in her studio in Vermont. Last year, at our Cathedral Church of St. Paul, we curated some of her art work in the nave. In her book called Holiness and the Feminine Spirit, Janet wrote, “My sacred art speaks through the image of women, and often through Mary. She accepted God’s invitation to do something beyond human understanding, and it is her courage that touches my heart and inspires me. She is a constant reminder of the power of maternal love.”

“I see Mary in mothers and grandmothers who are raising children, and in mothers who have lost their children. I see her in women who fight for racial and financial inequality at great peril to themselves and in women who stand up for change within government. I see her in women who work every day to make a difference, however small. I see the mother of God in women of all races and ages.”

Today, I think of my mother, my mother-in-law, and my grandmothers, through a different lens. I think of my mother’s mother, Florence, who went to an all women’s college in the early 1900’s at age 19 and of my father’s mother who called herself “Moldy Mary.” Today, I think of St. Mary, and even myself, in a very different way than I did long ago, when I was more suspicious, less understanding, too literal about scripture, and still angry about many things. As I continue to uncover pieces of my own internalized oppression, I see my ancestors with new appreciation for their courage and faith. For their abilities to say “yes” and to say “no” despite all odds.

Today, I am grateful for the gospel of Luke and his emphasis on women even 2000 years ago. Today, I hear Mary’s song in a new way. I understand her “yes” as a choice that she makes on her own, with faith and trust in God. I hear her song as a song of liberation, and see her child, not yet born, as the One who liberates us. Jesus would become her child, my brother, and my Lord. Today, through Him, I believe that we are all God’s beloved children, graciously adopted by St. Mary, our mother, and God, our Father.

My husband Paul and I like to watch movies and have recently gotten into the habit of watching Netflix. Our latest pleasure has been watching the series called “Anne with an E” which is based upon the story of Anne of Green Gables. It begins with the life of Anne growing up in a home for unwanted children, where their sadness and their hopes for adoption are real. Someday each child imagines that he or she will be adopted by a loving family and leave the orphanage. When Anne finally gets her chance, she soon discovers that there had been a mistake. This family, a sister and brother living together on a farm, wanted a boy; and so they intended to send Anne back.

Today, we are all equal heirs, and beneficiaries of Mary’s “yes.” It isn’t a whispered, “OK, I’ll do it” kind of response, but rather a full-throated song of hope and joy. Not yet knowing the struggles and triumphs of Jesus that lay ahead of them both, Mary sings this song proclaiming the greatness of God. She sings this song with complete trust, despite the fact that her own reputation is at risk and she has no blessed assurance of her own personal survival. She sings this song because she has a song to sing, and it is magnificent.

Hail Mary, she is full of grace; and she is a model for all of us. Through her we hear about God’s justice and God’s mercy, that hungry mouths will be fed, broken hearts will be comforted, and the lowly will be lifted up. From this powerless woman came this most powerful song. From her body came one new life; and from His Body came ours.

Yes, inequalities and injustices remain for everyone. And so, Mary’s song is a song for all of us. In ‘Madonna and Child - Boundless Love,’ Anita Price Baird wrote, “Mary is a woman who believes in the power of God to right wrong. Rather than succumb to the burden of her ‘yes’, she rejoiced in prayer. She is the first among the disciples. First among believers, the first one to proclaim the Good News, and first among all women. Who is this mother and child? God’s perfect gift to an imperfect world.”

Our souls can proclaim the greatness of our Lord and our spirits can rejoice in God our Savior. For God so loved the world that God gave God’s only child, born of a woman, born under the law, to suffer death upon a cross and to redeem us, so that we might receive adoption as God’s beloved children and heirs of God’s eternal promise.

Our hearts will keep on being pierced with every injustice and inequality that remains, with every sorrow and heartbreak that we endure. And yet, pierced hearts are open hearts which can ponder the mysteries of God, and respond with magnificent songs of faith, hope, and love. And so we pray with Mary and through her and in her, with intercessory prayers, trusting that Mary’s Son is close by, listening to every word that we speak.

Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou amongst women,

and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God,

pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

St. Mary, transferred from August 15

Galatians 4:4-7

Luke 1:46-55
Psalm 34 or 34:1-9

I am the Bread - A Dialogical Sermon

          The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                          Emmanuel Church, West Roxbury

          Last week, I preached about the power of telling stories, like the story of Bathsheba and King David, and the importance of speaking the truth in love, as the prophet Nathan did when he confronted King David. David’s anger was greatly kindled, when he heard Nathan’s story about the rich man taking the poor man’s lamb; and so I talked about how our anger can reveal many things - like guilt, or injustice, sadness, fear, or hurt. I also spoke about the abuses and uses of power, and how there are power differentials in all of our relationships. For example there is a power differential between clergy and laity, and in some sense that is revealed when we preach from the pulpit. I stand above you and talk down to you or at you. You may or may not like and/or agree with what I say; and so your anger may be kindled. A captive audience, you may sit there fuming, or bored, or confused, and then just tune me out or walk out. Heaven forbid!

            Now, when I served in a parish in Connecticut, or at our Cathedral Church of St. Paul last year, I came to know the people in these communities because I was there almost every Sunday and most days in between. Depending upon the community and the possibilities offered in the scripture lessons for the day, I would occasionally offer what I call a “dialogical sermon.” That is, a sermon that is a dialogue between and among all of us. What I have discovered in my years of preaching is that this can be risky. Some people don’t like me stepping down from the pulpit, and talking with them, up close and personal. Some people feel that I am being paid to offer my professional reflections and not to hear yours. Introverts often like more time to process their thoughts, and some people are afraid to speak up because they might sound “stupid.” All of which is to say that I did a little research last week to see if I might take that risk with you this morning.

And guess what!? For better or worse, whether you like it or not, this morning’s sermon will be a dialogue. I’ll try to ease you into the process and keep it relatively simple. I will invite you to step out of your comfort zone and not worry too much about what you will say, trusting in the goodness of this community. I will also invite you to be open to learning from others through the power of the Spirit. Now please also forgive me, for I will get carried away with my own words, a besetting sin of preachers and extroverts like me, and a hard habit to break! I also would like to share with you some of the Biblical research that I did this week.

This morning I want to focus specifically on the words of Jesus, when He said, “I am the bread of life.” There is a 12 step saying, that says “I came to believe” which broken down means, first ‘I came’, then I ‘came to’, and then ‘I came to believe.” So let’s do that with Jesus’ words today when he said, “I am the bread of life” starting with:

I am.

1.         I want you now to fill in the blank. “I am……..blank.” Don’t think too long or hard, just offer the first word or phrase that comes to your mind; and if you’d raise your hand, I’ll call on each of you in turn. Perhaps we’ll go around more than once, and as always, if you do not want to participate for any reason, please don’t!  I’ll start….”I am Nancy.”  “I am excited to be here this morning.”  

2.         What do your ‘I am’ statements reveal about you or others?

○     names

○     vocations

○     relationships

○     moods

○     something about you: the current state of your bodies, minds, heart, and spirits

In the Gospel of John, Jesus is known for his many “I am” statements

●     I am the messiah

●     I am the light of the world

●     I am the good shepherd

●     I am the gate

●     I am the true Vine

●     I am living water

●     I am the bread of life

3.         What did Jesus mean when He said “I am”?

●     I am not only 

○     Son of Joseph and Mary

○     Known to them from Nazareth

○     Fisherman, rabbi, teacher, preacher and

●     Identifying Himself with God

Victoria Lynn Garvey explains, “In Jesus’ day and culture, the God of Israel was understood to be the font of being, being itself. So for Jesus to identify himself beginning with that phrase (‘I am’) must have been something of a shock. Each ‘I am’ statement invites Jesus’ audience into a fuller understanding of him and his ministry. Jesus is claiming that as wonderful and life-giving as the manna once was, this second gift of bread from heaven - himself- is even more beneficial, even more life-giving.”

The Bread.  Jesus said, “I am the bread.”

1.         What kind of bread do you like and how do you like it served?

2.         What ingredients go into making bread?

3.         Why would Jesus say He is the bread?

We can interpret the words of scripture in many ways:

 literal, metaphorical, moral, spiritual.

●     Jesus is not literally bread, like manna in wilderness

●     Metaphorically, like manna, Jesus came from heaven, God

●     Moral,the  bread is his body, flesh that he gives sacrificially

●     Spiritual, believers will never be hungry, thirsty, die

Life.  Jesus said, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven.”

1.            What is life for you? What makes life worthwhile for you?

2.            What do you think Jesus meant when he said these words?

In Understanding the Fourth Gospel, Rudolph Bultmann, one of the greatest Biblical scholars of all time, claims that the whole message of Jesus in this gospel is to identify Himself as The Revealer.

Jesus reveals Himself not only as the son of Joseph but also Son of God:

●     He is the Word of God.

●     The presence of God.

●     He reveals the actions of God.

●     The life of God.

●     The desire of God.

●     The love of God.

This is what you do when you show up, and reveal parts of yourself to others, by what you say and do. You reveal the love of God as a Christian.

I’d like to end with a final story.

Alan Bentrup, of the Episcopal Church Foundation, wrote this:

There is a recent surge in interest around evangelism in The Episcopal Church, in part due to inspiration and interest drawn from Bishop Curry’s royal sermon. I love the energy and momentum around evangelism, but I worry that we often are blurring the lines between evangelism and marketing. Are we talking about how great our Presiding Bishop is, or how beautiful our parishes are, or how wonderful our music can be? Those are all good things, but they are marketing.

Evangelism is public witness to the Gospel. Evangelism is sharing the good news of God in Christ Jesus.  If we are to be Episcopal evangelists, we must proclaim that good news, what Jesus Christ has done in our lives.

As my family and I were moving last month, we stopped for lunch at a little diner in a small town in rural South Carolina. We were in line waiting to order, and a gentleman behind us in line said hi. My eight-year-old son, who will talk to anyone, asked him his name. A brief conversation followed in which we learned all about his construction business and what his kids are doing (you’ve got to love the South…)

He then asked what I did for a living, so I said I am an Episcopal priest. “I go to the Baptist church down the road,” he said, “but I don’t really consider myself Baptist. I’m a follower of Jesus, first and foremost. Where I go to church is secondary.”

This gentleman, who runs a two-man construction and demolition company in small-town America, knows what it means to be an evangelist. Evangelism isn’t about music. It isn’t about liturgy. It isn’t about church politics. It sure isn’t about clergy.

It’s about Jesus. And everything else is secondary.”

So, go be an evangelist. Reveal the good news of God’s love in the world, by what you say and by what you do; for you will reveal God’s love and the good news of Jesus through you.

2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33
Psalm 130
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6:35, 41-51

Power

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling                              Emmanuel Church, West Roxbury

You can’t listen to the news today without hearing about someone’s abuse of power. Usually it involves a political leader somewhere in our world, from a particular nation, or as close as our State House. Or maybe it’s corrupt people who are working in a non-profit organization or an age-old institution. The #MeToo movement continues unabated; and we hear stories about leaders in our Churches of all denominations. Just recently, I personally heard two stories about the abuse of power: one was a doctor who was predatory, and another was a high-profile businessman whose ego and need for power got out of control.

So we all know that people abuse their power, regardless of their professions, their genders, their locations, or their socio-economic status. In truth, we are all guilty, for occasionally we abuse the power that we have, however much or little it is, and usually in less egregious and public ways. In families, as parents or children, in churches or as members of particular groups, we hurt each other, sometimes knowingly and intentionally, and sometimes not. We speak carelessly. We act willfully. We power over others to get our way.

I’ve just finished reading a book called Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng. It is the story of a mixed marriage between a Chinese professor and an American woman. They have three children, although Lydia, the middle child, is “the favorite child of her parents who are determined that she will fulfill the dreams that they were unable to pursue.” This book is described as a “profoundly moving story of a family, their secrets, and their longings.” Who among us has not had one or more dreams dashed, or kept secrets untold, or had longings unfulfilled? Who among us has not judged people who are different from ourselves in one way or another? Or used our power in ways that we regret?

Like the story of Lydia’s family, and the story of David and Bathsheba, secrets can kill us. So can abuses of power. Clearly, both Uriah and Bathsheba were powerless in their relationships with King David. The king used Bathsheba for his own personal pleasure, and then in an attempt to hide his behavior, and perhaps protect Bathsheba, he tried to deceive her husband. When that failed, Joab, under orders from his king, colluded with him and arranged for Uriah to be killed in battle. Supposedly no one would know of this betrayal except King David and Joab.

How then do we confront the bad behavior of others, especially people who have power? How do we not collude with people who ask us to stay silent or do things against our conscience? How do we deal with our own power and behavior?

Today’s lesson from 2nd Samuel provides some answers. First, we recognize the potential for abuse when we see that there are power differentials in our relationships. Children are less powerful than adults, which is why two year-olds begin to claim their own power by saying “no.”  In general, women of color are considered to be at the bottom of the power pole, with white men at the top; and lay persons may feel powerless over the requests of clergy. Nathan gave voice to the powerless; so too can we.

Power differentials are legion and variable. They include not only our ages, genders, colors, and vocations, but also money, legal status, birth order, and things like reputation. And yet, everyone has a place and a purpose, a variety of gifts given to us by God. Some will be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, others pastors and teachers.

Our communities are different as well. For example, Trinity Church in Copley Square is not like Emmanuel Church; and yet each community is equally important as members of the Body of Christ and in the Diocese of Massachusetts. Emmanuel Church: You have a mission. You have core values. You are a welcoming community that fills backpacks and feeds others. Your ministers are all the parishioners of Emmanuel Church. You are people with power.

Being aware of yourself first, then, is important in all of our relationships. When someone reacts strongly to us, or seems to over-react to a situation, look for the trigger that may have caused it. It’s one way of recognizing the power differentials, or wounds. It’s also an opportunity for self-reflection. Anger is an indicator, like the red light that comes on in your car when it gets overheated. It tells us that we are afraid or hurt, and often masks a deep sadness or a loss. It may point to injustice, or suggest secrets that have not yet come to light. Our anger may reveal things that we have done and do not like about ourselves.

In ancient Palestine, the law of hospitality demanded that strangers be treated as if they were angels, and when they arrived at your home, they were given the best food for their journeys. If someone had no livestock, you were permitted to take a neighbor’s lamb; but it was forbidden if you had a lamb of your own, or if the neighbor’s livestock was a personal pet. In Nathan’s story, the rich man broke both religious and tribal laws, by taking his neighbor’s one and only lamb, which he had treated like a daughter.“The man who has done this deserves to die,” David told Nathan, “and he shall restore the lamb fourfold.” Revealingly, David’s anger condemned himself even before Nathan confronted him. Telling a story is one way to confront others.

Many, if not all, human beings are never satisfied; for we are a discontented lot, and often want more. Indeed some people believe that God created us this way so that we would constantly seek God, finding our hearts restless until they rest in God. Such was the story of King David; and so Nathan confronted David in yet another way. He reminded David of how much God had already given to him and would continue to give; but David chose to do what was evil instead. When we are not grateful for what we already have, and feel entitled for more, we are liable to sin. We choose unwisely.

Like David, we may begin to lie. “We deserve this,” we say to ourselves; and so we demand or take what is not ours. “He made me do it,” we say to a family member. Initially, we may fool some people, but certainly not God. Like King David, we will find that one little lie leads to another; and soon enough, the consequences are deeper and greater. We deny the truth and blame others, or we ask them to do our dirty work. If we feel powerless, we may whisper behind closed doors, or remain silent, passively colluding with those in power. The truth eventually comes out, however; and secrets, despite our best efforts, will come to light.

Culturally and in our Church, I think these are times of “truth-telling.” I serve on our Diocesan Disciplinary Board and am aware of the steps recently taken at our General Convention. In a report submitted by the commission on impairment and leadership, members wrote, “Unfortunately, in almost every case that we examined, the ecclesial structure and polity of our church proved to contribute negatively to the situation. Clericalism, a misunderstanding of hierarchy, the canonical autonomy of parishes and dioceses, and a polity that hinders the enforcement of expectations all contributed. Fear of exposure to liability, and an underdeveloped theology of forgiveness also contributed to the abusers being given multiple opportunities to repeat their behaviors without consequences.”

God’s mission is one of reconciliation and peace, and without truth-telling, there is no reconciliation. Without justice, there is no peace.

To his credit, Nathan confronted his king without regard to his own personal danger. Such actions takes enormous courage and faith. Today voices are rising. Together, people are exposing religious, tribal, social, and civil laws that are broken or unjust and in need of repair. Age-old abuses of power are being revealed.To his credit, King David immediately confessed his sins to Nathan.

Leaders who are not balanced by other forces of power can easily forget about God, deny that there is a God, or think that they are God. In our Christian community, we realize that it’s not just about the “#MeToo” movement but also the “WeToo” movement. For we are one body and one Spirit, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and there is one God and Father of all.

As equal members of the Body of Christ, we remember that God is the Defender of our cause, and the Great Protector of our lives. We remember that we are all sheep of God’s own fold, lambs of God’s own flock, and sinners of God’s own redeeming, because Jesus was the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. We remember that God provides food for our journeys even in the wilderness; and so we are grateful that God’s grace is given to us unmerited, undeserved, and free.

The author of the letter to the Ephesians reminds us to “bear with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, and leading lives worthy of the calling to which we have been called.” Love is hard work, and speaking the truth in love takes courage. Emmanuel Church, God is with you, and God has called you to equip more saints for the work of this ministry; for it takes the whole body, knit and working together properly, to grow itself up in love, into the full stature of Christ. This is no secret, but the dream of God, and God’s longing for all of us.

After being fed by Jesus and his disciples, the crowds still pursued Jesus. Rather than puffing himself up with pride, or counting his followers in the pews, Jesus confronted them. “I know that you’re looking for me because you ate your fill of the loaves. But what you really need is God. You need spiritual food that comes down from heaven, and gives life to the world. And, oh by the way, Jesus said, “I am that bread of life.”

            Victoria Lynn Garvey, a lay leader, church consultant, and Biblical scholar wrote, “Most English translations of the Bible use the verb endures to characterize the bread, but the author of the fourth Gospel chooses the Greek word meno, sometimes translated abide. This word describes the intimate, enduring, reciprocal, personal relationships of the Spirit and the Father with Jesus, and then with Jesus and His disciples.”

            During this time of leadership transition in your community, I encourage you to share your stories. With courage, confess your sins and speak the truth in love to one another. Welcome strangers as if angels, as you welcomed me this morning. Use God’s power for good and empower others for God’s mission. Abide in Jesus and you will never be hungry or thirsty.

2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a

Psalm 51:1-13

Ephesians 4:1-16

John 6:24-35