Comfort Food

7 Easter, May 24, 2020

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

The Collect for the Day:

Do not leave us comfortless, but send us your Holy Spirit to strengthen us.

We look to you, the God of all grace (Creator, Savior, and Spirit), for comfort and strength.

I’m sure that you, like me, have been looking for multiple ways to comfort yourselves these days. Comfort food is my main “go to” response in times of stress. I get nervous and then I eat. When returning from a difficult hospital visit, I would often stop at McDonald’s on my way home. I would get my “usual” - a cheeseburger and a diet Pepsi. “You want fries with that?” she would ask, and I would answer in the affirmative. During these recent times, I’ve changed some of my habits. I’m not making hospital visits anymore but I’m still looking for comfort food. Now, it’s Wendy’s spicy chicken nuggets and Cape Cod potato chips that bring comfort.

Discipline yourself, I say to myself, as I eat my fish and chips, girding my loins for action. My fish isn’t quite like the ones that Jesus grilled for his disciples, but close enough. I hear that the mediterranean diet is good for you, so I dip my carrots into hummus, eschewing my Cape Cod potato chips. Resist those donuts and ice cream, I caution myself, thinking that I really shouldn’t be complaining about my intake or my choices. My “brothers and sisters in all the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering” and so much more! Be grateful and humble yourself!

I miss going to the gym, and my hair has grown long like a Nazarite. If it gave Samson some strength, why not me? Like the disciples, right before He ascended into heaven, and some of us now, I ask Jesus, “Is this the time when God will restore us? When we can reopen?” Will this long green season, the season after the Pentecost, be the time when God will restore not only Israel but all the people of God? Will we see the tower of Babel being rebuilt? And will we hear each other speaking in one global language of love?

As my body reserves grow with my food indulgences, I look for new ways to strengthen my spirit and comfort my soul.  After Jesus ascended, the disciples returned to the upper room in Jerusalem to pray. So why not me? It appears that they had expanded their ranks from the 11 men, who had once huddled in fear after the crucifixion, to several women and family members as well. Apparently, they found prayer and being in community sources of comfort and strength. Perhaps, they were also preparing themselves for their mission and ministries ahead. So why not us?

I noticed, however, that not all of them returned, that is if you don’t think Batholomew was also Nathaniel. Did the disciple Nathaniel go back to his day job, now that the dangerous times were over? Was he on the road to another region, bearing witness to what he had experienced, seen, and known? Or was he still huddled up in his own room, strengthening his spirit through prayer, reflecting upon what had happened, and imagining a new way of life? Was he waiting for that green light too?

Unfortunately, at first, the followers of Jesus had to maintain their secret identities, always afraid that an “unmasking” would follow. Maybe that’s why Nathaniel changed his name to Batholomew? They knew that former members of their community were whistle-blowers, telling the authorities that the disciples of Jesus were engaged in illegal activities. Like cannibalism; they ate bodies and drank blood. Or insurgency; they were worshipping Jesus rather than hailing Caesar. So, at first, they huddled fearfully. Then, after they met the risen Christ, they began to huddle faithfully. Fish signs pointed to the Way of Love.

“Yeah, we know about the wages of sin, sickness, and death,” I say to Peter today. “I know you faced stoning, inprisonment, and crucifixion. Today it’s bullets, lynching, and the electric chair.”  We know about that devil too, not Caesar but COVID-19, prowling around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. “Holy Father, protect us,” we pray, as Jesus once prayed for his disciples. Trusting that He is now sitting at the right hand of His Father in heaven, we think, “We’ve got his ear! We know He’s got the Power!”

Remain steadfast in your faith, the Spirit whispers into my ear. Cast your anxiety on God, with those nets that are filled with worry and heartache. The great Holy Comforter is packing her bags now, and She’s arriving from heaven soon. She is bringing you comfort and strength. And news flash! Jesus has joined forces with His Father; it’s a “two-for-one” kind of gift; they deliver straight to your room. No need to get out of your PJ’s and put on your Sunday best!

“Send us your vaccines to protect us,” I ask my Creator. “Put your loving arms, once extended upon the cross, around us for comfort,” I tell my Savior. And “send forth your Spirit to renew the face of your earth,” I beg them both.

Acts of the Apostles: 1:6-14

When the apostles had come together, they asked Jesus, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day’s journey away. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you. Discipline yourselves, keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters in all the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the power forever and ever. Amen.

A Perspective on Love

A Perspective on Love

6 Easter, May 17, 2020

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

In our family room, on our coffee table, there is a pottery bowl created long ago by our son Brian. In it, I’ve placed some polished stones given to me by a Native American friend many years ago. In these recent days, my granddaughter, Elia, loves to run her fingers through the stones, as if she’s playing with water. She also likes to spread the stones out on the table and then put them back into the bowl. On each polished stone, there are two words, one on either side. On one stone there are the words “perspective” and “love.” The word love has little “plus” signs all around it.

+Love+ Right! Love is a plus sign, a benefit to all who receive it and to all who share it. It also has its costs. Love is fluid, like water that runs through our fingers, like God’s Word that comes from heaven and returns back again, like stock market volatility, like COVID 19. Love demands perspectives on life and death, a cost/benefit analysis, and the ways we live and move and have our beings.

A priest who was trying to communicate the division in his church over sexuality explained it this way. When our perspectives vary it may seem as if we are talking past each other. We feel as if the “other” has a deaf ear, a stone-cold heart, and an inability to let go of preconceived notions. We talk from the perspective of science and biology. We engage in conversations about free-wills and different choices. We drop the God word, as if human relationships were all about, indeed only about, sex. Then we pull out our mental health bibles, or our hospital guidelines, and point to what is considered sick. Hopefully, eventually, we talk about love as a configuration of relationships. Maybe we even remember Jesus, that Jesus gave us God’s Love. It was a cost to him; a benefit for us.

The pandemic conversation echoes these memories for me. Dr. Fauci claims that he speaks from the perspective of a scientist, a physician, and a public health official. Meanwhile, the President and local business owners are worried about the economy, and remind us how death comes in many ways. People suffering from inequalities, long-established in our systems, decry the higher risk of infection, poverty, and injustice. It’s an old perspective coming into sharper focus for us today. As systems and buildings and ways of “living and moving and having our beings” crumble all around us, like ancient ruins in Greece, our faith rises with hope. We all clap our hands for +love+.

Some people claim to know God; while others search desperately for God. St. Paul gave the Athenians a new perspective. Your “unknown” God is not far away, untouchable, or unknowable, or found in material things. God’s +Love+ has little “plus signs” all around it. Even as it tears down the walls of division, hatred, prejudice, fear, and death it will build us up in new ways of living, and loving, and moving our beings. In fact, +Love+ is in the air. Receive it, and then give it away. It may cost you something but the benefits are heavenly.

Acts 17: 22-28

“Paul stood in front of the Areopagus and said, “Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, ‘To an unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things. From one ancestor he made all nations to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him—though indeed he is not far from each one of us. For ‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we too are his offspring.’

Show me the Way

5 Easter, May 10, 2020

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

“How can we know the Way?” said Thomas to Jesus. “Show me the Way to the Father and I will believe,” said Philip. Show me the Way.

Show me the Way that dismantles the inequalities in our systems that cause poverty, death, and despair in neighborhoods of color. Show me the Way to end hatred that causes people to pick up guns in Georgia and stones that assault women. Show me the way out of this pandemic, a net that has been secretly set by the enemy and has paralyzed our nation and our world. Show me the Way out of these things that oppress our spirits.

In God’s house, there are many colors, and such evils never exist. Be that strong tower of goodness, I ask God. Show us the Way that will unite us as your beloved people and uphold us by your higher power. Show us the Way to your place where there is room enough for everyone, and spaciousness to breathe. Give us sure footholds on that climbing wall to heaven, on the path of righteousness on this earth, that will lead us to the place of eternal rest and peace.

“Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” prayed Stephen before they stoned him. “Into your hands, I offer my spirit,” said Jesus as he hung upon the cross. “Forgive and give,” they both said in their final and finest hours.

Show us that Love is the Way. Show me that Way, today.

Acts 7:55-60

1 Peter 2:2-10

John 14:1-14

Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

Gate or Shepherd?

4 Easter, May 3, 2020

Gate or Shepherd?

Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25; John 10:1-10

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

“I am the Gate,” he said, “and God is the Gate-keeper. Come into this sheepfold through me, and I will save you. When the morning dawns, go out through me and follow me. Listen to me!  I’m calling your name. Yes, you!” 

“Wait,” I replied. “What? I thought you were the Shepherd! So which is it? Are you an inert piece of rotting wood, a gate? Or are you a living, breathing person, a shepherd?”

“Both, and more,” Jesus answered. He said that he had replaced that piece of wood, which was the cross, and a symbol of unjust execution and cruelty, made by humankind to inflict suffering and sorrow. He told me that, like a lamb, he had been led to the slaughter, how he had laid down on that gate, and willingly gave up his life for you and me. He reminded me how God was the gatekeeper, who opened it, so that Jesus could show us the way out, first through suffering and death, and then into eternal life.

It was a matter of sacrificial giving instead of self-serving action. The religious and political leaders claimed that it was better for one man to die than for them. So they chose him. Power is seductive.They didn’t like his truth-telling; and it was too much pressure on them. Throw him under the bus, and up on the cross, the crowds yelled. His death might serve as a warning to others. It’s called herd immunity. Privileges do have their health care benefits.

“There is death and despair and disease all around me,” I cry to him. “Even inside this sheepfold. And we are crowded together, with no masks, no gloves, and no hope. We have endured this suffering unjustly. We need a Good Shepherd. Please get us out of this sheepfold! We want to wander freely! We want our lives back, just the way they were before!” “Or maybe not?” quietly asked the Gatekeeper.

I remember how darkness descended upon all of creation on that Good Friday. How disciples arrived at the tomb on Easter morning and found it empty. There were rumors that thieves stole the Body; it was a good talking point for the empty tomb. Some accused the disciples of a great hoax. “It never happened,” they said. But the Gatekeeper, the Author of all Creation, intervened and raised Jesus up. And then the Risen Lord appeared to many people. “See me. Touch me. Believe me,” he said. God knew that we needed a living, breathing human being to replace the parts of us that are dead, inert, and rotting.

I look around my sheepfold, as if for the first time, and see that Jesus is there. God has a way of creating new life especially in those dark places, like the womb and the tomb. Jesus is so much more than a gate and a shepherd, I remember; he is one of my companions along the Way, functioning in various capacities. He is the bread of life, and living water. He is there in all of creation, in the body and blood of care-givers, in my family and friends. Maybe even my enemies. “Come into this sheepfold through me; and do not fear” he says,“for by my wounds you have been healed. And, don’t worry! Lay down your heads and go to sleep. I am the guardian of your souls.”

“Weeping may spend your nights,” he consoles me. “But joy will surely come in the morning, when the Son will rise, and the Gate will open, and my Spirit will lead you. “When the morning dawns,” he says, “go out through me, and I will lead you to still waters and green pastures. Did I not come that you might have life and have it abundantly?”

1 Peter 2:19-25

It is a credit to you if, being aware of God, you endure pain while suffering unjustly. If you endure when you are beaten for doing wrong, what credit is that? But if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God's approval. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps.

“He committed no sin,

and no deceit was found in his mouth.”

When he was abused, he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. For you were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.

Psalm 23

1 The Lord is my shepherd; *

I shall not be in want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures *

and leads me beside still waters.

3 He revives my soul *

and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.

4 Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I shall fear no evil; *

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

 5 You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me; *

you have anointed my head with oil,

and my cup is running over.

6 Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, *

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

John 10:1-10

Jesus said, “Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.

So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”

COVID 19 and the Risen Christ

Epiphany Vestry Mini-Retreat, Winchester, Massachusetts

April 25, 2020

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Companions in Hope

Encountering the Risen Christ

A Meditation on Resurrection Appearances

I must confess that when I first received Julia’s invitation, asking me to offer a meditation for you today, I had to give it some thought. Truth be told, like so many people in our country, indeed around our world, I wasn’t feeling particularly joyful. Hopeful, yes. Joyful, no. When I am living in fear, I don’t want to talk to anybody; and I don’t want to touch anything. I’m afraid of strangers carrying diseases, and like a thief, I wear a mask everywhere I go.

In the evening, in need of some laughs, Paul and I have been watching that old-time T.V. series called Cheers. You know, that place like church, where “everybody knows your name, and your troubles are all the same?” Except, today, church feels like something is missing, like a Body. I feel that it needs a Blood transfusion or plasma with antibodies; and it seems as if the air, and all of the people, have been sucked out of the room. No, it’s not the Rapture; it’s COVID 19.

Sheltered in our home sanctuaries, like the disciples on that evening, on that day of the Resurrection, we may be wondering what’s going to happen next, now that our beloved leader is gone. The gospel stories say that Jesus suddenly appears in the locked room, where the disciples were huddled together in fear. Initially, maybe they backed away from Him, covering their faces and bodies with personal protective equipment. Holding up their hands, scrubbed clean in self-defense, and thinking that they’ve seen a ghost, they say to Jesus, “Keep your social distance. Don’t talk to us. Don’t touch us. Just stay away.”

The empty tomb, like the status of our churches today, is the subject of much discussion. Inside the tomb, there was no Jesus, no Body, and no Blood. Inside our churches, there is an emptiness that we ache to fill. We long to be together as an embodied community, hearing the Word of God, exchanging the peace with one another, gathering at the Table, and sharing communion with our Lord and our God.

There is also a great deal of talk about how we share in the Eucharist these days. Many clergy celebrate alone, live streaming in one way or another, as people at home watch from a distance. Some are encouraged to have bread and wine at their tables, trusting that God’s Spirit cannot be contained. Other churches offer communion “to go”, with drive by windows, and parking lot delivery. In Texas, cars arrive on Sunday morning, and people sing and pray from the safety of their vehicles. Bumper stickers say, “Honk, if you love Jesus.”

The Eucharist is our Christian family meal, when we remember our salvation story and the words that Jesus spoke on the night that He was handed over to suffering and death. Take, eat, this is my Body, which is broken for you. When Jesus was at table with Cleopas and his companion, He took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.

Despite the variety of ways in which we receive the Body of Christ, today’s scripture reminds us of His four-fold actions: Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it, and then gave it to his disciples. Has not Jesus taken us for His own? Are we not broken now? And are we not truly blessed? Given for the sake of others? And so we sing, “Be known to us, Lord Jesus, in the breaking of the bread, and do not then depart; Savior abide with us, and spread thy table in our heart.” ( hymn 343, words James Montgomery)

We are broken, broken open, but not defeated; we are still One Body in Christ. And we remember that “we do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” (Deuteronomy 8:3) Alone or together as a community, even if it is by Zoom, our Risen Lord is present. “Jesus is with us in this crisis — in our quarantined homes, in the overrun hospitals, and at the press briefings, ” the Rev. Peter Harron wrote. “We catch glimpses of him in the grocery stores, at our online classes, and out for a run. We can be sure that Jesus is walking alongside us, even if we don’t realize it at the time.” ( www.d365.0rg, 4/24/20)

When Jesus joined Cleopas and the other disciple on the road to Emmaus, at first, they didn’t recognize Him. “Imagine walking with a friend, keeping your “social distance,” comparing notes about our current situation, when someone appears and asks you what you’re talking about,” wrote the Rev. Peter Harron. “When you tell him, he replies, “Corona-what-now?”

“How do you not know this?” you ask him. “Corona has closed restaurants and canceled schools, people are getting sick and dying, and we’re supposed to keep our distance until it gets better!” “And that’s how Cleopas reacts, too. He simply cannot believe that someone would have no idea about what had just happened to Jesus.” And at first, maybe Cleopas had no idea either. (Peter Harron www.d365.org 4/22/20)

“Why do you look for the living among the dead,” the angels asked the women, who had come to the tomb that Easter morning, carrying spices in their hands. “He is not here, but has risen. Remember what he told you, while He was still in Galilee. How he would be handed over to sinners, crucified, and on the third day rise again?” “Jesus is not here,” the angels proclaimed to Mary Magdalene and Mary. “He has gone ahead of you to Galilee. Go, and tell the others!”

I have three grandchildren. Elia is three years old and living in Jamaica Plain; while my fraternal twin grandsons, Peter and Nathaniel, live in Minnesota. A little over a year ago, they were born prematurely, weighing in at 2 pounds and 1 pound 14 ounces respectively. They spent their first three months on ventilators in the NICU, the newborn intensive care unit, where my daughter is one of the attending physicians. To say we lived in fear, and on some levels still do, is an understatement.

Today Peter and Nathaniel tip the scales at 22 pounds and 18 pounds respectively. They are healthy little babies, crawling, standing, and beginning to learn how to talk and walk. They are poster children for the blessings of modern science. They are miracle babies for people of faith. Like you and me, they are beloved children of God. Named after the two apostles who joined Jesus on that beach in Galilee, Peter and Nathaniel are living witnesses to the life-giving power of God and the extraordinary efforts of their human care-givers.  

Premature babies are almost always challenged with respiratory health, and are especially vulnerable to viruses and the flu, and so Peter and Nathaniel have been quarantined for over a year now, their parents protecting them from those invisible germs that could hospitalize them, re-intubate them, and potentially kill them. As they’ve grown in stature, they love to stand and look out their windows. Out there, they see new things. Out there, they see life beyond their bubble. Out there they see people walking on the road to Emmaus. Through their eyes, and the eyes of my heart enlightened by faith, I see things differently, or maybe for the first time.

Part of the benefit of these quarantined times is an increased ability to slow down and breathe, to look at life, and those empty places and sacred spaces with new eyes. Like the twins, I look out my window at the beauty of God's creation. Quarantined at home, I have time to pray. I invite Jesus into my heart, asking Him to stay with me, just for a little while. As I walk on my road to Emmaus, I talk to Him. I listen to Him and I look for signs of new life. I acknowledge my fellow-pilgrims with a nod and a wave. No words are necessary; we know that we’re all on the same journey.

There was a recent story of a woman who had never left her home in east Germany and was invited by a friend to visit the coast of Wales. As she traveled there by car, she couldn’t stop talking about all the new things that she was seeing. Like Peter and Nathaniel, staring out the window of her car, she was fascinated by the world beyond her tiny, enclosed shelter. When she finally arrived on the coast, when she saw the ocean for the first time, she fell silent. She whispered to her friend, “Oh my God, it is so very large, and I am so very small.”

We are swimming in an ocean of God’s love even now; and our four gospel stories tell us that the Risen Lord was seen by many people, at different times, and in various places. The sequence of events cannot be worked out. The Risen Lord will not be synced in our timelines nor contained by our human efforts or stubborn wills. Each account is a separate summary of early Christian testimony to the fact of Jesus’ resurrection.” (p45 New Oxford Annotated Bible)

Jesus was seen by people, not in a vacant church or an empty tomb, but out there, beyond their bubble. The Risen Lord was seen in the neighborhood, in the garden, and in a locked room. Walking away from the events in Jerusalem, He shows up on the road as a companion in hope. And when the gang finally went back to their fishing on the Sea of Galilee, they found Jesus on the shore.

These days we may have no toilet paper, but the disciples had no fish; so the Risen Lord told them to cast their nets onto the other side of the boat. When the nets were full, almost to breaking, it was then that the beloved disciple recognized Jesus. Bold, impulsive, and risk-taking Peter jumped into the waters, and swam ashore, where Jesus greeted him, fed him, and asked him, “Do you love me?” Perhaps a little too quickly, which is why Jesus made him repeat his answer 3 times, Peter said, “Yes, of course I do!” “Then feed my sheep,” Jesus replied. “Tend my flock. Love others as I have loved you.”

In some ways, the Risen Christ is like COVID 19. Like God’s amazing grace, they show up unexpectedly, often unrecognizable at first. They cross barriers that would halt any human being. But the Risen Lord is different from COVID 19. One brings new life, and the other potential death. COVID 19 can kill, while Jesus gives us eternal life. As our companion on the Way, He knows our longest days and our darkest nights; and so He reassures us. “Be at peace.” Then He breathes that steroid mist into our lungs, inflating them with the Holy Spirit; and we begin to breathe faithfully, hopefully, and joyfully once again.

When the Risen Lord steps into our rooms or climbs into our boats, when He appears in our gardens or joins us on the road, our winds of fear will cease. Our troubled waters will become calm. “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me,” Jesus assured His disciples, and “I will never forsake you nor abandon you. So stay in Jerusalem, until you have been clothed with power from on high.” It is the power of Pentecost, that will come with gale force winds, and blow across all nations and all people.

“Breathe and receive the Holy Spirit,” our Risen Lord tells us. “We are companions in hope on a journey that will never end. So, go and tell other people the good news. “I am going ahead of you, and you will find me there. In my Father’s house, there are many rooms, and I will have prepared a place for you there. And remember, there are no vaccines to prevent you from catching the Holy Spirit.”

Encounter the Risen Lord today. Ask Him to stay, and invite Him into your room, and be at peace.

May God bless you and keep you.

May God make God’s face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.

May God lift up God’s countenance upon you and give you peace.

Sing, People, Sing!

Easter Sunday, April 12, 2020

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

“As she weeps, a person appears and asks, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She supposes him to be the gardener. But when he speaks her name, “Mary,” she sees—astonished—that it is Jesus. This is consistent with all the Easter narratives in which no one recognizes the risen Christ at first. Then they do. He was himself, yet different. Jesus had not just come back to life; he had entered into a new life, a risen life.”  (The Rt. Rev. Henry Nutt Parsley, Jr).

Life has not ended. It has only changed, and eventually, we hope, for the better. How do we sing “alleluia” in a foreign land, such as we have now? One warble at a time. One day at a time. Together, we sing undaunted: unified by our hope, steadied by our faith, and empowered by God’s invisible Love, which is greater than any virus. The Risen Christ is here and in us all. Even at the grave, we sing, Alleluia!

Feet

Maundy Thursday, April 9, 2020

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Jumping In.

Mary anoints His feet,

Gratitude overflowing like her hair.

Jumping into our salvation story with both feet,

Even now unfolding, she loves Him.

It was His Last Supper.

Not felled by a virus, but human hands, unwashed.

Take. Break. Bless. Share.

This is my Body, given for you.

Love (III)

“Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,

            Guilty of dust and sin.

But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack

            From my first entrance in,

Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning

            If I lacked anything.

"A guest," I answered, "worthy to be here":

            Love said, "You shall be he."

"I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,

            I cannot look on thee."

Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,

            "Who made the eyes but I?"

"Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame

            Go where it doth deserve."

"And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?"

            "My dear, then I will serve."

"You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat."

            So I did sit and eat.

George Herbert - 1593-1633

Humble and Triumphant

Palm Sunday, April 5, 2020

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

There He is, coming towards us, opening the doors of our hearts, following the path that will lead to our salvation. He’s riding a donkey, not yet walking the way of the cross, both humble and triumphant, arriving in the city, with NYC crowds lining the streets, masks gracing their faces. Both forgiving and compassionate, He is ready to endure the pain of suffering and death for our sake. Open your gates, we cry, the King of Glory is about to enter in!

Forgive me, I also plead, following Him from a distance. When I arrive at the foot of the cross, I fall to my knees, praying to be spared; for I have not loved my neighbor as myself. Let Him and Them be crucified, not me, I beg, as I wash my hands for the hundredth time today. Pilate be damned.

God’s love cannot be measured I’m told, even as I watch Him stretch out His arms of love on the hard wood of the cross so that everyone, and everything, might come within the reach of God’s saving embrace. The only way to resurrection life is through the cross; and yet we still have some days to go. Lord, have mercy.

Here's Mud in Your Eye

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Psalm 23, John 9: 1-6

4 Lent 2020

“As Jesus walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see.” (John 9: 1-6)

We all have blind spots. Waiting impatiently in loneliness, seeing only death and disease, we cannot see the beauty of the world all around us. We walk by others, offering no eye contact let alone a handshake. We are blind to possibilities; our minds, like our doors, are closed in fear. And when we hear the escalating news about the coronavirus or the deescalating news about our economy, that death rates are climbing, businesses have been shuttered, borders are closed, and people are being quarantined, we feel blindsided. Like the blind man in John’s gospel, we have mud in our eyes.

            I love the movie “The Blind Side” which chronicles the true life story of “Michael Oher, a homeless black teen, who drifted in and out of the school system for years. At least until Leigh Anne Tuohy and her husband, Sean, take him in. Michael's tremendous size and protective instincts make him a formidable force on the gridiron, and with help from his new family and devoted tutor, he realizes his potential as a student and football player.” (Wikipedia)

            The movie takes its name from a football reality called “the blind side.” When a quarterback turns his body in one direction in order to complete a pass, he leaves his body vulnerable to an attack from the blind side. He cannot see what is coming at him, and therefore, he is unable to protect himself from injury. The risk of fumbles increases, and the reality of chaos and human pile-ons ensues. Being blind and being blindsided pose their risks.

            “Margaret of Castello was born sometime in 1287, blind with a severe curvature of the spine that inhibited her walking. Her parents resolved to hide her away, so that her appearance could not bring shame to the family honor. Her mother and her husband took Margaret to a Franciscan friar who was performing miracle cures in Castello in hopes of a “cure.” But after two attempts, no cure was forthcoming. Frustrated and embarrassed, the parents abandoned their daughter in Castello and went home.”

“Margaret resolutely refused to die. The local beggars in town took pity on her and taught her how to beg so she could feed herself. She began teaching the street children how to read and taught them different prayers. She also watched children while their parents worked, essentially running a medieval daycare.” (Megan Castellan, Lent Madness)

In those days, and in the days of Jesus, not to mention today, people are rejected and abandoned, live in extreme poverty, suffer repeated abuse and indignities, and are often left to die. At times like these, we fumble the ball. We scramble for this or that in the chaos; and we desperately look for a quarterback or savior who will throw that “Hail Mary” pass for the win. Forgetting the reality of our term limits, we seek people and powers to save us, and forget the power that lies within us and all around us and ultimately in God. We forget to dig deep like Margaret of Costello; we forget to help others like the Tuohys.

 At times, we are all blind to our vulnerability and fragility, not to mention our privileges and blessings, at least until a pandemic reminds us otherwise. Indeed, we are all disabled in one way or another. Bottom line? We all need God’s grace.  Blinded by the mud in our eyes, we despair as people without hope; and Christianity is, above all, a way of seeing. It is the transformation of our vision so that when we are blinded by sin, or blindsided by life’s events, we can use the eyes of our hearts to see. Listening with the ears of our faith, we can hear the voice of Jesus, telling us to go and wash the mud from our eyes, so that others might see the glory of God at work in our world. We can be Sent.

The expression “Here’s mud in your eye!” actually has a positive meaning. It means “Cheers! Bottoms up!” Even at a social distance, we can hold fast to the promise of eternal life revealed to us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Victory is ours. Death, where is your sting? Raising our glasses of celebration, we can also invite others to drink deeply of God’s Spirit. Bottoms up!

So “Here’s mud in your eye!” I say. After you have washed your hands for 20 seconds, open your eyes to see the power of God at work in the world all around us, even now, even in you. Virtual or real, God’s grace is there. For, as the psalmist once proclaimed, “The Lord is our shepherd; we shall not be in want. God revives our souls and guides us along the right pathways for God’s Name's sake. Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we shall fear no evil; for you are with us; your rod and your staff, they comfort us. Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives, and we will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” (Psalm 23) Cheers!

Temptations

St. Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church, Sudbury, Massachusetts

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

1 Lent, March 1, 2020

I am delighted to be with you again in Sudbury, thanks to the invitation of your interim rector, Stephanie. You are nearing the end of your transition from one rector to the next; and to be honest, perhaps like some of you, I love times of transition. Truth be told, our lives are always in transition; in fact transition in the church has become what many call “the new normal.” And, right on cue, here we are today, transitioning into the season of Lent.

In times of transition, we are all vulnerable. We cannot see what lies ahead, nor even what’s lying at our feet. Doubts will seep into our brains like fog; and then, disoriented, we may steer ourselves in wrong directions, or find ourselves wandering aimlessly in circles of confusion. We may listen to the wrong voices, even in our own heads, and then make bad decisions. Unruly passions become like the coronavirus, crossing our borders and infecting our bodies. We forget about God.

Transitions are invariably known as times of temptation. And our scripture lessons provide the stories. It all began with an apple in the garden. You know how it was, in the beginning, when God created Adam and Eve, who were supposed to live happily ever after with God. Our Creator didn’t want Adam and Eve to die, and so God commanded them, “Don’t touch the fruit on that tree!”

Temptation entered their lives in the form of a serpent. The snake said to them, “Don’t you also want to be just like God? To know what is good and what is evil?” The questions seemed reasonable enough and Eve thought wisdom was a good thing, and so she succumbed. Not only did she touch the fruit but she ate it and shared it with her husband. She forgot that God had their best interests in mind.

Now, this serpent was very crafty, just like our temptations. They sneak up behind us and whisper in our ears, “Doesn’t that new person, policy, or program look really good? Surely they are a delight, and much better than the ones we have now, or the ones that came before. Come on, let’s get out of this place,” the snake implores us. “The grass is far greener out there!” Or conversely, it invites complacency. “Let’s just keep things the way they are. Change is always overrated! No sense fixing what isn’t broken. Don’t you think this garden is lovely, just the way it is?”

Slithering silently across the grass, the snake speaks to us in shades of truth. “Be wise as a serpent, like me,” it says. “This new policy, person, and program will save you.” The snake, who is lying right at my feet (double entendre intended) raises my doubts about what I cannot see, which is God. The serpent even throws shade on our Creator. “God doesn’t really want to share God’s power,” the snake adds. “And don’t you want some of that wisdom so you can protect yourself? After all, God may be omnipotent and omniscient, all-powerful and all-knowing, but we are not. And evil comes in many forms. Surely, you know that it has many disguises. Just look around you.”

The consequences of Adam and Eve’s disobedience soon followed, as well as their finger-pointing. Whose fault was it, anyway? Was the serpent being purposefully evil or was it speaking the truth? Perhaps Eve wasn’t guilty. Maybe she wasn't there when God spoke to Adam. And how about Adam? He had heard what God commanded. Was he just looking to reap some benefits and not take any of the blame?  Dare I say that God was the tempter? If God wanted Adam and Eve to live forever, then why would God plant that tree right there in front of them? Why would God create those golden delicious apples, which clearly are meant to be eaten?

Dark thoughts cloud my thinking. I begin to believe that people are rotten to the core, and not to be trusted, rather than created in the image of God. I forget that everything that God creates is good, even the snake, maybe even the devil. Bitter and cynical, I find myself becoming angry and wondering if our world is going to hell in a handbasket. Listening to the serpent, I take a bite out of the apple and then I make my own demands of God. “A new creation is needed,” I tell God. “You created us. You fix us.”

Soon enough, the fog lifts, and reality emerges. Like Adam and Eve, my eyes are suddenly opened; and I see very clearly how vulnerable I am. Accidents happen. Viruses kill. Hearts break. I’ve listened to the wrong people; and I’ve made some foolish mistakes. Realizing the error of my ways, I feel ashamed, and because I don’t want anyone to know how foolish I have been, I try to hide. Despite all the promises of this material world, despite my hand-washing and hand-wringing, I know that eventually I will die. In 12 step language, we call this hitting bottom. Liturgically, we call it Ash Wednesday.

Our salvation story from Genesis to Revelation reminds us that our temptations didn’t disappear with Adam and Eve. Not even the Son of God could avoid them. Right from the jump in Matthew’s gospel, the Spirit of God descended upon Jesus, declaring that he was God’s beloved Son, and then led him into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. It was God who led Jesus from his happy place into a wilderness of vulnerability, transition, and temptation.

His story is similar but different from Adam and Eve’s. Fasting for 40 days and nights, Jesus was not well fed. Facing endless days and nights of sun and sand, he is not surrounded by shade trees and low-hanging fruit. No. Jesus is hungry and living in a desert; and this time the tempter is not a serpent. No, the tempter is a human being coming towards him, smiling, and making reasonable suggestions. 

            The devil is his close companion, whispering to him, and inviting him to flex his godly muscles. “Turn this stone into bread,” the devil says. “I know you’re hungry; it will strengthen you for the journey.” Then, the devil adds, “You know God doesn’t want you to die, so let God save you, even though you’ve behaved foolishly. Show everyone how special you are, and that you have super powers. In fact, you are entitled to those kingdoms and splendor and honor and glory. So give me your allegiance. Take a selfie with me as your friend; and together, we’ll rule the world. Besides, where is that God of yours anyway?”

Unlike the snake, who was crafty, this tempter is bold. The devil doesn’t offer shades of truth, or ask multiple questions, and raise persistent doubts. No, the devil tempts Jesus with clarity, offering black and white solutions. Dangling his divinity in front of him, the devil tells Jesus to deny his humanity. “Be you,” the devil tells him. “Don’t ever forget that you are the Son of God, with whom God is well pleased.” 

Our human temptation is to want to be God, or to be mini-gods. It’s a temptation that remains with us from the very beginning of our lives to their end. Indeed, we are all guilty of this original sin. Forgetting God as our Creator and Savior, Provider and Protector, we want total control. We seek powers and products that we think will defy death, and that we’re saved by our own good deeds or not at all. We forget to walk by faith. We forget that life is a precious gift and a holy mystery, and that God has our best interests at heart.

Our original sin is actually an original blessing. Maybe that was part of God’s creation plan after all; for we develop our characters and deepen our spiritual lives most especially when we are faced with temptations. When we are weak, we can look to God for strength. Indeed, as Martin Luther once wrote, “my temptations have been my masters in divinity.” Without fear, we can let the Spirit of God lead us into the wilderness, for it serves a purpose. As the psalmist wrote, “God becomes our hiding place, preserves us from trouble, instructs and teaches us in the ways we should go.” 

In a meditation by Kate Maynard, she talks about the witness of St. Francis from the middle ages. “According to tradition, whenever his habit needed repair, St. Francis sewed patches on the outside of his habit because he wanted people to see that life wasn’t about appearances or pretense. His faith was in God and he believed that trying to hide and cover up our flaws or weaknesses actually distance us from Christ and from others.” (Cathedral St. Paul, Burlington, Feb 4, 2020)

We begin our season of Lent by pointing the finger back at ourselves, and confessing our sins; for if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. Not ashamed of who we are, but guilty of our mistakes, we trust that God, who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:8, 9) We remember our salvation story, and how Jesus, though tempted as we are, did not sin. While the Spirit of God may lead us into the wilderness, it will also lead us out, and Jesus has shown us the Way.

Do not worry about your life, Jesus told his disciples; for God’s original blessing remains. God does not want us to die but to live, now and forever. In Christ we are a new creation; and a new garden awaits us all.

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7

Romans 5:12-19

Matthew 4:1-11

Psalm 32

Called for a Purpose

Old North Church, Boston

2 Epiphany, January 19, 2020

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Do you ever feel like you have labored in vain? I think the prophet Isaiah must have felt this way. “I have labored in vain;” he wrote. “I have spent my strength for nothing.” Similarly the author of Ecclesiastes once declared, “All is vanity. What do people gain from all they toil under the sun?” And then there is Jesus, who must have felt this way at times, most especially when he was dying on the cross.

Are there times when, despite your best efforts, you feel empty-handed, occasionally despairing, and wondering if it was worth the effort? We carefully construct our homes and churches, our job skills and bank accounts, our policies and programs only to see them wiped away by a fire, a tornado, an illness, or a sudden death. A change in leadership, a new way of thinking, or a shift in priorities. Do you, like me and Isaiah, ever feel as if you have labored in vain?

Today, I’m delighted to be preaching in Old North Church for the first time. It is a church of long and deep historic significance, and I can’t help but think of how our country began. Fighting for independence, with people divided within our own country, we built our government and our Episcopal church on the blood and backs of many people. We created bi-cameral systems, canons and constitutions, that are intended to preserve our democracy, guarantee our freedom, offer equal opportunity, and protect our human rights. People worked hard for these things!

Watching our political process these days, and the on-going challenges in our churches, cities, and throughout our world, I see the same old issues appear, disappear, and then reappear. “Is there anything new under the sun?” the writer of Ecclesiastes once asked. Sometimes I even find myself wondering, what’s the point of trying? If I put my time, talents, and money into this or that, will it really make a difference? Or will I labor in vain like Sisyphus, the king of Corinth, who was condemned to an eternity of rolling a boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down again, and again?

This world view may seem cynical, lacking in hope, and downright pessimistic, and who needs that, you might ask? I come to church to be inspired, enlightened, and hear some good news, not to be dragged back down the hill. As a Celtics basketball fan, I was even surprised to hear the players talk about their season as a long slow grind, and how hard it is to remain enthusiastic and consistent from beginning to end. 

Jaylen Brown, a rising star on the Celtics team, recently said, “The NBA season is “a journey,” and at times, it can feel quite repetitive. It’s easy for us to feel like we’re stuck on a hamster wheel, going around and around until the postseason arrives. Little things matter,” Brown said. “Just finding ways to stay energetic throughout the season is important, and we all have our various ways of doing that.” 

Recently, I joined a group of Christian businessmen who live in Minnesota. On January 1st we began reading one chapter a day of a book called The Purpose Driven Life, by Rick Warren. For 40 days, every day through email, we share our thoughts, comments, and questions with each other. Now I don’t agree with everything I read in this book but I do like the focus of those three words: purpose, driven, life. And I really like doing this activity with other people. 

Rick Warren claims that “without a purpose, life is motion without meaning, activity without direction, and events without reason. Without a purpose, life is trivial, petty and pointless.” In other words, a life without purpose is vanity, and our labor is in vain. It’s like rolling a ball up a hill all by yourself, and never getting to the top or over it. It’s like playing basketball alone and never getting the ball into the hoop or knowing what it’s like to win. But our purpose as followers of Jesus, as disciples of Christ, is different.

In the gospel of John, beginning in the very first chapter, Jesus knows exactly what He is doing and why. And John the Baptist doesn’t equivocate. He testifies to the purpose of Jesus saying “Look, here is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”  He is the Messiah, the Son of God, who when He was defeated on the cross, didn’t cry out to God, “Why have you forsaken me?” Nor when He was crucified, did Jesus say to God, “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” No, in John’s gospel, the very last words of Jesus were, “It is finished.”

Now my Harper’s Study Bible tells me that this Lamb of God, identified by John the Baptist as Jesus, wasn’t your typical lamb used for ritual sacrifices in the Temple. No; bulls, goats, and sheep were used for that. Rather Passover lambs were slaughtered the night before the Israelites made their exodus from Egypt, and whose blood on the doorposts told the angel of death to pass over them. Pointing to Jesus, John declares, “Look here is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”

Notice that John the Baptist uses the word “sin” instead of sins. Sins, I believe, are those nasty things that we do to ourselves and to other people throughout our lives. We cheat. We lie. We steal. We commit flagrant fouls that result in technical penalties, lost jobs, and even ejections from the game. Instead, the sin of the world is something existential, something deeper, something more systemic, like all those “isms” that we try to dismantle, like racism, sexism, and ageism. Or those powers and principalities that we cannot explain and show up in scary movies and our nightmares. 

Sin is evil, and we are not. Sin is death, and an outrage to God, who created us for life. And so, John points to Jesus who takes away that sin. This Jesus is our Passover Lamb, whose blood we see on the cross, who liberates us from oppression, and tells the angel of death to move along. This Jesus is the One who leads us into our own Promised Land.  

Instead of a hamster wheel, I like to think of our life as a journey that includes a carousel, a merry-go-round, like the one we see on the Boston Common. It is a ride that we can stop and take along our way. The colorful animals remind us of the beauty of all God’s creation. Whether or not we’re riding, sitting, standing, or one of the workers on the Common, we can hum along with the music, and wave to the people all around us. Sometimes we’re up, sometimes we’re down, and sometimes we just go round and round!

Most of us, at times, need to find ways of staying engaged and enthusiastic in our journeys, especially when life grinds us down. When the music stops playing, when we’ve been defeated one more time like last night for the Celtics, or when we’re just feeling as if we’ve labored in vain, we need to find meaning, joy, and purpose once again. Remembering our salvation story, and believing that God stoops and hears our cry, helps me to sing a new song. 

God’s particular purpose for Jesus was accomplished on the cross. God’s mission of reconciliation was finished when Jesus stretched out his arms of love so that everyone might come within the reach of His saving embrace. His purpose was to bring light and love into the world, and to show us that there is resurrection life beyond the grave. When the buzzer goes off at the end of the game, and the carousel stops going round and round, there is still a party going on in Paradise.

Here is our good news. Jesus did not labor in vain. The sin of the world is not only forgiven, it is wiped away. Here is our hope. Our hope is in the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Death has been defeated and the victory is ours. When our world seems unfair, meaningless, or just boringly repetitive, there is a light that shines in the darkness, whose name is Jesus.

This year the Celtics acquired a new point guard named Kemba Walker. Not only is he an all-star, he’s a great teammate, who works hard and plays hard. Leading with love, and blessed by God, Kemba is a person of faith, who loves to win and never gives up. Although recent injuries and the flu have caused problems for him and his teammates, people can't stop talking about Kemba’s leadership style, his humility, and his poise. He is always ready to contribute to others, even when he’s sitting on the bench.

Do we labor in vain? Not if we remember that we are called for a purpose: to be rooted in the Life of Jesus and to reflect His Way of Love. To speak God’s words and to act in God’s ways. We are team members of the Body of Christ who have been set free to live and love, to work and play, to labor on. “Listen up, people. Pay attention,” said Isaiah. God knows us. God named us. God formed us. “Away with gloomy doubts and faithless fear. Claim the high calling the Gospel gladness bear.” (#541 Hymnal)

When we believe in the good news of our salvation, we shall never labor in vain. In fact, we’ll shine like stars in the night. We become beacons of faith, hope, and love wherever we are and whatever we do; for we believe that in the end - God’s Love wins; and we are gospel bearers of that good news.

Isaiah 49:1-7

1 Corinthians 1:1-9

John 1:29-42

Psalm 40:1-12

Anne with an E

Anne Shelby Clark, RIP                               September 29, 1939-December 10, 2019

St. David’s Episcopal Church                     Austin, Texas

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

            It is a privilege and honor to be with you today, especially with you my dear friend Ted, celebrating the life of Anne with an E, as she would sometimes introduce herself. Perhaps you know that Anne with an E has some very special people bearing the same name; and I’d like to tell you briefly about three of them. First, there is Anne with an E, who was the mother of Mary, and the grandmother of Jesus. Honored by Jewish, Christian, and Islamic traditions, Saint Anne, was one of the patron saints of women in labor. Now our Anne with an E, is a mother to Shelby and Kevin, grandmother to their children, and fondly called PiPi Anne by the Karen community, despite her gentle reminders to just call her Anne. She would also argue that she is no saint, and yet the remembrances today, and our final hymn, tell us a different story.

            A second historical figure named Anne with an E is Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry the 8th, who became Queen of England after King Henry divorced his first wife. Unfortunately, unlike Ted and Anne, there were no 56 years of marriage for her. Angering many people, Queen Anne expropriated the money and lands from their monasteries for the relief of the poor. Accused of adultery, she was executed by her husband at the tender age of 26, after serving less than three years as Queen of England. Soon enough, Queen Anne’s nickname became “Anne of the Thousand Days” unlike our own queen Anne of 80 years.           

Finally, there is a popular and current day Netflix series called Anne with an E. Perhaps you’ve watched it? The show reimagines the classic book about Anne of Green Gables. It is a “coming-of-age story about a young orphan who is seeking love and her place in the world. Anne was a 13-year-old girl adopted by an older couple and proved to be a uniquely spirited, imaginative, and smart young woman, who transforms the lives of this couple and everyone else in their small town.” Aside from the differences in their ages and hair colors, these two Annes share some similar traits.

            Today we celebrate our own beloved Anne with an E who has made her own mark in history and in our lives. A grandmother and mother in her own right, she was always ready and willing to take people of all ages and cultures under her wing, caring for them pastorally like a good shepherd. As an adopted child of God, through her baptism into the life of Christ, our saint Anne would welcome the stranger, offer gracious hospitality, defend human rights, and lift up the lowly. She was a faithful member of Christ’s church, modeling her life after the Good Shepherd who we call Jesus, gathering flocks of people into small communities everywhere she lived, and caring for them as if they were her own.

            It is tempting to lament the loss of such a person in a world that sometimes feels cold and dark, unjust and without mercy. Despite her elder years, her death still came as a shock to so many of us; and tears for our loss are appropriate. As a member of a community of 12 friends from Trinity Church in Newtown, Connecticut, who gather every year in the Adirondack mountains, I’ve known Anne and Ted for over 35 years, and I always thought of her as someone who embodied our Christian faith, in both her words and her actions. It grieves me to think that we are now only 11.

Elegant in her cross-country skiing, genuflecting as she fell, graciously smiling and encouraging those of us who were struggling, Anne with an E seemed to wait patiently for good things to happen. She was child-like in her joy. One year she gave the women in our group solmate, eco-friendly, mismatched socks, because life is too short for matching socks. We giggled with delight while taking pictures of our feet.        

Life is precious and too short; maybe like the rains in Texas, it’s here today and gone tomorrow. I know Anne liked to travel, and so I imagine her exploring new landscapes in that heavenly country where pain and sorrow are no more. Life everlasting was promised to us by our Creator and revealed to us in Jesus; and so the words of scripture remind us that “God shaped us for this very end.”

 As St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Corinthians, we are bound by our earthly frames, and “even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. This slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure.” Anne with an E has been released into freedom, like a caterpillar who begins to fly like a butterfly, with the wings of an angel, in order to arrive at God’s heavenly home. Anne with an E. That E stands for eternal.

            No wonder we do not lose heart with the troubles of today, and the grief and losses that we endure. If we keep our eyes fixed on the things that are unseen, we will always have hope, and hope does not disappoint us. I know that Anne loved the Rocky Mountains, and I also like to imagine her there, on God’s holy mountain, where the Lord of hosts makes “a feast of rich food, and of well-matured wines. On this mountain God swallows up death forever and wipes away the tears from all our faces.” This is the Lord for whom Anne with an E has waited; and so let us be glad and rejoice in her salvation.

Isaiah 25:6-9

Psalm 106: 1-5

2 Corinthians 4:16-5:9

John 10: 11-16