Came to Believe

 

2 Easter         Church of the Redeemer             The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

 

Came to believe

First I came

Then I came to

Then I came to believe

An Episcopal priest named Heidi Havercamp wrote, "Before I went to seminary I dated an atheist for a few months. He was a doctoral student in philosophy at the University of Chicago, specializing in ethics. He did not believe in God and thought religion was a joke. But the man couldn’t stay away from church. In fact, I met him at an inquirer's class at our local Episcopal parish.”

            “He told me he was endlessly fascinated that people whom he deeply respected, who were clearly highly intelligent, believed in things he could not. He felt there was something good about church people - a goodness he felt drawn to. He said he had no capacity for faith or belief, but it haunted him all the same.” (Christian Century, April 2023, p27)

Resurrection faith is a hard nut to crack, especially on this low Sunday after the great feast of Easter, when the sugar high of chocolate has worn off. Easter brings joy but nothing like the twelve days of Christmas. Rather than talking about babies and Jesus’ birthday, we try to explain what happened to Jesus after he died or we avoid it altogether. Frederick Buechner claimed that we will “deflect, defuse, and dispose of resurrection explanations in as many ways as there are sermons preached on Easter Sunday.”

How so, you might ask? Well, we may talk about the Easter bunny rather than a real human being who lived and died as one of us. We may point to the lilies of the field and how daffodils are now pushing through the dirt, and so we remain stuck in an endless loop of springtime flowers. Or we talk about Jesus as one of those many people in our history, whom we loved and see no longer, but have no expectation of ever seeing them or Him again. Confusing resurrection with resuscitation and reincarnation, we deny the possibility that something far greater, more mysterious, and even downright miraculous may be a part of our future.

Jesus showed up in that locked room, not once but twice, and invited doubting Thomas, as he later came to be called, to look at his hands that were scarred. “Touch my side,” Jesus said, pointing to the place where He had been pierced. I like that Jesus showed up in that locked room. I like that Jesus had scars and was willing to reveal them. Rather than putting a crown on his head and sitting down on a throne next to his heavenly Father, in a place of supreme privilege, Jesus appeared before the disciples who had betrayed him, who had run away from him, and were now in hiding.The resurrected Jesus steps into our locked rooms and meets us where we are, more often than not at our lowest points.

Jesus’ faith seemed unwavering throughout his life; and yet, at the risk of being struck down in this pulpit today, I can’t always identify with his humanity. He wasn’t married. He had no children; and He had plenty of people attending to his needs. He was a man in a man’s world. And while I don’t want to minimize the painful realities of his crucifixion, he suffered for only three hours. He never faced the challenges of old age, dementia, or a life diminished by addictions, demons, chronic diseases, or a mental illness.

This Sunday after Easter is often called Low Sunday, a day when the fewest people show up in church; but low Sunday may also reflect the truth of our lives at any particular moment in time. Like gun violence erupting suddenly and unexpectedly. Or tornadoes leveling our towns with hardly a warning. Security breaches and artificial intelligence challenge our peace of mind. And today, social media and the news tells us about these low points with lightning speed and gruesome clarity.

Easter isn’t fun the way Christmas is. Who cares about our Easter hymnody and anthems, when we can have catchy Hallmark tunes not just for the twelve days of Christmas but for a season that often begins long before Thanksgiving? Who cares about a crucified 33 year old Jew when you can have a jolly old man who never dies? Or a newborn baby whose life is as fresh as the morning dew? Whose life has not yet been marred by sin.

Frederica Matthewes-Green had a Jewish friend named Mitch whose “encounters with suffering during medical training led him to doubt whether there even is a God. Yet one Christmas he wrote to her, saying ‘Looking at the Christmas thing as a Jewish man, the big celebration in Christianity should be Easter. No Easter, no Christianity.’”

Or as Frederica wrote, “Mitch has a point. If Jesus didn’t rise from the dead, who cares whether he was born in a manger, or in a 7-Eleven? If he didn’t rise from the dead, then Christmas is meaningless too.” At least, I would add, for people of our Christian faith. (Bread and Wine, pp 267-8)

And so, our Easter celebration demands adult conversations about death and life. Frederica wrote, “Easter tells us of something children cannot understand, because it addresses things they don’t yet have to know: the weariness of life, the pain, the profound loneliness and hovering fear of meaninglessness.Yet in the midst of this desolation we find Jesus, triumphant over death and still shockingly alive, present to us in ways we cannot understand, much less explain.”

Which is why, back in August, I was drawn to an article written by Debie Thomas, an Episcopal priest in California. Her title? “Resurrecting Heaven.” Her opening sentence was “I need heaven to be real. In many circles today, the belief in an afterlife, a literal resurrection, and a literal heaven has fallen out of favor.” And I would add, so too has church.

Like so many people today, she has watched her family members struggle with physical, financial, and mental illnesses to the point of questioning life itself. Throwing our hands up into the air in despair, we may come to believe that God is indifferent and therefore missing in action. Or maybe that God is even non-existent, and not worthy of our time.

Conversely, cynical and apathetic, we may sit on our hands and do nothing, placing all our spiritual cards in the hope of heaven. Unfortunately, Debie Thomas writes, "when we have an overemphasis on the hereafter, why bother with addressing any injustice that plagues humanity, if the earth is just a giant ‘waiting room’ for heaven?” (Christian Century, August 10, 2022)

She concludes that she “worries that if the church loses its belief in the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come, we will also lose both the ferocity of our hope, and the holy restlessness that leads us to action, the commitment to justice that fuels our prophetic lament, solidarity, resilience, and courage.”

It takes courage to unlock the doors of your minds and hearts and let Jesus come into your own locked rooms of anxiety, doubt, and fear. It takes courage to believe in the unbelievable. And yet, if we come to believe in the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come, then Easter becomes a joyful celebration, not just on Easter Sunday, but on each and every Sunday.

In short, when we gather as a church, we are witnesses of our Christian hope in the Resurrection. “Although we have not seen him, we love him; and even though we do not see him now, we believe in him,” wrote St. Peter in the 1st century. And that living hope fuels our individual actions, and our prayers, however small they may feel. Yes, Resurrection faith is a hard nut to crack; and yet Resurrection faith is a gift more precious than gold, an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading.

Or as St. John wrote, “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.”

I am a witness to that good news today. Because first I came, then I came to, and then I came to believe.

1 Peter 1:3-9        John 20:19-31

 

 

1 Lent 2023

 

1 Lent, February 26, 2023    Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill          

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling        Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7                  Matthew 4:1-11

 Transitions are not easy. Case in point has been our past few years living into and then out of the Covid pandemic. In times of transition, we are all vulnerable. We cannot see what lies ahead, what’s around the corner, or even in the air. Doubts will seep into our brains like fog; and then disoriented, we may head off in the wrong direction. Or maybe we find ourselves wandering aimlessly in circles of confusion. We begin to grow accustomed to isolation where sin can grow like weeds in a garden. Our fears trump our faith.

            Transitions are invariably known as times of temptation. And today’s lessons from scripture offer us plenty of examples. You remember how it all began in the garden, right? With good fruit, and an apple? You remember how it was in the beginning, before your relationships went south, your job became a grind, and life became a burden? Remember the good old days when you fastened those kids into a carseat and didn’t worry about them behind the wheel? When no one wore masks and your loved ones were still alive? When love was in the air and the garden was in full bloom?

Death reports seem to dominate our news lately, whether it’s a natural disaster like the earthquakes in Syria and Turkey, mass murders brought on by war, or even cases of domestic violence. Little microbes of evil cross our borders, like spy balloons floating across our country, cancer cells multiplying inside our bodies, or chemicals spilling into our groundwater.

“Don’t touch that tree,” God warned Adam and Eve. Not because God didn’t want them to enjoy life; God just didn’t want them to die.Truth be told, I have a fear of snakes. Even seeing pictures of them gives me the “willies.” So when the author of the book of Genesis had a snake slither into the Adam and Eve story, I was ready for “bad things” to happen.

At first, the snake’s questions seemed reasonable enough. “Don’t you want to be just like God?” the serpent asked. After all, forewarned is forearmed, right? Why would we not want to know what is good and evil? Why would we not want to know what God knows? Apparently Eve thought so too. So she ate the apple and then being a good sharer and a considerate partner, she offered some to Adam. “Try this, you’ll like it,” she said. And isn’t that how the slippery slope into bad behavior often begins?

            Now, this serpent was very crafty, just like our temptations. They sneak up behind us and whisper into our ears, “Doesn’t that new person, new job, new “whatever” look really good? Like a brightly polished apple, or a shiny new penny, we want it. Now. After all, we deserve it; we’re entitled to it; and we can take it. It’s within our reach, and our free will gives us permission to do as we please. After all, it’s our 1st amendment right! .

Sometimes our temptations invite our complacency and even our isolation. “No sense fixing what isn’t broken,” we tell ourselves. “Change is overrated, don’t you think?” And so our unjust systems remain just that, unjust. Our communication narrows to the range of our cell phones, and our intimacy suffers. We think that if we just stay inside our own little tree house, then nothing bad will ever happen. And then the rain begins to fall on the just and unjust alike, and Noah begins building his boat.

I’ve learned that masks aren’t only physical. To protect our images, we put fig leaves over certain parts of our lives so that no one can see what really happens behind closed doors. Dark thoughts cloud our thinking; and life loses its luster, meaning, and purpose. We become cynical and depressed. We lose our trust in God.

At times like these we may wonder if the beauty of the Garden is gone forever, that it has become so overrun by serpents and devils and viruses and violence that we can no longer see the inherent goodness of our humanity. We forget that apples come in various colors, that the seeds of life are at its core, and all blood runs red. Unless, of course, you are a Celtics fan, and then it bleeds green!

With the serpent whispering in my ear, I take a bite of that apple. “This world is going to hell in a handbasket,” I tell others, and then I add. “A new creation is needed.” Pointing my finger, not at the serpent or at Eve or at any of our leaders, I point my finger at God and say, “You created us. You fix us!”

Now hubris comes in many forms, and like Adam and Eve, my eyes are suddenly opened. I begin to see very clearly how I’ve been listening to the wrong people and voices. I have forgotten that many truths come from various perspectives. I am embarrassed by some of my thoughts, and even some of my words and actions. Feeling naked before God, I drop to my knees literally and figuratively, and confess that I have erred and strayed like a lost sheep. In 12 step language, we call this “hitting bottom.” In the season of Lent, we call it Ash Wednesday.

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 pretenses. His faith was in God and he believed that trying to hide and cover up our flaws and weaknesses actually distance us from Christ and from others.” (Cathedral St. Paul, Burlington, VT, Feb 4, 2020)

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 the gospel of Matthew, Jesus was driven into the wilderness by the Spirit in order to be tempted by the devil. And so, yes, we can blame God’s Spirit for the temptations that Jesus endured, and perhaps even those of  Adam and Eve! And yet, God had a purpose.

God’s purpose was to create and preserve life, and presumably, testing is part of that. After all, testing can help us get clear about our priorities. They can help us grow stronger and reorient our lives. Testing can help us repent and return to the One who gave us life, and who does not want us to die. And yet, while Adam and Eve and all of us have failed our tests, Jesus did not.

Fasting for 40 days and 40 nights, Jesus was not well fed. Facing endless days and nights of sun and sand, Jesus was not surrounded by shade trees and low-hanging fruit. He was not cuddled up with a partner; for Jesus was alone, isolated from others. And this time the tempter was not a serpent, but someone who looked just like him.

No, the tempter in today’s gospel passage is not slithering on the ground towards Jesus, but walking towards him, smiling, and making reasonable suggestions. “Lonely?” the devil asks. “I’m here to help.” So give me your allegiance and we’ll create a glorious partnership together. We’ll be world leaders. In fact, take a selfie with me as your bestie and I’ll post it on Tik Tok for everyone to envy. Besides, where is that God of yours anyway?”

Then he invited Jesus to flex his godly muscles. “Turn this stone into bread,” the devil said. “I know you’re hungry; and it will strengthen you for your journey. Besides, I'll give you all these lovely apples to eat as well. Let’s call them sinful pleasures, shall we?” Then piling it on, the devil said, “You know that God doesn’t want you to die, so let God save you. Just jump, you’ll see. Why don’t you show everyone how special and powerful you are?”

Unlike the snake who is crafty and subtle, this tempter is bold. The devil doesn’t offer shades of truth while throwing shade at our Creator. No, the devil tempts Jesus with clarity, offering him black and white solutions in a garden that is filled with complexity and nuance. Dangling his divinity in front of him, the devil wants Jesus to deny his humanity. “You be you,” the devil encourages him. “After all, you are God’s beloved Son! You deserve these things. You’re entitled to them! Take what is rightfully yours!”

Our human temptation is to want to be like God. 100% free and without discipline or responsibility to others. We want the triple P’s of power, possessions, and privilege. With our overinflated EGOs, an acronym for “easing God out”, we put ourselves in the middle of the garden; and we no longer listen to the Voice of the One who created us. Or the One who redeemed us.

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. No longer ashamed of who we are, we can drop our masks. We can admit our guilt. We can renew our trust in God, who will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:8,9)

Yes, we’ve touched the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And yes, we have consumed forbidden fruit; and yet God does not want us to die but to live, now and forever. In Christ, we become a new creation; and in the end, as it was in the beginning, the Garden awaits us all. At its center is the Tree of Eternal Life. Amen.

 

 

Blessings

 

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

         Charles James Cook once wrote “Whenever we hear the Beatitudes, we are struck with their poetic beauty and, at the same time, overwhelmed by their perceived impracticality for the world in which we live. To be poor in spirit, peaceful, merciful, and meek will get you nowhere in a culture grounded in competition and fear. Who can survive in attempting to live into the spirit of the Beatitudes?”

I often hear from parishioners a variety of reasons for why they come to Church. Perhaps this is a community in which you grew up or one similar to it, and now you want your own children to learn about our Christian faith. Maybe you like the people here, and can relate to them on a variety of issues. Some of you may find a common passion in feeding the hungry, serving in our worship, or offering Christian formation to young and old people alike. Maybe you’re someone who is just looking for comfort, or hope, or just how to be a better person and a faithful Christian in a “culture grounded in competition and fear.”

When I first began exploring the Bible as a lay person, I liked the gospel of Matthew more than the other three, Mark, Luke, and John, because Matthew gave me so many examples of what Jesus had taught his disciples. His language was specific and prescriptive. This is what you say, this is what you do, and this is how you act if you want to be a faithful member of our Jewish community.

Today’s gospel passage from Matthew, Chapter 5 verses 1-12, is called the Beatitudes, that is the Blessings, and these verses are the beginning of what is called the Sermon on the Mount which comprises chapters 5-7 of the gospel of Matthew. Jesus’ sermon was three chapters long, unlike mine today, for Jesus said, “blessed are the merciful; for they shall receive mercy.”

Now imagine that Jesus had just finished being baptized by John in the River Jordan. According to Matthew he was then driven into the wilderness by the Spirit, where he fasted for 40 days and 40 nights, was tempted by the devil, and placed on a very high mountain, where he was offered all the kingdoms of the world. Cultures filled with competition and fear. And what does Jesus say? Nope, no thank you, not today.

Then according to Matthew, Jesus left the Jordan River and withdrew to Galilee after his cousin John was arrested. There, rather than being part of a duck-boat parade as the favorite Son of Nazareth, Jesus was rejected by his hometown crowd who tried to throw him off a cliff because of his teaching. So Jesus decided to make his home in Capernaum where he set up camp near the Sea of Galilee. There he called his first disciples.

Jesus’ fame for teaching, preaching, and healing spread like wildfire and soon enough crowds from Syria, Galilee, Jerusalem, Decapolis, Judea and from beyond the Jordan River began to follow him. And so, Matthew spends chapter after chapter telling us about Jesus’ five teaching discourses that covered as many as 20 chapters in this gospel. His first teaching discourse was the three chapters called the Sermon on the Mount.

If this were the rabbi’s syllabus, the second part of class is called the missionary teachings of Jesus, when he tells his disciples how to go out into the world and behave like him. The third group of lessons includes parables about the kingdom of heaven and after that, the fourth group of chapters tells us how to live together in community. Jesus’ fifth teaching discourse, before his final exam in Jerusalem, was eschatological in nature, that is, Jesus describes what the end times will look like.

Now if you are one of those people who wants instructions on how to be a better person or a more faithful disciple of Jesus, I suggest you skip ahead and read the gospel of Matthew at home. He offers plenty of descriptions on what things look like and prescriptions on how to behave, which can be as simple as the prophet Micah suggests: do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. But, if you’re anything like me, you want more specificity.

In chapters 5 through 25, Jesus does just that. Matthew portrays Jesus as a rabbi, who is teaching the crowds on what to do and how to speak as a person of faith. Do this Jesus said: love your enemies; give alms; pray, fast, and follow the golden rule. Don’t do this, Jesus warned. Don’t murder, commit adultery, retaliate, serve two masters, judge others, or profane the holy. So how about that for impracticality in our world? How do the Ukrainian people feel about being peaceful, merciful, and meek, loving their enemy and not retaliating when their country is being destroyed in front of their very eyes?

As much as we may like these specific instructions about how to live faithfully, it’s easy to become overwhelmed by the do’s and don’ts and their perceived impracticality for the world in which we live. It’s hard to behave faithfully as Christians in a culture grounded in competition and fear. We swim in these waters; we breathe this kind of air. We know the reality of human sin and evil.

So Jesus, who was sitting atop his own little mountain, surveying the kingdom before him, was teaching the crowd about a different kind of kingdom. Indeed, he was being counter-cultural. In stark comparison to a “culture that is grounded in competition and fear” the kingdom of God is different, he told them. It’s not like the Roman government, your own religious and political institutions, or maybe even your own hometown. It’s spiritual in nature. And it’s beyond our reach but not beyond our vision.

In these Beatitudes, Jesus isn’t being prescriptive. He’s not giving us advice about how to behave like today’s psalmist.“There is nothing about them that remotely suggests Jesus was telling anyone what he thought they should do,” Barbara Brown Taylor wrote. “When Jesus is giving advice, it is hard to miss. (It is) one imperative after the other, with no distinction between rich or poor, hungry or well-fed. It is the same list for all of them, whether they happen to be weeping or bent over with laughter.”

Jesus’ words today are descriptive of our humanity, of you and me, of all of us. And they are intended to provide comfort, encouragement, and hope. I know that some of you may be feeling like this, Jesus told them; and yet you are blessed by God. If you are poor in spirit, the kingdom of heaven is yours. If you are hungry and thirsty for righteousness, you will be filled. If you are grieving, you will be comforted, and when you are pure in heart, you will see God. These are God’s promises and blessings given to us by Jesus.

The Beatitudes speak to us not only as individuals, however, but also as people living in various cultures that are grounded in competition and fear. We may be hungering for changes in the ways in which our communities currently operate. Perhaps you are mourning the loss of ethical behavior in our country and throughout our world. Maybe you have concerns about our climate, violence, mental illnesses, and the value of human life.

Barbara Brown Taylor describes our roller coaster of life like being on God’s Ferris Wheel. “The Ferris Wheel will go around, so that those who are swaying at the top, with the wind in their hair and all the world’s lights at their feet, will have their turn at the bottom, while those who are down there right now, where all they can see are candy wrappers in the sawdust, will have their chance to touch the stars.”

As Jesus stood behind his own little pulpit, and was preaching his Sermon on the Mount, he began by telling us about God and God’s kingdom, a culture that is not grounded in competition and fear. It is a culture in which all God’s beloved children are blessed. It is a culture grounded in justice, kindness, and humility. In God’s kingdom the lamb and the lion lay down together. No one is oppressed or persecuted; and violence is no more.

“Just because things are bad right now, doesn’t mean it will always be that way,” Taylor reminds us. For in the end, Jesus taught us that the ferris wheel and the roller coaster of life all belong to God. And in the end God reigns, Love wins, and there is a great reward in heaven. Eternal life is forever.

Today, Jesus gave us these blessings, because we are God’s blessed people. We don’t live into the spirit of the Beatitudes. We are the beatitudes. And so, go, be a blessing and then bless the Lord.

Class dismissed.

 Micah 6:1-8    Matthew 5:1-12    Psalm 15

Two Baptisms

1 Epiphany    Church of the Redeemer    The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling    Matthew 3:13-17

The great preacher named Barbara Brown Taylor once wrote, “The Christian Church has never been comfortable with the baptism of Jesus. Compare the accounts in each of the four gospels and you cannot miss the unease of the authors,” she said. So I did some comparisons.

Barbara Brown Taylor has a way of helping us to visualize the scene. She writes, “Matthew elaborates on Mark’s story by adding that John tried to talk Jesus out of being baptized, and Luke will not even say it was John who did it. The fourth gospel is the most ticklish of all. In it John bears witness that he saw the Spirit descend like a dove upon Jesus, but he does not mention anything about a baptism at all. Scholars say that this embarrassment by the story writers is our surest proof that Jesus really was baptized by John.”

There are smaller differences in the gospel stories as well. Things that are seen and heard come from various perspectives. For example, both Mark and Luke say that the voice from heaven said, “You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.” Matthew, on the other hand, writes that the voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” In the first case, the voice is speaking directly to Jesus. In the second case, the voice is speaking to the crowd.

Taylor then turns the spotlight on Jesus, arguing that quote “if Jesus had listened to his public relations people, his handlers would never, ever have allowed him to be baptized. He could have stood on shore and offered words of encouragement to those going into the water. He could have held out his hand to those who struggled out of the river in their heavy wet clothes; but he could not under any circumstances have gone into the water himself, unless it was to tap John on the shoulder and say, ‘Hey, you go rest. I’ll take over for a while.’” I’ve got this. 

In a comparison of the synoptic gospels, that is Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Matthew is the only one who addresses the question of why Jesus needed to be baptized. After all, if John is baptizing people as a cleansing ritual, as a way to forgive a person’s sins, and if Jesus, presumably is the Son of God who was without sin, then why did he need to be baptized?

 Matthew suggests that John knows the true identity of Jesus, which is why he questions Jesus’ request for his baptism. “I need to be baptized by you, Jesus, not the other way around,” John protests. And so, Jesus explains to John, and presumably to us, why it should happen. It’s a matter of “letting it be for now” without your full understanding. It’s a matter of doing the right thing, and a matter of righteousness. It’s part of fulfilling God’s plan.

In Anglican moral theology, a sin is a sin is a sin. And we are all sinners, full stop. Some of us are more egregious sinners than others. Some of us even get caught. But all of us, I would argue, have public relations efforts that help us to put our best feet forward. We have handlers to handle our messes. We keep sinning; but deep down, none of us have any illusions of our pure innocence. And if we do, that’s a problem and a sin, in and of itself.

As Barbara Brown Taylor describes it, the River Jordan was “teeming with sinners - faulty, sorry, guilty human beings - who hoped against hope that John could clean them up and turn their lives around. Some were notorious sinners, and some were there for crimes of the heart known only to themselves.” And so, like those who gathered at the River Jordan on that day, we seek John’s type of baptism even now. We confess to God and to others that we have made a mess in some parts of our lives; and that we want to feel clean and forgiven once again.

There is a difference between John’s baptism and our baptism into the life of Christ, however. John’s baptism was a repeatable event; whereas in the tradition of the Episcopal Church, indeed even in our New Testament stories, baptism into the life of Christ is a one-time sacrament. It’s a one and done kind of affair. It can happen anytime throughout our lives, at any age, but only once in our lifetime.

In a story told by the Rev. Hill Riddle, “a young couple came up to him and said, ‘You baptized our child last year.’ ‘Yes, I remember,’ he replied. ‘Well,’ they said, ‘we would like you to do it again. We don’t think it took. His behavior is awful.’” The Rev. Riddle went on to say that “people have been misunderstanding baptism for a long time. In fact, Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity in 312 A.D. but he waited to be baptized on his deathbed in case he should sin again. He thought the forgiveness of God was good for one time only."

I was in my 30’s when I decided that I wanted to explore my Christian faith head on, having been baptized as an infant, and having chosen not to be confirmed as a teenager. To say that I had a great deal of challenging issues going on in my life and in my family at that time is an understatement. I felt guilty and confused and at times even hopeless. I knew about sin but I didn’t know about grace.

I had started attending Bible study and a Eucharist during the week which I found helpful. It was more personal and intimate than the hustle and bustle of Sunday mornings, when getting to church on time with two toddlers was a never-ending challenge that only grew with their ages. The voices within me and all around me only stoked my fear of living and dying, and they could not be hushed.

I will never forget our study of St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, and his words, “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in the newness of life.”

And there it was for me. A three-fold promise of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I began to see death only as a blip on my eternal screen, that I could share in the Resurrection through Christ, and that I could also walk in the newness of life every day. Yes, as Rev. Riddle reminds us, “God always forgives. But getting in touch with this truth makes us want to improve our lives.” Through the Spirit and surrounded by a faithful community, I know I can do better.

“People who are baptized are to live a different life. They tell the truth in a world that lies, give in a world that takes, love in a world that lusts, make peace in a world that fights, serve in a world that wants to be served, and pray in a world that waits to be entertained.” wrote Brett Younger        (www.d365.org, January 9, 2016)

I also began to see baptism as a holy mystery, a sacrament like the Eucharist, in which it is an outward and visible sign of the inward and spiritual grace given to us by Christ. I began to see eternal life as both/and events: us being forgiven right now and also not yet. I began to see baptism and death not only as cleansing rituals but also as birthing events, matters of the heart and not of the mind.

Why be baptized? Because, as Jesus explained to John, it’s a matter of “letting it be for now” without our full understanding. It’s a matter of being part of a Church community, and a matter of righteousness. It’s part of fulfilling God’s plan; for Jesus is the only One without sin, and the truly innocent Son of God, who took upon himself not only the sins of me and you but also the sins of the whole world. No wonder God was pleased with His Son!

Knowing that baptism into Christ is a sign of our belovedness as children of God has brought me comfort in my despair, strength in my weakness, light in my darkness, hope that springs eternal. It has brought me into communities of faithful people like you who have gathered at the river, or at the baptismal font for multiple generations. It has helped me to hear the voice of God speaking to the crowd. To you. And to me. This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased. Believe in me; believe also in Him. And receive the gift of my Holy Spirit.

Today I know grace as well as sin; for the grace of God descended not only upon Him but also upon us. We are the crowd; and we can receive God’s forgiveness and grace each and every day of our lives and even beyond that: full stop. Thanks be to Jesus.

 

 

 

 

 

Barking Dogs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do Good

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 Peter 3: 13-22

Matthew 21: 1-13

Keep Swimming

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

2 Thessalonians 3:6-13

Luke 21:5-19

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sacred Dance of Love

The Wedding Ceremony for Zachary Grano Gordon and Maura Elizabeth Kean

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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