The Benefits of Suffering

St. John’s, Saugus, Massachusetts

June 16, 2019

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Trinity Sunday and Fathers’ Day

St. Paul’s letter to the Romans was written from Corinth in 58 AD and carries his gospel message to an audience mostly unknown to him. In it, he writes about the purpose of Jesus, God’s desire for reconciliation, and the gift of the Holy Spirit that has been given to us, which pours God’s love into our hearts. After leaving Corinth and going to Jerusalem, St. Paul stopped in Rome on his way to Spain; for Paul had sensed that his ministry as an evangelist in the Aegean region was completed.

As a self-identified missionary and evangelist like St. Paul, I was happy that I could be with you here today at St. John’s. I love to talk about the good news of Jesus Christ in many places and contexts. Like St. Paul, I have learned repeatedly how to trust God in all manner of conditions, and to rely upon the power of the Holy Spirit wherever I am. I have known good times and bad times, and the temptation to fall back into fear; but St. Paul reminds us that “the Spirit of God will help us in our weakness, pray for us, and intercede for us with sighs too deep for words.”

I spoke with Sarah last week and I am delighted that she can have some vacation time before she assumes her new role as a full-time rector in Haverhill. In our conversation, I asked her about you and some of your history, and I learned that her time with you has been wonderful, and yet shorter than expected. Transitions can be fearful times. In every transition there are losses and disappoints that sadden us, as well as hopes and blessings for the future that begin to appear.

I spent this past week at Virginia Theological Seminary at a conference intended to nurture our passion for preaching. It’s called “Deep calls to Deep.” Knowing that God calls us into deep relationships with God and one another, we are continually invited to listen to God’s Spirit. While our lives are a blessing, no one escapes life without suffering, and while some people will struggle with the concept of God suffering, I find it comforting. “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into the death of Jesus were also baptized into his resurrection?” St. Paul reminded the Romans that nothing can ever separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

 My God knows what it is like to be human and to suffer; and St. Paul claims that our suffering has its benefits. For example, it will produce endurance. Now, if you’re anything like me, you will want to run from suffering as fast as you can, or get out of its way as quickly as possible. We avoid suffering like the plague; but there’s no escape. Whether we like it or not, we suffer and we see the suffering of others.

 We must endure these hard times whenever they come and however long they last, not as victims on the cross but rather as believers in Jesus, with the victory of Christ in our minds, and the joy of his resurrection in our hearts. In March, when my daughter was pregnant at 25 weeks, she gave birth prematurely to fraternal twin boys, and our family endured a season of suffering. Riding the roller coaster of emotions that comes with having someone you love in the intensive care unit, we prayed daily for their lives, hoping that each boy would not only survive but thrive. Today they are each 7 pounds of life and growing well. This afternoon, I will fly to Minnesota to hold them for the very first time.

Perhaps you can see the character lines in my face. I know you have them too. When we endure hard times, it will reflect not only in our bodies but also in how we live. We always have choices. We can give up in despair, blame others for our pain, and play the victim, or we can learn to rely more deeply upon God’s love, and find the courage to change or to endure our times of suffering until they pass. We can choose our attitudes and actions. We can pray with an urgency that we neglected before, going deeper into our relationship with God. We can look to our family, friends, and our church communities for encouragement, support, and to help us remember our gospel story.

When we endure suffering, perhaps our hearts will be softened. Maybe, through our tears, we will see life more clearly, follow Jesus more nearly, and love people more dearly. Hopefully, we will speak words of love and offer small acts of kindness to others; for as baptized Christians, we promise to proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ, seeking to serve Christ in all persons, and loving our neighbors as ourselves. With my faith communities, Facebook friends, and Caring Bridges around the world my heart is glad, and my spirit rejoices because I know I am not alone.

St. Paul reminds us that “the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us.” He reminds us to have deep trust, indeed total trust in God. To the Romans, he proclaimed that we are justified by our faith in Christ, not by our works, nor by our achievements, but rather by our belief in the grace of God. Therefore we boast in the Lord, who gives us hope.

 Although we may have been walking crookedly, even bent over by the weight of our sins or the suffering we have endured, in Christ we become worthy to stand upright before God. When we have the mind of Christ, and listen to the Holy Spirit, we will find new life and a peace that surpasses all understanding. We can boast in our suffering because we know that suffering has its benefits; it produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s power is greater than even death.

Yes, Jesus gave us hope. The Son of God, who had not finished his message to his disciples before he was crucified, knew that they would not understand why he would have to suffer, and even die. Yes, Jesus gave us hope, because He promised that although He still had many things to say, He knew that we can only handle so much at a time, and that God will not give us more than we can bear. Yes, Jesus gave us hope, and that hope will not disappoint us.

So Jesus and his Father in heaven sent the Holy Spirit to pour God’s love into our hearts, and promised that this Holy Spirit would help us to endure our sufferings. In a daily meditation for young adults called www.d365.org, Erin Hutchison wrote, “When you walk down to a creek or river and look around, you are sure to find smooth rocks. Once jagged, the rocks slowly but surely become smooth under the steady flow of water. Rocks, of course, can’t object and walk away. No, they stay put, allowing the water to pour across them, refining them.” No, we cannot avoid suffering but we can allow the Holy Spirit to smooth our sharp edges and refine our lives.

Personally and professionally, I am on the road and in the air a lot. Felipe Martinez preached a sermon about the various ways that he travels.(May 31 2005 Christian Century) He said, “If my priority is to get to my destination quickly, I map out a route, get in my car, set the cruise control, turn on the radio, fly through the countryside, and stop only when absolutely necessary. But if the weather is right and time is no factor, my priorities change. I grab my helmet and off I go on my motorcycle.” At a slower pace, he is able to look at the scenery, see the signs along the way, stop in small towns, and enjoy a meal even when he doesn’t need to refuel.

            Martinez suggests that we all have our own “small towns” named suffering, endurance, character, and hope. Like us, he wants to get to the town of hope as quickly as possible. And yet, St. Paul tells us that hope is always present and does not disappoint us. We can always see signs of hope if we’re looking for them, even when we’re in the town of suffering. We can trust God, who created us, Jesus who saves us, and the Spirit who will guide us.

In a Taize meditation that I found on your website, the author wrote, “Although there may be shocks and even upheavals in our lives, Jesus is present by his Holy Spirit. He will always say to us: “Even when you are going through the harshest trial, I am present underneath your despair…and I am also there deep within your hope.” Deep calls to deep. Jesus calls from the deep of God’s heart to the deep of our hearts and inviters us to stop and eat at His Table today, in this town called Saugus.

Dear Christian friends in Saugus, maintain your hope. Whether you take the highway or the backroads, remember that God is with you on the journey, no matter which town you’re in. Listen to the Spirit. Then fasten your seat belts, and enjoy the ride!

Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31

Romans 5:1-5

John 16:12-15

Psalm 8

or Canticle 13 (or Canticle 2)

Chasing the Rabbit

7 Easter, June 2, 2019

Emmanuel Church, West Roxbury

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

            When I was with you two weeks ago, I talked about visions and voices, and today the writer of Revelation, whose name is John, claims that he has seen visions of Jesus and can hear his words. Today, I want to talk to you about your vision as a church community. I know that you have been in transition for some time, even before Father Edson served as your interim rector, or more recently with Father Voysey as your priest in charge. I also know that you are having a parish meeting next Sunday in order to discuss your current life together and your plans for the future.

            I want to tell you a story about a wise old man who lives in a desert. A young man comes to him with a question: he wants to know why people give up searching for God so quickly. And the wise man, like Jesus often did, told him a parable, which is another story, and if I remember correctly, it goes something like this:

            “There was a dog who caught sight of a rabbit. Because he was hungry, he took after it. Friends and neighbors heard his barking and, although they hadn’t seen the rabbit, they decided to join him in the chase. Night and day they ran after the bunny, and yet they weren’t able to catch it. Slowly, members of the pack fell away, until only one dog was left in the hunt, and that one dog was the one who had seen the rabbit.”

            I think our churches are like that today, are they not? People who have seen the rabbit, or a vision of God, are still in the chase. Whether or not they go to church, they are hungry for something, something more than what the world can give them. Perhaps they come to church because they think that the rabbit might be found here, or at least they might catch a glimpse of it, or a whiff of its scent. Maybe they come because they have friends and neighbors who are also in the hunt, and they’ve heard your barking, or smelled your good food.

This is the last Sunday during the Easter season, and this past Thursday, we celebrated the Ascension of Jesus into heaven. Depending upon your stained glass windows, you may have a vision of Jesus waving goodbye, or see his feet dangling below some clouds. Perhaps there is no image of Jesus at all, only the bug-eyed faces of his disciples who he left behind.

Today, we’ve been waiting a very long time for Jesus to come again in power and great glory. Today, we are left only with the visions and voices of Jesus that we read in scripture. The Easter bunny has come and gone, Jesus has ascended into heaven, and plenty of people have grown weary of waiting. They have fallen out of the pack, or have found God somewhere other than church. Some people never caught the vision in the first place.

            “Do not leave us comfortless, but send your Holy Spirit to strengthen us, and exalt us to that place where our Savior Christ has gone before,” we pray today. Now I’ve never run in a marathon, only a few 5K’s and one 10K long ago; and yet I know from experience that at times like these, life can seem like a marathon. Our races can take us through various landscapes; and when we find ourselves lost in the wilderness, overheating in the desert, or climbing heartbreak hill, we may wonder if it’s time to quit the race.

For most people, life is a marathon; and prayers are essential. We want comfort, strength, and guidance. Even though we may be running with the pack, life can still be a lonely experience, and prayers remind us that we are not alone.. Prayers can help us to tap into a power that is greater and higher, enabling us to do more than we can ever ask or imagine. Although we may lose sight of the rabbit at times, our prayers can remind us that the rabbit really does exist. Encouraged by a vision of God’s kingdom, we can run our race to the finish line, believing that a great feast awaits us there and we will hunger and thirst no more.

            Many years ago I attended a conference called CREDO. It’s an acronym that stands for “Clergy Renewal Education and Discernment Opportunity” and its purpose is to provide clergy with some time away for renewal, to learn new things, and to discern what’s next, not only for them as individuals, but also for the churches in which they serve. With clergy from all over the country, we remember that we are all connected to God and one another in communion, and in our common mission of chasing that rabbit.

            A vision, unlike our mission, is to imagine what the future might look like. For that hungry dog, he sees himself actually catching the rabbit, and then enjoying a tasty meal, perhaps sharing it with others in the pack. He satisfies his hunger, however only for a little while, and then off he will go again. Chasing after rabbits is hard work. It takes time, discipline, and training. It takes perseverance, encouragement, and hope. It is a labor of love and a marathon for life, and prayers are essential.

Now Paul had a vision to go to Philippi to proclaim the good news of our salvation to the people there. Before then, he was on a mission to persecute Christians and had been knocked off his horse on the way to Damascus. Temporarily blinded, he heard the voice of Jesus asking him what he was doing. Coming to believe in Jesus, St. Paul turned his mission into one of proclamation. He became an evangelist, testifying to the love of God and the power of God’s love as revealed to us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Whether he was on the road or by the river, in a prison or in a house, St. Paul preached the good news of Christ.

After many weeks of travel, “Paul and his companions went outside the gate by the river, where he thought there was a place of prayer; and they sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there.” Along the way, they “met a slave girl who had a spirit of divination and “she would cry out, ‘These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation.’ But Paul, very much annoyed, turned and said to the spirit in her, ‘I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.’ And it came out that very hour.”

Over the years, I have found the practice of prayer not only essential but also difficult. There are distractions that will demand my attention, slave girls who will clamor in my ear, perhaps speaking the truth, and yet still annoying me. These voices will tell me to forget about God’s vision, that I am wasting my time, and to quit chasing that rabbit. In fact, in times of distress or weariness, I am tempted to believe that there is no rabbit at all. I am tempted to join the crowds, and say, “Why bother? Let’s just call Grub Hub instead.”

            Paul and Silas had been thrown into jail for annoying others with their evangelism and ruining the money-making efforts of the slave girl’s owners. In prison, however, Paul and Silas did not despair; rather they spent their time praying and singing hymns to God. They still had a vision of God’s kingdom; and then “suddenly there was an earthquake, so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and all the doors were opened and everyone's chains were unfastened. Terrified, the jailer asked them, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" And they answered, "Believe on the Lord Jesus."

Richard Hooker, a priest in the Church of England in the sixteenth century, once said that change never comes without inconvenience. A change does not come until a bottom is reached, a wall does not yield, a job is lost, a relationship is ruined, pews become empty, your foundations have been shaken, and no one is chasing the rabbit except one hungry dog. Earthquakes, whether they come to us personally or as a faith community, will force us to assess the current state of our affairs, perhaps inviting us to do things differently. A dog chasing its tail will never catch the rabbit.

I have seen the fragility of our faith communities and the ongoing challenge of imagining God’s vision for our future, and I don’t have any answers, except these. Don’t stop praying, keep chasing the rabbit, and believe in Jesus; for I’ve come to believe that resurrection life is not bound by our walls nor is it contained in our buildings. Rather resurrection life is always running ahead of us, and it lives in the hearts of those who remain on the hunt.

Acts 16:16-34

Revelation 22:12-14,16-17,20-21

John 17:20-26

Psalm 97

Orphans No More

Church of the Epiphany

6 Easter, May 26, 2019

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

 In 1995, in her book entitled Gospel Medicine, Barbara Brown Taylor wrote a sermon entitled “Family Values.” It was based upon a passage from the gospel of Luke in which Jesus is quoted as saying, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” (Luke 12:51) She claims, that given the things that Jesus said, he would never be elected president of our country. Probably not the Prime Minister of England either.

Taylor wrote that “especially during an election season, everyone is worried about family values. People blame the breakdown of the family for the growing list of our social problems. If children do not learn about honesty, hard work, responsibility, and faith from their parents, chances are that no one else would be able to teach them those things.” (end quote) When a father criticized the church for not teaching his children about these things, I challenged him. Whose responsibility was it to teach our children about family values. Parents? Faith Communities? Our society? Who? And what exactly are family values?

Some days I wonder about us. We seem to be playing a lot of the blame game. We point our fingers at who is coming and who is going, in which direction they are leading us, and whose fault it is that we are in this mess. We speak words that don’t match our actions. We file suits and countersuits in a society that seems to have become more litigious; and so we frequently turn to our court systems for judgments. Welcome to the political, civil, and religious times of Jesus. Welcome to that time in 1995 when Taylor published her book. Welcome to our troubling times right now.

The gospel medicine for today is commonly called the “Farewell Discourse.” Jesus is talking to his disciples before his own court case, and Jesus is trying to impart some family values to his disciples over their last meal together. “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them,” Jesus said. “Yes, I will be going away, and yet I will also be coming again.” In the meantime, we’ll send you some help; so you need not worry. Indeed, you even should be happy.

I have a hard time with ‘goodbyes.’ Parting is not sweet sorrow for me, especially when people that I love die, or move, become a bishop in another diocese, or disconnect from me for one reason or another. At a very basic level, I feel abandoned and struggle with feelings of anger and sadness. And yet Jesus peacefully tells his family of disciples not to be afraid, not to let their hearts be troubled. In today’s jargon, Jesus said to them, “No worries. I’ve got this!”

I just finished reading an historical novel called The Orphan Sisters, by Shirley Dickson. In 1929 four-year-old Etty and eight-year-old Dorothy are abandoned at an orphanage by their mother, who had promised them that she would return. She doesn’t, and so the sisters are heartbroken by her desertion. Learning that the orphanage was responsible for them until age 15, the sisters promised never to abandon each other. As adults living during a time of world war, they also endured multiple losses.

Parents leave their children for many and various reasons, oftentimes with good intentions, and yet the effects can be devastating. Children have been abandoned at the borders of our country, and in their own countries, because of extreme poverty, political unrest, civil wars, various kinds of illness, legal battles, and addictions. Throughout our world there are orphanages overflowing with children who will not know the loving touch of a parent or hear comforting words when their hearts are troubled. Thank you for your ministry to the children in Honduras, where children are held in loving hands, learn new skills and family values, and can find peace and freedom from a life on the streets!

The disciples of Jesus felt abandoned by the death of their leader and feared for their own lives. Like some immigrants today, they huddled together in a locked room, waiting for the authorities to knock on their door and haul them away. But when it was evening on that day, on Easter Sunday, Jesus came through the door and stood among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. Then, after breathing his spirit on them, he showed them the scars on his hands and in his side.

Peace never comes with the absence of conflict; actually it can escalate when we try to avoid it. Indeed peace often comes only after our hearts have been troubled and our minds have darkened with fear. Anger is a messenger that hides a deep sadness of loss. Today, on this Memorial Day weekend, we remember those who fought and died for our freedom, defending the lives of others, and protecting our basic human rights. Peace is fragile; and so the peace that passes all understanding will come to us through the Holy Spirit, who gives to us, not as the world gives, but only as God can give.

“No worries,” said Jesus. “We’ve got this.” At that last supper, at the dinner table with his disciples, Jesus told them, “In the days to come, you will have an Advocate, a defense lawyer, who will be your Helper, and a Comforter.” After I am gone, “We will send our Holy Spirit to be with you, who will fight for you and also forgive you, because I know that you will also betray, abandon, and deny me.” I know that troubled times will remain, that peace is fragile, and you will need some help.

The Holy Spirit shows us the way of love and teaches us some family values. Through a spirit of truth, we are carried far away to a high mountain, where we can see the “holy city of Jerusalem coming down out of heaven” and where peace finally reigns. In Christ, we are told that we become a new creation, where trees bear 12 kinds of fruit, and leaves are for the healing of the nations. “For we did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear,” said St. Paul in his letter to the Romans; “but we have received a spirit of adoption.” In this heavenly city, we are all children of God, worshipping as one beloved community, with God as the head of our family tree, and that tree is the Tree of Life.

I am the grandmother of fraternal twin boys, prematurely born at 25 weeks old. Peter and Nathaniel currently live in the newborn intensive care unit in a Minneapolis hospital, where our daughter is one of their parents and a NICU doctor. The boys have had minor surgeries, antibiotics, immunizations, and endured many transitions. They are learning to breathe on their own. They are learning to eat. They are learning to live.

Born at two pounds and one pound thirteen ounces, they’re both five pounds strong today. As a family, we are deeply grateful for their continued health and growth, and for the modern medicine in our country. We are grateful for laws that protect them, and the privileges that we have in our country. We are grateful for our family and friends, and faithful people throughout our world, who have prayed daily for that heavenly Advocate, to defend them from all perils, to be their Helper, and to be their Comforter in times of distress. In the NICU, I learned about “kangaroo care” - how important loving touch is for babies, and how the recorded voices of their parents can bring them peace.

“Peace, I give to you. Peace, I leave with you,” said Jesus to his family of disciples. “God the Father will send you an Advocate, in my name, to teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” This Spirit of God cries out in our newborn infants and people of all ages throughout our world - people who have been abandoned on the margins, people who are living on the streets or in cities destroyed by war, and people who are hiding in locked rooms of fear. This Spirit reminds us that we are held by the loving hands of God. Today we hear the recorded voice of Jesus, who promised us that we have an Advocate, who is the defender of our cause, our helper in times of trouble, and a source of comfort in times of fear.

In the Revelation to John, nothing is cursed. God’s gates are always open. Springs of living water are clean and flowing. There is no darkness at all, only the light of God’s love, burning like a tabernacle Lamp, shining in a temple that has no walls, eternally pointing to the grace of God. This grace is freely given by the sacrificial love of God.

The 14th chapter of the gospel of John is gospel medicine. It begins and ends with God’s peace. “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” said Jesus. “Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places, and I go to prepare a place for you.” Until I come again, I will send you the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, who will give to you, not as the world gives, but as God gives.”

Just as the Father sent Jesus, now the Holy Spirit sends us; and we have some family values that Jesus taught us while he was with us. Through the Advocate He feeds us and teaches us at His Table even now.  “No worries,” said Jesus to his family of disciples. “Be happy.” You are the beloved children of God, and our God will never forsake nor abandon you. So go, speak truth to power, love others as I have loved you, and remember, “You have an Advocate, We’ve got this!”

Acts 16:9-15

Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5

John 14:23-29

Psalm 67

Voices and Visions

5 Easter, May 19, 2019

Emmanuel Church, West Roxbury, Massachusetts

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

I am not much of a media person. I prefer reading books to watching television. When I am in my car, I rarely turn on the radio. At home, I relish the sound of silence. And so I tend to be particular in my choices about what I watch and to whom I listen. Occasionally, I have enjoyed the T.V. series called The Voice when various people compete vocally to become the latest season’s winner. I also love singing hymns.

This past week I learned about a relatively new media company called Vox, which translated from Latin into English means “Voice.” According to their website, “Vox's mission is to ‘explain the news.’ It strives to make sure its readers ‘understand what just happened,’ by providing ‘contextual information that traditional news stories aren't designed to carry.’ Vox creates ‘card stacks’ in bright ‘canary yellow’ that provide context and define terms within an article.” So Vox uses words and pictures to convey their message.

Now, Peter, in the Acts of the Apostles, has a vision and hears a

Voice, not once but three times. In his daydream on the rooftop, he sees something like a sheet coming down from heaven, and sees four-footed animals, beasts of prey, reptiles, and birds of the air. He hears a Voice telling him to “Get up, kill and eat.” At first, he resists. “No,” Peter says to the Voice, “That’s not kosher. I’ve obeyed our religious laws and have never eaten anything profane or unclean. No, I can’t do this.”

Have you ever known anyone who has visions and hears voices? I have. And I know that these voices can be the Voice “of God” as well as the voice “of the devil.”  Visions and voices can be signs of mental illness, uncontrolled by medication, or they can be evidence of a spiritual world that remains unknown and untapped to us mere mortals. Visions and voices break into our world and our consciousness routinely, while we are awake in our daydreams, and while we are sleeping at night. How are we to know if they are the way, the truth, and leading to life? How are we to know if they are from God or from the devil?

In the news some people claim that they have a vision of a new world order. Indeed, many of our political leaders promise to create social and economic systems that will benefit more people. Many voices tell you how you can live longer if you only eat this and avoid that. In Mongolia two people recently died of a plague after they ate a rodent’s raw organs, believing that it was “very good for their health.”

We hear stories of people who follow certain religious leaders, and have been told to get up and kill. These are terrorists who murder others through their sacrificial “acts of love” in the name of God. Some believe they will be rewarded in heaven for obeying this voice, and have visions of heavenly bliss. How are we to know if the voices and visions we hear or have been taught are the way, the truth, and leading to life?

 In the Boston Globe this week, Robert Pape wrote, “The immense power of social media has many advantages for civil society.” For instance, social media warned others about the man named “Sovereign” who recently killed one person and injured another on the Appalachian Trail. Social media is intended to be a vehicle for connecting people throughout our world, spreading news quickly to others who seek life-giving relationships and greater knowledge. “At the same time,” Pape wrote, “it provides opportunities for individuals to go beyond disseminating hateful messages to broadcasting murderous acts in real-time, in order to glorify themselves and inspire future terrorists.” We all know about “copy cat” violence, don’t we?

God’s vision for us is a civil society, where we live in peaceful co-existence and communicate through voices of love that build up rather than destroy. The Revelation to John, which is the last book in our New Testament, is social media. It was written by someone who saw visions and heard voices. Writing in a secret language, during a time of persecution and terrorism, John encouraged the followers of Jesus to keep their faith. He offered people visions of hope and a future redeemed by God through the love of Jesus.

In his vision, John sees a new heaven and a new earth coming down from heaven. He sees a new Jerusalem, not torn apart by religious polarization and violent attacks, or divided by walls and checkpoints. Rather it is a new city, built on a hill, which is united by love, and prepared like a bride adorned for her husband. "See, I am making all things new,” the Voice from heaven proclaims. "Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true,” he said to John. “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water from the spring of life."

Like Peter, who is reporting live from Jerusalem in the Act of the Apostles, John hears a loud voice from heaven saying, “"See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; and they will be his people. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away." Today, we call this a vision of heaven, and we call this the voice of Jesus. Today, we call this the way, the truth, and resurrection life.

Discernment of the spirits is complicated. We will hear voices that whisper in our ears that we are no good, that we are not loved, and we are not worthy. Voices of guilt will remind us that “if only” we had done this, if only we had said that, then our loved ones would not have died, or this terrible thing would not have happened. If we had kept our eyes and ears open, we would not have been betrayed, our media would not have been hacked, and we would not have been harmed. We hear threats of war, and we despair that our world will come to a violent end, and we begin to believe that death is our final act.

So there Jesus was in that upper room, a vision that we all have from our gospel stories. We see him sitting there at his last supper, knowing that Judas will betray him, and that he is about to be crucified. And yet, speaking in a voice of triumph and victory, Jesus claims that the Son of Man has been glorified, and that God has been glorified in him. In both his life and in his death, Jesus glorified God, not for himself, but for us. “I give you a new commandment,” the voice of Jesus said. “Love others as I have loved you.”

The vision and the voice of Jesus is all about love, which you and I both know is complicated. Although the message is simple, it is not easy. Jesus met Judas’ betrayal with acceptance and then forgiveness. “Do what you have to do,” Jesus said, knowing that God would be glorified in the end. God’s vision of a crucified king became our Christian rallying cry and an icon for generations to come. Justice and mercy have kissed on the cross, like a bride and groom on their wedding day. “Death will be no more” that Voice proclaimed from heaven; for God’s mission in Jesus had been accomplished. And today, we celebrate Easter joy.

 God makes God’s home among us even now. Since God has given us the gift of God’s Holy Spirit, then “who are we to hinder the works of God?” We are the Episcopal Branch of the Jesus Movement, claims our Presiding Bishop, and people will know that we are Christians by our love. “If it’s not about love, then it’s not about God,” our Presiding Bishop frequently reminds us.

We can hinder the work of God’s Spirit with our own denial, resistance, and silence. Or we can keep it alive with voices raised in protest against injustice, hate, and violence. We can keep the Spirit alive with voices raised in songs of praise, words that offer the peace of Christ, and by simple and small acts of sacrificial love.

The visions that we see and the voices that we hear in scripture show us both the realities of our human lives and the dream of God for our future. All people, all creation, and all creatures great and small, will be redeemed, and the garden of Eden will be restored. Unified, we shall no longer fight with one another. Sick and tired of being sick and tired, we shall be healthy and whole. God will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and put an end to all pain, mourning and grief. Adorned with white robes, washed in the blood of the Lamb, we will be saved by the grace of our life-giving, liberating, and loving God. In perfect harmony, our voices will sing together, “In Christ there is no east or west, in Him no south or north, but one great fellowship of love throughout the whole wide earth.”

We have God’s Vision for our future. May we always listen to God’s Voice; for this is the Way of Love that will lead us to eternal Life.

Acts 11:1-18

Revelation 21:1-6

John 13:31-35

Psalm 148

Fear and Love

Emmanuel Church, Wakefield, Massachusetts

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

4 Easter, May 12, 2019

            I have to confess that I am a coward, a nervous ninny, someone who was once called, “Little Miss Much Afraid.” Lori Gottleib, in her new book entitled, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, claims that all of our decisions, indeed every decision that we make, is based upon two things: fear and love. (3503) For example, I choose where I walk, and what paths I take, when I am alone at night. Fear. I choose to hop on a plane to Minnesota first thing in the morning, no matter the cost, when I learn that my daughter has given birth to premature twin boys. Love.

            There are some very good reasons to be afraid these days. Violence repeatedly erupts in our country and throughout the world. Once again this week in a high school in Colorado, there was gun violence. Our children went to Sandy Hook School many years ago and so we are well acquainted with this kind of grief. Last month, while the news reported a shooting in a synagogue in California, our Presiding Bishop preached about the Way of Love during a Big Tent revival on the Boston Common. We all make decisions, large and small, each and every day of our lives. Love preaches Life, and fear kills it.

            Of course, violence isn’t limited to guns in schools and synagogues. In Christ Church, New Zealand, a bomb exploded in a mosque, while bombs went off in Christian churches in Sri Lanka on Easter morning. Afterwards bishops cautioned their priests to make wise decisions about whether or not to hold worship services, at least until things settled down in their country. Love protects life. Fear kills it.

As members of a beloved community of diverse people created by God, we come from all languages, tribes, nations, and people; and oftentimes our decisions are an odd mix of both fear and love. As a privileged, older white woman, living in a safe neighborhood like Wakefield, I shouldn’t have much to fear; and yet fear is real at all ages and stages of life. When my daughter delivered her twin boys at 25 weeks, I feared that Peter and Nathaniel would never know the beauty of life and the love of their parents. I fear that they are entering into a more violent world with people who fuel hate and exploit divisions. In my fear, I pray fervently that the God of all Creation will save us and sustain us, most especially those I love.

            Here we are smack-dab in the middle of celebrating Resurrection life, and yet we’re still surrounded by death. In the Acts of the Apostles Tabitha has died and the widows are weeping. Often used at funerals, psalm 23 reminds us that we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, and today Jesus talks about body snatchers and those who are perishing. Finally, Revelation mentions people who have come through a great ordeal and had their robes washed white in the blood of the Lamb.

Irvin Yalom names four existential fears that he calls our “ultimate concerns.” They are death, isolation, freedom, and meaninglessness. We are afraid of painful deaths, of dying alone, of losing our freedom, and believing that our lives have no meaning. And yet, Yalom writes that “our awareness of death (actually) helps us to live more fully - and with less, not more, anxiety.” (4017)

In addition to those random acts of violence, we experience death slowly: in our aging populations, with mental illness, addictions, divorces, and fears about this fragile earth our island home. We wonder about our future: How shall we live in the face of these ultimate concerns? Will we make our decisions based upon fear or upon love?

Underlying our fear and anxiety is this uncertainty about the future. Because I don’t like suspense, I often choose movies and books with happy endings. I want that blessed assurance that everything turns out alright, that the good guys win in the end. I want to see and hear that weeping may spend the night, but the wedding song of love will sound in the morning. (Hebrews 6.19) I want the joy of Easter to last forever. And the passage from Revelation tells me that it will.

“How long will you keep us in suspense?” the Jews had asked Jesus. “If you are the Messiah, then tell us plainly.” Now Jesus was in the Temple in Jerusalem for the festival of the Dedication, which is now called Hanukkah or the Festival of Lights. It is a time when Jews remember how they were saved by their leader, Judah Maccabee, during a time of Jewish political and religious oppression.

What I learned in seminary is also summarized in Wikipedia, that “great source of all knowledge.” “The history behind this holiday begins in 198 BC when the Syrian empire took over (Israel). King Antiochus III was fairly tolerant of the Jews and allowed them to continue to live according to their custom. However, in 175 BC, his son Antiochus IV ascended to the throne, massacred many Jews, outlawed Judaism, and looted the temple. Antiochus IV went so far as to erect an altar to Zeus in the temple and defile it by sacrificing pigs on it.”

            “Judah Maccabee and his followers led a revolt and were successful in recapturing the temple. Maccabee ordered it to be cleansed, a new altar to be built, and new holy vessels to be made, after which the temple was rededicated to the Lord. Pure olive oil, with the seal of the high priest, was needed for the menorah (or lampstand), which was required to burn throughout every night in the temple.”

 “Unfortunately, only one flask was found with enough oil to burn for one day. Yet when the Jews lit the menorah, it burned for eight days, when new oil could then be blessed! This miracle is remembered to honor faithful people who are willing to bravely worship God in the face of persecution.” Jesus went to Jerusalem, like Judas Maccabee and like many people today, during a time of religious and political oppression. His followers hoped that Jesus would lead a political revolt; and his opponents feared that he would. Despite those who warned Jesus to stay away, he chose to show up. Jesus made his decision to go to Jerusalem based not on fear but on love.

            While life is a blessing and a precious gift from God, at times like these, life can also seem like an ordeal. And so, we find various ways to manage the suspense of our own unfolding drama; and we have different ways of coping with our fear and anxiety. Who are those who have come out of the great ordeal, whose robes are washed white with the blood of the Lamb? Each and every one of us.

We make decisions about life every day based upon fear and love.

Fortunately we have guard rails and directional signals. Our scripture lessons remind us of our common heritage. In community, we are no longer isolated. We affirm our faith in the words of the Nicene creed, and we offer our prayers for all people. Despite our disagreements and divisions, we are blessed to live in a country that upholds our freedom of speech, and tries to protect our basic human rights. Trusting in an ever-present, all-knowing, life-giving, and liberating God, we can choose to live in the Way of Love.

When fear appears, I like to return to our salvation story in which Jesus has shown us the Way. In both the Old and New Testaments, we remember that we have a good shepherd who will lead us beside still waters and will guide us along right pathways. With generations of people who have come before us and who will live after us, we can affirm our faith in the God who creates, sustains, and saves us - even from our very selves and our poor decisions.

Repeatedly, we hear Jesus remind us, “Do not be afraid. I am with you always, even to the end of the ages.” And no one and not one thing can snatch you away from the palm of God’s hand. Yes, we know that death will eventually come for all of us, but how we choose to live today is quite another matter. We can respond with love instead of reacting with fear. Even as violence erupts all around us we can maintain our hope in the power of God and have faith in God’s promise of eternal life. We can remember our salvation story, how our robes have become white, washed in the blood of the Lamb.

Brother Curtis from SSJE recently wrote,  “The church has this turn of phrase called “resurrection power.” If there is “resurrection power,” we need to know this power not just behind us (in the past), or around us (in others), but within us, in our own lives, (even) now. You are teeming with resurrection power, and you need to claim it and unleash it as clearly as Jesus’ followers in first-century Palestine.”

Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne, and to the Lamb who has shown us the Way of Love. So go, choose love; for we know the end of our salvation story, and Love wins.

Acts 9:36-43

Revelation 7:9-17

John 10:22-30

Psalm 23

Bethany Tableau

5 Lent, April 7, 2019

St. Paul’s Lynnfield, Massachusetts

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

It’s good to be with you again this morning here at St. Paul’s in Lynnfield! Before I begin my sermon, I’d like to thank you for your prayers and support this past week. For those of you who were not here last Sunday, I spoke about the premature births of my daughter Megan’s and her husband Josh’s fraternal twin boys. After spending this past week in Minnesota with them, I’m happy to report that both Peter and Nathaniel, at 3 weeks old, continue to be stable, and growing in their health and strength, albeit not without some challenges. So, like Father Rob, who is recovering from total knee surgery, and spends his days growing in health and strength as well, I am grateful for my own opportunities for growth each and every day, and for your continued prayers.

            My daughter Megan and Josh have a black lab puppy named Izzy, who, like Father Rob and the twins, is learning to grow in her own ways. She is clearly motivated by food and will do almost anything to get some. In addition to basic training, Josh has taught her various tricks, like sitting, pawshaking, twirling, and waiting patiently for her dinner. Waiting patiently is, of course, a spiritual discipline. In addition to eating, Izzy also likes to play, and sees everyone as a potential playmate. Not everyone, however, is interested in being her friend.

            One afternoon, Josh and Megan were in their backyard playing with Izzy when another dog-owner walked by with her dog. Seeing this dog, Izzy immediately bounded up to play. This “mean” dog, as my daughter would later call him, grabbed Izzy by the neck and forced her to the ground. Crying loudly, Izzy lay helpless until Josh arrived. Clearly this dog had very different intentions than Izzy. Given today’s gospel story, let’s call this dog Judas.

            In the morning, hoping to provide Megan and Josh with a little extra sleep, and waiting for them to get up, I would take Izzy out for a walk. Not looking back, but rather pressing forward towards her goal of finding playmates, she would pull me along on her leash. One morning I saw a large dog barreling down the path towards us from a distance. Not sure of her intentions, nervously, I turned Izzy around and headed the other way. Within seconds, a golden retriever was upon us. I was glad to see Izzy and her playmate jumping all over each other (and me) in playful devotion. I delighted in their joy. Given today’s gospel story, let’s call this dog Mary.

Every day we would go to the NICU to see the twins. At the hospital, there are many people who serve in various ways: doctors, nurses, nutritionists, pharmacists, food and cleaning services, volunteers and paid employees. Patiently, indeed prayerfully, I would wait by the twins’ bedsides, trying to control my impulses to get up and eat, even though I wasn’t hungry. Feeling powerless, I wanted someone or something to fill the fear and sadness that occasionally would rise up within me. Don’t just sit there and wait, the voice within me would cry; go find a playmate. And then along came the hospital chaplain, offering me some soul food. Let’s call these people in the hospital Martha.

 In today’s gospel story we hear that Lazarus is in the house but he is silent. Perhaps, like me, he was a little confused and dazed by the events that had happened before. Perhaps, like me, he was waiting patiently at the dinner table, praying quietly to God. You see, just before this party, Lazarus had been dead. He had already spent four days in a tomb, lying bound and helpless on the ground, until Jesus arrived to rescue him from death’s grip. Let’s call Jesus Resurrection and Life.

Whether you interpret this story literally or metaphorically, Lazarus, like the twin boys, was dead to the world, unaware of what others were doing and saying. Suddenly brought out of their tombs or their womb, they faced the bright lights of the world and their future playmates. Stunned by the appearance of their brother, Martha and Mary are overwhelmed with joy and invite everyone back to Bethany, where they gave a dinner party for Jesus.

And so now, six days before the Passover feast in Jerusalem, they are all gathered in the home of Lazarus. Martha is buzzing about, preparing the meal, attending to basic needs. Mary is gratefully and lovingly anointing Jesus’ feet. The disciples are inhaling the fumes of Easter lilies and the fragrance of expensive oil. And Lazarus, like all the other disciples except Judas, is silent. Watching everyone, Jesus is waiting patiently at the table.

Jesus is straining forward to what lies ahead for him. He is not resting in the glory of what he has done. He is not bathing himself in the adulation that Mary pours onto his feet. He is not scolding Martha to stop being so busy and to sit down and listen to him. He is not asking Lazarus to tell everyone about what just had happened to him, nor is Jesus accusing Judas of what he is about to do. No, Jesus is actually thinking about himself - his own suffering, his own death, and his own resurrection. “Leave her alone,” Jesus said to Judas. “Mary bought this perfume for the day of my burial” and her intentions are good.

I love looking at the inconsistencies that exist between the gospel stories. For example, in Matthew and Mark, the house in Bethany belongs not to Lazarus but rather to a leper who had been healed by Jesus. In Luke it belongs to a Pharisee. The woman who anoints Jesus is not Lazarus’ sister, but rather an unnamed woman, and she pours the ointment not on the feet of Jesus, but rather on his head. In Luke, this woman is a sinner, who washes his feet with her tears first, and then kisses them before anointing them. In Mark, some people indignantly ask why she does this, while in Matthew it was the disciples who were angry. And John identifies this disciple as Judas, the one in particular who questions what Mary has done. Parenthetically, John warns us that Judas’ intentions were not good.

From the very beginning of John’s gospel, Jesus knows exactly what he is doing, where he is going, and why he does what he does. He knows his intentions, as well as ours. He knows that fundamentally we are human animals who want food and playmates. He knows that we sin in our thoughts, words, and deeds, and He promises us that every suffering that we endure will be redeemed. Every trespass and transgression will be forgiven. And new life awaits us. Like Izzy during this season of Lent, we are all in basic training, being disciplined to trust God for our growth, strength, and spiritual health.

 Remembering his own story, St. Paul encouraged the Philippians to forget what lies behind and strain forward to what lies ahead. Not looking back at the deaths that he caused, the betrayals he made, St. Paul wants to be like Christ, and press on for the goal of that heavenly call. Nothing else matters to him now. He seeks life with a purpose. A life that is filled with the surpassing value of knowing Christ and making him known. Writing to the Philippians from prison, he encourages them to have faith in Christ.

St. Paul expresses his gratitude to this Christian community, writing that he appreciated their prayers and it was kind of them to share his distress. Waiting patiently, he had learned to be content with whatever he had, of having plenty and having little, of being well-fed and going hungry. He exhorts them to “Rejoice in the Lord, always. Do not worry about anything,” he wrote. “But in everything by prayer and supplication let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Our Bible stories, like our family stories, are tableaus of people, who have gathered in different places, for special events, at various times in our lives, or like us who gathered this morning for worship as a matter of spiritual discipline. Sometimes we are joyous; and sometimes we are not. Sometimes we are angry, mean, and not at peace with ourselves or with others. Always, these times provide us with opportunities for spiritual growth each and every day.

Today, Jesus waits patiently for us at this table in this house. Regardless of whether you’re feeling like Mary, or Martha, Judas, or Lazarus, or any one of the unnamed disciples, don’t look back but press forward; for the lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, will feed us today and help us to grow.

Isaiah 43:16-21

Philippians 3:4b-14

John 12:1-8

Psalm 126

           

           

The Parable of Amazing Grace

4 Lent, March 31, 2019

St. Paul’s Lynnfield

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Let us pray:

Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: so clothe us in your Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you, for the honor of your name. Amen.

            The gospel of Luke is famous for its parables. It’s also known for balancing the feminine with the masculine. In chapter 15 of Luke, the shepherd, who lost his one sheep, is followed immediately by the woman, who lost her one coin, and then there is this parable about the lost son. At our clergy conference last year, Dr. Amy Jill Levine talked about parables, and made some suggestions. Ask questions. Read between the lines. Play with the names that are given to the parables, she said.

            In my Bible, today’s parable is entitled “The Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother.” Most people think of it as “The Return of the Prodigal Son.” Some scholars have called it “The Parable of the Running Father” or “The Parable of the Forgiving Father.” Provocatively, Dr. Levine wondered why it wasn’t called “The Parable of the Absent Parent.”

            T.S. Eliot wrote about a journey in his poem called “Little Gidding.” He wrote, “With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling, we shall not cease from exploration. And (at) the end of all our exploring, we will arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time.” (T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding” (1942)) Is this not the story of the prodigal son, indeed the story of all of us, who occasionally go exploring and get lost along the way? And when we arrive home, do we not we see it in a whole new light? Is this not the story of our human family? The story about freedom and forgiveness. The story about parent and child. The story about God and us.

            I find the word prodigal interesting, and so I googled it. As an adjective, it is defined as “spending money or resources freely and recklessly; being wastefully extravagant.” It claims that

"prodigal habits die hard." To be prodigal is to be irresponsible, self-indulgent, and wanton. Clearly the younger son in Luke’s parable is described by this definition. He took his father’s money and ran, hurting those he left behind. Who among us does not know a prodigal son? Or who among us has been one ourselves?

Defined slightly differently, prodigal means “having or giving something on a lavish scale.” For example "the dessert was crunchy with brown sugar and prodigal with whipped cream." To be prodigal is to be generous, liberal, unsparing, and bountiful, like the prodigal son’s father. Renamed, we might call this parable “The Feast of the Prodigal Father.” Or “The Feast of the Generous Parent.” “Bring out the best robe. Put a ring on his finger, sandals on his feet, and kill the fatted calf” cried the prodigal father. Let us celebrate with unsparing generosity. Let us lavishly feast together.

            “Really?” said the older brother, returning from the fields where he had been working hard for many years in the family business. He too was the son of this prodigal father; and yet, unlike his brother, he had not wished his father dead, nor asked for his inheritance early, and then squandered the property with wine, women and song. This older brother was still a family member in good standing, with sweat on his brow and dirt under his nails, while his younger brother was living it up.

Eventually, having lost everything, the younger brother was forced to become a hired hand, a Jew feeding pigs and eating their pods in a foreign country. He got what he deserved, I imagine the older brother thought to himself; and yet, their father throws this very same prodigal son a lavish party! Perhaps the elder son thought his brother was trying to manipulate his father once again, instead of being truly repentant. Who wants to be a slave or a servant or even a hired hand when you can be a favored son? Distancing himself from his brother, the older son refused to go into the party that was in full swing. Standing there in his work clothes, teeth clenched with resentment, hands in angry fists at his side, the elder son fumed at his prodigal father.

In a book called, The Return of the Prodigal Son, a Story of Homecoming, the late Henri Nouwen wrote about a famous painting by Rembrandt. In this painting, one’s eyes are initially drawn to the father and the prodigal son, who kneels at his father’s feet. The son is wearing only the tattered undergarments of a beggar. One foot is bare, and both feet are parallel to the hands of his father, who has placed them upon the back of his younger son. In a dimmer light, the older brother stands by, watching with hands closed across his chest. The light in the painting shines most brightly on the father’s open hands.

I was intrigued by what Henri Nouwen had to say about the father’s hands, and I remembered  Dr. Levine’s comment about the absent parent. Unlike the parable that Jesus tells in Luke, the mother of these sons is actually painted into Rembrandt’s picture. She is leaning against an archway in the dark, slightly off to the right behind the father. On closer inspection we see that Rembrandt has painted the father’s two hands very differently, one appears to be more masculine and the other more feminine. The right hand is strong and muscular, and holding the son’s shoulder gently, with a firm grip. The left hand “does not hold or grasp. Rather, it is refined, soft, and very tender, wanting to caress, to stroke, and to offer consolation.” Both hands are open.

Two weeks ago, my daughter Megan and her husband Josh became the parents of fraternal twin boys. Born prematurely at 25 weeks, they are fragile and in need of intensive care. Nathaniel was the smaller twin, and it was his move into the birth canal that precipitated the emergency C-section. His brother Peter was the larger twin, and ended up being the first one to be lifted out of Megan’s belly, into the open and loving hands of the medical team. Peter would have been the younger brother, if Nathaniel had succeeded in his efforts, but with the C-section, Peter became the older brother instead. In moments of light-heartedness, we joke about their sibling rivalry that began before birth.

I am fascinated by the hands of Peter and Nathaniel. Like his father, Peter has arms that are extremely long for his age. When he was in utero, with ultrasound technology, we could see him waving at us. In one live stream, he was seen fist pumping, while sitting on top of his brother. Now in the NICU, he firmly grasps his mother and his father’s finger, or the tube that provides him with oxygen. He holds one hand up in what I thought was a high five; although my daughter tells me that this is a signal for distress. Stop touching and poking me, he is saying angrily. Leave me alone, so I can rest and grow.

When Peter and Nathaniel become anxious and fearful, or they are hurting and scared, they can’t tell us; but they do give us signs of their distress. Their blood pressures go up, their heart rates increase, and their lungs demand more air. When they are angry and frustrated with the way things are, they are comforted by the loving hands of their mother and father. Gently holding them firmly, consoling and caressing them tenderly, and loving them prodigally, Megan and Josh offer their hands to their Minnesota twins. No longer sibling rivals, each one can hear the familiar voice of their parent saying to them “You are my beloved Son, upon whom my favor rests.”

Henry Nouwen was prodigal in his writing, and wrote another book entitled “With Open Hands.” Our hands are not always open, however, and for good reasons. Indeed they can remain closed to protect us or folded in prayer. Shaking my fist at God, perhaps even at a few politicians, I express my outrage over the loss of life, a chronic illness, wanton self-centeredness, reckless choices, and my grief at being a powerless parent and grandparent. As an explorer in this foreign country, I want to find my way home, where open hands will receive me, where strong and gentle hands will hold me, and where prodigal hands will love me lavishly. I want to come home to a prodigal parent who will shout for joy and celebrate my safe and sound return with a fatted calf.

We are all siblings in this journey that we call life, and we shall not cease from exploration.  Fortunately, our God is always running out to meet us, no matter what shape we’re in, or the various feelings we may have, whether we are lost in a foreign country, working in the fields, or standing right outside the house. Home is where the heart is and our true home is with God, who is never absent but always present. We are all God’s beloved children, upon whom God's favor rests.

Perhaps then, we should call this story “The Parable of Healing Hands” or “The Parable of the Prodigal Love of our Divine Parent.” For God so loved the world that God gave God’s only Prodigal Son to the end that all who believe in Him will have eternal life. Call this parable what you want. I call it amazing grace.

Joshua 5:9-12

2 Corinthians 5:16-21

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Psalm 32

Endurance Tests

3 Lent, March 24, 2019

St. John’s, Newtonville

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Endurance tests, oh boy. Have you ever had one? Or two? Or three? During this past week, I’ve had many endurance tests, and I know for sure that some of you have had them as well. With apologies in advance, I’m sharing some of my personal story with you this morning. Last Sunday night we had a call from our daughter Megan and her husband Josh in Minneapolis. Twenty-five weeks pregnant with fraternal twin boys, Megan had gone into premature labor. As as neonatologist, that is a newborn intensive care doctor, Megan knows the risks of premature birth, and her early labor was something she definitely did not want. Her labor came on unexpectedly and quickly, like a thief in the night. She feared losing the lives of her twin boys.

            Her colleagues at the hospital tried everything in their power to prevent the birth of these two boys. But the boys wanted out; and it became clear that an emergency C-section was necessary. At 8:54 p.m. last Sunday night we learned that Peter Josiah had entered into our world weighing in at 2 lbs. And his brother Nathaniel Joshua came 2 minutes later at 1 lb. 13 oz. Atypically for a baby that small, Nathaniel let out a cry. And so did we. Then the Lord said to Moses, “I have heard their cry. I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them.”

Today, one week later, Peter and Nathaniel are both doing very well for their ages and sizes. And yet, their journey remains under a cloud of worry and hope, of sadness and joy, and these feelings will remain with our family for many days to come. Each day, we pray for the twins’ health, and strength, and growth. Each day we thank God for wonderful caregivers and modern medicine. And I thank you today for including Peter and Nathaniel in your prayers. In his letter to the Hebrews, the author wrote, “So then, with endurance let us also run the race that is laid out in front of us.” And together, we will. Together, we will pray for all who are enduring any kind of tests on this day.

My husband Paul and I took the first flight out of Boston on Monday morning and went straight to the hospital. There we met Megan and Josh, who belong to a Lutheran church in Minnesota, and their pastor who had just arrived. Pastor Toby found us all weary from too little sleep, emotionally fragile, and standing in the need of prayer. Life is fragile at all ages, but most especially with preemies, and so we handle them with care. Life is fragile at all ages, and so we handle us with prayer. Alone and together, we pray.

Peter was born first. As you may know, Peter means “rock” and he was one of the first disciples to be called by Jesus. In today’s new testament lesson, St. Paul wrote to the church in Corinth about a rock that was Christ, that followed the Israelites during their journey through the wilderness. Our ancestors were all under a cloud, passing through the Red Sea together. They were all baptized in that cloud, ate the same spiritual food, and drank the same spiritual drink from this rock. As they endured their own suffering and testing, God said to the Israelites, “I will be with you.”

Nathaniel, also known as Bartholomew, is one of the lesser known disciples, and whose name means “gift from God.” He was the second twin born to Megan and Josh last Sunday. “And who shall I say sent me?” Moses asked God in the wilderness, and God replied, tell them “I am who I am.” I am God, the very Being of all beings, the very essence of Life. I am the Creator of Life, and I am the One who will save you. Yea, though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you shall fear no evil, for I am with you. And so, with that blessed assurance, under our own cloud of worry and hope, Pastor Toby baptized Peter (the rock) and Nathaniel (the gift from God) with water and the Spirit, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Many people know that I am a sports fan in general and a Celtics fan in particular. My least favorite sport is boxing. On Thursday, the NICU at the hospital in Minnesota has a “Superhero Day” in which all the preemies are celebrated as “wee warriors.” Having seen Peter and Nathaniel so soon after their birth, I can understand why. They were beaten up in the birthing process, and yet they came out swinging and fighting for their lives. Punching at this and pulling at that, looking for their victory in the ring, they had plenty of coaches in their corners.

            Endurance tests of any kind require physical health and continuing care. Like fig trees, we all need a little digging around our roots, and nutrients to help us bear fruit. We need mental toughness to get through those dark and rainy days.  Emotionally, we swing from one end of the spectrum to the other, and so we need shoulders to cry on, and people to celebrate with us. In my night prayers, when sleep is escaping me, or worries are waking me, I pray to God, asking that those I love will be “defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul.” I remember God “upon my bed, and meditate on God in the night watches” knowing that weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning.

Until the boys lungs are more fully developed they will occasionally need some assistance in breathing. Periodically connected to a ventilator, the boys have air that is pumped into their lungs, keeping their lungs inflated and their blood supply well oxygenated. Without a ventilator, Jesus taught his disciples to pray by breathing. The 1st word of the Lord’s prayer, translated in Aramaic, begins and ends with these words:

            One breath breathing

            May I contain the essence of this One

            May I exist for this One

                        Let me not forget who I am,

                        Made in your image and likeness.

At various times in our lives, and under certain conditions, we all need help breathing. Deep-sea divers, lung-disease sufferers, Mount Kiliminjaro hikers and space astronauts, people with sleep apnea or about to have surgery, folks on airplanes, body-pumpers and marathon runners, hyper-ventilating mothers and fathers, and everyone at all ages occasionally need oxygen. Life is both fragile and hard, and when we are undergoing these kinds of endurance tests, we may need help with our breathing. Breathe, my prayer partner reminds me. Just slow down and breathe. Hook your machine up to God and breathe, She says.

It is tempting to think sometimes that God is punishing us for a reason. Or testing us purposefully. We feel guilty for things we did or didn’t do. We are ashamed for what we said or did not. We think that we deserve our endurance tests, and today’s lessons can tempt us to think that God is a “Gotcha God.” We begin to believe that God is our destroyer rather than our creator, a grim reaper who can’t wait to cut down our fig trees, because we have not borne fruit, or we have behaved irresponsibly, perhaps even immorally.

I don’t believe this. Rather I believe that we are all fundamentally good, and that God created us with free wills to make our own choices. God wants us to choose life and not death, to choose a life that is productive and not destructive, a life that bears a variety of fruit at different times. And while we all know that there are consequences for our choices, we also know that rain falls on the just and unjust alike, and that our God is a forgiving God who loves us unconditionally. With warnings to the church in Corinth, St. Paul reminded them not to judge; for if “you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall. (There) is no testing that has overtaken you that is not common to everyone.”

Perhaps you recall our very first lesson in Lent, when Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness and tempted by the devil. Do not put the Lord your God to the test, replied Jesus. And later, St. Paul wrote, “We must not put Christ to the test.” God is faithful, and trustworthy, and true, even when we are not. “God will not let us be tested beyond our strength,” claimed St. Paul; “and with this very same testing God will also provide the way out, so that we may be able to endure it.”

In his letter to the Romans, St. Paul encouraged them, “Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God, and also in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us.” When we have faith and hope in the life-giving, liberating, love of God, we shall not fall; for nothing can ever separate us from that Love, not even death.

There is a Swedish proverb that claims that shared joy is doubled and shared grief is cut in half. We cannot endure our tests alone. We all need God; and we all need other human beings. We need creatures, great and small, and the natural beauty of creation to restore us to our universal health.

The way out of our clouds of worry, fear, and sadness is Christ. The way out of our endurance tests is Christ. Standing on the rock that is Christ, we remember that life is a precious gift from God. For through the waters of our baptism, we are reborn into eternal life, both now and in the days to come. And so we pray to our God who creates, saves, and sustains us with one breath breathing. 

Exodus 3:1-15

1 Corinthians 10:1-13

Luke 13:1-9

Psalm 63:1-8

Almighty God, you know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves: Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.