Battle at the Birdfeeder

The Eve of All Saints            The Rev. Nancy E.Gossling

A Prayer attributed to St. Francis, BCP p.833

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is

hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where

there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where

there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where

there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to

be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand;

to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is

in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we

are born to eternal life. Amen.

I have to tell you that this passage from the Gospel of Luke is one of my favorite lessons in scripture for a variety of reasons. In it Jesus talks about our worries and God's providential care for all creation. Jesus describes how creation is clothed with the beauty of lilies, better than King Solomon’s finest apparel. Creatures great and small, like you and me, include ravens and all kinds of birds of the air, and yet how much more valuable we are to God than the birds!  After all, we’re made in God’s image. And don’t worry, Jesus says. God knows what you need and God will provide.

            Our son Brian made me a birdfeeder for my birthday a few years ago. My husband Paul and I had just temporarily relocated from our condominium in Cambridge to our generational family home on Cape Cod. At that particular time the cases of COVID 19 were fewer on the Cape but surging throughout our country. Masks were being worn all the time, and places were being shuttered. It was a summer of COVID lockdown, isolations, and worry.

At first, we put the birdfeeder on the back deck of our home. It was a source of great joy for us as we watched birds arriving in numbers during the Spring and early Summer months.There was a great variety, and word got out pretty quickly that we had food to share. Then the squirrels showed up. 

In August, Paul sent this email to our friends: “I thought I would give you a quick overview of how we are spending our time: 1) We fill the bird feeder in the morning 2) We discuss our strategies for getting rid of the grey and red squirrels 3) We run onto the deck screaming at the squirrels to get off the birdfeeder 4) We go to the bird store and discuss ways to stop the squirrels 5) We go to the hardware store to buy patches to repair the holes in our screen door, which the squirrels had chewed through looking for the birdfeeder. 6) We bought a pole, greased it with vaseline and black pepper, but when the squirrels bent the pole in two we returned the feeder to our deck. There our tomato plants were thriving, except there was only one tomato left, and it was half bitten by a squirrel. 7) We run onto the deck screaming at the squirrels once again  8) After we discovered the roof of the birdfeeder had been chewed through we discussed buying our first gun 9) Finally, we called “Squirrels Anonymous” to deal with our addiction. And then, (10) exhausted by our battles at the birdfeeder, we go to bed. 

Now we all have various ways of dealing with this COVID pandemic. Growing tomatoes, feeding the birds, and screaming at squirrels were some of them for us. I also enjoyed connecting with people through FaceBook and created a FaceBook posting that I entitled hashtag “Battle at the Birdfeeder.” I discovered that there were people like me who were “anti-squirrel” advocates. They too had stories of frustration and offered suggestions for remedial work. There were also the “squirrel lovers.” Like St. Francis, they were people who blessed and fed all animals, and they regularly reminded me that I was neither a saint nor a good Christian. Let them eat your tomatoes and bird food, I silently fumed.

There were also moments of levity about those squirrels. One of my favorite jokes came from a parishioner in our diocese who posted this on my FaceBook page. “In  a small town, a band of squirrels had become quite a problem. The Presbyterian Church called a meeting to decide what to do about their squirrel infestation. After much prayer, they concluded that the squirrels were predestined to be there, and they shouldn’t interfere with God’s divine will.”

“At the Baptist Church the squirrels had taken an interest in the baptistery. The deacons met and decided to put a water-slide on it and let the squirrels drown themselves. The squirrels liked the slide and knew how to swim; and so twice as many squirrels showed up the following week.”

“The Lutheran Church decided that they were not in a position to harm any of God's creatures. So, they humanely trapped their squirrels and set them free near the Baptist Church. Two weeks later the squirrels were back when the Baptists took down the water slide.”

“The Methodist Church tried a much more unique path by setting out pans of whiskey in an effort to kill the squirrels with alcohol poisoning. They sadly learned, however, how much damage a band of drunk squirrels can do.”

“But the Roman Catholic Church came up with a very creative strategy! They baptized all the squirrels and made them members of the Church. Now they only see them at Christmas and Easter.”

“Finally, not much was heard from the Jewish synagogue. They took the first squirrel and circumcised him and they haven’t seen a squirrel ever since.”

As an Episcopalian, after much trial and error, I gave up my battle at the birdfeeder. We’re a big tent, I recalled, and our church welcomes and honors all God’s beloved children. In our baptismal covenant, we ask, “Will you cherish the wondrous works of God, and protect the beauty and integrity of all creation?” Our response remains, “I will with God’s help.” And clearly, I needed help. 

Eventually, life improved on our back deck. The red squirrels didn’t like the spicy bird food we bought and so they left, which made me and the birds very happy. And the grey squirrels repented of their sin of gluttony; they no longer emptied the bird feeder in one sitting. We bought tomatoes at the farmers’ market and let the chipmunks dig into our pots. Eventually, peaceful coexistence reigned at our bird feeder. In fact, I snapped some pictures of both the squirrels and the birds eating at the same time. And at the end of the day, Paul and I went to sleep and rested in peace.

During this COVID time of isolation on the Cape, I began to be grateful for God’s providential care for all creatures, great and small, and for the beauty of all God’s creation. I could begin to see beyond my battle at the birdfeeder to other forms of life: the marsh grasses, the sand dunes, and the vast expanse of the Atlantic ocean. I understood in new ways how we worry about the climate and the changes that we see happening in our environment.

Worry was part of our COVID life that summer and it remains with many of us today. Because worry has been familiar to me for many decades, I will often recall this passage for comfort. I can see the freedom of the birds in the air. I remember how the lilies of the valley are clothed. I pray for God’s providence and protection. And in the midst of our vulnerabilities, and the battles that we all share, I hear Jesus say, “Do not fear. Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” 

In these COVID times we worry about life and death, and yet nature reminds us about death and resurrection. Without speaking a word, it offers us images of the kingdom of heaven. In St. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, he wrote, “But someone will ask, ‘How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?’ Fool!” he wrote. “What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And as for what you sow, you do not sow the body that is to be, but a bare seed, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain.”

“God gives it a body as God has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body. Not all flesh is alike, but there is one flesh for human beings, another for animals, another for birds, and another for fish. There are both heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is one thing, and that of the earthly is another.”

Which is why the author of Revelation “heard what seemed to be the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, saying, ‘Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power to our God. ‘Praise our God, all you his servants, and all who fear him, small and great. Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give God the glory.’”

  Tonight is the beginning of what we call Allhallowtide, which encompasses the triduum of All Saints' Eve (Halloween), All Saints' Day (tomorrow) and All Souls' Day, on November 2. Allhallowtide is a "time to remember the dead, including martyrs, saints, and all the faithful departed." And tonight we can remember all creatures great and small: both the birds and the squirrels, both you and me. 

Seek ye first the kingdom of God and all else shall be given unto you. There’s no trick here. Only a treat for those who believe. Amen.

Luke 12: 22-31

He said to his disciples, ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?* If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest?  Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, strive for his* kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.

Revelation 19:1,4-10

After this I heard what seemed to be the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, saying, ‘Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power to our God, And the twenty-four elders and the four living creatures fell down and worshipped God who is seated on the throne, saying, ‘Amen. Hallelujah!’ And from the throne came a voice saying, ‘Praise our God, all you his servants, and all who fear him, small and great.’ Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty thunder-peals, crying out,‘Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready; to her it has been granted to be clothed with fine linen, bright and pure’—for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints.

And the angel said to me, ‘Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.’ And he said to me, ‘These are the true words of God.’ Then I fell down at his feet to worship him, but he said to me, ‘You must not do that! I am a fellow-servant with you and your comrades who hold the testimony of Jesus. Worship God! For the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.’

Spiritual Vision

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Job 42:1-6, 10-17

Psalm 34:1-8, (19-22)

Hebrews 7:23-28

Mark 10:46-52

Frederick Douglass once said,“Behind the seen lies the unseen.” Let us pray.

Help us to see again, O Lord. Amen.

According to the website “Exploring Your Mind,” the “invisible gorilla experiment has become a psychology classic. Although it was conducted for the first time in 1999, it’s still cited as a typical example of the limitations of perception. It also illustrates how people don’t like to accept the fact that they’re often blind to the world around them.” 

Human beings are wonderfully made, and yet we are limited. We see things differently and in a variety of ways. “I see”, we will say, when we begin to understand something. “I see you,” we will say, when we acknowledge another person’s reality. Or “I see that you have needs” and then we load our carts with food for the Fuel program. We ask prayers for healing; we write a check to support our church and non-profits; and we offer our comfort to those who are grieving. People may even see our good works.

Our eyes can virtually see people in real time and real space. When I’m angry or passionate about something, you can see it in my eyes. My daughter calls them my “beady eyes.” Maybe we will cast a “stink eye” or an “evil eye” on another person to express our disapproval. I have found that distance from an event helps me see it differently or in fuller ways. When William Shatner saw our world from outer space, he was left speechless. And then we have our spiritual eye, sometimes called our 3rd eye, the one that can see things other-worldly, maybe even heavenly. 

To state the obvious, if our eyes are healthy, we can see. If we’re blind, like Bartimaeus, we cannot. Now there are many reasons for blindness. Unlike ancient times, we know that blindness is not a punishment from God. Instead, blindness can be a result of things like accidents, diseases, medical conditions, and genetics. Our blindness can be immediate and irreversible, or it may be progressive, changing slowly over time. For better or worse.

Blindness may heighten our senses. Sometimes we hear things more clearly, like Bartimaeus knowing that Jesus was approaching. We may see people differently. “When we label others, we stop seeing them as they are,” wrote Brother David from SSJE.  As Helen Keller once said, “The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”  

The gospel of Mark reveals the potential for our spiritual blindness. In it, there are two stories about blind men. Both men are physically blind and both are healed by Jesus, one slowly, and one very quickly. As the gospel progresses, however, the disciples of Jesus become increasingly blind to who Jesus was and what he was all about.

On some levels, we’re all spiritually blind. We have vision problems when we see life from a narrow and limited perspective; or when we see only what is important to us personally. The influences of our family and religious upbringings, our social and cultural dynamics, and our political identities may determine our perceptions of God, humanity, and our world. We can see only blue or red, black or white, forgetting that God created a rainbow of colors. We’re often blind to our own transgressions; we can clearly see the speck in the other person’s eye and not the log in our own. 

The transformation of my own spiritual blindness has been both dramatic and slow. And it’s ever-changing. Occasionally, I have seen Jesus up close and personal, as if I’m sitting in the chair of my eye doctor. Sometimes I have seen Jesus from a distance or not at all. Often I will need to rely upon the good eyesight of others to help me spiritually.

Recently, I’ve heard some people say that they’ve been feeling like Job lately. Certainly, with events in our country and around the world, the story of Job comes to mind for many of us. We often come to realize how blind we are to the suffering of others, until suffering comes into our own lives. In fact the pandemic has brought that suffering home to all of us.

My husband Paul and I have been blessed beyond measure; and yet our greatest learning about God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit came through our own suffering. Our picket fences didn't protect us from breakthrough diseases and human challenges; and yet they strengthened our faith, hope, and love in God. Time and time again, amazing grace, how sweet the sound. We were blind and could not see. We were lost and then were found.

Terrified by the raging storm all around them, the disciples once wondered, “Who is this man that even the winds and waves obey?” Jesus would cast out demons, heal the sick, open the eyes of the blind, and even raise the dead. And yet, for the most part, people were blind to who He was. His followers kept looking for a political king to save them; and the crowds were calling for economic reforms. Routinely, Jesus pointed to the need for religious reform.

Previous to today’s gospel passage, there is a rich man who wanted to inherit eternal life. When Jesus told him to go and sell what he owned, and give his money to the poor, the rich man could not do it. “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God,” said Jesus, and to which His disciples cried out in fear, “Then who can be saved?” For having money meant having God's favor. And bad things happened only to bad people.

The bad news for all of us today, rich and poor people alike, is that we’re all doomed. As my spiritual director is fond of saying, “We’re all goners.”  Whether we see death from a distance, or up close and personal, we all face the cross eventually. And so, today, we are invited to see Jesus for who he was, and is, and is to come. Despite our spiritual blindness, we can still hear Jesus ask us today, “What do you want me to do for you?” And we can reply, “Let me see again.”

Jesus was seen in many ways and called by many names. He was the Son of Man and the Son of God, a teacher, prophet, priest, and king. He was also fully human like you and me. As Christians, we now see Jesus as our Messiah, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world and triumphs over evil and death. We see Jesus not as a powerful king riding in a golden chariot, or sitting behind shaded windows in a stretch-limo, but rather as a suffering servant, who wore a crown of thorns before he was nailed to the cross. 

For our sake, Jesus showed us the Way of Love and our path to eternal life. And so, the question for us today is not, “Then who can be saved? Or who will save us?” but rather, trusting in God for our salvation, “How then shall we live?”

We all have ways in which we try to protect ourselves from diseases, demons, disasters, and death. And while good medical care, money, and masks can help us, our dollar bills proclaim that in God we trust. Yes, we can look to our presidents and kings, our high priests and popes, our military powers and financial bank accounts, and even our human intelligence to save us; but you and I both know, ultimately they will all fail us in the end. 

  As St. Paul said to the church in Corinth, we see now only through a mirror dimly; and so we need help to see God’s mercy and grace. We may need the magnifying glasses of scripture to see our salvation story. We may need corrective lenses to believe in things beyond our physical sight. We may need the strength of our Christian communities to help us stand firm in our faith. For we are not goners after all; we are people of the resurrection.

Today, I see the Church differently. It is a place where I can see God in real time, with real people, and through real events. Church is a place where I can throw off my own cloak of fear, and share my stories of suffering and blessing. Over my lifetime, I have come to believe that God has the power to save me. And like Job once said to God, “I had heard of you, but now my eye sees you.”

Church is where I see Jesus face to face in communion. With my spiritual eye, I can see His Body and Blood on my outstretched hands, remembering how He stretched out His arms of love on the hard wood of the cross so that everyone might come within the reach of His saving embrace. 

Today, whether you are a newcomer or a long-timer, whether you are young or old, whether you are here in the sanctuary or joining us virtually, whether you are an Episcopalian or not, together we represent the Body of Christ. We are the head, the heart, the hands, and the feet of Jesus. We have eyes to see and ears to hear. We have hands to help and hearts to love, and we have been called by God for a purpose: to point to God’s amazing grace and to share our gifts of time, talent, and treasure with others. 

Samuel Wells, once said (quote) “Jesus walked slowly, purposefully, intentionally into the eye of the storm, because only through the storm would he find what he was truly looking for; and what he was looking for was us.” 

So here we are, sitting on the side of the road in Chestnut Hill, blind as bats, and begging for mercy. The author of Hebrews suggests that we look to Jesus, our great high priest, who intercedes for us even now. “Look upon him and be radiant, and let not your faces be ashamed.” For as Jesus once said to Bartimaeus, our “faith will make us well” and perhaps someday we shall see our Lord face to face  Amen.

Growing Darkness

  

Lines written in the days of growing darkness, by Mary Oliver

Every year we have been

witness to it: how the

world descends

 

into a rich mash, in order that

it may resume.

And therefore

who would cry out

 

to the petals on the ground

to stay,

knowing as we must,

how the vivacity of what was is married

 

to the vitality of what will be?

I don't say

it's easy, but

what else will do

 

if the love one claims to have for the world

be true?

 

So let us go on, cheerfully enough,

this and every crisping day,

 

though the sun be swinging east,

and the ponds be cold and black,

and the sweets of the year be doomed.

from her collection, A Thousand Mornings

 

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

The world descends into what? Hell? Purgatory? No, a liminal space and place where hopes for release and falling upward remain. Is it a place of dirt and disease, or just a resting place for renewal and budding possibilities? There are seeds that are buried deep within us, unseen, and yet brimming with possibility and new life. It’s a rich mash, this hummus. Resuming old ways is not an option. New ways beckon. No longer seeds but trees of life. Vivacity and vitality await us in the darkening days, and the glorious colors of the fall foliage remind us of the beauty of creation, and the love of our Creator. So “let us go on, cheerfully enough, this and every crisping day.”

Forgiveness

 The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.’ Then Jesus said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’ 

We have some basic staples in our religious and spiritual lives. One is the golden rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. And the other is the Lord’s Prayer.

There are various translations of the Lord’s Prayer and today I want to focus specifically on the words about forgiveness. It’s a stumbling block for many people. Being unable to forgive ourselves or others or to feel that we have been forgiven creates an enormous amount of pain and grief in our lives. In fact it causes a lot of bad behavior and prevents us from living in peace.

We may have learned different ways to pray the Lord’s Prayer, and depending upon the three synoptic gospel stories, Jesus taught his disciples different things. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus said to them, “When you pray, say: “And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.’' According to the book Gospel Parallels, this translation is probably closer to the original words of Jesus. Note that it includes both the words ‘sins’ and ‘indebtedness’ in the process of forgiveness.

Mark, which is considered to be the first gospel written, is much more succinct. In it Jesus says, “Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone; so that your Father in heaven may also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” Now we hear the word 'trespasses'. As in the case of the chicken and the egg, which comes first? In Mark’s translation, Jesus tells us that we must forgive others before God will forgive us.

Matthew, an expanded version of Mark’s gospel, is considered the more liturgical version of the Lord’s Prayer. In it Jesus says to his disciples, “And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” Matthew’s version is the kitchen sink variety of the Lord’s Prayer. We have debts, debtors, trespasses, and quid pro quos all in one.

So which is it? Trespasses, sins or debts? And who is forgiving whom, who forgives first, and what exactly are we forgiving when we use these words?

Let’s take trespasses. It means you’ve crossed a boundary. You’ve gone into someone else’s property, crossed a border, or violated their physical or emotional space. For example, news reporters chasing politicians into bathrooms. Regardless of the written signs that have been posted (wear a mask), or the verbal warnings that have been spoken, “don’t go there” or “don’t do that”, you have overstepped a boundary. When we say, “Forgive us our trespasses”, we are asking forgiveness for these boundary violations.

In today’s gospel story, the unnamed woman at the feet of Jesus has a reputation; she is “that woman” who has crashed the men’s party. Considered both a trespasser and a sinner, the Pharisee tells us that Jesus should have known what kind of woman was touching him. Occasionally my Dad, God rest his soul, would say to me, “Be careful, Nancy. Your halo is slipping!” I would forget that I share a common bond with all humanity, that like the Pharisee and this woman, I too am a sinner.  I make myself the judge and jury of others, trespassing into areas of God’s domain. 

Sin. Oftentimes we limit our understanding of sin as merely doing something wrong. Knowingly and unknowingly,  I do what I know I shouldn’t do. I say things that are insensitive, indeed even prejudiced. I act unprofessionally. I cheat on my taxes, my business account, or maybe even my spouse. I lie, dissemble, ignore, and deny the truth, and so I sin in my words and deeds, which can also mean to “miss the mark.” 

Perhaps my intentions were good and yet the impact of my words and actions are hurtful. My human behavior missed the target, the bulls-eye that Jesus holds up for us. We live in glass houses, which is why Jesus said to the crowd,, “Let the one without sin cast the first stone!”

Jesus also talks about two debtors, that is you and me. Yes, Jesus compares the amounts of these debts, and yet in Anglican moral theology, a sin is a sin is a sin, no matter how great, no matter how small. There are no venial or mortal sins in Anglicanism, just sins. 

In a recent Zoom webinar, I listened to Dr. Fred Luskin talk about forgiveness from a medical and neurological perspective. If we do not forgive ourselves and others, regardless of the pain we have endured or that we have created, we carry burdens preventing us from living freely and peacefully. In his book entitled Forgive For Good, he offers a metaphor that shows the practical consequences of harboring grief, sadness and pain, of harboring anger and resentment for too long. They are like planes circling an airport and not being able to land, nor allowing other planes to land either. 

Once we release our hands from the controls, drop all the fuel and baggage that weighs us down, and turn everything over to God, we let God be the pilot of our planes. Knowing that we have been forgiven by God, we are able to forgive ourselves and others, and land our planes safely. Forgiven for our trespasses, sins, and debts, we can love God, our neighbors, indeed even ourselves, more fully and freely. Ultimately we will live and die more peacefully. 

So let go and let God. Forgive for the good of yourself and for the good of others. And remember it’s a process, repeated daily over our lifetimes. We may need to circle the target and the tarmac many times before we can land. While some things and some people may seem unforgivable, God is the ultimate judge. “Forgive them for they know not what they do,” said Jesus from the cross. And today to “that woman” (a trespasser, debtor, and sinner), “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.” Isn’t that what we all ultimately want?

Luke 7:36-50

One of the Pharisees asked Jesus* to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment. Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.’ Jesus spoke up and said to him, ‘Simon, I have something to say to you.’ ‘Teacher,’ he replied, ‘speak.’ ‘A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii,* and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he cancelled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?’ Simon answered, ‘I suppose the one for whom he cancelled the greater debt.’ And Jesus* said to him, ‘You have judged rightly.’ Then turning towards the woman, he said to Simon, ‘Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.’ Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’ But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, ‘Who is this who even forgives sins?’ And he said to the woman, ‘Your faith has saved you; go in peace.’ 

St. Michael and All Angels

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

 On Wednesday, September 29, we celebrated the feast of St. Michael and all Angels, when we remember the many ways in which God's loving care watches over us.The Holy Scriptures often speak of angels and archangels and all the company of heaven who worship God and then act as God’s messengers on earth. The four archangels, the leaders of this heavenly band, are named Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel.

St. Michael’s name means “Who is like God?” Who indeed? And angels have been described in military language with Michael being named as the captain of these heavenly armies. In tonight’s passage from Daniel, he is called the great prince and protector of God’s people, who comes among them at a time of great anguish and suffering. We need St. Michael, the archangels and angels, and all their heavenly armies even now!

Time is both temporal and eternal, translated in Greek as chronos and kairos. And the times described in our scripture passages this day are both. They are often called the end times and St. Mark's gospel lesson has become known as the “little apocalypse.” It describes the time when Jesus warns his listeners to be alert for that time when the Son of Man will come to gather his elect.

I remember the first time that I stepped into the pulpit as a seminarian at St. John’s Church in Waterbury, Connecticut. As I began to speak, a man in the front row stood up, and as he walked out of the church, he claimed in a very loud voice that the end was near. I was a little unnerved; and yet false messiahs and prophets can be found on many street corners and, these days, especially throughout our social media. The warning from these people is that you better be alert, and get your life in order, or you will soon be left behind.

Have you been chosen? Have you been elected by God to live forever in his kingdom, protected eternally by God, his angels and archangels, and those who have been enlisted in God’s heavenly armies? Cue the Salvation Army now or the Calvinists or let’s sing “Onward Christian soldiers” together. Are you hoping to find yourself one day seated before the throne of God, listening to a heavenly choir that sounds as lovely as the one at Church of the Redeemer? Well, that depends on your theology of salvation. Personally, I believe that God’s grace is unlimited and undeserved and that there is a wideness in God’s mercy.

When some people read the Revelation to John, they might wonder if the author was smoking something before he put pen to paper. During this time of severe persecution against the Christian communities in the Middle East, John’s Revelation is intended to offer hope. He paints a picture of St. Michael, leading the heavenly armies to defeat the great dragon, who at that time was the emperor of Rome and his armies. John’s writing is filled with secret symbols and allegorical language as a way to protect the followers of Jesus from being found out and then martyred. 

I am not one of those people who likes to read the end of a story first in order to see what happens in the end.  And so, there has never been a time when I have been tempted to read the Revelation to John to understand the end of our salvation story. The four gospels do that for me. Jesus was born and lived a life of faithful service. He was crucified, died and was buried. On the third day he rose again and is seated at the right hand of God. John calls Jesus the Lamb of God; and today we claim that he takes away the sins of the world. We believe that Jesus is both the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and end of our salvation story. Full stop.

 But in truth the story of our salvation is not really over; indeed it is a never ending story. In the Revelation to John, Jesus is still speaking to us, as both the Lamb of God, whose garments were once bloodied, and now are pure white. And still, the story continues in you and in me. “See, the home of God is among mortals,“ John wrote. And so, like our true Messiah, our Prince of Peace and the Protector of God’s people, like St Michael and all God’s angels and archangels, we become God's messengers, who proclaim God’s unfailing Way of Love on earth as it is in heaven.

 In fact, the Revelation to John describes “the triumph of God over evil and death, not only as a future expectation, but also one that has already been realized in heaven. Our hope then is not based simply on the promise of God in the distant past but it is based on the present power of God manifest in the resurrection of Jesus,” writes Luke Timothy Johnson.(p 517)

The final image given to us then by the author of Revelation is one of a new heaven and a new earth. John reminds us that the Lamb of God, that is Jesus, dwells with us even now; and he will wipe away our tears during these current times of suffering. Death no longer will hold its sting, nor does it have a final victory. Cities and nations will no longer be divided. Gathered into a heavenly chorus, we are united as one community of God’s beloved children, where people of every language and tribe and nation live in peace. To the “One seated on the throne and to the Lamb - be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever.”

So, be an angel, a messenger, and an evangelist: share the story of our salvation.  Amen.

Daniel 12:1-3 

Revelation 5:1-14

Revelation 12:7-12

Mark 13:21-27

Salt and Fire

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

Long ago, in fact over 30 years ago, I attended Trinity Episcopal Church in Newtown, Connecticut. As a lay person, I was involved in many and various ministries. First, I started out as the coffee chairperson; inviting people to serve coffee seemed like an easy and non-threatening way to start. And then I was asked by a vestry member to join the pastoral care team, which made me a little nervous. I had two small children, a husband who traveled and was often away from home, and not much time to cook meals for others. Besides, what’s wrong with take-out, I silently thought to myself? Next thing I know I’m serving on the vestry as the outreach chair and deeply involved with creating a transitional living facility for homeless women and their children.

I have a lot of friends from Newtown and even more from Sandy Hook school, which our children attended long before the tragedy. My years in Newtown were formative ones, not only as a wife and parent but also as a family member and friend, a budding Christian, and a member of our small town community. Our church was actively engaged beyond its walls and known as the rich church on the hill. We helped launch Youth Services in Newtown, The Family Life Center, and then Amos House, a collaborative and ecumenical effort by 5 area churches.

Once a year, a group of us from Trinity Church, now living in various parts of our nation, will gather in the Adirondack mountains to reconnect in person. I’m the only one who went rogue and became a priest. During our community time together, we eat, drink, and make merry at one of our friend’s homes. We play games, take hikes, argue about politics, and talk about “the church.” Our faith and spiritual lives are deeply important to all of us; and yet we’ve each struggled over the years in different ways.  

Part of our ritual when we gather together is to have a chapel service in which we read scripture, reflect on a gospel passage, and then share communion. Fortuitously for me, this year we agreed to reflect upon today’s passage from St. Mark. Specifically, we wondered about the words of Jesus, who said, “For everyone will be salted with fire.” So, I raised the question for us to ponder: Am I salt or am I fire?

Now there are many ways in which we can use salt. Most commonly, it seasons our food. Salt is a preservative, used to cure meats, or when gargled with warm water, it can heal our gums and soothe our throats. In ancient times, salt was used to ward off evil spirits.Throwing a pinch of salt over their shoulders, some people would cast out demons in the name of Jesus.

As I’ve grown older, I am conscious of the sodium levels in my food and the negative aspects of salt. While Jesus said to the crowd, “Salt is good” I say, “Not so fast. Not always.” High blood pressure can be deadly. The Dead Sea is filled to the brim with salt, and while it may buoy us up, if the water is swallowed it can also be harmful. The Dead Sea receives water but it doesn’t give it. It’s all get and no give; it’s all inlet and no outlet. 

Back to that question, am I salt or am I fire?

Fire, like salt, can be used in many and various ways as well. We can heat and cook with it, but we can also burn ourselves. Maybe we light candles to create certain moods, or place them on our altars to remind us of the light of Christ; and yet a careless match, a bolt of lightning, and winds over a campfire can create raging forest fires, wiping out vast amounts of landscapes and destroying people’s homes and their lives. In fact, both salt and fire, like anything material or even spiritual, can be used for both good and evil, for creative and destructive purposes. It begs not only the question “Am I salt or am I fire?” but also “For what purpose am I being used?”

A few weeks ago, I was listening to various run-ups on the news prior to the anniversary of 9-11. Most of us can remember where we were and what we were doing on that date. In one news program I heard two sisters recall memories of their brothers. One was an airplane pilot in his 50’s who died when the hijacked plane crashed into the pentagon. The other was a newly married man in his early 30’s who had just started a new job in the twin towers.

I remember just beginning our morning prayer service at St. Paul’s Church in Greenwich, Connecticut when the sexton came running in to tell us about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. We quickly gathered around a television set in time to see the second plane hit the other tower. Stunned into silence we knew that these were not misguided events. Rather they were purposeful attacks, intended to cause death and destruction. Some say they targeted the very hearts of our political and economic lives. Indeed they broke thousands of hearts across our nation in those fiery attacks.

Many weeks after that day, I served as a chaplain at Ground Zero on a Saturday afternoon. Bodies were still being recovered; the smoke and smells from the fires were intense, and the depth of our despair and horror was deep. First responders and recovery workers, considered salt of the earth, stopped every time someone was found beneath the rubble. The bodies were then transported to a tent where chaplains like me blessed them, and others worked to identify them. Needing a respite we would retreat to St. Paul’s chapel at Ground Zero, miraculously spared from the destruction all around it. There we could pray, talk to others, and read the letters of supporters from around our world.

During the anniversary of remembering the tragedy of 9-11, President Bush’s words were repeated and his actions were recalled. “If you’re not for us,” he said to people in other countries, “then you're against us.” And today we hear those very same words from Jesus, when his disciples complained about people who were casting out demons but not using his name to do so. Who cares if you’re healing, helping, and doing something good? Jesus responded. If you provide just a single cup of water to someone who is scared or thirsty, is crying uncontrollably because of a loss or a trauma, or stopping momentarily to help another person, who cares what name you use, and in whose name you serve? Praise any human being who helps another child of God.

Now remember that Jesus said that everyone is salted with fire; and so our call, as faithful Christians, is to discern how we can use our words and our actions for good. If the fire in your belly has gone out, how can you rekindle it? If your salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Asking these questions another way, how can I be an agent of positive change and transformative love, sprinkling salt and starting good little fires everywhere I go?

As salt of the earth, can I season, soothe, cure, heal, and buoy other people up? Through my prayers, can I ward off evil spirits and cast out demons in the name of Jesus? Fired up by the Holy Spirit, does my presence warm the room, create a good mood, light the pathway forward, and remind others of Christ? Do I rekindle the fires of others by my words and actions?

To be honest, I lost both my salt and my fire at various times during the pandemic. Without ever contracting the coronavirus, thank God, I lost my taste for many things, except salty food like potato chips, pickles, and french fries. The fire of my spiritual life flickered and grew dim. I struggled to find ways to keep my connection with God alive; and my prayer life was flat. For a while, my purpose in life became very narrow, and not connected with a greater good and a higher Power. I missed being part of a community. I longed to rekindle my passion for ministry. I yearned to reclaim God’s mission of reconciling love, and serving others in the name of Christ.

Having enjoyed being a free agent in Christ in many parishes throughout our diocese before the pandemic, I realized that I needed an anchor, a community in which to belong more deeply, and a place where I could renew my saltiness and rekindle my fire. Thank you to Mike, your wardens, and your vestry for the invitation to join you this year. On this third Sunday in your midst, I am excited to be part of your lives.

Prayers and people renew my saltiness. Being on God’ s mission of reconciliation and love rekindles the fire in my belly. Belonging to a church community sustains me in the ups and downs of my earthly and spiritual life, and helps me to behave better. When I walk and talk with Jesus, I can find ways to use my saltiness and my fire for good. I can speak more graciously and act more faithfully, maybe even more courageously.

When I ask those questions: “Am I salt or am I fire?” I can now say, “Both.” “Everyone will be salted with fire!” said Jesus. “And for what purpose?” Today, for me, it's to restore the faith, hope, and love that remains nascent in us all. And to practice the Way of Love in all my affairs. Praise Jesus for that. 

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22

Psalm 124

James 5:13-20

Mark 9:38-50

Catherine Cooke Lux, RIP

 Catherine Cooke Lux

October 11, 1951 - March 22, 2021

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Celebration of Life, September 18, 2021

We have friends and then we have our best friends. Cate was one of my best friends. A forever friend from the first day I met her until eternity, we could pick up and leave off without missing a beat. We shared many times together, laughing, weeping, wondering about life and death, and how to negotiate the reality of now. 

Let’s face it. It’s been more than a year of wondering about life and death, while we continue to respond to the COVID 19 pandemic and its variants. Cate found it especially hard during this time in her life. Her love language included touch; and she hated not being able to hug those she loved. For whatever reasons you have, and we all have them, this is a hard, hard time for us all. And so we acknowledge it; we accept it, and we can still not like it.

So what’s the good news that I can share with you today? What can I say, along with all of you who are gathered here virtually or physically, both near and far, from Massachusetts to Philly to New Zealand and as far away as heaven? How can we celebrate the earthly life of the one and only, the deliciously, naughty Catherine Cooke Lux?

 Like her, I have an active imagination and certain opinions about many things. I can see her now, amazingly gorgeous in her little red dress, driving her dream green car with a tan interior. The windows are down, letting the wind blow through her recently highlighted hair, and the radio is blaring. Chip liked her hair short. I liked it straight, not with those little permy curls we all tried in the 1990’s. I can see her face now, raising an eyebrow at me for something I’ve said or done.

I always thought of Cate as a teacher and a student of life, who was eager to learn new things and then share them with others. As a child, she created her own little classroom on the green moss of the forest. She liked working with her colleagues and spending time with various groups of friends. She had a lot of them from all chapters in her life. 

Cate loved museums and art; and her choices for today are filled with beauty. They paint pictures for us in our imaginations; we can see sheep in green pastures and rainbows in the sky. We can hear beautiful music. Cate had talked about sending love letters to her family. And as I listened to the music she selected, the scripture passages that she chose, and the poetry that she recited, I was amazed. This was her love letter to us all.

To her credit, she faced death squarely in the eye. She offered words of faith, hope, and love to those who would listen. The author of Ecclesiastes reminds us that there is a time for everything. A time to weep and a time to laugh. A time to be alone and a time to be together. A time to die; and a time to rejoice.

Rejoice. I love that word. It means to find joy once again. Living each day as a simple and precious gift of life, we can start fresh every morning. Joy comes when we mingle our grief with our gratitude, our tears of love with our tears of loss. We rejoice when we share bear hugs and belly laughs, when we share memories over good food and well-aged wine, when we raise our glasses in a toast of thanksgiving to the woman we all love. Rejoice, I say, always rejoice.

Deep down, Cate knew that life is a holy mystery. Like so many people these days who identify themselves not as religious but spiritual, Cate knew that joy comes when we have faith in something or someone beyond ourselves. We can find joy in things not seen, like our virtual love crossing these airways, and going in all directions. Cate knew that love is complicated and that our dreams are sometimes broken; and yet in the face of all that difficulty, we can still say, “Hallelujah.” Even in her times of darkness, she trusted that there is something beyond that multi-colored rainbow which we call heaven. 

In and with the spirit of Cate, I’d like to end by reading a children’s story called Water Bugs and Dragonflies, explaining Death to Young Children, by Doris Stickney.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow, praise God, us creatures here below. Praise God for Catherine Cooke Lux, my BFF, then, now, and forever. Amen.