Anger

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

“Let every man be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not work the righteousness of God.”

“If anyone thinks he is religious, and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this man’s religion is in vain.” James 1:19-27

I beg to differ. I have to admit, I get a little crazy when I hear scripture lessons telling me to be slow to anger and bridle my tongue. Perhaps you have been told repeatedly that anger is sinful. That ladies especially need to bridle their tongues. Put a bit into our mouths so that whoever is riding our horses can pull us this way or that, without a complaint, despite the harm that is being done; otherwise our religion is worthless; and our efforts at piety are in vain.

Last Sunday morning, as I was driving to Redeemer for our worship service, I listened to reporters talking about the tragic events of 9-11. I heard one ex-Marine, who lost both his legs in a war against terrorists, claim that he didn’t have hate in his heart but he still had anger in his soul. Every day! And then last Sunday, later in the day, in his powerful sermon at Evensong, I heard our rector ask for personal and communal forgiveness for the anger unleashed on our world from that event on 9-11. 

The gospel passage came from Matthew last Sunday evening, in which Jesus said, “You shall not kill; and whoever kills shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you”, Jesus continued, ‘that every one who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother shall be liable to the council, and whoever says, ‘You fool!’ shall be liable to the hell of fire.’” This evening’s passage from the letter of James, who is believed to be the brother of Jesus, seems tame in comparison. 

I have a group of friends from Trinity Episcopal Church in Newtown, Connecticut, who now live in different parts of our country. Once a year we gather in the Adirondacks for conversation, community worship, and fun. During our time together this year, we realized that many of us are angry, and that we are angry about a variety of things. 

We are angry about the injustices in our world. Angry about diseases that have claimed the lives of loved ones. Angry about unbridled tongues that spew hate, offer conspiracy theories, and encourage division. Angry about the betrayals of our bodies and the losses we’ve endured. Angry that inflation hurts the poor and that some of the wealthiest people in our country waste it unnecessarily. Angry with our political leaders, with our institutional Church, and some of us are even angry with God. 

Both as a lay person and as a priest I have been to many retreats in many places throughout our country. One of the very first retreats I attended was in 1995 at Holy Cross Monastery, which is a Benedictine community of men located in West Park, New York. The retreat was entitled “Seeking God in Your Anger” and was led by a married couple from Connecticut, the Rev’d Lyn Brakeman and her husband, the Rev’d Richard Simeone. In it, they explored the spirituality and theology of anger.

In her article entitled “The Healing Power of God’s Wrath” Lyn claims that “relational honesty must include wrath. God’s and ours. Holy anger,” she argues,” is fuel for justice, for creating necessary changes, for ministry, and for healing by confronting evil.” (Mundi Medicina, June 1994)

It has always been confusing to me how Jesus condemns anger out of one side of his mouth, as he did last week in the scripture lesson from Matthew, and then acts out his own anger throughout the gospels. In righteous anger, He overturns tables in the temple. He rages against the Pharisees, and threatens and warns everyone about God’s impending judgment, no less than the prophets of old, or even some of the prophets today. “What’s up with that?” I keep asking myself, if I am to take Jesus seriously, as our rector has reminded us. And “what exactly am I supposed to do with my anger?”

 In another article entitled “The Power of Anger in the Work of Love,” by Beverly Wildung Harrison, the Professor of Christian Ethics at Union Theological Seminary in 1981, she wrote that “Christians have come very close to killing love precisely because we have understood anger to be a deadly sin. Anger is not the opposite of love. It is a vivid form of caring. It signals something amiss in our relationships and is a signal that change is called for, that transformation in (our relationships) is required.” 

This ex-Marine, who fought in a war against terrorists, confessed that he does not have hate in his heart but anger in his soul, every day. And we often hear those two words of anger and hate intertwined. Unfairly so, I believe. For the absence of love is not hate but indifference. Or as the great theologian, Martin Buber, once claimed: direct hatred is anger that has turned rigid, fixated, cold, or deadened, and it is actually closer to love than the absence of feeling.

Several years ago, more recently than 1995, I went on a silent 8 day retreat to Eastren Point, a Jesuit community of men in Gloucester Massachusetts. It was during a time of personal transition for me once again. I was angry with how events in my life had unfolded and systems that seemed unjust. Each day I would meet with a spiritual director who told me that I had to walk straight into my anger. That I couldn’t just push a button and let it go. 

Now this letting go of our anger is not like pulling the trigger on a gun or detonating a bomb, or even hurling words or fists at another human being; rather, it is letting go of our strong feelings of hate and anger, and giving them to God. She told me that I had to face my anger directly before I could “move on '' to a place of peace in my heart, in my soul, and in my relationships. She suggested that I talk directly to Jesus.

I’ve frequently been told that underneath our anger lies wounds that have not yet healed and a deep sadness that has not been fully grieved. So I considered my anger in the silence of this retreat, and like many times before, I realized how much I had been hurt. How deeply sad I was about some losses. Feeling guilty about being angry, I had denied, rationalized, and explained away the reality of my feelings without acknowledging their truth for me. 

And so, I realized that I needed first to address those deep wounds. I had to acknowledge the ways in which I had felt diminished, passed over, and ignored, regardless of whether or not someone’s actions were intentional. I had to acknowledge my sadness in lost relationships. I had to turn the power of my anger to the work of love that God was calling me to share. To walk in love as Christ loves us. To be angry but not sin.

So I went outside to walk the stations of the cross and to talk to Jesus about my anger, my wounds, and my grief. I went outside to verbalize my hurt in the silence of the forest; and then I suddenly came upon a station of the cross. With tears streaming down my cheeks, and angry words spewing out of my mouth, I told Jesus how deeply I felt. And there on the cross, Jesus showed me his hands and pointed to his side. He said, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it on my side.”

As I looked at the cross, I saw a human being. Certainly he had been hated, ignored, diminished, saddened, and hurt. Certainly He had been angry enough to overturn tables and call people hypocrites. Certainly he had been killed, not by a bomb or a bullet, but rather by a corrupt political and religious system, and an angry mob. His sentence of death was unjustified; and it came by crucifixion, which was intended to shame and humiliate the one who was suffering. 

And yet, Jesus’ anger, his righteous anger, called for peace; His sadness was not for himself but for the poor, the sick, the lost, and the lonely. He argued passionately for those who had been persecuted, oppressed, and diminished by unjust systems and abuses of power. Feeling forsaken, He had cried out to His Father in heaven, while forgiving us in the process.

“So why doesn’t God intervene now?” cried my friend in the Adirondacks. “Why doesn’t God stop this madness?”

Today, I offer two responses from that retreat long ago. The first is that God’s wrath is for goodness’ sake, and it works for healing through God’s people, for personal and systemic change. We use our anger to transform our lives.

The second response is an image of God, offered by the Rev. Lyn Brakeman. “I think for Christians, the Resurrection of Jesus is an expression of the healing power of God’s transcendent wrath,” she wrote. “Sometimes I imagine it like this; “the great Godmother Resurrection rages and roars down from the mountains of heaven with immeasurable speed to her son’s tomb.”

“She hurls aside the giant boulder as if it were a strand of straw, then reaches carefully into the darkness of the stone prison to scoop up the body of her son. Cradling him in her arms, she bellows a thunderous, a sundering, “NO! NO! This is NOT MY WILL. THIS IS NOT MY WILL. My will is for life, for life everlasting!”

As a mother and a grandmother, and as a disciple of Jesus, I can relate.

Duty and Love

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

The letter of St. Paul to Philemon can easily be glossed over in the writings of the New Testament. Tucked between Titus and the letter to the Hebrews, Philemon is only one page and 25 verses long. Would be that my sermons could be so short!

The late Phillips Brooks was an Episcopal bishop, noted preacher, and author, who once served as the Rector of Trinity Church here in Boston. Known for his writing of the lyrics of the hymn "O Little Town of Bethlehem" Bishop Brooks once said, “Duty makes us do things well. Love makes us do things beautifully.” On this Labor Day weekend, I often think not only about the duties of our human labors but also about the labors of our Christian love.

Duty and love are the twin forces of appeal that St. Paul uses in his letter to Philemon. For those of you who are not familiar with this letter, or need some refreshment, here it is. St. Paul, not to be confused with my husband Paul, has been imprisoned once again, not for his bad behavior but presumably for his enthusiasm for proclaiming the good news of Jesus Christ. His message was not welcome in many circles and so he was often accused of breaking both the religious and civil laws wherever he went. 

Obedient to his duty as an apostle, and his labor of love for telling others about Jesus, St. Paul often found himself in difficult positions. In a pickle, my husband is fond of saying. Or, because St. Paul finds himself in prison once again, he is labeled as a repeat offender, a term we use in our criminal justice system.

At this particular time in his life, some religious leaders were understandably suspicious of the sudden changes in St. Paul’s behavior. Known for persecuting Christians, he felt that it was his duty to respond with violence to protect the integrity of his religious beliefs. But then suddenly, on the road to Damascus, St. Paul was blinded by the light of Christ. He heard the voice of Jesus speaking directly to him; and subsequently, in a reversal of fortune so to speak, St. Paul became a man who could not stop talking about Jesus.

St. Paul was a dutiful and loving Jewish leader who became a dutiful and loving follower of Jesus. In his letters, St. Paul felt that it was his duty to proclaim that in Christ, and through Christ, and with Christ, we are all God’s beloved children, and therefore we are united by grace rather than by our affiliation with a political or religious party. We are united, then, now, and forever in an unbreakable chain of faith in God’s redeeming love revealed by the death and resurrection of Jesus. Indeed, in his letter to the Galatians, St. Paul wrote that in Christ, “there is no longer Jew nor Greek, there is no longer slave nor free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

St. Paul soon became known as an evangelist and missionary, a preacher and pastor, establishing new communities of faith wherever he traveled, and often writing letters to them for their discipline and encouragement. He is known for his way with words, sometimes too verbose, sometimes too direct, occasionally manipulative, and other times he masterfully persuades people with delicacy, diplomacy, and nuance. Not my strong suit!

In his letter to the Galations, perhaps the earliest letter recorded in our New Testament writings, St. Paul chastises them. “You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?” he wrote. “It was before your eyes that Jesus Christ was publicly crucified! Did you receive the Spirit by doing the works of the law or by believing what you heard? For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another.” 

Somehow, and somewhere, St. Paul apparently converted to Christianity, both a slave named Onesimus, and his master named Philemon. St. Paul reminds Philemon that he has a duty to listen to him as an apostle of Christ and reminds him about the labor of love that was once offered to all people by Jesus. He calls Philemon his brother, his partner, his friend and co-worker, while professing confidence in his obedience to do even more than St. Paul is requesting of him.

Now St. Paul does not address the general question of slavery as a social institution directly, nor does he discuss whether or not Onesimus should be set free. In fact, it is believed that Onesimus had actually set himself free, that is that he had run away, amidst speculation that he may have even stolen some money from his master, Philemon. 

A slave, who had deserted his master, could be severely punished and even put to death based upon Roman laws at that time; Jewish law, on the other hand, encouraged forgiveness and freedom since the Jews had been set free from slavery in Egypt, and all who entered the promised land were therefore assured of their freedom. (HCSB, p314) It is unclear, however, whether Philemon or Onesimus are Roman, Jewish, or pagan citizens who had become Christians.

In St. Paul’s letter to Philemon, which Onesimus was given to carry back to his master personally, St. Paul asks Philemon to accept Onesimus as a free man and a beloved brother in Christ. St. Paul wants Onesimus to be welcomed into Philemons’s house church, not as a slave, but rather as another beloved child of God, and an equally free family member in Christ.   

Clearly Onesimus’s duty to carry out the delivery of this letter was fraught with danger. Knowing that there may have been some financial losses for Philemon, either because of stolen money or because of lost property, for slaves were considered to be the chattel of their masters, St. Paul tells Philemon that if Onesimus “has wronged him in any way, or owes him anything, then charge that to his account.” 

St. Paul’s appeal is different in his letter to Philemon than the one that he sent to the Galatians. He affirms Philemon’s “love for all the saints and his faith toward the Lord Jesus.” He refers to duty but allows for Philemon to make his own free choice “Though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love,” he wrote to Philemon. He wants “that Philemon’s good deed might be voluntary and not something forced.”

At a church fair long ago, I saw a man wearing a T-shirt that had only two words on its front. In bold, dark, black letters, it said,

“Yes dear.” So I said to him, “I wish my husband would wear one of those.” And yet, truth be told, my husband would say the very same thing about me. In all our relationships that are truly free, there are both “yes dears” and “no dears” involved. There are both duties to be done and labors of love to be offered. So it is for us as citizens of our country, members of our families, co-workers, and as followers of Jesus Christ.

How then do I understand what Jesus said in today’s gospel passage from Luke, when it seems to me that Jesus exaggerates the dutiful aspects of following Him. He declares that we must hate members of our own families and even life itself, if we want to be his disciples, and claims that we must give up all of our possessions. According to my HarperCollins Study Bible, “these verses use prophetic hyperbole for the uncompromising loyalty required toward Jesus and the need for his disciples to maintain their firm loyalty to him.” (p 1989) But as you and I both know, they failed, St. Paul failed; and indeed we all fail.

Only Jesus was perfectly loyal and faithful to God throughout his life. He was dutiful in his own labor of sacrificial love, offering us freedom from the fear of death, and the forgiveness of our sins. Indeed he gave it his all in perfect obedience and loyalty to God. If anything is owed, He said to His Father in heaven, charge that debt to me. And set them free.

“Duty makes us do things well. Love makes us do things beautifully,” Bishop Brooks once wrote. As disciples of Jesus, it is our duty and our labor of love to treat all God’s beloved children as equal members of the Body of Christ. Do it well. Do it beautifully. Do it with love.

Philemon 1-21

Luke 14:25-33

Saving Grace

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

“Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division,” Jesus said on his way to Jerusalem. When people claim that Jesus is more peaceful and loving than the folks in the Old Testament, I point to passages like this one. Quite frankly, given today’s gospel lesson, I would not quote Jesus when my family, church, city, or nation began dividing into bitter camps! Good Christians don’t fight. It’s all about peace and love, isn’t it?

In her book entitled Saving Grace, Kirsten Powers writes, “Perhaps one of the greatest misconceptions about grace is that it means being passive, or not standing up for your beliefs or not confronting people about problematic or harmful behavior. The image too many people have of a ‘graceful’ person is of someone who just lets others do and say whatever they want and eschews accountability. They envision a person who doesn’t get angry and who, rather than speaking up about behavior that is causing harm, suffers quietly or allows others to suffer.” (p161)

The Bible is full of stories about conflict; and our present time is no different. Pick a subject, any subject, pick a country, any country, pick a political party, or a religious system, and you will find various levels of conflict. Some are creative and constructive; disagreements are easily resolved and compromises are quickly found. Other conflicts are soul destroying, like the war in Ukraine, hate crimes, turf battles, and bitter divorces.

Like the time when Jesus lived, there are signs of political, social, religious, moral, and economic conflict throughout our world. Troubles are brewing everywhere and thanks to social media we hear about them pretty quickly. The recent visit to Taiwan by Nancy Pelosi stirred the pot with China. Political rhetoric is heating up with the FBI actions taken at Mar-a-Lago this week, legal decisions about abortion, and the on-going issues of immigration. Israel and Palestine remain on the brink of war and our recent Lambeth Conference highlighted the continuing conflict over sexuality and marriage throughout the Anglican Communion. “From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided,” Jesus warned the crowd.

Conflict, whether you like it or not, is a way of life. Too much of it and life is miserable. Too little of it and life is stagnant. And if you deny it, you can see the blazing sun and the falling rain but you can’t admit that conflict is all around you. “Hypocrites” is what Jesus called the Pharisees. He claims that they point to the specks in other people’s eyes without first removing the logs in their own. Jesus was warning the Pharisees that there was conflict between the rich and the poor, between the Jews and Romans, between their religious leaders and their people, and between heaven and earth. 

When trouble is brewing, denial is not a river in Egypt, as the saying goes, but a temptation that enables unhealthy systems and harmful behaviors to continue.There is a need for sameness, and a decreased tolerance for differences. Some call it herding; others naively suggest “that we all just get along.” We comfort ourselves with narratives that support our own beliefs, closing our minds to people who don’t share our perspectives. We look for quick fixes and simple answers.

Conflict creates anxiety, and as our anxiety increases, we become more reactive, less able to step back and reflect, less able to respond appropriately. We hurt others with our words and actions; and our protests may turn violent. As conflicts escalate, we demoralize, degrade, and dehumanize each other, forgetting that we are all the beloved children of God, even when our thinking is misguided and our behavior is abhorrent. 

Conflicts, however, are actually great opportunities to learn about ourselves, other people, and God. They raise the possibility that no one is necessarily right or wrong - just different; and so listening to God and to others becomes especially important. Do we see life only from our position of power or class or age or gender? Are we caught in cycles of anger, victimhood, and resentment? Do we justify our behavior without a pause, or a temporary cease-fire? Do we forget that God’s love for us is not a zero-sum game?

In any relationship where free speech is healthy, we can express ourselves, saying what we think, what we feel, what we believe, and what we need without fear. We also know that we may not always get the responses that we want. In a good and fair fight, we can respectfully disagree with each other, without aggressively attacking the other person personally, or passively denying our reality. Truth can take many paths up God’s holy mountain; and unfortunately it is also the first casualty of war. 

Taken alone, this gospel passage from Luke might lead you to believe that Jesus was a combative and divisive leader, whose style was to draw blood by forcing his desires and beliefs upon others. Was he another prophet in their long line of religious history, who was filled with righteous anger, who wanted to scorch the earth with God’s divine judgment and without mercy?

Jesus doesn’t withdraw from conflict; nor does He smooth it over to appease the crowd. Neither a victim, nor a doormat, Jesus uses the “I” word. “I have come for a specific purpose,” He said. “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under because of it.” Jesus is talking about the baptism of his death; for He was on a mission to end the conflict between heaven and earth. He was on a mission to reconcile all people to God and to one another in a sacrificial act of love.  

“If our world were nothing but a place of created goodness and profound beauty, then Jesus’s challenge would be deeply troubling,” wrote Teresa Berger. “If, on the other hand, our world is deeply scarred, with systems that are exploitative, then redemption can come only when those systems are shattered and consumed by fire. Jesus comes not to disturb a nice world but to shatter the systems that stifle life.” (Christian Century, August 10, 2004)

I love Luke’s gospel lessons because it shows Jesus not only as the Prince of Peace but also as the King of Division. And discernment means division, coming from the Latin word which means “to cut.” Sometimes, our assets need to be divided so that more people can share their benefits. Cells split in order to multiply and create new life. Power divided is power shared. And sometimes the real divisions among us must be acknowledged before true peace can come. Perhaps it is only through conflict that we are able to discern new ways to move forward.

“Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby released a series of five short films about “Faith in a Conflicted World.” Welby said, ‘I believe with all my heart that reconciliation is the call on every human being. We all know that we live in a world that is divided, conflicted, and hurting, and though many of us long for our faith to make a difference, it can be hard to know where to start. The world cries out for people committed to reconciliation whose actions and words show that a new and better way is possible. Welby suggests three things: being present, being curious, and reimagining new possibilities in the places where we hope to see change.” (Living Church, Mark Michael, April 27, 2021)

In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus was nearby. He wasn’t sitting up in a heavenly throne, or on a mountaintop far removed from the crowds, or even in a jail cell writing letters to his followers. He was right there in the midst of the crowds, surrounded by his family and friends, by religious and political leaders, claiming that he came to “bring fire to the earth and division.” 

His fiery message was not just about destruction and division, however. No, God’s fire is also a purifying flame, naturally cleaning up our messes, warming our souls, shedding light in times of darkness, showing us the way forward, empowering us for loving action, and bringing new life into the world. The fiery message of the cross proclaimed resurrection life. 

As “Mediator in Chief” Jesus came to restore our relationships with God and each other, offering help to those who are caught up in soul-destroying conflicts. Not afraid to interpret the troubling signs of his time He challenged the leaders and the people of his country to change, as he continued his walk to Jerusalem. There, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame, so that he could fulfill God’s mission of reconciliation. “Forgive them,” He said, “for they know not what they do.”  We call that Saving Grace.

Isaiah 5:1-7

Luke 12:49-56

Today

 St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, Dorchester The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

I’m grateful to be with you this morning and to your rector for his invitation to preach and preside at Eucharist today. I’ve known Edwin in a variety of capacities throughout our diocese beginning when I first moved to Massachusetts and became involved with the Life Together community. Life Together is a leadership development fellowship, training the next generation of prayerful and prophetic leaders in the contemplative, communal, and prophetic arts for the church and for the world.

I must confess to you that I am particularly fond of the minor prophets. Hosea was a prophet in his hometown in the northern kingdom of Israel. He accused his people of their unfaithfulness in their religious and political life. In their anxious search for prosperity, for kings and allies who would save them from the dangers that threatened their national existence, the Israelites forged various foreign alliances and resorted to a culture of violence and social upheaval. They did not trust in their Lord. (HCSB intro)

Hosea used the metaphors of whoredom and adultery, portraying the Lord as the aggrieved husband of a faithless wife. Living in a country of virtual anarchy, the Israelites saw four of their kings assassinated within the 14 years of their country’s defeat by the Assyrians (current day Iran). Imagine Hosea in Ukraine. Imagine Hosea in Sri Lanka or Myanmar. Imagine Hosea in many of the countries in our Global South. Imagine Hosea in our own country, perhaps even in your hometown.

To be honest, at times like these, I have hoped for God’s judgment to rain down like fire upon the earth. When I see the injustices in our world, the wars that rage on, the power grabs that benefit only a few people, and the never ending dramas in our courtrooms and politics, it makes me wonder about justice. And so like a child having a temper tantrum, I cry out,  “But that’s not fair!” 

Like the man in today’s gospel, I ask Jesus to be the judge and arbitrator of our material and human resources. Secretly, I want God to publicly shame those people who are guilty of greed. ”Take care!” Jesus told them and us. “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one's life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.” And then I remember Hosea.

Hosea felt called by God to speak not only about the judgment of God but also of God’s mercy. Hosea had married a prostitute named Gomer, who bore three children; none of whom were presumed to be his, and then she left him, perhaps to return to her life of prostitution. Hosea didn’t wallow in the self-pity of victimhood, nor did he succumb to the temptation of domestic violence. Hosea went after Gomer. Not to stalk her, or kill her, or shame her, but rather Hosea brought her back into his life to forgive her and love her. 

Hosea claimed that God is a god of divine compassion, forgiveness, and unrelenting mercy. God will never let us go, despite our infidelity; for our God is eternally faithful to God’s covenant, even to the point of death upon the cross. At the heart of Hosea’s preaching is a gospel message of redeeming love. No matter what we do or what we have done, God will never forsake us nor abandon us. In the end, God will restore us. 

As one of God’s beloved children, from all tribes, languages, people, and nations, Hosea proclaimed that God will take us into God’s arms, heal us, and hold us with cords of human kindness. God is like a loving parent who will lift us up to God’s cheeks and then feed us with the bread of life and the sippy cup of our salvation.

Like the Israelites, in times of social, political, and economic instability, we may disavow our trust in the Lord. The pandemic of COVID, the challenges of inflation, gun violence, and the shortages of certain essentials like baby formula have raised our anxiety levels to new heights. We may find ourselves stockpiling more than we need, and hoarding material goods for a future rainy day. We may think, incorrectly, that if we just have enough of this or that, then we can eventually kick back, relax, and make merry. Hoarding makes everyone poorer; giving makes everyone richer.

God calls the man in today’s gospel a fool; for who knows what tomorrow will bring? We may plan a long awaited trip and have a medical emergency in a foreign country. We may be walking home from work or the playground one night, minding our own business, when someone opens fire with a gun. A nagging cough becomes a lung cancer diagnosis and we enter into a health care system where the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few.

When you reach a certain age, imagine scarcity rather than abundance, when you are overcome by fear and anxiety, the end times become more real. Truth be told, for whatever reason it is, you’re suddenly aware of the fragility of life, the short span of history, and that the arc of justice is long indeed. Fools are we who deny that we’re all on the same journey to a common destination.

What if God said to us today, like God said to that rich man in today’s parable, `You fool! Tonight your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?'  Who will get my stuff? I wonder. And will that stuff be a burden or a blessing? What legacy will I leave behind me? Is it one of faith or fear?

In a song entitled “What If” Matthew West wrote, “I've heard 'em say before -  to live just like you're dying. What if today's the only day I got? I don't wanna waste it if it's my last shot.” I think this is what Jesus was saying to the people gathered around him. Material things will not save your soul nor your life, but God will. So be rich towards God and you will have treasures in heaven.

Jesus spoke words of comfort to the crowd in the following verses of Luke’s gospel. “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. Consider the ravens and the lilies. If God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will God 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 first for the kingdom of God, and these things will be given to you as well.” (Luke 12:28-34)  

“The story has been told of a man who came to church late one Sunday morning. Slipping into the back pew, he asked the usher, ‘Is the sermon done?’ And she replied, ‘No, the sermon was preached; it is yet to be done!’“ (Word Live, Scripture Union, Author: Tanya Ferdinandusz) 

Yes, God’s judgment of our behavior becomes clearer in times like these. We see what we have done and left undone. We see where our priorities lie, and who and what we hold dear. Today, do what you need to do. Say what you need to say. Store up riches in heaven, and have no regrets, no worries, no ‘what ifs.’ Trust in the justice and mercy of God, who has promised that the family inheritance will be ours in the end. 

As today’s psalmist once said, “Let us give thanks to the Lord for God’s mercy. For God satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things. Whoever is wise will ponder these things.” Amen.

Hosea 11:1-11

Psalm 107:1-9, 43

Luke 12:13-21

Simplicity

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Luke 10:38-42

As Jesus and his disciples went on their way, Jesus entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me." But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."

“There is need of only one thing.”

We have needs, and I had a need to reflect upon several pressing matters in my life. I needed help from someone who knew me well and yet wasn’t involved with my “pressing matters.” I’ve been distracted and worried lately, not by many tasks like Martha, but rather by my concerns for others. I knew that I needed to focus, and so I visited my spiritual friend and companion for conversation, who welcomed me into his home. While waiting for him to arrive, I looked at some prayer cards that were on display. Each one had one word on the front. “Focus,” I said to myself. “What is it that you need right now?” The prayer card answered. “Simplicity: to will one thing.”

Like Mary, I knew that I needed to sit at the feet of Jesus. When my friend arrived, we went to a quiet place, a room in which I found simplicity: two chairs, a table, and a box of kleenex. I didn’t sit at my friend’s feet but across from him; and yet we knew that there was a “third party” in the room. My recent “distractions”, my multiple worries, and one “pressing matter” in particular, had made it clear to me that I needed to focus on one thing only. I needed to align my will with God’s will. I needed the gift of simplicity in my complicated world. I needed Jesus.

“One of the virtues most sought after by the early Desert Fathers and Mothers was the virtue of ‘purity of heart.’ They focused all their prayer and effort on obeying Jesus’ command to ‘strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness.’ They trusted that if they did this, God would provide them with all that was needed to sustain their lives.” (SSJE, Simplicity)

“To will one thing” is to seek God first, and that takes constant reminders for me, especially when I’m feeling overwhelmed with worldly events, human suffering, and concern for others. I remember that God provides - that God knows our needs before we even ask. 

So, in the morning, I focus on my needs for the day: I ask God to help me let go of the chains of yesterday and the worries of tomorrow. Turning my attention to God, I know that my need is simple: to love God, myself, and others as best I can. Sitting at the feet of Jesus like Mary, I know I need only this one thing. Then, like Martha, I can carry on with those pressing matters of love.

Plumb Lines

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

There are so many presenting social issues these days that I find it overwhelming to even think about them, let alone try to do something about them. There is the on-going humanitarian crisis on our borders; concerns about climate change; the war in Ukraine, the recent legal decision about abortion, and gun violence everywhere. When it comes to the fentanyl crisis and mental illness, I find myself personally frustrated with these baffling and cunning diseases, ones that easily cross all socio-economic boundaries and borders. And when people are asked about the “very big” problems in our country today, the number one answer is inflation.

It was the plumb line of God in the story of Amos that brought social issues into sharper focus for me. I had been involved with a coalition of churches in Connecticut which had created a transitional living facility for homeless women and children. We called it Amos House, notably after the prophet in today’s Old Testament lesson.

According to my HarperCollins Study Bible, the message of Amos is “direct and uncompromising. Over and over he announces to the people of Israel that, because of their social injustice and religious arrogance, the Lord will punish them by means of a total military disaster.” Indeed it was only 50 years later that the king of Assyria, which is current day Iran, began to aggressively incorporate both Syria and Israel into his empire. The conflict in the Middle East remains of concern even today.

Oftentimes ruffling the feathers of people in power, specifically the religious and political leaders of his countries, Amos denounced the Israelites for reliance upon military might, for grave social injustices, for abhorrent immorality, abuse of power, and shallow meaningless piety. Amos spoke about the lack of legal due process and the enslavement of people because of debts. (NRSV p 1170)  

Amos believed that he had been called by God to sound the warning bell, not just to the Israelites, but to other countries as well. He told them that they had violated standards of international conduct, and they lacked integrity. You have forgotten your covenant with God and chased after false idols, Amos prophesied. You have neglected the needy among you. You are a self-indulgent society and this plumb line reveals that your lives are crooked. “Prepare to meet your God,” warned Amos.

In addition to the plumb line, Amos uses four other images to paint a picture of God’s impending judgment. Locusts will come like a plague and destroy your crops. Fire will reign down from heaven like a lightning bolt in the middle of a summer storm, striking your bell tower and setting it ablaze. Your basket of summer fruit will rot and you’ll never see the time of the fall harvest. And then, in his final and most disturbing vision, Amos says he saw the Lord standing beside the altar giving orders for the total destruction of their people.

In true rabbinic fashion, the lawyer, a teacher of the law of Moses, was preparing himself for eternal life by testing Jesus, considered a prophet in his own day. The lawyer asked questions of Jesus because he wanted to be justified, that is to say, he wanted to be made right in the eyes of God and his fellow Jews. He wanted his plumb line to hang straight. “Who is my neighbor?” he asked Jesus, “and how can I inherit eternal life.” 

Like the lawyer in today’s gospel, we too might start asking Jesus these very same questions. “What must I do, indeed, what must we do to be justified in the eyes of God?” “You know the answer,” said Jesus. “Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And love your neighbor as yourself.”  

Not so easy, I say, to Jesus. It’s hard to love people when their behavior is unloveable, violent, and destructive. When the late Fred Rogers walks into my room and asks me, “Won’t you be my neighbor?” I say, “Well, that depends. You seem kind and gentle, but I’m not so sure about them.” 

Like the priest and the Levite I have crossed the road many times to avoid people who make me uncomfortable. I have put up blinders so that I cannot see someone who is standing, lying, or sitting right in front of me in distress; or I see something and yet I say nothing. I have made false assumptions about people because of their race, class, faith, age, and political party. I have erected walls because, for the life of me, I do not know what to do about them…. or me…..or it.

Overwhelmed with the issues of today, we may throw up our hands in despair and ask, what on earth can I do, and what on earth can we do, when the problems seem so very big and we are so very small. “How can we stay hopeful? And what are we to do?” the Rev. Scott Gunn asked in Forward Today. “We can offer compassion. Console those who suffer. Speak up for the voiceless. Give our substance to those who have less. Name evil when we see it. Love our enemies. Pray for the needs of the world. And above all bear witness to God’s grace and mercy.” (June 29, 2022) Or as the clergyman, Edward Everett Hale, once famously said, "I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do."

When I learned how to wallpaper for the first time many decades ago, I was introduced to a plumb line. For those of you who have yet to encounter this simple little tool, a plumb line is a weight attached to the end of a string which, when held up against a wall, reveals a straight line. One can end up hanging crooked wallpaper without it. And this is what the Lord told Amos, “See, I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel” because God wanted them to see how far off the mark they had become. 

I soon realized that the plumb line is both a personal and a communal tool which is needed repeatedly in our homes, our churches, our countries, and throughout our world. As new construction began on Amos House, I found my own life at home crumbling. Despite my best efforts at wallpapering over the cracks, there were some things that couldn’t be covered up. Like the kingdom of Israel then, indeed even like our own country and countries throughout our world today, trouble was brewing.

In my despair, poverty, and fear I began a new journey of personal questions, spiritual growth, and reflection. I began to take my faith seriously, attending Bible study, serving on the outreach committee, and just showing up for worship. In church I found plenty of good Samaritans who showed me the mercy of God and the Way of Love. This week when a Boston hiker took a treacherous fall on Mount Monadnock, a group of strangers sprang into action to help. Good Samaritans appear every day; they show up, pay attention, and try to be a part of God’s mercy and grace.

God’s plumb line, as revealed by the cross, points us inward. How far have I strayed from the Way of Love? What needs repair in my own life and the life of my family? The cross also points us outward. Who needs my help and what words of truth must I speak? And, finally, the cross points us upward. What idols do I worship? And what prayers can I offer?

When I look at the cross, I am reminded of my own ability to wander far and wide from the mark. I can see the injustices in our society, and the diseases and violence that destroy our lives. I recognize how nations and families can easily become broken and divided. And I know that the hard work of reparations, renovations, and reconciliation takes time and a willingness to work together in the Way of Love.

During that difficult time in my life, I found a new plumb line. It is the cross. I found a new prophet. It is Jesus. The cross calls us to repentance and reminds us of the unfathomable mercy of God. On the cross, we see Jesus, who justified us and made us righteous in the eyes of God. By his cross and precious blood, we are redeemed; and by his wounds we are healed. In Christ, we are delivered from evil, brought out of error into truth, out of sin into righteousness, and out of death into life. With plumb lines in hand, we are made worthy to stand before God.

Whatever house you enter today, hang on to the cross. Wherever you travel today, hang on to the plumb line of Christ; for by using it, our wallpaper will hang just a little bit straighter. And that is good news for us all.

Amos 7:7-17

Luke 10:25-37

 



Freedom

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

I couldn't get past St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians. It triggered so many things in me that I had a hard time deciding upon which rabbit hole to go down. I wanted to talk about freedom. Then, as I was eating some Boston creme pie and thinking about my sermon, I was tempted to address the issue of self-indulgence. But the Spirit kept calling me, reminding me, to live by the Spirit and to be guided by the Spirit. For what purpose, I wondered?

“It is absolutely clear that God has called you to a free life. Just make sure that you don't use this freedom as an excuse to do whatever you want to do and destroy your freedom. Rather, use your freedom to serve one another in love; that's how freedom grows,”  wrote St. Paul in his letter to the Galatians.

Freedom is a big word, especially around our upcoming 4th of July holiday. It is even a bigger word this week as we consider our constitutional rights and the 1st and 2nd amendments. And yet, spiritual freedom is somewhat different from the national, state, and personal freedoms that we enjoy in our country.  Freedom in Christ is a gift from God for all the people of God. It is a freedom that proclaims that we are called to love ourselves and others as God loves us.

“Christ’s gift of freedom is different,” wrote Liv Larson Andrews. “Freedom from fear, sin, death, and oppression moves us toward sharing the fruit of the Spirit that builds community. Love of neighbor and the gift of freedom in Christ are so linked for Paul that they become one and the same. He envisions a people guided by the Spirit freely bearing fruit for the sake of others. In Christ, coercion, strife, and shame are cast aside.” (Christian Century, June 26, 2022).

 We use and abuse our freedom for self-indulgence. Such “works of the flesh are obvious” St. Paul told the Galatians. When we choose to live by the flesh, rather than by the Spirit, we hurt ourselves and others. We ignore each other. We indulge in various unlawful or immoral activities; and we devour others with our words of anger and acts of violence. Stuck in our old behaviors and systems; we don’t keep our hands on the plow, tilling the soil, and planting seeds of love for future generations. 

In his book Generation to Generation, the late Rabbi Edwin Friedman writes about human behaviors and how they pass from generation to generation in our family, religious, socio-economic, and political systems. We pass along the good, the bad and the ugly from the beginning of time. We choose not to change because as Friedman claims, we have a failure of nerve. Transforming ourselves, our families, our communities, and our nation is hard work.

Our women's Bible study group just finished reading and talking about the book of Genesis. In that garden of Eden, the temptation for self-indulgence began, not with Boston creme pie, but rather with the single bite of an apple. Adam and Eve were given great freedom to make their own choices. When a father asked his daughter’s date if his intentions were honorable or dishonorable, the young man replied, “You mean I have a choice?” “Yes,” said God. “You do.”

Now St. Paul claims that the works of the flesh are obvious. And we don’t have to look too far beyond the book of Genesis to see examples of bad human behavior. Strife, quarrels, and dissension between family members and neighbors are chronicled from the beginning of time. We need look no further than today’s daily news, or go back in our recent history, maybe even within our own families and churches, to know that our bad behavior has continued over multiple generations. 

Paul warns the Galatians that “those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.” And Jesus cautioned one of his disciples that "No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” Which begs those questions, who is fit for and who will inherit the kingdom of God?

Now the doctrine of predestination, that is the notion that God predestines some people to heaven and others to hell, is one of Christianity’s historic doctrines, taught not only by John Calvin during the Protestant Reformation, but also by St. Aquinas in the middle ages and St. Augustine as early as the 5th century. Arguably, based upon conflicting scripture passages, St. Paul is tagged similarly in the 1st century. 

The “doctrine of predestination declares that human salvation is always and only based upon God’s graceful decision. It’s an undeserved gift, rather than a reward for good behavior, a perk of membership, or a privilege reserved for the best and brightest,” wrote Matthew Myer Bolton. “Every person in the world is potentially one of the elect and the possibility that even our worst enemies may be included within God’s saving embrace.” (Christian Century, June 15, 2022, Matthew Myer Bolton, pp22-27)

The jury is still out on this doctrine; and yet I confess to being a believer in universal salvation. I believe that the God, who created each and every one of us out of love, will also save each and every one of us out of love. God chooses us, even when we don’t choose God. 

I also identify as a Christian who believes that God revealed the promise of our salvation in the person of Jesus. Indeed the etymological meaning of the name Jesus means “God saves.” Forgiven, God gives us a freedom, not as the world gives, but rather as a spiritual freedom, which breaks us from the bondage of sin. It is a freedom that can transform our body, mind, and soul, if we have faith in God’s power to help us. And transformation takes time, human will, and hard work.

Guided by God’s Spirit, I also believe that we can choose good because we are good. Not perfect, mind you, but fundamentally good at the very core of our beings. Sometimes we just need help from the Spirit to make the right choices. 

The mystics often spoke about a “Core Self” which is beyond the touch of any human being. It cannot be altered by humankind, no matter how bad our experiences, no matter how long we suffer, and no matter how many poor choices we make. This Core Self was created by God and is loved unconditionally by God. This Core Self is good, beautiful, and true, and since it is made in the image of God, it should never be denied, and it can never be destroyed.

My Harper’s Study Bible teaches me that St. Paul’s letter was written around 50 A.D. and reflects a critical moment in early Christianity. Paul consistently emphasizes God’s initiative in setting human beings free. It is God’s grace alone, undeserved and unmerited, given freely by God to all of God’s creation. Faith in Jesus, not our good works nor our obedience to God’s commandments nor human laws, will save us.

Follow me, Jesus repeatedly told his disciples; although it’s not an easy road. Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but following Me means that your home is with God; and your journey begins and ends there. Being a follower of Jesus means that you choose life-giving activities rather than things that kill the body, darken the mind, break hearts, and eat away at our souls. “Do not procrastinate this day,” Jesus told them. “Live and be guided by the Spirit. Follow me.”

Since 8th grade I’ve worn glasses to correct my near-sightedness, but as I’ve aged, my eyes, among other things, have changed. I now wear bi-focals, so that when I preach, I can see both the text of my sermon as well as the horror, boredom and confusion on your faces. For reasons of vanity, as well as comfort, I’ve been wearing contact lenses for years, and so my right eye is corrected for distance, and my left eye enables me to read.

This is what freedom in Christ is all about - this bi-focal vision. With one eye, we can see up close, how our human behavior has fallen short of the mark. We can see our present age, in which our vision of God and God’s reign is blurred, and our human desires get the better of us. We can see how we have failed in our relationships with God and with our neighbors, indeed even with our very Core Selves.

And with that other eye, the spiritual eye, we can see God’s hand at work in the world about us, and the beauty of all God’s creation as originally intended. With our long-distance vision we can see the promised land of resurrection life and the hope of the world to come. Called for a purpose, and guided by the Spirit, we are set free, using our freedom to serve one another in love.

Called to freedom, living and loving and guided by God’s Spirit, we can treat everyone as if they are predestined for glory. Putting on my bi-focal glasses, and biting into my apple, I can see the fruits of the Spirit in you today: affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity, a willingness to stick with things, loyal commitments, compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates all things and all people. So keep your hands on the plow, dear followers of Jesus, and keep moving forward in faith.

Galatians 5:1,13-25

as translated by Eugene Petersen in the Message, a modern paraphrase.

Luke 9:51-62