 By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector
Isaiah 11:1-10 | Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19 | Romans 15:4-13 | Matthew 3:1-12 In Advent, we await the coming of Christ. We ready ourselves to recall the birth of Jesus’ in Bethlehem, and his eventual ministry. This part of the waiting feels clearer. In our family, there is a long tradition of setting up our creche. As a child, I remember eagerly setting up my grandmother’s creche, and together we would recall the story of Jesus’ birth. This tradition carried on with our oldest and in recent years it has been our youngest, who takes responsibility for setting up our creche. Together we remember the great mystery of God, Love in human flesh, breaking into our world in the form of a newborn child. In remembering this, we reground ourselves in the incredible joy and hope that comes from being in relationship with God. It strengthens us for the journey, empowering us to wait faithfully. What is less clear, is the other kind of waiting we do in Advent. As we await the Coming of Christ that is yet-to-be. The ambiguity of that Coming is deeply uncomfortable - especially for those of us who prefer a sense of order or working with a clearly articulated plan. Except we are not privy to such plans. Those are known by God alone. The early Church thought this Coming that is yet-to-be would be in their lifetimes, and strived to live their lives as such. Over the centuries, the arrival of that someday-soon became more ambiguous. With that shift it has become easier for us to stop living our lives with the same sense of urgency that once guided the actions of our ancestors in faith. After all, it’s unlikely to even be during our lifetimes. Without that sense of urgency it is easy to become cavalier about the necessity of living our lives as faithfully as we possibly can. Instead we get bogged down by the challenges and responsibilities that consume our daily lives. The work of bringing about God’s dream for this world so we might prepare for that Coming that is yet-to-be begins to sound like a meeting that could probably get rescheduled for next month, or maybe tabled altogether. When we pause to recall the meaning of Advent, we remind ourselves this season is about awaiting the greatest Love ever known, breaking open our world, and breaking each of us open along the way. If we slow down long enough to notice, we will find the hope and courage needed to recall God’s dream, and reignite our collective sense of urgency. An urgency that is necessary. It helps us better understand how to wait faithfully, by increasing our capacity to tolerate, and live into, the ambiguity of a life of faith. At the same time, that urgency emphasizes our collective call to work in concert with the Holy Spirit to bring about God’s dream for this world through acts of mercy, justice, and kindness. One reason we gather in weekly worship is to collectively remember what God has told us about their dream for our world and the qualities and characteristics that will help us journey towards that dream. Both readings from Hebrew Scriptures - Isaiah and Psalms - point us towards the kind of leaders needed for that dream to draw near. Isaiah paints a picture of a righteous and just king: The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; (11: 2-4a) Isaiah goes on to make the point - as only a poet can do - that under this kind of leadership, the wolf and lamb can live side by side. Isaiah offers such rich imagery; so much of which can be read as fulfilled in the life, death, and ministry of Jesus Christ. Yet in many ways, when we read it with only our Christian lens, we miss the deep longing of ancient Israel and the prophetic hope for what is possible in God’s dream. This deep longing and prophetic hope for what can-be but is still yet-to-be is visceral at this hour in our common life. This year we have seen injustice carried out in the name of justice, as:
The curtain has been torn away, and we are forced to see the true ugliness that is possible when fear, self-interest, and greed inform the actions of those in power. The end result is a world where justice feels somehow further away than it did five or ten years ago. And to be clear - this is not about political parties or even particular politicians. This is about humanity, in our corner of God’s world, shifting our overall values from concern for our collective wellbeing to concern for our individual wellbeing. It reflects a turning - away from our neighbor, away from our siblings, and away from God. That is the definition of sin. It is why in Matthew’s Gospel both John the Baptist and Jesus of Nazareth begin their public ministries with the same exact words: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near ” (3:2; 4:17). Repent. Turn back towards God. Turn back towards our siblings. Turn back towards our neighbors. Turn back towards our collective wellbeing. Turn back towards our care of creation. May we, as the people of God in this corner of God’s world, repent. May we turn towards God’s dream and one another. The psalmist in today’s reading has the right idea - of how we turn from the injustices of those in power towards the prophetic imagination of what true leadership looks like in God’s eyes. The psalmist is offering a prayer for ancient Israel as they yearn for God to grant them a king with a deep understanding of God’s sense of justice and righteousness.* A king that would defend and rescue those facing poverty, while crushing down those who implement systems and structures of oppression (72:2,4). A leader who would bring prosperity for all - including creation itself, bringing an abundance of peace into God’s world (72:3,7). Like the psalmist, we can collectively turn to God in prayer, while holding onto the prophetic imagination and hope articulated in Isaiah. If we are to heed John and Jesus' words, to repent, and turn towards God’s dream and one another, we need to be people grounded in prayer. Praying that our elected officials and community leaders may be wise and granted a deep understanding of justice and righteousness. To be clear - not because these leaders need to be Christian or religious. Rather because we need leaders who concern themselves with the wellbeing of all people, especially those most marginalised, and with all of creation. What if in the coming year we each were to pray daily for leaders of every level of governance and community, that they may be granted wisdom and understanding, and to be just leaders who act with mercy for the betterment of all they serve, and all whose lives they touch? How might hearts and minds soften and shift? We will only know if we lean in and trust the Spirit. As we prepare to head back out into an aching world today, I would invite each of us to keep reflecting on the themes that arise in Advent.
Amen. * See fuller discussion of psalm in commentary https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-of-advent/commentary-on-psalm-721-7-18-19-6
0 Comments
 By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector
This month while we are getting ready for holiday fairs, thanksgiving, and the incarnation at Christmas, the gospel lessons assigned to the lectionary take place during the week of Jesus’ death. It can be helpful to spend some time recalling that week. Today’s gospel lesson from Luke takes place during the week of Jesus’ passion. Jesus has made a triumphal entry into Jerusalem, riding on a colt. People laid down their cloaks before him, as a way of conveying their understanding that Jesus was an entirely different kind of leader. One who proclaimed a vision of God’s kin-dom, whose values were in stark contrast to that of the Roman Empire. Most leaders within the religious establishment would have found this display deeply alarming. So much so that by week’s end, Jesus was arrested, tried, and executed by the state as a criminal. Some of the Pharisees in the crowd spoke out to Jesus: “...order your disciples to stop”(19:39). Yet Jesus responds to their demand by saying: “...if these were silent, the stones would shout out” (19:40). It’s fitting then, that as Jesus continues into the city, he begins to weep. He wept over the city with sorrow, disappointment, and grief. Those in religious leadership had so misunderstood him, so misunderstood God’s message, that further sorrow and pain awaited them, “...because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God”(19:44b). The pain and sorrow they would face was not a condemnation. Rather it was the natural result of their lack of curiosity, or even openness, that God might be amongst them, in and through Jesus. While in this state of grief, Jesus walks into the outer part of the temple, where a marketplace is set up. Some elements of that marketplace were standard protocol, as they needed to ensure that the animals being sacrificed were unblemished. Yet some sort of misuse or abuse was taking place in that sacred space. The injustice and disrespect of it shifted Jesus from sorrow to anger, and he began to drive those sellers out of the marketplace. It is worth noting - if we ever doubt Jesus’ capacity to fully understand our experience of sorrow, disappointment, grief, anger, injustice, and the isolation of these feelings, we need to take a closer read of the gospels. Jesus experiences each of these feelings with a fullness that reminds us we are never truly alone in our sorrow, anger, or any other experience. These are the feelings Jesus would have been carrying with him, as he began to teach in the temple in the coming days. A tenderness right beneath the surface. During this time, some leaders within the different sects of religious leadership engaged Jesus in oral arguments. They hoped to discredit or disrupt his movement, as they perceived him as a false prophet. First were the Pharisees, who asked questions like:
Each time Jesus would answer their question, by turning the question on its head, and getting to the heart of the matter. After no real luck, some Sadducees took a turn. They told a story of a man who had died, leaving behind a childless widow. According to the law, the deceased man’s brother would marry the widow to protect her, and to preserve his brother’s name, estate, and lineage (Deut 25:5-19). The hope is the widow would become pregnant, and the child would be considered the direct heir of the widow’s deceased husband. In the Sadducees story, the deceased man’s brothers keep dying, leaving his widow childless, until finally she has married all 7 brothers without producing an heir for her first husband. Then they ask, in the resurrection, “...whose wife will the woman be?” (20:33). This question is highly irritating. First and foremost, there is no pastoral heart shown for the woman. She has buried seven husbands, and grappled with the pain, isolation, and grief of infertility. And in this story, the concern is whose property is she in the afterlife. The question becomes more irritating when we recognize these leaders are not seeking a serious answer. Unlike the Pharisees, the Sadducees do not believe in resurrection. The question is asked with the hope Jesus might misstep in his answer. Commentator Kendra A. Mohn writes,“The Sadducees seek to force Jesus to expose how ludicrous the idea of resurrection is. In his rebuke, Jesus demonstrates how it is, in fact, ludicrous to try to understand the resurrection in terms of this life. He asserts that the rules we put in place to navigate this world are not important, or even relevant, in the next one, because it is so fundamentally different from what we normally experience.”* We try to understand eternal life with our orderly way of thinking and being. Except the things that matter here, do not matter in the same way in eternal life. We cannot fully comprehend resurrection life. A place where there is no more death or dying; where there is always enough; where all are welcome and everyone is inherently valued. In resurrection life, we stop being somebody’s property or agenda and the isolation we know at times in this life is gone forevermore. It is so radically different, we cannot fully understand it. Jesus responds to the question in an unexpected way. In the verses following our lesson, the text says, “ …they no longer dared to ask him another question.” (20:40). As onlookers, we can notice Jesus seems to be preparing for his own death. In doing so, he is teaching us how to live our lives without fear of death. Because, our God, “...is God not of the dead, but of the living”(20:38). While our physical bodies and our time on this earth is fleeting; our souls live onward in resurrection life. Commentator Mohn goes on to ask: If through Jesus, we are all children of resurrection, how does that free us? What is it like to live without fear of death? I quite love this question about fear. What is it like to live without fear of death? I’m not sure we can fully grasp what it is like to live without fear of death, but I love the idea of striving to live that way. As followers of Christ, we trust and share a collective hope in a vision of bringing about God’s dream for this world, here and now, while also trusting in the fullness of resurrection life. We believe in living our lives with a radical hope and love that lets us abandon beliefs and practices that lead to judgment, exclusion, and scarcity. We chose love and action. We choose full inclusion and welcome. We choose abundance, gratitude, and community. The way in which we most clearly take that leap of faith, and strive to live without fear of death, is in our baptism. Today we will renew the promises of our baptism alongside Rena, in anticipation of her baptism, and next Sunday, we will do the same alongside Chloe in anticipation of her baptism. We have been discussing these promises in our Teen Confirmation class, as well as, in our Episcopal 101 and Newcomers Group. The challenge of really living into these promises if we take them as seriously as we are called to do is quite overwhelming. We explored how it's more about our intention of striving to live into them, than about doing so perfectly. If we long to live into the promises of our baptism. An easier way in, may be picking one of the promises we make today, and really striving to live into that promise very well. Reflecting on how we are doing with it each day, and finding new ways to embody the promise that make sense for this chapter in our life. If that peaks your curiosity, I would encourage you to reflect on which of these promises you most need to be living more intentionally as we seek to grow in our faith. Then over the course of the next month or so, spend time reflecting on how we are doing living in that promise. While the hope is we strive to live into all of them, some seasons of life require us to focus more on one. Knowing and trusting that as a community, we are collectively living into these promises, as we help one another to keep growing in our faith. To keep trusting in the promise of resurrection life, so we might live a life without fear of death, and in so doing, empowering us to live a life of love. As we prepare to head back into the world this week, I invite us to further reflection: What baptismal promise is God calling us to tend to, especially now? Amen. Lectionary Haggai 1:15b-2:9 Psalm 145:1-5, 18-22 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17 Luke 20:27-38 *https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-32-3/commentary-on-luke-2027-38-6  By Julie Carew, Lay Preacher
God, we thank you today for those in this faithful community, both present now and departed from us, and for our intersecting lives and the way you move in and through them. AMEN. We see a few descriptions in our readings today of what the kingdom of God does or will look like. In Daniel, “..the Holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom for ever - for ever and ever.” Psalm 149 references a “congregation of the faithful”. In Ephesians 1 the author is writing to those who heard, believed and “were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit… and references “the pledge of our inheritance as God’s own people, to the praise of his glory”. In the last section of today’s Gospel from Luke, Jesus talks to “you that listen” giving guidelines for how his followers should live. I think most of us would agree that the communion of saints will be vast, that there will be far more people than we can possibly know in our lifetimes. And it also seems clear in these readings that it is now, and will be in the future, a community. I imagine it as a myriad of circles of people coming together, realizing a common purpose, a common belief and a common love. Today, on this All Saints Day, we have the opportunity to hold close the people in our own circles who are no longer with us. I want to take a moment first to recognize that we lose people in different ways. Some to death, some to distance, some to circumstances or boundaries that need to be set. These are all losses, they all leave spaces in our circles and I think it would be best to give ourselves the chance to remember and reflect on all of them. So, who do we remember today? Those who formed us, Those who are part of us, Those who shared their lives and love with us, Those who touched our lives just briefly, Those whose stories moved us, ALL those we don’t want to forget. Why do we remember? Honestly, sometimes it feels easier not to. Remembering can be a significant emotional lift, but what if we could find a way to keep our beloved ones present enough that we can easily access those memories, those lessons learned, and experiences shared, in little pieces all throughout our lives? Our lives are so much richer having known all those we want to remember- having heard their stories, experienced their presence, shared in their lives and they in ours. How do we remember? Giving ourselves space and time is essential. We have days for remembering- like today- also birthdays, holidays, as well as physical locations, and experiences we have shared. We can set up places for remembering- a display of photos, keepsakes, letters- or maybe visiting a special place, a physical location, where we can sit with our memories of them. Where do we see their footprints in our lives? Where do we feel their presence? Can we find a place where the gratitude for having loved them feels greater than the sorrow of having lost them? What about remembering them in a way that encourages us and those around us, living their legacy into our own lives and into those of others? Can we use a memory of their resilience to build us up when things are difficult? Can we remember how deeply and truly they knew us when we feel alone? Can we share something they taught us in helping someone else feel known or understood? Can we let the way they shared their lives with us challenge us to invest in someone else? I am grateful, and I hope you are too, for the space today to think about how we remember those we have lost, and maybe discover a new way of doing so. Let us also consider- what is the legacy that we will leave, how will we be remembered? We have some pretty clear guidelines about how we should live our lives given to us here in Luke: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat, do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again.” When I think back to the memories I have of those I have lost, the moments that stand out to me the most are those that were unexpected- a response that was the opposite of what I would have guessed- an especially tender moment with someone I hadn’t experienced that with before which made me aware of a deeper love and connection, a joke in a dark moment, an unforeseen generosity, an outburst of levity in a moment where we really needed it. These unexpected moments reveal the heart of someone, they show us that someone has let down their guard, let go of what is “supposed” to happen- of who they are “supposed” to be- and given us a window into who they are. These actions Jesus is describing are exactly that. Do we have (and if not, will we make) space in our lives for that freedom? Moving through life with enough openness to receive a prompting from God that is unexpected and maybe not our first reaction, but to be able to hear it and act on it? This is true generosity, to shift our focus from holding on to giving away, from reserving to giving all that we can in a moment in which it is truly needed, from worrying about the evenness, the fairness of things, to acting in a way that truly meets someone in their need in that moment. And that last sentence, “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.” That is the most beautiful part to me- what an awesome way God helps ensure that “others”, (meaning all of us, right?) who love in all kinds of different ways have opportunities to receive love in just as many different ways. In our deepest knowing of ourselves, how do we wish others would treat us? What is it that you wish someone would do for you? I know I feel most loved and cared for when I feel like someone has really gotten to know me, sees me for who I am and responds to me in a way that makes me feel both of those things in a very real way. So we can do that for those we are close to, knowing that we have the gift of being a person in their life who can know and love them in the way they most need. And also, I am filled with a special kind of joy when the act or response of someone I hardly know is exactly what I need in that moment. That always feels to me like an unexpected gift from God. If each of us goes out and treats others the way that we want to be treated, surely there will be some commonalities there. And hopefully we all will recognize and embrace at least some of that love as exactly what we needed when it was given to us. What an amazing plan of allowing for all different kinds of love to be given and received in abundance! As we go out from this All Saints Day service, let us make space throughout our lives to remember, to lift our faces to the sky and allow ourselves to be touched by the memories of those we have loved and those who have loved us. Let us share who we are, who God made us to be in this world, with those in our lives. Let us share stories of our faith and God’s faithfulness with those who will listen. Let us be open to all possibilities and act when we can help be what is needed for someone else along this journey of life. Let us all help make this, our part of the congregation, the community of the faithful, be one that we value and live into in this life, for what it is to all of us now and in the hope of what it will be in the life to come. Amen.  Collect of the Day - Proper 25 / Year C
By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Today marks the end of Sunday Soup and Sandwiches. I found it fitting that the Collect of the Day, gatherers, or rather collects, our shared prayer that God might:
Because in March 2020, when an unknown virus locked us down in isolation, it was painful, but we knew we could sacrifice in person gatherings as a body of Christ for a short while. Just as we knew, that under no circumnstances, could we forsake the neighbors we serve and support through our core outreach ministries. At that moment, more than ever the Monday meal, essential goods, and socks would be needed. When another meal we supported needed to shut down due to the virus, we leaned into our collective wisdom, skills, resources and punted. Sharing our faith, hope, and charity to create a temporary meal until things opened back up. Walter Bruggeman wrote a book - Virus as a Summons to Faith - which was published on April 30, 2020. I remember reading it when it was published, and being amazed he could already be doing such deep theological reflection amidst the throws of the early days of the pandemic, when we still knew so little. In the book he reflects on how the global pandemic was a summons to the Church to lean more fully on our faith during a time of great uncertainty, doubt, change, and fear. Looking back - that’s exactly what happened. The virus summoned us to deepen our dependence on God and our understanding of how much community matters. It was this summons, this increasing dependence on God, that led us to take a leap into the unknown by launching a short term meal to support our neighbors as best we could on Sundays, in addition to our Monday meal. Five and a half years, and thousands of meals later, what is a ministry to do when the need keeps growing, but we sense God is calling us to make a shift? Well, we try like mad to see if there are other ways the meal can evolve, which our Sunday Soup and Sandwiches leaders did, very faithfully. And yet, it also became clear that sometimes something has to fully end before something new can be born. All we can do is end with intention and good communication, which we have strived to do this last year. We only hold one puzzle piece in a 10,000 piece 3D puzzle. We don’t know what is to come next to address hunger in our wider community. Yet just as we felt God calling us to take the leap and launch the meal, we again are being called to take the leap in concluding our Sunday meal. Trusting that in ways we cannot fully know or understand, God is in this too, breathing their Spirit on the greater community and world. While the uncertainty of living with Covid-19 has subsided, we are living in a different time of change and uncertainty. Just as the virus was a summons to faith, this time of change and uncertainty is another summons to faith. Our daily call is to keep leaning more deeply into our relationship with God, keep modeling our lives and community after Christ, and trust that the Spirit is at work in this world. Which brings us to this moment. As I thought and prayed about today, our worship, and the end of this outreach ministry, one thing kept rising to the surface. The most important thing we can do today is to say thank you to our Sunday Soup and Sandwich volunteers that are serving this final meal. Week after week, as we gathered for worship, they were busy next door in the Parish Hall making sandwiches, dishing out soup, and greeting neighbors. In doing so, they have helped share God’s love with our neighbors through a warm meal to carry them into the week. We as a faith community have never fully borne witness to this, as we are quite literally always in the middle of our worship. Which is why today, I’d like to not offer a full sermon. Instead I’d like to stop now, and have all who feel physically up to processing next door to the Parish Hall to do so. Together we can say thank you to those serving, offering a round of applause. Next week, we will offer a prayer of thanksgiving within our worship, for all who have been involved in this meal. So now, let us walk in love, as Christ loved us, and offer our thanks to God for the volunteers serving today and those served by this meal. May they know they are seen, valued, and appreciated by our community. Amen. |
Mission
We believe God is calling us to cultivate a community of love, joy, hope, and healing. Jesus is our model for a life of faith, compassion, hospitality, and service. We strive to be affirming and accessible, welcoming and inclusive; we seek to promote reconciliation, exercise responsible stewardship, and embrace ancient traditions for modern lives.
Office HoursTuesday 9:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m.
Thursday 9:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Friday 9:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Closed holidays Our gardens and grounds are open from dawn to dusk for the community to pray, rest, be. Please help us take care of this sacred space by following the outdoor ethic & principle of “leave no trace.” |
Contact Information
|
Worship Times10 a.m. In-Person Worship & Livestreamed
View worship services. We would love to have you join us soon! |