 by Rev. Jimmy Pickett
+We are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to us. Amen+ This is a day for those of us who carry scars, scars on our bodies and scars in our hearts. It is a day of deep humanity. Last Sunday, we heard the miraculous Resurrection account. Mary went to the tomb and saw Jesus who she thought was the Gardener.Whenever I hear that Easter Morning Gospel, I always feel like I’m a little outside of the scene, like I’m sitting in a pew watching something but not really part of it. I wonder how many of us can relate to that feeling? I deeply love the Gospel account of Easter Sunday Morning, but I’m always a curious listener, again, not a participant. I usually find myself more in the Paschal Mystery here, today, with this Gospel. With Thomas, not being there at first, but coming close. Whenever I hear the Gospel of Thomas, I can feel myself in that story in a very, very, tangible way. Again I’ll ask, how many of us can relate to that? Our scars tell stories, and the gift of Thomas’s encounter with Jesus is that our scars, even our open, bleeding, wounds, have a place at the table, have a place within the Church, have a God who can look us in the eye and reach out to us and say “Ya, me too. I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours. I want to see your scars, here are mine, let’s share life.” And doubt and fear are transformed into mutual love. The Holy Strange Other becomes the wounded companion along the way, helping us make it through the day, helping us make it through the hour, to get to tomorrow, to get to that next day of Eastertide. We’ve got 50 days to get through in this holy season, and thanks be to God we don’t have to do it alone. I often think of my Aunt on this day. My Aunty Mandi is a nurse and has a deep love, almost an obsession, with wound care. Whenever anyone in the family has an injury, no matter how small or how deep, she excitedly yells “Let me look at that!” Let me see, let me see, I want to get in there, I want to scoop out the debris so I can see how deep that scar is, so that I can see how deep your love is. I think that’s what happened with Thomas and Jesus. I also think of my friend Harriet, she is a retired OR nurse. When we would drive the half hour long trip to church when I was in college, she would tell me stories. One that I’ll never forget is that she was elbows deep in someone’s innards, and praying for them. Whenever she would be in the operating room, she would be touching people’s bodies in ways that only God, and nurses, do. So maybe, we should stop calling Thomas “Doubting Thomas”. I’d like to propose today that we start calling him “Nurse Thomas”. We learn as kids not to call people names, especially when they’re hurting. Thomas just lost one of his best friends a week and a half ago. Of course he was hurting, of course he was heartbroken, of course he couldn’t see, he couldn’t understand that his friends said “oh, he’s alive again”. Thomas just saw him, bleeding on a tree, and you’re saying he’s here now? No, no, I need to see that wound, let me see, let me see how deep that Love is. For Thomas, it wasn’t some mystical experience, it was seeing God face to face in the tenderness of another broken human body. Last week, according to John, Mary saw the tender brokenness of someone she thought she knew, someone she thought was the gardener tending the tomb, doing his daily work. She must have seen the scarred hands and assumed he was the gardener. Those of us who work with dirt, and shovels, and chickens, know that gardening can leave us filled with scars. So Mary thought she saw the gardener, until Jesus said, “Mary”, and that tender word, that tender name helped her to see who it really was in front of her. But I want to dwell on the scars a little bit more. As many of you know, I was a farmer before I became a priest, and still dabble in agriculture. I have some scars that were given to me by rusty nails, a protective rooster who didn’t want me to take the eggs. When I was sitting in the middle of the field, pulling this nail out of my foot, not to be too graphic, I was so thankful for Thomas, because he probably had some four letter words while Jesus was on that tree. I was sitting in the field like, “ok, well, if Jesus and Thomas could take care of this, I guess I can too.” And that scar on my leg from the protective rooster reminds me of the fierce love of God, because you do not mess with a mother hen, or a rooster, just like you don’t mess with God’s People. The work of Love can leave us with wounds on our hands, on our feet, on our hearts, but Jesus knows that. Jesus knows and comes to each one of us with a bandage, some healing ointment. A few weeks ago we had this big jar of nard that got poured out, I’m sure there was plenty left on Jesus’ hands so he could come and wipe that nard on us. That’s what he did with Thomas. In the midst of the heartbreak and the confusion and the disbelief, Thomas exclaimed “My Lord and my God!” My Lord, and my God. St. Julian of Norwich tells us that scars are nothing to be ashamed of. In her Revelations of Divine Love, one of the first known books written by a woman in English, she had this encounter with Jesus and she tried to cover up her body, she tried to hide her scars, and God looked at her and said “no, these are beautiful, because they are proof that you lived, proof that you lived a life.” So if you’re like Thomas, if you’re like me, and you’re not quite at the place where you’re ready to hear that Little Pentecost where Jesus breathes and says “the Holy Spirit be with you”, know that we have a friend in Thomas. Jesus, the Gardener, Jesus the Good Shepherd, Jesus the Divine Physician is ready standing with open arms and outstretched hands waiting for us to look, but if you’re not there, Nurse Thomas is waiting, Nurse Thomas can take you out on a little walk in the garden and say “Yup, I know, it's hard, trust me, it took me so long to get ready to see.” But then he was able to become a wounded healer, and each one of us are able to carry the scars of life and help someone else who is going through something rough. So as we continue to walk through this Great Season on the Resurrection, I invite you to be like Thomas, be a wounded healer. Reach out your hand to someone else who is struggling today. The Divine Physician will hold us all, and Nurse Thomas will carry us along the way. I preach to you in the Name of our Loving, Liberating, and Lifegiving God. Amen.
0 Comments
 By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector
Alleluia! Christ is Risen! The Lord is Risen indeed. Alleluia! Whose voices were the first to cry out this song? Luke tells us it was, the women. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women, whose names are known to God alone. These women, and their faithfulness, changed everything. Throughout Jesus’ ministry these women were consistently, and quietly, ministering in the background. They followed Jesus from Galilee into Jerusalem. They watched as Joseph of Arimathea lovingly took down Jesus’ body, and laid it in a new burial tomb. As the sabbath was beginning, the women returned to their dwelling, and prepared spices and ointments. Then they rested, according to the commandment. I imagine this divinely imposed pause was agonizing. Their teacher and friend had died before their eyes, traumatically and unnecessarily, on the hard wood of the Roman cross. They yearned to prepare Jesus’ body for burial. This was the final gift they could give him. Yet their communal practice of resting on the sabbath meant they were to slow their bodies, and be present to God, one another, and their aching grief. When the new day finally dawned, the women gathered their prepared spices and ointments, and made their way to the tomb. Having remembered God’s command to honor the sabbath, these women were now regrounded in their faith, and ready to tend Jesus’ body. Except when they arrived, the rock blocking the tomb had been rolled back. When they looked inside, they were shocked to discover there was no body. Their minds raced with questions. What happened? Who would do this? Why? As the women grappled with these questions, two strangers in dazzling clothes suddenly appeared beside them. They were terrified, until one of the strangers asked:“Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again” (24:5-7). Luke tells us, “Then[,] they remembered…”(24:8). Jesus had told them what was to come. This encounter, these words, shook everything loose, offering the women a razor sharp clarity that we so often long for. Once we discover that ‘aha’, we hold onto our clarity, anxious not to lose it. We hurry to share our good news. This was what the women tried to do. Hurrying back to where the disciples were gathered, they told them about this life changing news.But they did not believe the women. The Greek word that is translated into English as ‘believe’, does not mean ‘belief’ as we might think of it, as rational or intellectual.* Instead it means something more akin to ‘trust’ or ‘faith’.The disciples did not trust, or have faith in the women’s report. As Amy Jill Levine writes, the disciples did not accept the women’s news because they did not expect Jesus to rise.**In spite of Jesus’ having told them otherwise. They had forgotten. Then something happens for Peter.Maybe he is trying to resolve the disagreement, maybe he’s truly curious. The text only tells us that he ‘...got up and ran to the tomb’ (24:12). When he stooped down and looked inside, all that remained was the linen cloth. He then went home, amazed at what had happened. In Luke’s gospel, we do not actually encounter the risen Christ until two disciples meet him on the road to Emmaus. That said - they don’t recognize him. They are feeling discouraged, and have lost all hope. After spending the day walking and talking with this stranger, they share a meal. They’d seen him and heard him, all without recognizing Christ. It was not until they broke bread together that these disciples remembered. They remembered. All this is to say, encountering the resurrected Christ is not what truly matters in Luke’s telling of the resurrection. It is remembering. Which means, what matters for us today, is that we, too, remember. Remember Jesus’ life and ministry; the values he repeatedly sought to instill in his followers, and the dream of God that he proclaimed. A dream that seeks to heal this world, turning it from the nightmare it is to so many into a world grounded, guided, and driven by Love. We are called to remember that when God became incarnate, it was not to embody power over people, control, or selfishness. If that had been the case, God would have become incarnate to a woman in a wealthy and powerful family. Instead, God chose a peasant family who lived on the margins of society. This was no mistake. It was and is a clear statement of God’s values. Just in case anyone didn’t get that memo, Jesus furthered God’s proclamation by spending his life and ministry walking alongside prostitutes, tax collectors, and sinners. He routinely pushed people to reconsider whether they cared more about the letter of God’s law than the spirit of God’s law. He expected those around him to bring intention and faith into their day to day lives, setting aside the fear that so often drives us. At every possible opportunity, he lifted up those our society seeks to marginalize. Which is to say, Jesus embodied in his life and death, that God will always, always stand first and foremost with those on the margins. Those the rest of the world deems not good enough, unworthy, dirty, ugly, and broken. Those who have been told by those in power that they have the wrong skin color, the wrong religion, the wrong immigration status, the wrong gender, the wrong sexuality, the wrong personality, the wrong ideas, the wrong everything. These are the children God will go out of her way to ensure have a prime seat at God’s ever expanding table. This goes against every societal norm, and that is exactly the point God is making in and through Jesus. In every generation, there are some in power who will actively seek to co-opt Jesus’ message of love, and manipulate it for their own gain. Even worse, they will use the scriptures to oppress the very one God has come to liberate. Which is why it is ever so urgent, that every generation remembers. We must remember. Jesus’ ministry was meant to show the world what the reign and rule of God truly looks like, and it is like no earthly reign this world has ever known. God’s reign is messy, complicated, and imperfectly perfect. God’s reign meets people where they are and loves people for who they are. God’s reign, as embodied in Jesus, is Love. Pure and simple. Love is the Way, and it is truly the only Way. As one guest shared on the Episcopal Church’s becoming beloved community podcast: “...all of holy scripture is always pointing us towards God is Love. And our job is to reflect that to the communities we meet. In a world that really, really needs love. We need community, we need love, we need connection and we’ve already been given all of it. It’s already ours. And it is just ours to share.”*** Like the women, like the disciples, like the early Church, we must remember.God’s way is the Way of Love, and it is our call to share that Love. This Easter, let us remember. Let us remember the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and the values he tried to help us better understand and embody. Then, let us be agents of God’s Love through small acts, caring words, and with great intention - in our families, in our places of work, in our neighborhoods. Collectively, these small acts tell the world there is a better dream for our lives and this world than some would have us know. Our world needs these signs of hope and courage, and we can lead the way. And don’t tell me that it’s too hard, because even our little ones at James and Andrew know there is Good News to be shared, and they are ready to embody it. Just last week, little Georgia ran down the aisle at the end of our service, boldly proclaiming at the top of her lungs: Thanks be to God!! Thanks be to God!! Thanks be to God!! We can do this too, if we remember. As we prepare to head back into the world today, I would invite each of us to do some reflecting:
Let us the women, Georgia, and all of God’s little ones. May we leave here today, remembering that we belong to God, and join in Jesus’ ministry of proclaiming and embodying God’s dream for this world. May we run, skip, jump, walk, wheel, or hobble out into the world today, proclaiming: Thanks be to God!! Amen. * Sermon Brainwave Episode 1019 https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/1019-resurrection-of-our-lord-apr-20-2025 ** Jewish Annotated New Testament, p. 165 *** Prophetic Voices: Preaching and Teaching Beloved Community - Easter Vigil 2025 episode https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VkltLLtrarA  By The Rev. Ted Thornton
From John, chp. 19, verse 30 we read, “When he had received the drink, Jesus said, ‘It is finished.’ With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” A few millennia ago on this day, this Good Friday, Jesus’ business in this world was finished. What about your business in this world? Is your business finished? Is what the world sees when it looks at you the final version of you? What is the unfinished business in your life? There are a great many untidy and unfinished businesses in my life. With that line from our general prayer of confession in mind, I ask myself, “what have I left undone that I ought to have done?” When I sit and pray with people who are dying, more than once they’ve said to me, “I’m not afraid of death. I’m at peace with God on that score. What frightens me, and what I’m so sorry about is the mess I’m leaving behind for my beloved family to deal with.” Unfinished business. Adults in the room: have you discussed with your family or left written wishes to help them plan for the time after you’ve passed on? What unfinished business remains to prepare for your departure from this life? Consider the unfinished business of human society, not only here but across the globe. One of our penitential keynotes this Lent has been the role we Christians have played throughout history spreading the plague of antisemitism. Just before Lent began, some of us explored the role infantile narcissism plays in the creation of the cruel patterns of hatred and behavior directed at Jews, hateful remarks and behavior that have also targeted members of other minority racial, ethnic, religious, and immigrant groups today as well of those with different sexual identifications and how we Christians have been complicit in all of this. Holocaust camp survivor Elie Wiesel was once asked if he thought Christians were responsible for the Holocaust. He replied, “Christians were certainly involved in creating and carrying out the Holocaust. Was it the Christianity in them that caused them to do so,” he asked? Answering his own question, he said, “I hope not.” Good Friday is a solemn and subdued day to be sure. But, we need to remember that Jesus’ suffering ended a long time ago. In a few days we will once again proclaim his triumph over death. At a minimum, we bear witness to that triumph in the faith of the millions who have gone on before us throughout the two thousand years since it all happened. We rest assured even on this solemn day that for the Jesus who walked through this world, there are no more friends or enemies betraying him and abandoning, forsaking, or denying him. No more ridicule, no more false accusations. No more taunts from the mob. No more crowns of thorns and lashes across the back, no more brutality and sadism at the hands of his Roman executioners. For all its grim fixation on the cross, Good Friday is not really a day about a wrongful death. It’s a day about taking stock, which after all is what we’ve been doing since the long season of Lent began on Ash Wednesday. That was the day we started thinking harder about what kind of dust we’re made of, about who we are, about our unfinished business as those who say we want to follow Christ Jesus. How can we lead better lives, how can we be more kind, more good, more loving; how can we be released from our prejudices and become truly reconciled one with another especially in light of the fact that we don’t have unlimited amounts of time to finish our business? This is the real meaning of mortality, the real meaning of “dust to dust,” the sense that our own eventual deaths define a temporal boundary for us which is the price we pay for living in the natural, physical world. Lent introduces a healthy sense of urgency into our lives and it all comes to a head on Good Friday. Good Friday is not really, then, a day of grief alone. It’s a day that calls us beyond grieving into renewal, taking steps toward finishing our unfinished business. In short, Good Friday marks the final stage in our preparation for Easter. May God Bless you as we all strive toward finishing our own personal and collective unfinished business. AMEN.  By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector
In today's gospel lesson, Jesus sends two of his disciples on an errand. He tells them to go on ahead of them into the village. There they would find and untie an unridden colt. Should anyone push back, they were to say, “The Lord needs it.” When the owners asked what the disciples were up to, they seemed unphased. As if to say - Oh, okay, well, if the Lord needs it, go right ahead. By now, Jesus' disciples were used to following instructions that didn’t necessarily make sense. The text doesn’t tell us how they felt about it, what they were thinking, or if they were commiserating with one another about this slightly awkward task. The text’s silence on the matter, implies they were probably feeling comfortable and confident with their responsibility. They must have been particularly grounded in prayer and faith that day Those moments in our faith journey are comforting and easeful. We are invited to have faith and trust; and we do. These are waymarkers on our journey that we can look back on and remember what is possible when we trust in God. Then there are the other days where such faith and trust might be our most sincere desire, but something gets the better of us. Maybe it’s a lack of sleep, waiting on a diagnosis, or general overwhelm. What if the two disciples had been in such a head and heart space? They might have hesitated before heading out for the colt, instead double checking things with Jesus:
We can yearn to follow Jesus on the Way of Love, and have every desire to do what God asks of us, even as we remain anxious, uncertain, and afraid. Or in other words, remain human beings. A wise parishioner recently reminded me how sometimes we are made uncomfortable by our own powerlessness. Combine this with the unknown and it can send many of us into a tailspin. We long for certainty and the false illusion of control. But those concepts are fog that the sun’s rays will transform into water vapor. Jesus knew about powerlessness. He came face to face with it, and accepted it. He saw the fear that drove those in power for what it was, and the resulting selfishness reflected in public policy and practice. He watched the few in power as they sought to hold down the many. A dynamic that will play out repeatedly during this and every holy week. Jesus saw the fear that can drive this world, for what it truly is. He held it next to the transcendent beauty of God’s dream for this world, and knew that faith would always overcome the fears of this world. Because Love shows us the Way when there is no way. Which is why Jesus rode that colt into Jerusalem. To herald a new kind of reign into being. One grounded in faith rather than fear, where all children are God’s children; and where there will always be room at God’s ever expanding table - no exceptions. A reign where Love will always have the last word. As Jesus rode into the city, people spread their cloaks on the road. The disciples began to, “...praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power they had seen…” They were making such a joyful noise, that a few religious leaders asked Jesus to order the disciples to stop. But he says, "I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out." He’s telling them, nothing can silence or stop the good news of God’s love. Holy Week is a nonlinear time. When we enter into it, we somehow walk with Jesus and his disciples, as well as, every generation of the Church that has been and every generation that will be. We make this pilgrimage together. Our ancestors in faith have taught us this is a sacred time, and that the non-essential can be set down for this one week. While we might feel the pull to keep going, the invitation is to resist the false sense of urgency our society places on us. For one more week that layer of dust can stay on the bookcase, the errands may be postponed, and the endless list of projects or committee work can largely wait. For one more week, notifications can go on unchecked, emails unsent, and texts left unread. This is an in between time that urgently needs our attention. Because this sacred time is a key piece of our why as the Church. Holy Week is when we collectively remember that the God of Love became incarnate, so we might understand the true power of Love. Jesus showed the world that even a vile instrument of death like the cross, can be reclaimed as a promise of new life, and the assurance that Love is stronger than death. By walking the Way of Love, Jesus models for us how the world can be transformed and turned right side up again when we see things through the lens of God’s love.* Life is full and complicated, and walking this week will look different for everyone in any given year. What matters is that we find some way to intentionally walk through this week, alongside every generation of the Church, to prepare ourselves for the cross, grave, and resurrection that is yet to come. If you are able, please consider joining us each evening for worship at 7pm.
This Holy Week, let us walk the Way of the Cross, which is truly the Way of Love. May we do so bearing witness to God’s Reign of Love that will continue to turn this world from the nightmare it is to so many, into the dream God created it to be.* Amen. Lectionary Readings Isaiah 50:4-9a Philippians 2:5-11 Psalm 31:9-16 Luke 19:28-40 *Regular references made by former Presiding Bishop Michael Curry and throughout the Episcopal Church. |