Jesus said: “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” Luke 14:7

This is the season of The Schedule. It’s the time to make sure the family Google calendar syncs up with the new fall routine, after the glorious disruptions of summer and vacations. And if you have children in your household you know (or may remember) the particular September scramble of fitting in after-school activities, sports, homework, social events, with work, household chores, and volunteer efforts. Sometimes it feels like you need a computer program to figure out who needs to be where, with what, or whom, when. And heaven help you if a small detail changes and you have to rearrange everything! Even if you don’t have children at home, the early fall always arrives with the drive to get organized, make sure your commitments are in your calendar in ink, so you know what you are doing, and begin the new program year. It can feel like multiple requirements are pressing in on you all at the same time – at least until you can get your schedule somewhat tamed.

And into the midst of all of this September scramble comes Jesus, with his challenging and difficult words this morning. The carefully stacked blocks of our schedules and commitments may just get knocked over, like pulling out the last block which collapses the tower in a game of Jenga when we hear what Jesus has to say; and we may not like it at all!

He addresses the large crowd who were travelling with him, people who had seen his miracles and healing and wondrous works, who had heard him speak with authority about God’s purposes and had followed along to see what else was going to happen. Maybe there would be an even more spectacular miracle; maybe Jesus would even more brazenly denounce the Roman governing system and hand the running of the country back to Jewish rulers; maybe there would always be food enough for all of them. Curiosity and desire can draw people on for a long time.

But instead of encouraging the crowd, Jesus turns to them and says, “If you want to come with me and be part of what I’m doing, here’s what needs to happen: you can’t put your family first; you need to know that there’s a strong possibility this is going to end with a torturous death; you can’t be weighed down by an overabundance of possessions. You need to count the cost of all of this before we go any further together.” Wow. Take a minute and let all that sink in.

And then the objections come: isn’t Christianity supposed to be family-friendly? didn’t Jesus die so that we don’t have to suffer? What’s wrong with owning lots of things? These are all really good questions, and we could spend an hour pondering and discussing each one. For now, I’ll just say that Jesus is making it very clear that anyone who wants to follow him, to be his disciple, needs to be aware of the realities and costs involved.

I recently heard about a church in another part of the country, in a downtown area that had a big banner on its front lawn that read: “Come on in. It’s easy.” That may seem like a good marketing strategy – a low bar to get folks to cross the threshold. And in many ways, it’s what the socially-accepted expectation of church was – at least in America, in the decades after World War II: “Come through the doors, you’ll meet people like yourself, you can be comfortable, not too much is going to be required of you.” Now, of course, that’s an over-generalization, but the point here is that the message on that 2019 church’s banner is not true. It’s not true of Christian faith, of following Jesus, of worshiping God; it never has been true.

The very first commandment that God gave Moses after the Hebrew people were freed from their slavery and they were being gathered and shaped as a people, the very first command was “Hear the commandments of God to his people: I am the Lord your God who brought you out of bondage. You shall have no other gods but me.” This command to worship and serve God alone was of course about turning away from the various Egyptian deities, or the Canaanite gods they would later encounter. But it was always understood to include any person or idea or value that we might want to put in God’s place as an idol; whether we are intending to do that or not. And Jesus, as God Incarnate, is bidding his followers to make sure they understand and are prepared for this challenge. It’s anything but easy.

The New Testament scholar Tom Wright uses this image in commenting on this passage: ‘… think of the leader of a great expedition, forging a way through a high and dangerous mountain pass to bring urgent medical aid to villagers cut off from the rest of the world. ‘If you want to come any further,’ the leader says, ‘you’ll have to leave your packs behind. From here on the path is too steep to carry all that stuff. You probably won’t find it again. And you’d better send your last postcard home; this is a dangerous route and it’s very likely some of us won’t make it back.’ That’s truth, that’s real; there’s a lot at stake in following Jesus.

And if we think that setting out the costs of discipleship in a clear way is a lousy recruitment tool, that it merely drives people away, I would ask us to think again. I would offer the example of a number mythic stories that have been written by faithful practicing Christians as an expression of their understanding of God and the world and being disciples, books that are beloved and have huge followings: The Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, and Harry Potter.

In each of these books, while there are one or two central characters, there is always a larger core group of people and beings (because not all the characters are human). Each member of the group has their own very different gifts, abilities, personalities, graces, physical features, and attributes. And they are all drawn together, not by their fondness for each other, but to take on a dangerous and important mission that that they could not ever have imagined on their own: those who are loyal to Aslan, the Fellowship of the Ring, Dumbledore’s Army and the Order of the Phoenix.

Certainly, each of these series of books – which have spoken so profoundly to so many - is full of stirring, heroic scenes and battles between good and evil. And they seem very exciting and attractive… from a distance; kind of like the feeling of watching a video of runners crossing the finish line at the New York City Marathon and thinking that would be a really cool thing to do – until you start the actual training. But the crux of these stories, the turning point, the truth-with-a-capital-T in each book has to do with the protagonists making a hard choice, giving something up, coming to a costly awareness or decision – whether it is mercy or repentance or sacrifice. It is because Tolkien, and Lewis, and JK Rowling write the Truth – even without mentioning God – that their work endures and continually finds new audiences. The Truth they portray is hard and beautiful and good.

Jesus’s words are hard; they are challenging. They call us to examine our lives, our schedules, our commitments. Did we think faith was going to be easy? Do we try to fit God in as an after-thought, a “nice-to-have”? As the Prayer Book puts it in Eucharistic Prayer C, do we look to church “for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal”? Solace and pardon can be good places to start, but we can’t stay there – not if we are going to go the whole way with Jesus.

So, at the start of this new season, let’s take the time – each one of us - to ask God how we might count the cost of our faith, the cost of what God is asking us to do and to be, so that we can be more fit and ready to serve our Lord with truth, mercy, beauty, and goodness.

Let us pray.
Grant, Lord God, to all who have been baptized into the death and resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ, that, as we have put away the old life of sin, so we may be renewed in the spirit of our minds, and live in righteousness and true holiness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. ~ BCP, p. 252
 
Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 8, 2019

Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Luke 10:41

One again, we have a very familiar Gospel passage at the center of our worship. Last week we heard Jesus tell the parable of the man from Samaria. Today we have an account of an event from Jesus’ ministry. And just like last week it will be helpful to hear the story afresh, lest we think we know what it says and just gloss over it.

In the course of his ministry travels towards Jerusalem, Jesus arrives in the village of Bethany and a woman named Martha opens her home to him, and his traveling companions. Remember back several weeks ago we heard Jesus sending out the seventy disciples and telling them to expect and accept the hospitality of those strangers they encountered? Well, here is a real-life example of what he was saying.

Martha is the homeowner, there doesn’t seem to be any husband, brother, or father around; her sister Mary lives with her [In the Gospel of John we do hear about their brother Lazarus, but he does not appear at all in Luke’s Gospel]. Somehow in the village, Martha encounters Jesus and extends an invitation to her house.

Martha welcomes Jesus and then sets about to prepare a meal. Mary takes a place in the front room, sitting and listening to what Jesus has to say. Something that would have been very obvious to first-century hearers of this story but may be lost on us is the fact that in faithful Jewish households the areas for men and women were pretty clearly demarcated. The kitchen was a woman’s area of influence and activity; the public room belonged to the men. And it's still that way in traditional Muslim households.
So when Martha comes to the door and tries to recruit Mary’s assistance, she’s not just asking for help, or chiding Mary for shirking responsibility for their guests, she’s trying to get Mary to conform to the traditional division of men’s and women’s spaces; and not to scandalize the important visiting rabbi.

But Jesus tells Martha that she’s so frantic and distracted that she’s missing the point of his visit, and missing out on being able to hear what he has to say; that in fact he wants both Mary and Martha to be in on this conversation.

It’s like those times when family or friends come to visit and you or someone else in your family has to be coaxed out of the kitchen, or whatever other place they are working, to set that aside for a while and spend time with the folks who have come to call – which is the whole purpose of the visit! After all, how easy would it be to put off reading a story to a young child or hearing about a teen-ager’s college plans or an adult son or daughter’s new young man or young woman because you were hyper-focused on getting a meal served or meeting some last-minute work deadline? We’ve all done that; and we’ve probably all regretted it later. Those moments come and go, and you can’t always get them back.

So, Jesus is saying to Martha: it’s important for you to be here, too. I want you to hear what I have to say, as well. We can take time for conversation now and enjoy the meal a bit later.

When Luke describes Mary as sitting at Jesus’ feet, he’s saying that she’s taking the role of a student who will one day be a teacher. That’s the way first-century rabbis-in-training were talked about; St. Paul describes himself as having sat at the feet of Rabbi Gamliel. It means that Jesus was inviting and expecting Mary to listen to his teaching, so that she would be equipped to share his teaching with others. And Jesus was inviting, urging, Martha to do the same.

In the Kingdom of God, as Jesus was living it and teaching it, the old boundaries were being broken down. Paul puts it very succinctly later on in the Letter to the Christians in Galatia: “There is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer slave or free; there is no ‘male and female’; you are all one in the Messiah, Jesus.” (Gal. 3:28).

It’s a mistake, therefore, for us to think that there is some sort of hierarchy between different modes of service – as in, prayer and study are better than hands-on care for others. That is a false dichotomy that is very unhelpful. After all, in last week’s Gospel the Samaritan’s physical and financial care of the beaten Jewish man was offered as a very clear example of living God’s law. And at the start of that reading when the religious law scholar gave Jesus the answer about inheriting eternal life and the answer was: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself, that covered both contemplation and action. And the week prior to that, when Jesus was sending out the seventy disciples he fully expected them to accept the hospitality that was offered them; so clearly cooking, serving a meal, providing a clean and restful place are all valuable, and those things don’t just happen by themselves.

But today the invitation is to stay focused on Jesus and on what he wants us to learn, on what he wants us to receive from him. Jesus wants us – men and women both – to take the time to listen, to learn, to put what we hear into practice, to take what we live and believe as disciples and share it with others. We can’t do that if we are worried, and frantic, and distracted. The challenge for most of us, I suspect, is to find ways to take time intentionally on as close to a daily basis as possible. Coming to church to worship with others, to hear the Sunday Scriptures, to listen to the sermon, to pray the liturgy are all essential – but it can be a long time between Sundays; and even longer when your schedule doesn’t permit you to be here every week. At those times the near-daily practice of sitting quietly, listening to God in prayer and Scripture and silence becomes even more important. Otherwise we will all too easily find ourselves running on fumes and getting spiritually exhausted and ill-equipped, and even lose the thread of what the Holy Spirit is trying to say to us.

So hear the voice of Jesus speaking to you: come, sit, rest, listen, pay attention, and know that I am calling you in love so that I may send you forth in compassion to the world.

Let us pray.
O God of peace, you have taught us that in returning and
rest we shall be saved, in quietness and confidence shall be
our strength: By the might of your Spirit lift us, we pray you,
to your presence, where we may be still and know that you
are God; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. ~ BCP

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Sixth Sunday after Pentecost
July 21, 2019

Luke 9:51-62

Today’s Gospel contains four encounters between Jesus and other people, and when you look at these four encounters, at first, it might look like they’re unrelated.

There isn’t ever just one way to interpret any passage of scripture. There are actually myriad ways to look at it, and whenever Jesus speaks in the Gospels he is always saying a multitude of things at the same time. One way we might look at this particular text is to sort of helicopter up and try and understand what Jesus might have been saying in a general, thematic way.

The first encounter, between Jesus and James and John, always makes me laugh because it’s one of those Three Stooges moments in the Gospels, where the disciples were completely clueless about the nature of God. The setting here is that Jesus and his followers had gone to a village of Samaritans. Now, Samaritans were actually Jews who had been left behind in Israel after the other Jews were taken into exile in Assyria and Babylon and so after the exile, there was a disagreement between the Samaritans and the Jews about where the center of worship should be. So here the Samaritan village had rejected Jesus' teachings because he was a Jew who believed Jerusalem was the center of worship and the Samaritans believed that their temple on Mt. Gerizim was the center, and because of this disagreement, James and John turn to Jesus in complete seriousness and ask him “So – do you want us to incinerate them?” And it says here “Jesus rebuked them”, so I can just imagine Jesus going “NO!! I do not want you to set them on fire! Let’s just move on!” and what I see here, in my own interpretation of this scripture, is Jesus telling them, as he does people over and over in the Gospels “I’m not that kind of god,” meaning here “I am not the god of vengeance and destruction that you have been brought up to believe I am. I am not the god who’s going to destroy all your enemies and help you all take over the world.” And so here, Jesus is telling the people to let go of their old notions about what they think God is, and instead listen to him, the incarnation of God himself, explaining that he is actually a God of love and compassion.

The other three encounters in this Gospel, between Jesus and people who are curious about following him, might seem to go into the category of what my esteemed former colleague, the Rev. Stephen Gerth at the Church of Saint Mary the Virgin in New York City, refers to as the “Mean Jesus." Father Gerth says that in the Gospels there are instances of the Nice Jesus and the Mean Jesus because Jesus says some pretty harsh things to people. I tend to reject that theory, though. I don't think Jesus is ever a mean Jesus. I think he's the loving God of my understanding all the time so I am going to let him off the hook here.

With the first man, I would like to think that Jesus is simply telling him “The Son of man has nowhere to lay his head” as a profound observation about the inability of society to understand who he actually is, rather than ignoring the poor guy’s desire to follow him and simply complaining about not having a permanent place to live. Jesus here is simply telling the man yes, come and follow me, but it is not going to be easy. He is saying to him “Right now there is no safe place for my teachings to dwell, in such a broken, dangerous world.” He’s probably also speaking symbolically here in reference to foxes and birds. Later in Luke he calls Herod Antipas an “old fox” and in the book of Isaiah, Cyrus of Persia was referred to as a bird of prey, so it’s possible Jesus was saying the rulers and the false teachers of the world have a safe, secure place for themselves and their message, but God does not.

When Jesus tells the second man “let the dead bury their own dead” I don’t think he was literally saying “Don’t go to your own father’s funeral. I know they’re expecting you and that you probably have some duties to perform for your family, but don’t go. Follow me instead.” That sounds a little too egotistical and dictatorial for the Jesus of my understanding. I would like to think maybe Jesus might have instead meant something about inviting this man to reject old religious practices and the beliefs of his family and his culture that are no longer working, and instead embrace something new.

The third man tells Jesus he will follow him but he first needs to say goodbye to his loved ones back at home. Jesus says to him “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” I think what he means here is not “Don’t go to be with your loved ones and set things right with them.” But rather “If you want to follow me, don’t do it halfway. Don’t stay stuck in old ways of thinking and keep wondering if you should go back to that. If you’re going to commit to my new way, you have to commit with your whole heart.”

We can see Jesus' instructions to embrace something new in our own spiritual lives today. We can try to be vigilant about not becoming what they sometimes call "the mechanical church" – to not fall into a pattern of just going through the motions and saying the words without having any real energy or meaning behind them. In our prayer life, we can try to leave behind any methods that have become dry and empty and instead find ways to connect with God that are alive and that promote our spiritual growth. In the church, we can try to always remember the reasons why we do things, and if we can’t remember, then we need to ask ourselves why we are still doing them.

Jesus’ entry into the world was meant to turn everything upside down and to challenge the beliefs and structures that were in place at that time, and I believe that in our lives, and in the life of our world, Jesus is still trying to do this. He is asking us to leave behind the things that are empty, negative or destructive and instead embrace his good news of life and love and hope.

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.     
                                                                                                                                                                 2 Corinthians 5:21
In our day and age we don’t like the word sin – at least as it applies to us personally, to our habits, our short-comings, to the behavior groups to which we belong. For many of us the word sin carries with it all the images of an angry God who is hateful and punishing, just waiting to catch us out, and all wrapped in the cadences of a hellfire-and-brimstone preacher. That language strikes us as unseemly, over-the-top dramatic, a God we have no interest in believing in.

And yet, Ash Wednesday is all about sin – our sin, personal sin, corporate sin, the sin of humanity and human structures, and the very real ways we have all failed and fallen short of the glory of God. When we stand still long enough to really look, when we take our fingers out of our ears and listen, we will be able to acknowledge – at least to ourselves – that we have sinned in any number of ways large and small. In fact, St. Augustine, writing around the year 400 AD said that it was not possible for men and women not to sin; it’s baked into our human nature, at one level.

There are, of course, preachers, and teachers, and traditions that spend all their time talking about sin and its ravages. When that happens, it pulls our picture of God out of focus, gives a skewed sense of God’s nature. But we can also go too far in the opposite direction – running away from ever facing or addressing the presence of sin in our lives, and instead trying to bask solely in the warmth of God’s approval.

As with most things connected to God, the Bible, and the Christian life, sin and grace are a both/and, not an either/or. And really, as Episcopalians who have our roots as a Church in the via media, the middle way, this should not be too hard to wrap our minds around. Sin is real, and God’s grace and forgiveness are real, and we have to keep both of these in the picture.

The Collect for Ash Wednesday gives us a lot of help with this. We start by remembering and claiming that God hates nothing he has made – nothing; that includes us. It also includes the person or group who most vexes us and over whom we fret and fume the most. God does not hate us – and God forgives the sins of all those who come in humility and penitence to ask for forgiveness. There it is, right up front, the two together: love and sin; grace and penitence.

The Collect goes on to ask God to do what God does best – to create, to make anew, to bring order out of chaos, and goodness out of pain and sorrow: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts. We do not ask to be made perfect, but we do pray for God’s perfect forgiveness and mercy. This is the language of a God whose first impulse is to love, to create, to bless.

The hitch is, that if we stay stuck in out sin, if we refuse to see our condition – what is actually going on with us – then we will miss the grace, and mercy, and blessing. It’s not something God forces on us. We can close and lock the door from the inside, keeping God our...along with anyone else we don’t want to deal with.

So the Church in her wisdom has given us time to work on our aversion to the truth about ourselves. We get forty whole days – not including the Sundays – to take stock, to examine our behavior and attitudes and relationships. We’ll each have different things we need to bring to the surface, to let the light of the Holy Spirit begin to disinfect our hearts and minds. Some of us will have really big and hard burdens of sin to address. And for some people, this is where the practice of private sacramental confession can be helpful. Others of us will have smaller, less obvious, but no less painful on-going failures to address. In every case a good place to start is by asking oneself about Jesus’ Great Commandment:

• First: Am I loving God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength? If not, why not, and what steps is God calling me to take to change that?
• Second: Am I loving my neighbor as myself, remembering that neighbor refers to everyone who shares the planet with you, as well as the person who lives next door. It also means that we are to love ourselves as God loves us. Are we doing that? Where is that hard? What practical steps do we need to take to be more loving toward others and toward ourselves?

God doesn’t point out our sin to us so that we will be miserable and feel ourselves beyond redemption – quite the opposite. God calls us out from our sin so that we no longer have to be miserable – to ourselves and to those around us. Wounds that fester need to be cleaned and bound up; infections need to heal; relationships that have been breached need to be mended; the brokenness of the world needs to be repaired. That is what God does, in God’s mercy, that is what is on offer this Ash Wednesday, this Lent.

It may not be possible for us not to sin, but God’s grace and mercy are greater than our human nature, if we allow God access to our soul.

Let us pray.
Almighty and everlasting God, you indeed hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; that we may live in your love and walk in your ways. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Ash Wednesday
March 6, 2019

And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." Luke 4:20-21

Have you ever had the experience of going back to a place where you grew up, or where you had once lived, but hadn’t visited in a long time? What was that like? Childhood places often seem much smaller when we see them as adults. One of my elementary schools was on a hill, and you got to the front door from the sidewalk by climbing a very long flight of stairs. When I visited it recently the stairs were as imposing as ever, but the hill from school down to Main Street was much shorter and less steep than I remembered from when I walked it as a nine-year old.

Or maybe your experience of return was one of a changed landscape – houses torn down, new buildings built, fancier or more run-down, much busier or lacking vitality. Going home can be full of surprises, and even disappointments. But going home or going back can also help us to get perspective on ourselves, on where we have been, on how we’ve changed, on what life has been like for us and what we have learned.

In the Scripture readings this morning we’ve heard two going-home stories: one from the book of Nehemiah in the much longer account of the return of Jewish exiles from Babylon to Jerusalem; and the other from Luke’s telling of Jesus’ visit as an adult to his hometown synagogue in Nazareth at the start of his public ministry.

Jews of Nehemiah’s day (5th century BCE) began returning to Jerusalem from their exile and were faced with the ruins of the Temple and the destruction of the city walls. Under Nehemiah’s leadership the walls were rebuilt, and the work of restoring the Temple continued. But what really restored the Jewish community – after all the work of physical building – was to hear the Torah, God’s Law, the Holy Scriptures such as they had them – read aloud at the gathering of the community. God was present with his people through these words which many of them had not heard read aloud in decades, and they were filled with life and joy and the power of God’s holiness. God was being revealed to them in a deep and life-giving way, and they learned that without God’s presence in their midst, their community was not complete.

In the Gospel we hear Jesus returning to his home congregation, the place he was raised, where he studied the Torah with the other men, the place where he prayed and learned and gathered with the rest of his community. I’m sure they felt they knew him well. They must have been excited and proud to have Jesus home, this young rabbi who was gathering followers and making a name for himself. He might even put Nazareth on the map! They might have said to themselves. So, the synagogue attendant handed Jesus the scroll to read the day’s Torah portion – a passage from Isaiah. Jesus read the passage and then sat down – the traditional posture of a teacher. Everyone was watching him. Everyone was eagerly waiting. What words of wisdom, what fresh insight into the Scriptures would he offer?

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me …” Jesus had read. And then he began his teaching with: "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." He was claiming those words of Isaiah for himself. And in claiming God’s mission outlined here, by identifying himself as the fulfillment of these words, by identifying himself with God’s holiness, Jesus revealed a glimpse of his true nature and purpose: to bring good news to the poor; to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind; to let the oppressed go free; to proclaim the year of jubilee (the year of the Lord’s favor) in which ancestral lands were returned to their original owners, debts were forgiven, and the burden of indenture on servants were lifted. All of this coming together, here and now in Jesus – much more than just an ordinary rabbi, local boy made good. Clearly, those in the synagogue were being asked to see Jesus in a new light. And they were going to have to decide whether their picture of Jesus and of the Scriptures was large enough to see them both in new and surprising ways. We’ll find out what their reaction was next week (or you can always read ahead)!

Both Nehemiah and Luke touch on what it is like to return to a familiar place or group and have a fresh revelation of ourselves and the Holy One. It’s not easy; we can have our settled assumptions challenged. The way we always thought God would be present with us may be quite different, when we have our eyes and ears and hearts open. Sometimes God wants to tell us that God’s truth is counter to what we want to hear. When that happens, we can turn away and stick our heads in the sand; *or* we can be brave and curious and listen to what God is trying to tell us. What makes it especially tricky is that God rarely gives us a big, flashing neon sign with an exact message spelled out for us. Far more often God is whispering to us in the “still, small voice”, in the hints and glimpses that come to us in so many ways.

The Season after Epiphany is the time in the Church year when we pay particular attention to all the ways that Christ is revealed, is made manifest in human life, and to the world at large – first to the Magi; then at his baptism; in the wedding feast at Cana turning water into wine; in healings and other wondrous works; in opening up the words of the Hebrew Scriptures.

Another way that God can and does speak to us is though our connection and relationship with our fellow Christians, other members of the Body of Christ. In the twelfth chapter of First Corinthians St. Paul delves into his metaphor for the Church as the Body of Christ. And here he means each believer, each follower of Jesus connected to one another in the same way the human body is connected, with Christ as the head. 'The foot cannot say to the hand ‘I have no need of you’…and if one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it

Paul sees us all connected intimately; and the health of our community, our faith, and our witness to the world depends on our connection with one another. Christian life is lived as much on the horizontal, with our brothers and sisters in Christ, our fellow body-parts, as much as it is lived in a vertical dimension – our own particular relationship with God. Christian life is lived on the horizontal as much as it is lived on the vertical.

When we gather, when we pray together, when we study Scripture or do ministry together, when we have fellowship and fun together, we show one another an aspect of God that comes through us uniquely. In fact, I would go so far as to say that when we gather for worship and you are not here, someone else is being deprived of your encouragement, your light, your wisdom, your care, your particular expression of God’s holiness; your questions, your joy – any of which another person may need desperately on any given Sunday. The presence of Christ in you flows out to those around you, here in this church we call our spiritual home.

The presence of God and the nature and holiness of Christ keep being revealed to us – in the Scriptures read and proclaimed, in the gathering of the community and the ways we share our lives, and in the life and presence of Jesus in our midst coming to us through liturgy and prayer and an open heart. How is Jesus appearing in your life, making himself manifest to you and through you this Season after Epiphany?

Let us pray.
Lord Jesus, we come to you in faith, asking for a fresh revelation and sense of your presence with us. May we each be a light to one another and to your world. And may we never fear coming to know you more truly and deeply, so that we may become your People. We ask this in your holy Name. Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Third Sunday after Epiphany
January 27, 2019

All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field…. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever. Isaiah 40:6 & 8

Today is the hundredth anniversary of the armistice ending the First World War, the Great War, the “war to end all wars”, as it was thought to be at the time.

The causes of any armed conflict are always a mixture of economics, geo-political realities, territorial disputes, sometimes moral principles, bilateral misunderstandings, missed opportunities for reconciliation (sometimes opportunities deliberately rebuffed), defense of honor, fear of shame or retribution, honoring of alliances, defense of the realm or nation, even simple greed and pride – all in varied proportions. And World War I had all of these.

But it also had youth, confidence, optimism, and a certain cultural naiveté. The first declaration of war by the Austro-Hungarian Empire on Serbia, after the assassination of Austrian Archduke Ferdinand by Serbian nationalists, came at the end of July 1914. In a little over two weeks all the dominos began to fall: Russia, France, Germany, Great Britain, and Japan. They all declared war in support of their allies – as well as their own purposes. The first fighting began in August, and it was widely assumed – at least in England – that the war would all be over by Christmas; a brief dust-up, putting those upstarts in their place, a chance for adventure and glory, doing “one’s bit for one’s country.”

But the forces that had been unleashed were far greater and more powerful than anyone had really reckoned; the genii of war, once out of the bottle, could not be easily restrained. Turkey and Italy joined the war; Australian, New Zealand, and Canadian troops fought alongside the British; Belgium, Ukraine, and Polish lands were battlefields; the Balkan lands, Gallipoli, North Africa, parts of China and south Asia were all touched by war; in 1917 America came in to support the British. And by the time it was all over, not only had much of the map of the world been re-drawn, but “one in three” young men in Western Europe had been killed; a generation, and an optimism in the human ability to make progress, to be civilized, had died. Individual soldiers, military units, armies and navies served with courage and honor in the face of horrific and unspeakable conditions, and they deserve our gratitude and prayers.

But the façade of turn-of-the century confidence in merely human institutions and society had been exposed, leaving the world with a clearer picture of the sin, fallibility, and hubris of human nature. Yet in the moral, physical, and spiritual exhaustion at the end of the war our reach for true and lasting peace, and the conditions that support peace, did not go deep or far enough, and so many of those embers went underground and smoldered, until they erupted again twenty-odd years later, this time in metasticized form.

All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field….  The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever, says the prophet Isaiah. The war showed us that there is no human achievement, no culture or civilization alone, that can withstand the promise and pull of unbridled power and glory. We all stand under the judgement of God, our Creator. We are all accountable to God, and to one another - the brothers and sisters in the human family our God has given us.

But just as we know in Christian faith that death is not the end, so we also need to remember that war is not the true nature of human society and the human heart. Countless times in Scripture God tells a different narrative, paints an alternative picture to what we would make, left to our own devices. In God’s vision, the goal of human society and the whole created order is to be living in God’s shalom – peace, wholeness, health, well-being, celebration. The holy city, the New Jerusalem of the Book of Revelation is the promise and the invitation God holds before us.

It is there for us to accept, to embrace, as God’s gift, but it requires our cooperation. Peace is not made merely by the cessation of hostilities and armed conflict. Peace is made as we go through each day, encountering the people we live and work with as neighbor, looking for the best in each other – even as we are not surprised when we see the worst. It’s what St. Paul said in Firsh Corinthians: Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor 13:4-7). This is not some fresh naiveté, but the spiritual truth of God’s purposes in and for the world, and it operates on the level of individuals, families, communities, and cultures.

We cannot wait for someone else to start first; it begins with us each and every day, even when love is inconvenient, even when it would feel good to lash out and insult or hurt another, even when we are tempted in our defense to go beyond merely meeting strength with strength.

The shalom of God’s Kingdom is a reality we are invited to join and help build “on earth as it is in heaven” through our actions and our prayers. Let us work and pray so that the hope for peace and a better world for which those men and women of the Great War and all wars gave their lives can come to fruition – with God’s help and in God’s way.

Let us pray.
Father of all mercies, teach us to be merciful, as thou art merciful.
Father of all forgiveness, help us to forgive others, as thou hast forgiven us;
knowing that, with what measure we mete, it shall be measured to us again;
for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen. ~ Eric Milner-White*

** Eric Milner-White (1884 –1963) was a British Anglican priest, academic, and decorated military chaplain. He was a founder of the Oratory of the Good Shepherd, an Anglican dispersed community, and served as its Superior between 1923 and 1938. From 1941 to 1963, he was the Dean of York in the Church of England.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Service of Peace and Remembrance:
the Centenary of the End of World War I
November 11, 2018

So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. Mark 6:12-13

This past week I went to see a new film, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor”, the documentary biography of Fred Rogers of “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” fame. I’m sure many of you knew the television show and appreciated it. Others of you may be only vaguely aware of it, or only know the spoofs and parodies of the show that appeared in places like Saturday Night Live.

I probably started watching the show soon after it began airing in 1966, along with my  younger sister and baby brother. It became enough of a childhood staple for me that when my own children came along it seemed only right that watching Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood would be part of our family life. One of the aspects of the show was that Fred Rogers never talked down to children, he never thought they were too young to have important questions, and he always had very high quality jazz, classical music, art, and dance featured on the program. And at the very heart of everything Mr. Rogers did was the belief that children should know that they were loved and valued – no matter what.

So I was shocked to learn in the film that at Fred’s funeral in 2003, members of Westboro Baptist Church showed up to protest at his funeral – you know, they’re the folks who protest at military funerals because the U.S. Armed Forces do not discriminate based on sexuality. And I was further distressed to hear from the film that a commentator on a cable news network some years ago, called him "an evil man" and claimed that young adults today feel entitled because Mr. Rogers told them they didn't need to earn love from anyone.

Well, I suppose that should be no surprise. Jesus is the One who incarnated and taught God's gift of unconditional love (which comes even before the need for repentance and forgiveness). And Jesus was clear that He would be a stumbling block to those who could not or would not hear Him; so those who share and teach Jesus’ love will also sometimes be a stumbling block to others. Fred Rogers was a Christian and a Presbyterian pastor, ordained and sent for the work of evangelism on television. The unconditional love he taught to children was God's love. There will always be those who are threatened by and rejecting of what they cannot control. And nobody can control the love of God – which is there for each and every person. And that takes us right to this morning’s Gospel reading.

Jesus has returned to Nazareth, and is preaching in his home synagogue, where everyone knows him and his family. But rather than appreciating what Jesus was teaching, or welcoming and honoring him, or even being curious and asking genuine questions, the townspeople were indignant, even resentful, in essence saying: ‘Well, look at who’s getting too big for his britches!’ All they could see was the boy they had known growing up in the carpenter’s family; their unbelief creating a climate where Jesus could not show them God’s power and mighty deeds – the signs of the Kingdom. They wouldn’t have believed him, anyway: ‘It must be some kind of trick’ they might have said. They rejected Jesus and his purpose and mission. They took offense at him.

So rather than try to cajole or argue with them, Jesus walks away. He goes on about his business, God’s business, Kingdom business. The home folks aren’t on board with the mission, but Jesus has another group who is: the disciples, specifically, the Twelve who were his inner circle, his training team. He calls them together and then sends them out, two by two, equipped with authority over unclean spirits, with a staff, no money or food or change of clothes; equipped with a message – that all should turn, should repent, should reorient their lives around Jesus. And if any group you go to will not listen, will not receive you with an open heart, don’t worry about it – just leave. Shake off the dust, don’t let it get you down.

We know this story – at least Luke’s version of it – because it is one of the Gospel passages we’ve spent a lot of time with in our Going Local efforts. Jesus sends disciples out into the towns and villages as his advance party. And one of the things we’ve learned is that while we can have some amazing and important encounters with people, while we can see that the Holy Spirit is out in front of us, working in the lives of people and in ways we might never have imagined, doing that work can seem very scary. We feel unsure, under-equipped, completely at sea about what to say or even sometimes what to believe in a world that often feels so un-lovely.

And yet, Jesus still bids us to go, to go forth – we who are disciples every bit as much as the Twelve were – to be part of Jesus’ mission of announcing the blessings of God’s love and goodness, to come alongside others in their struggle and their celebration, and their need to hear the truth of God’s unconditional love for them; to be an active part of the Jesus Movement that our Presiding Bishop keeps talking about. And now we’re going to get some help with that: some structure, some practices that we probably all knew about but may have forgotten or not considered, a pattern of living that can help us be rooted and grounded in Christ, that will transform us over time, that we can draw on as we are living and speaking Jesus’ mission in the world.

At the General Convention of our Episcopal Church this past week, Presiding Bishop Curry – in a very moving sermon – invited and encouraged all Episcopalians to adopt a Rule of Life called “The Way of Love.” A Rule of Life is “an intentional pattern of spiritual disciplines that provides structure and direction for growth in holiness”, in becoming the people God wants us to be. A Rule of Life is not new; it’s as old as Christian faith. A Rule of Life is not like waving a magic wand; transformation doesn’t happen overnight but takes long and sustained effort and time. But a Christian Rule of Life can be a tremendous vehicle of God’s grace and the power of the Holy Spirit to shape us and equip us for service in the Jesus Movement.

This particular rule, this “Way of Love” has seven practices – seven points or areas – and each one is important, and each goes back to the earliest days of the Church and has been used for centuries. Here in brief are the seven practices in the “Way of Love”:

• Turn: Pause, listen and choose to follow Jesus.
• Learn: Reflect daily on scripture, especially the life and teachings of Jesus.
• Pray: Spend time with God in prayer every day.
• Worship: Gather in community for worship every week.
• Bless: Share one’s faith and find ways to serve other people.
• Go: Move beyond one’s comfort to witness to the love of God with words and actions.
• Rest: Dedicate time for restoration and wholeness.
  

 
As I said, these are not new; they are what the Church has always known, and they are just as powerful today as they have ever been, and yet how far have we drifted or wandered away from them, or done some parts and not others, or depended on someone else to maintain our connection to God for us, or just need to be refreshed and revived in our life with God. There are resources for this Way of Love up on the Episcopal Church website and print resources will be available soon. In very short run, there is a small flyer with the basic information about this Rule of Life on the table in the Narthex; please take one home with you. I would also urge you to listen to Bishop Curry’s sermon introduced and launched this Rule of Life; I sent you the link in the Daily Prayer e-mail yesterday. And in case you were wondering, if you have been following along and praying the parish Daily Prayers for the last few months, you have already been working on the Pray aspect of the Way of Love.

Fred Rogers knew about the Way of Love, the Way of God’s love – it’s what he taught, and played, and sang about with the children of America. The Way of Love is the basic building blocks, the primary formation for service in the Jesus Movement. The Way of Love will always send us in generous, open, even sacrificial love for others. And God goes before us and prepares the way for us – always.

Let us pray.
Go forth for God; go to the world in peace
be of good courage, armed with heavenly grace,
in God’s good Spirit daily to increase,
till in his kingdom we behold his face.

Go forth for God; go to the world in love;
Strengthen the faint, give courage to the weak;
Help the afflicted; richly from above
His love supplies the power and grace we seek.
            ~ Hymn 347, J.R. Pearcy

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
July 8, 2018

Jesus said to the people, "Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away. John 6:37

Charlie White wanted to live to be a hundred years old; a while back he was even reading a book about how to do that! And there were many of us who thought that Charlie would outlive us all. He did pretty well; he got to ninety-three. But it wasn’t Charlie’s actual age that was the important thing. He was an icon in our community; a presence; a representative from another time and place; an emissary, if you will, from God’s time and God’s realm.

And I don’t think any of us can really quite imagine what life in Long Hill Township will be like without Charlie. We will never be able to go to Shop-Rite without expecting to see him pushing his cart, or swimming at Stirling Lake on a summer’s day, or waiting for the train at Millington Station, or riding his bike on Long Hill Road, or sitting in his spot here in church, or crossing the intersection out here in front – onlookers being on pins and needles for his safety. So it is good for us to be here together to grieve his death and our loss, and to celebrate his life – and there is so much to celebrate!

Charlie and his parents moved to town in 1927 when he was two years old, living first on Central Avenue in Stirling, and then moving to Old Forge Road in Millington. Although the term was probably not used when he was a child, Charlie had Autism Spectrum Disorder, making his communications skills difficult. He went to local public schools and then spent a few years at a residential school, eventually returning home to live with his parents. Charlie was not able to drive, but he loved to read math books, especially calculus and trigonometry. He rode his bicycle everywhere, delivering Grit, a weekly newspaper for small-town America.

That paper route was emblematic of who Charlie was. He had grit, tenacity, even a stubbornness that stood him in very good stead as he learned to advocate for himself in the world, no doubt taught by his parents to do what he could do to his utmost.

Another way that Grit was an extension of Charlie’s life is summed up in the words of the paper’s editors to its employees in the late nineteenth century:
“Always keep Grit from being pessimistic. Avoid printing those things which distort the minds of readers or make them feel at odds with the world. Avoid showing the wrong side of things, or making people feel discontented. Do nothing that will encourage fear, worry, or temptation... Wherever possible, suggest peace and good will toward men. Give our readers courage and strength for their daily tasks. Put happy thoughts, cheer, and contentment into their hearts...”
That is our Charlie; that is the way he lived and the way he treated others, with loving-kindness, gentleness, gratitude, joy, and faithfulness.

Charlie was a man of deep faith, very rarely missing Sunday worship until two weeks ago. Charlie was baptized here as an adult in 1969 by the Rev. David St. George; he was prepared for confirmation by the Rev. Al Salt and confirmed in 1977 by Bishop George Rath who had known Charlie since he was sixteen; both Al and the Rev. Richard Wrede served as his guardians after the death of his father. And now we are here today to bury Charlie’s earthly remains and commend him to God’s loving care and presence.

One of Charlie’s aides in these last months, Ronnie, told me that as recently as a month ago, Charlie was still getting down on his knees by the side of his bed every night to say his prayers. His faith in God and his faithfulness were the foundation of his life and an example to us all.

Of course, Charlie was not able to live his life alone. That African proverb about “It takes a village to raise a child” is absolutely true for Charlie. It took Long Hill Township and All Saints’ Church to support him in living as independently as possible.  At different times, and in differing capacities, so many people played an important role in Charlie’s life, and on behalf of his parents Jessie and Harold I thank you for that. Their trust in the goodness of this community must have given them the confidence to have Charlie live at home, and not in an institution.

But in these last dozen or so years the people who have lovingly, generously taken on the ministry of Charlie’s care have been the Golden family – specifically Ann and Terence. I know that they were glad to do it, but I also know it was a great deal of work, some heartache, and responsibility. We all cannot thank you enough. And in Jesus’ words of the Parable of the Talents in Matthew’s Gospel: “Well done, good and faithful servants.”

Charlie has given All Saints’ and Long Hill Township a great gift. It is the gift of knowing that we are all bound together in a community of God’s love and compassion, that we can and do care for one another, and that the ones who are cared for have as much to give as those who are doing the caring, if we will receive it. This a real-life example of the kingdom of God that Jesus taught and incarnated lived out on earth as it is in heaven.

I said at the beginning that Charlie was an emissary from God’s realm, from that reality we call heaven which is not somewhere out beyond the planets but is right here with us, alongside us, unseen, but not unfelt or unknowable. If we look closely, if we listen attentively, we can see and hear God’s presence breaking through into our ordinary, day-to-day lives; an awareness of blessing, and goodness, and peace.

That’s what Charlie was so good at. He paid attention, he listened, he saw you, he knew you – in later years he might call you by your father’s name, instead of your own, but he knew you; you had a place in his world. He was a reflection of the God in whom he trusted who sees, and hears, and knows, and loves us – each one of us, deeply and tenderly, and calls us all by name.

So take this gift that God has given you through Charlie – the gift of loving-kindness, the gift of gladness and singleness of heart, the gift of courteous generosity, and the joy and wonder in all God’s works and put it into practice – every day if you can – with one another and with all those who cross your path. As we do this, we will continue to be the people and the community that Charlie knew us to be, and that God calls us to be.

It has been an honor and a privilege to know you, Charlie White; and we are all better people for it.
And so for all that has been, for all that is, and for all that is yet to be, we say: thanks be to God. Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Charles A. White Funeral
June 14, 2018