4 Advent Year C 2021

St. George’s Episcopal Church, Texas City
Gospel: Luke 1:39-45
December 19, 2021

When my grandson, was a 4-month-old, while at a family gathering, I noticed his parents on a hammock listening to music with the kiddo right between them.  For one so young, the baby was very into the music…smiling and ever so gently moving his arms and legs.  Then the song changed, to more of a lament with a somber tone.  The baby's face suddenly changed to sadness; he stopped moving and began to cry quietly.  Sometime later, I asked a pediatrician friend about this.  Did he think this was an inborn response…a response to music that is genetically determined?  To my surprise, he was familiar with this kind of thing and was quite confident such an emotional response was learned behavior…but something learned while he was still in the womb.  An unborn child is affected by his or her mother’s emotions, both joy and sadness.  I don’t know if the pathway is well understood, but chemical signals that affect mood can be transported across the placenta.  In this way, a mother’s emotional response to music can be learned by her fetus.

This experience with my grandson was brought to mind by today’s reading from Luke.  One reasonable idea from the story might go something like this: Elizabeth’s Joy on hearing Mary’s greeting triggered baby John to move his limbs enough that Elizabeth could feel him moving in her womb.

Before we can glean the full value of the story of Mary’s arrival at Elizabeth’s home…a story known and commemorated as The Visitation in the Episcopal Calendar…before we can fully appreciate this, we must look at what immediately precedes it in Luke.

Just prior to the Visitation is the story of the Annunciation…the incredible greeting and announcement to Mary made by the Angel Gabriel.  Gabriel tells her that she has found favor with God and will therefore bear a son by divine means…a son who will be called the offspring of the Most High.  And as if to provide some corroboration for this amazing announcement, Gabriel tells her about her relative, Elizabeth, who in her old age had conceived a son and is now in the 6th month of her pregnancy…the same relative that everyone thought to be barren.
From this background, let me make 3 quick points.  1) The prior story helps us understand why Mary is described as setting out in haste to visit Elizabeth.  It is quite understandable that Mary would want to confirm what the Angel had said to her, and quickly. 2) If you read the KJV, you may note that Elizabeth is called Mary’s cousin.  But this is not the correct translation: the Greek is not so specific…it’s just kinswoman or relative.  3) Since Elizabeth is old and Mary is likely a teenager, they are not of the same generation….so we might make a better guess that Elizabeth is Mary’s aunt.  I wonder if Mary was in need of someone to confide in…who better than a trusted relative with some considerable life experience and understanding of God’s work in the world.

So, let’s consider the story at hand: Elizabeth was moved with great joy at the greeting of her young relative, Mary.  Here’s my take: this great joy caused Elizabeth’s unborn child to move with such strength she could feel him in the womb.  And this great joy also opened Elizabeth’s heart to the Spirit of God…so much so, that she recognized Mary as the mother of her Lord, as one who found the favor of God…blessed to be chosen as the mother of Jesus and blessed by a faith that all things are possible with God.

Thanks to Luke’s own written or oral sources, we get to see how Jesus later used the example of his own mother to teach the essence of Christian discipleship.

In Luke 11 (27-28), the same chapter in which Jesus introduces the Lord’s Prayer, from the crowd who was listening to Jesus, a woman is heard to cry out: “Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you.”  Jesus’ response makes the point that his mother’s decision to accept God’s will has set an example for every disciple…all of those who would follow him as Lord are called to obedience like that of Mary his mother.  So, when the woman from the crowd called Mary blessed, Jesus responded, “Blessed rather are they who hear the word of God and obey it.”  All who welcome Jesus into their hearts, who put their trust in his love and seek to follow God’s will are blessed (as was Mary) with God’s favor.

On the 4th Sunday of Advent, our focus is always on Mary and her obedience.  In the story we heard today, Elizabeth helps point our attention to Mary while modeling how joy is central to our Advent journey.  Mary is blessed by God’s choice and by her willingness wholeheartedly to accept the role she had been given…perhaps, more so over time with her aunt’s guidance.  We are reminded in the Collect that God transforms us over time by his coming…not a coming in the past or in the future…but by what is called a daily visitation.  Perhaps, the quiet joy we extol in Advent is what moves our hearts within and opens us to the daily movement of the Spirit. 
Finally, Jesus’ comments later in Luke remind us that we are all called to share in Mary’s obedience.  Jesus makes the Word of God known to us, and we know what he has commanded us to do…we are to love one another as he has first love us.  We now have reached the final Sunday before Christmas, and may worry the time has grown short to prepare our hearts.  But, in the quiet times of Advent’s waning, may we be surprised by Joy to find that our Lord has already come to us, visiting us daily and changing us from the inside out by his love.

Elizabeth could feel John leap for joy in her womb.  Let us be open to the movement of the Holy Spirit in our hearts.  AMEN.

3 Easter, Year A 2020

Grace Episcopal Church, Galveston

1st Lesson: 1 Peter 1:3-9

2nd Lesson: John 20:19-31

April 19, 2020

 Our readings from The First Letter of Peter and the Gospel According to John are paired in our lectionary because they share the theme of “believing without seeing.” The speaker in our first lesson is an elder who may have witnessed Jesus directly, but he addresses those who love Jesus even though they have never seen him. John’s Gospel gives us the story of Thomas who refused to believe the other apostles when they told him of the resurrected Jesus. Later, Thomas affirms his faith when he sees the risen Lord. But Jesus goes on to say, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” 

Faith means to trust, but how is it that we are able to trust in something that we have never seen with our own eyes. I know that the sun will come up tomorrow. It jibes with what I’ve learned about the rotation on the earth, and we’ve all seen it happen over and over. But, knowledge is not the same thing as trust. To trust means to make a leap of faith, to bet your life, so to speak, on something or someone. Trust is different from knowledge. Trust involves risk and exposure in a way that knowing does not. You can trust that someone you love will love you back; you can trust that a loved one will do their best to take care of you should you become ill. But, betting on the love of another person is not an absolute science; we are never certain when it comes to people. When we are talking about other human beings, there is always some mystery. To count on another person involves trust; there is no other way.

At the center of Christianity is the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The Church is made up of people who trust that nothing can separate us from God’s love. Death was not the end of Jesus; God raised him to a never-before-seen kind of life, a resurrection life promised to all who believe. The Church is not, at its core, a social service agency, or a self-help organization, or a social club, or a champion for moral education and virtue, or a beloved building, although it might look like any of these from a superficial perspective. The Easter Season is a time to reaffirm what the Church is at its core: we are a community in which trust in the risen Lord is grown, nurtured, and shared beyond itself.

So how are we supposed to trust in the risen Lord if we have never seen him? The answer we have from scripture is that faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word of God. For example, John’s Gospel tells us that the stories of Jesus were written so that later generations would come to have faith by reading them. Like the Spirit, faith can be compared to the wind. It is invisible; we feel its effects but can’t tell exactly where it comes from. Faith is a gift, it comes to us from beyond us. Our part is to open our hearts when faith comes knocking. Perhaps, reading scripture is what helps us become more open.

The elder of the church who is speaking in 1st Peter acknowledges that the faithful have suffered various trials. The 2nd Century Christians in Asia Minor to whom this letter is addressed may once have enjoyed participating in the social and cultural life of their communities. Now, after their conversion to Jesus, they were viewed with suspicion by the government and marginalized by society. The faithful are reminded that just as gold is refined by fire, so is faith made stronger by adversity. The elder writes to keep them focused on the goal, the coming time when Jesus will be seen again and fire-tested faith will redound to a new life that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading.

Compared to lots of other times, this one in which we live feels like a time of trial. We face so many challenges centered around the novel coronavirus, what we must do to protect ourselves and others, and the effects of the ensuing economic fallout.

During Zoom fellowship last week, some parishioners remembered a time when people were confronted with a different dreaded virus called Polio. There was a message of hope that if we got through to the other side of that one, we can get through this one too. There is reason to be hopeful now as the curve flattens in some of the hot spots, and the case count continues to be relatively low on Galveston Island. There is reason to be hopeful as testing in our area appears to be more and more accessible.

Can we envision how life will be different on the other side of this pandemic? As a society perhaps we will have an even greater appreciation for those who put themselves at risk on the front lines with infected persons: doctors, nurses, and first responders. But will we also better appreciate the many others who risked exposure for the greater good: the people who worked the aisles at the grocery stores, the ones who collected the trash and handled recycling, the ones who delivered packages and drove buses, and the people who worked in nursing homes, among others. Perhaps, we will as a society value these essential roles enough to advocate a living wage for them as well as for their access to quality healthcare.

We are in a time of trial. Like the fire that refines gold, adversity can change lives. We can emerge with a stronger sense that every day is a gift to be enjoyed, and a greater appreciation of how communities can work together for the greater good. And because, through times of trial, we lean more on our faith to get us through each day, let’s pray that our trust in Jesus will have grown stronger and more resilient as well. AMEN.

2 Lent, Year A, 2020

Grace Episcopal Church, Galveston
Gospel: John 3:1-17
March 8, 2020

It was the middle of October some years ago when I was with our school’s 6th Grade at Camp Allen.  On this particular morning, our group was scheduled to participate in what the counselors there call the “giant swing.”  In this aptly named challenge, participants wore helmets and harnesses, and were supervised by a trained facilitator.  It was quite safe.  It just didn’t look safe. 

In the “giant swing” challenge, the youth who volunteered ascended a ladder, two at a time, and wrapped their arms around a wooden bar suspended from ropes. Then, each one’s harness was attached to the bar and checked by the facilitator.  To begin the swinging, the participants were hoisted back and upward, up to 25 feet in the air.  When the swing was released it was quite a thrill ride, moving back and forth, until coming to a stop on its own.

Now to be clear, you would never catch me on this contraption.  I was always careful to stress this as an optional activity for our groups...there was no requirement to ride the “giant swing.”  Each year some students would opt out with me and watch from the side.  The adults’ role was to encourage and support the students as they discovered their level of tolerance with each activity. 

This particular year, there was a 12-year-old who was in line for the giant swing, but he was in tears.  I quietly reminded him that the activity was optional; he was welcome to bow out and stay on the sidelines with others who had declined.  But he would have none of that; he held his place in line and when his turn came, climbed up onto the swing beside his classmate, where the facilitator attached his harness to the bar. After the challenge, he was a little embarrassed that he had cried, but mostly he was so very proud of himself!

What this youngster did was the very definition of courage.  In order to be courageous you have to be experiencing fear.  And, the greater the fear, the more courage it takes. Courage is the ability to face difficulties and challenges despite our fears.

Does it seem like it takes more and more courage just to function day to day? Risk is a part of the soup in which we live.  Of course, the big risk du jour is the novel coronavirus which has rapidly spread from one end of the earth to the other.  As this sermon was being prepared, at least 5 people in Harris County had tested positive for Covid-19.  These people had all recently travelled to other countries, so presumably infections have not yet originated locally.  We do not have confirmed cases in Galveston, but you know it’s just a matter of time.  The risk for infection is low, but people are definitely taking precautions.   I see this, for example, in the depletion of local stocks of hand gel.  Bishop Doyle directed the clergy late Thursday to take some precautions in our worship.  As it turns out, Grace began implementing most of these precautions last Sunday.  

My son and daughter-in-law had been planning to take our grandson, Jonah, to the Houston Rodeo today.  They know Jonah would love the petting zoo there.  But, I’m not sure if they are going to take him after all.  I don’t think they fear being infected with the novel coronavirus at this point, anyway.  Their worry is over the question: “What happens if someone who attended this crowded event is later diagnosed with Covid-19?”  “Will the whole family need to go into quarantine for 2 weeks?”

Doing anything worthwhile involves personal risk and exposure.  Even to love another person is taking a risk.  I love my grandson, but I’m also constantly worrying about that kid!  Is he worth the worry….absolutely! The choice we face is a choice between Love and Fear.  God in Christ offers us the courage to choose Love.

In our first reading, we heard God’s call to Abram.  (God would later designate Abram as “Abraham” which in Hebrew means “father of a multitude.”)  God’s call at this point, meant moving from the familiar place where Abram had grown up with his family….it does not sound like Abram was even given the destination at first.  He simply set out as the “Lord had told him,” and that took the courage to believe.  By trusting God and letting go of the safety and comfort of the familiar, Abram would be able to change the world to better align with God’s loving purpose.  Abram chose Love over fear.

Nicodemus is called a “leader of the Jews,” so he was likely a member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling council headed by the Chief Priest. Nicodemus was a rabbi of great learning and stature.  What would people think if they knew that Nicodemus was seeking out Jesus?  What could such a highly placed leader learn from a lowly itinerant preacher?  Would others on the Sanhedrin think Nicodemus was betraying the nation by going to see Jesus?  Courage is like the Spirit, it is a mystery how we come to have it.  In my imagination, Nicodemus was inspired by the way Jesus taught and demonstrated Love.  God gave Nicodemus the courage to chose Love over fear.

The readings today show us how courage enabled our spiritual ancestors to face fear.  Nicodemus took the precaution of waiting until cover of darkness to find Jesus.  It is on us to face our fear of infection and to respond in ways that are reasonable and consistent with God’s Love.  Are there reasonable precautions we should take now to prepare for the days and weeks to come?  What supplies or food would we need to hunker-down for 2 weeks if we were quarantined?  We’ve been more diligent about washing our hands, but do we make it a habit to disinfect our phones as well?  What risks might Love require us to take in the coming days and weeks?  Caring for elderly parents, running errands for a homebound friend, providing childcare for your grandchild….all of the things we do beyond the doors of our homes may need a second thought now.  Let us pray for discernment to know when Love requires us to stay home and when to venture out.  Let us see a quarantine, if imposed, as a way to love our neighbor.  Let us pray for the courage to choose Love over fear, and especially for the courage to hope for the future beyond the present moment.  AMEN

1 Lent, Year A, 2020

Grace Episcopal Church, Galveston
Gospel: Matthew 4:1-11
March 1, 2020

Jesus’ Baptism was followed by an ordeal.  The Spirit, the very breath of God, led Jesus into the wilderness where he had to contend with the elements for 40 days.  This was no camping trip, this was a spiritual proving ground.  He would be confronted by the Adversary of Scripture with temptations but not until the very end, when Jesus was presumably at his weakest, most vulnerable moment.  It seems hardly fair for Jesus to have spent 40 days where food was scarce to non-existent, and then to have the opening salvo of temptation be food!  But, fairness in these “hunger games” was never part of the deal.  The stakes were high, for it was a battle for our souls that would culminate on the Cross of Calvary.  As Paul describes it in his Letter to the Romans, “By the one man’s obedience the many will be made right with God.”

In Lent we are reminded of the Apostle Paul’s view of the  Incarnation: Jesus became what we are, so that we could become what he is.  Christians make the faith claim that Jesus of Nazareth, as the 2nd Person of the Trinity dwelling among us at a point in history, was fully God and fully human at the same time.  The fully human part in this equation means that Jesus while in the wilderness was vulnerable like us, that Jesus was hungry, afraid of the unknown, and subject to temptation.  Jesus is the model for Christian life, so let’s not be under any misconception that life is guaranteed to be easy.  A comfort zone was never part of the deal.  In Lent, we look carefully at the wilderness metaphor, because like it or not, wilderness is part of our journey as well.

We encounter a spiritual wilderness at any point we enter a time of great uncertainty.  Like some of you, Layne and I are reading the daily Lenten reflections in the “Living Well through Lent” booklet.  In today’s reflection entitled “Wilderness,” Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde notes that in life we encounter 2 kinds of wilderness: the kind we choose to enter and the kind that “comes to us without warning.”  

For me, an example of the kind of wilderness we choose was my decision to retire.  At first, I thoroughly enjoyed not having to rise early, not having to rush through getting ready and not having a daily commute.  I loved the change.  But, it did not take long for the high from the initial freedom to wear off a bit and for boredom to come into play.  In this wilderness of my own choosing, I learned more deeply that I was more than the job that had defined me for so long.  I learned that I was not ready to “throw in the towel” and sit around the house all day.  I learned that activities of self-improvement and hobbies alone were not enough for me to be the person I felt called to be in this phase of life.  That was about the time a member of the Diocesan staff called me early in 2018 asking how I would feel about being considered as Interim Rector at Grace, Galveston.

An example of the kind of wilderness you don’t choose, one big example that many of us have in common, was Hurricane Ike.  I served as head of school at Trinity Episcopal School in those days.  As the school year began in 2008, none of us had any idea Galveston would be devastated by flood waters from the 3rd most destructive storm ever to make landfall in the United States.  Ike hit in the early morning hours of September 13, and the damage was such, we could not reopen school until October 20!    Usable classroom space was very limited, but it worked because only a fraction of our students returned at first.  Some days we had electricity and some days we did not; Xerox copies of textbooks had to be used in place of those that had been destroyed.  Teachers and students adapted to circumstances; there was no other choice.  Reflecting on all of this at the end of the school year in May, I noted that we had all changed in some way.  Were there things we no longer took for granted?  Did the stuff we own no longer seem as important as before?  Was there a greater sense of connection among those who were recovering?  Was there a greater desire to help others who were victims of tragedy?  I think we came out of it all with a new perspective, stronger resilience, and a greater ability to see God at work among us.  As the years go by, we need to remember those days and try not to lose sight of the insight and character gained.  Though, let me underscore this, dear God please, none of us want to go through that again!

Whether chosen or not, we all, at one time or another, find ourselves in the wilderness. Bishop Budde explains that the wilderness always has a pearl of great price to impart.  I think Jesus left the wilderness knowing he would never say “no” to God.  In the end, he was victorious over death, winning our salvation, being obedient all the way to the Cross.  

The journey of Lent means owning the wilderness in which we find ourselves at this point.  Some of the uncertainties we share.  What’s going to happen when Covid-19 comes around?  How will the ideological divides in my community play out?  Other uncertainties seem more specific to the individual.  What is that biopsy or that blood test going to reveal?  How do I parent my adult children?  It is so much easier to examine the old wilderness times than the ones we might be in the middle of now.  But I think, at least, if we can see the pearls that came forth in the past, perhaps we find enough hope to be on the lookout when we leave the place of today’s unknowns.

Repentance is a recurring concept in Lent.  It’s the best theological description of the pearl to be found in the wilderness of Lent.  It comes from the Greek word “metanoia.”  The term includes contrition, but it means more than that.  The term “repent” means a complete turning around.  In other words it means transformation as in the transformative power of God’s love.  


Perhaps, real change does not happen in a comfort zone.  Educators have the idea that there are two kinds of tests and assessments.  The one with which we are most familiar is summative; this kind shows what you know.  But there is another kind of test called a formative assessment.  This is the kind of test in which you learn and grow by taking the test itself.  Real life is more like a formative test, and the wilderness experience can be a formative test when we find a pearl of great price in it.  AMEN.

Ash Wednesday Year A,B,& C 2020

Grace Episcopal Church, Galveston

Gospel: Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
February 26, 2020

On Ash Wednesday, clergy across this communion (and others) impose ashes, with varying degrees of skill, in the rough shape of a cross. Let this mark be a sign of “deep contrition, repentance, and an unmistakable sign of belonging” to God. (See "A Meditation for Ash Wednesday" by The Rev. Katherine Sonderegger of Virginia Theological Seminary.)

We have just heard Jesus praise those who keep their acts of piety secret. His words about piety underscore what has come earlier in Matthew’s Gospel: God cares more about what is in our hearts than what is on the outside. As far as our piety, our devotional practices, Jesus is urging us to pay attention to our intentions. If we receive ashes today just so that other people will see them, if the motivation were all about what others think, then we miss what Jesus is teaching. Instead, let’s be motivated to work on our relationship with God and our love of neighbor. This is what Lent is about, turning our hearts to God and away from all else that distracts. If through acts of personal piety, we seek a closer walk with God and a more loving world, then surely our hearts are in a good place.

In a moment, I will, in the name of the Church, formally invite us to observe a holy Lent. The ashes that follow are a sign of our mortality. It is as if to say, “Without God we are nothing more than dust.” We leave this life as dust, and God takes our future from there. Perhaps, letting go of all ego-inflating pretense makes it easier to acknowledge our dependence on God alone.

One thing I would like to do for Lent is to work on downsizing by letting go of some stuff. I still have books from college, graduate school, and seminary. Each one is a part of me in some way and many hold good memories. But, holding on to them may be one way I refuse to accept my mortality. Perhaps, letting go of some of them will be a type of self-denial, an acceptance that life on this earth comes to an end, and part of a holy Lent for me.

The ashes today remind me that humility is the way to a closer walk with God. Love today reminds me to do what needs to be done so my children will not be burdened with so much of my physical stuff. This kind of letting go reminds me that the things my loved-ones most need from me today are not really things at all; more than anything else, they need my love.

Lately, we have been made deeply aware of the shortness and uncertainty of human life. The evolution of Covid-19 into a global pandemic underscores this. The effects of rapid climate change underscore this. We also live in a time when people are polarized into mutually exclusive silos of opinion…a time when reason seems to have left the arena of civil discourse, and all groups seek to hurt the other at escalating cost. And, this is just at a point when all people need to cooperate for the benefit of our species and our planet. Lent is a time for self-examination including an examination of how we respond to those we do not understand. Lent is a time for us to consider what Love and Reason require of us individually, in our Church, and in the troubled world in which we live. Lent is a time to answer Jesus’ question, “Do you want to be healed?”

Giving alms, prayer, fasting, downsizing, self-examination, humble actions... All of these practices are ways to make more room in our hearts for God. Beginning with today’s ashes, may all of our special acts of devotion, self-denial, and love of neighbor this Lent be intended to draw us closer to God in Jesus Christ. For where our treasure is, there our hearts will be also. AMEN.

Last Epiphany Year A 2020

Grace Episcopal Church, Galveston
Gospel: Matthew 17:1-9
February 23, 2020

On this Last Sunday after the Epiphany, our Gospel reading is Matthew’s account of the Transfiguration.  Jesus takes his 3 closest disciples, his inner circle: Peter, James, and John, up a high mountain.  These 3 witness something astounding.  In an instant, their teacher is changed from flesh into pure radiance and seen speaking with Moses and Elijah, who represent the Law and the Prophets in Jewish tradition.  Jesus is transfigured to reveal his divine nature and shown in conversation with heavenly figures. 

Peter responds to this event by offering to build three dwellings, one each for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah.  Something strange and mysterious has happened here.  This is big stuff, and Peter stands ready to build something to commemorate what has happened, a lasting monument, a place for worship, and a holy site for pilgrims to come from near and far for generations to come.  To them the Transfiguration is a mystery that draws people to it.

But, wait; there is more... Peter was still rambling about making dwellings when a bright cloud enveloped them, so they could no longer see anything.  And from within that cloud, they could hear a voice: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”  On hearing the voice of God, the disciples fell to the ground.  They were terrified.  To be in the presence of God was more than they could bear.

The Transfiguration story involves 2 different opposite reactions.  In the 1st reaction, there is a kind of interest and attraction.  Jesus is revealed as God, and Jesus draws people to himself.  Dwelling places are planned to mark the spot where pilgrims will surely come as they hear of the fascinating event that occurred here.  In the 2nd reaction, there is a kind of shrinking away and dread.  The voice of God speaks to them directly, and it is more than they can handle.  Fear paralyzes them, and they fall to the ground.

Rudlof Otto is known as one of the most influential thinkers of the 1st half of the 20th Century.  He is best known for his work The Idea of the Holy published in German in 1917 followed by an English translation in 1923.  Here Otto attempts to analyze the human experience that underlies all religion.  For Otto, the numinous encounter with God is described with the 2-part Latin phrase: Mysterium Tremendum et Fascinans.  The 1st part is the trembling experience of overwhelming power.  In the presence of the Almighty, we are acutely aware of our smallness, frailty, and sin.  Terror sets-in, and our knees fail us. The 2nd part is a response to mercy and grace.  We are fascinated and drawn toward the divine Love which has willed us into being.  For Otto, the strangest and most noteworthy phenomenon in the whole history of religion, the human encounter with God, has two polar-opposite qualities, both daunting and fascinating at the same time.  Of course, this is a logically impossible description, contradictory and not making sense.  It is an emotional paradox. 

People experience emotional paradox when we feel quite opposite feelings at the same time.  As a youth, I remember the high diving board at our neighborhood pool.  I was fascinated with the high dive and scared of it at the same time.  (You don’t see diving boards this tall nowadays; Thank you, insurance companies.)  One time, I ascended the ladder to what seemed like the stratosphere and walked down the board to where my toes peeked over the edge of the board.  My unresolved feelings went off in two directions. On the one hand, there was anticipation of flying through the air and splashing down to join the elite club of those who had made the jump. On the other hand, there was fear of pain, of getting a large hit of chlorinated water up my nose, and possibly losing my swim trunks somewhere in the pool!  (The 1st time up, I turned around and climbed right back down the ladder.)

After Taika Waititi won an Oscar for best adapted screenplay, Layne and I decided to watch the movie, “Jo Jo Rabbit.”  The movie, set in Germany during World War II, tells the story of a ten-year-old boy who has been indoctrinated by the Nazis.  In the course of the film, young Johannes, or Jojo, learns that his mother has been secretly hiding a teenage Jewish girl, Elsa, behind an upstairs wall in their home.  Steeped in the blind fanaticism of the Hitler youth, he is afraid of the girl...but as the story progresses his fascination keeps drawing him to her.  Jojo’s interactions with Elsa change him.  He comes to reject the Nazi politics, and think for himself.  In the end Elsa becomes family for him.

I imagine that the Transfiguration changed Jesus’ 3 closest disciples.  While still cowering on the ground, their friend and teacher, Jesus, walked to them and touched them saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.”  They could not stay on that mountain top; they had to descend and return to everyday problems once again.  The change is that the everyday issues would now be seen from a different perspective….so much so that Jesus needed to remind them not to tell anyone about what they had seen until after the Resurrection.  The Transfiguration was only experienced by 3 disciples.  But, Jesus points them, and us, to the Cross.  The Cross is Christianity's Mysterium Tremendum et Fascinans.  What God is doing, sending the Son to redeem the world, is fully and finally revealed to all the faithful in the Cross of Calvary.

With this story, the Season after the Epiphany is drawing to a close.  We leave these 3 disciples coming down the mountain, but now with a different perspective, a newfound perception that Jesus is more than a teacher and friend.  The story is just dust and ashes unless we see ourselves reflected in these disciples.  With the help of God’s Holy Spirit, may we prepare for Lent with humility and with renewed faith that Jesus will guide us on our life’s pilgrimage down the mountain and into the valley.  AMEN.

Epiphany 6, Year A 2020

Grace Episcopal Church, Galveston
Gospel: Matthew 5:21-37
February 16, 2020

What we hold in our hearts matters
to God!

Our Gospel reading is again taken from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.  Here Jesus continues to speak of a higher righteousness.  We today have before us 3 different examples of how Jesus takes an existing commandment and extends it to be more comprehensive.  These examples show what Jesus meant earlier by righteousness that exceeds the scribes and Pharisees.  What was inferred in last week’s Gospel, is made explicit today: the higher righteousness required in the Kingdom of Heaven is beyond the unaided power of human beings, and therefore points to the need for Grace!

In the 1st example, Jesus starts with the commandment to do no murder.  But Jesus goes beyond a restriction on overt human behavior to show that God judges what is on the inside of a person.  We know the commandment, “You Shall Not Murder, but Jesus tells his disciples they should not even be angry with one another.  Certainly, feeling anger in a given moment might come upon us suddenly and hardly seems under our control.  But making a place in your heart for anger is surely a slippery slope to violence.  Perhaps, Jesus is making such a wide fence around the Law of Moses, that his disciples would never come near to breaking a commandment.  But, it is more than that, because Jesus is making a point: none of us can by our own efforts present a pure heart before God.  Righteousness before God requires God’s Grace.  I’m reminded of the versicle from Morning Prayer: “Create in us clean hearts, O God” (BCP, p. 98).

Jesus uses the commandment against adultery as the 2nd example.  And Jesus extends this to a higher level.  The Law states, “You shall not commit adultery,” but Jesus tells his disciples they should not have lustful thoughts about another person who is not their spouse.  Then Jesus goes on to say something even more remarkable.  And, written words can’t do justice to the way Jesus delivered these words.  In my own imagination, it went something like this (in a mock serious manner): “Well, if your eye causes you to sin, if that is what the problem is, your eye, then by all means pluck it out.”  But here’s the deal: we all know the problem is not the eye, or the hand for that matter. There is no surgical procedure that can save us from sin, salvation comes only by Jesus’ sacrifice on the Cross of Calvary.  The problem is not the eye or the hand, the problem is the human heart, and our desires have all fallen short of the standard.  The only way the wayward heart can be brought back into the fold is by the transformative power of God’s Love.

The 3rd example here is the prohibition against swearing falsely.  Perhaps, Jesus has in mind the 9th of the 10 Commandments, “You shall not be a false witness.” But Jesus tells his disciples they should not even swear (or make oaths) at all, much less make false ones.  The interpretation of this prohibition, though, has been problematic in history.  At one point the Anabaptists in England (who insisted upon a strict, literal, interpretation of the Bible) believed that Jesus’ new rule meant Christians could not swear to tell the truth even in a court of law. (But, we know from scripture that Jesus later testified under oath before the high priest, Caiaphas.  See Mt 26:63-64.) Our Anglican ancestors in the faith believed that Jesus was speaking of a Christian rule of conversation and not of courts of law, or marriage vows, or solemn declarations before God such as used in ordinations of the clergy.  You can read this snippet of Anglican theology for yourself: Of the 39 Articles of Religion, it is the 39th and entitled “On a Christian Man’s Oath.” It may be found in the Historical Documents section of the Book of Common Prayer pp. 867-876.  (At the liturgical quiz bowl among Galveston Episcopal Churches, if there ever is one, you may be asked to list something which may be found in the Historical Documents of the BCP!)

So, what’s wrong with swearing you have told the truth in a casual conversation among friends?  As a student in college, I tried to compliment my French professor, Madame Schaeffer.  As class was about to begin, I remarked, “Madame Schaeffer, you look very nice today.”  She immediately responded in a perturbed voice, “Mr. Dearman!  What do you mean….today?”  My comment about today, had left in question every other day.  It is the same when a person swears that they are telling the truth.  Does this mean typically that person should be suspect and only to be believed when they are swearing?

In the higher righteousness required by the Kingdom of Heaven, Jesus’ disciples are always to tell the truth.  There should never be a need to protest that any one particular thing among others we say is the truth.  God demands that it all be the truth and nothing but the truth.  But, consider exaggerations, hyperboles, obfuscations, spreading rumors, “putting lipstick on a pig,” or what I call neural misfires. It is all too easy to say something that is less than true.

So it is that we stand judged by the light of Jesus’ extension of the Law.  Its primary purpose is to show that we, by our own efforts, can never earn God’s favor.  We can do nothing good without God, so we always pray for God’s Holy Spirit to make up for what is lacking in our well-intentioned efforts.  It is all Grace!

And now, we will move forward this morning with the Baptism of little Owen.  How astounding it is that we will claim an infant to be an inheritor of the Kingdom of Heaven.  Owen is to become the newest Christian on the Earth, not by virtue of anything he has done to earn it.  We will enact the outward and visible portion of Baptism with water and oil, and he will have the promise of his parents, sponsors, and others to guide him going forward. But just know this...the inward and spiritual part of Baptism, the heart of the matter, is solely the Grace of God!  AMEN.