John Donne, Death, and the Path of Life

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
DFMS Noonday Prayer, via Zoom
John Donne, March 31, 2020

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Today is the feast day of John Donne. A 17th century priest and poet. He is probably best known for his Sonnet “Death be not proud.” A fitting poem for today. One that reminds us of that all important truth that Death is not the end. Death should not be proud because it does not last. As Donne closes his sonnet, death too shall die.

Our Gospel reading for today closes with the line: “Very truly, I tell you, anyone who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life, and does not come under judgement, but has passed from death to life.”

Passing from death to life. Indeed we are. The hard part is that there is no time frame attached to that. We are indeed in the midst of death. We have lost and will lose those who are near and dear to us. We have lost and will lose friends. Through our wider communities and circles we know others who have died, perhaps of the virus or of some other cause. It can feel like a compounded loss in the midst of all the suffering and challenges of the present moment to be reminded that people will also still die of cancer, of heart attacks, of old age and in accidents. There will be still gun violence, natural disasters, and tragedy in the midst of a pandemic. And yet we are passing from death to life. From death to life.

The challenge, the pain, the heartache, the loss, the grief of this present moment is real. It can fill our hearts and our minds. It can weigh heavily on us. And it will likely still be there tomorrow, possibly even for days to come. And yet. It is also still true that we are passing from death to life. Death does not and will not ever have the last word. We are an Easter people.

Love and life have the last word. Today and always. This is the truth we need to hold on to even in the midst of news that breaks our hearts, even in the midst of an infection rate and a death toll that just continues to go up. Even as we worry for ourselves, as we fear for the lives and the livelihoods of those we love.

The fear is real. The loss is real. The death of our mortal bodies is real. The way forward does not come from denying the truths of our world nor the fullness of emotions in our hearts. The way forward comes from facing those realities and still choosing life. As our psalm for today says, “You will show me the path of life; * in your presence there is fullness of joy.” God indeed is showing us the path of life. It is the path of Easter. The path of life and love. The path to joy.

I hope that each and every one of us has people in our lives who help us to know where the path of life is, in whose presence we find joy. Hopefully for many of us those are people who are also stuck at home with us (although in the current circumstances of being confined together in small spaces, trying to do work and manage children and life, and everything, they may also be the people who can most grate on our nerves at the present moment!). Home life may very well be chaos currently or perhaps home is far too quiet right now, missing the hustle and bustle of friends and neighbors. Or for many of us, just being home this much is taking another sort of adjustment, as we have become accustomed to life on the road. However it may be that we find ourselves situated in these days, we are all being invited to follow the path of life. We are being invited to seek out those relationships, those connections, those activities that bring us the fullness of joy.

So make full use of the gifts of technology - of pen and paper, of phone calls and text messages, and even multi-time zone video calls with those far and near. Make full use of a few moments for quiet meditation or the opportunity to go for a walk. Whatever it is that will help to ground us in the truths of our faith, to more deeply connect us with God and with each other.

Indeed we are passing from death to life. Let us choose life. Let us choose joy. Let us choose hope. Today and each day ahead. AMEN.

Getting in the Boat and Finding Hope

The lush greenery of a tea plantation on the Azores.

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom
Innocent of Alaska, March 30, 2020

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Today we remember Archbishop Innocent of Alaska. He lived a long and fruitful life. And I think he is a good person for us to be honoring today. Between his story and our reading from Isaiah in particular, I found some spiritual sustenance that I have been seeking.

Before Innocent was a bishop or an archbishop, he was a missionary. He served in a number of places in Alaska, and I was struck by his engagement with the Native Peoples that he met. He worked diligently to ensure that they had the Scriptures in their own languages. He met them where they were. He did not insist that they learn Russian or Greek or Latin. He brought the Scriptures to them in their language. They got to know Jesus on their terms.

I think there is a good reminder for us in this time - a reminder that as followers of Jesus we are called to meet people where they are. When I was training as a hospital chaplain, we talked a lot about this. I might know some of someone’s medical history or why they were in the hospital when I walked into a patient’s room, but I had no idea how they had been affected by the experience. I had no idea what they were thinking and feeling until I engaged in conversation with them and listened to what was going on in their hearts and minds. As we liked to say, I needed to “get in the boat with them.” I needed to let go of my assumptions about how hard or easy things might be for them, my assumptions about how anxious or how at peace they might be. I could only fully be their companion on the way, if I came to understand how things were going for them, came to see things from their point of view.

I think we need to do that for each other, like Innocent, like my chaplaincy mentors, we need to listen to where people are at. We need to weep with them when they are suffering and grieving. We need to rejoice with them when they are rejoicing. If they are anxious and we are not, then perhaps we can understand why they are and help them. These times are challenging, and we need each other. We need friends with whom we can bring the fullness of our emotions in this time. It is much easier to bring the fullness of our emotions, if our friends are open and inviting, seeking out, asking what we might need, not making assumptions or dictating how we should be feeling at any given moment. So in this time may we be open, inviting, and compassionate with all those we meet.

Then the second bit of sustenance I found this morning was in our reading from Isaiah, where God tells the people that there will be plenteous water for their thirst, that the land will be full of rivers and springs, there will be beautiful trees and flowering plants. What seemed a barren landscape will be filled with beauty and life. What a marvelous image in this time, when we could so easily be taken over by fear, by a theology of scarcity. A time when we could so easily get overwhelmed by all the bad news out there that we could fail to see the signs of beauty, of hope and new life that are around us. I find myself drawing solace from these lines in Isaiah. What might the parallels be for us today? There is no doubt in my mind or my heart that God is present with us, that we have cause for hope, that we will get through this, and that as it always is, God’s loving, life-giving, liberating self is present and at work in the world. So, let’s promise each other today that we will be on the lookout for those signs. They may be small. The way the sunbeams come through the window. The buds on the trees. Plants and flowers pushing up through the dirt and beginning to bloom. The smile or the laugh of someone dear to us. That delicious first sip of coffee or first bite of a meal. A comfortable chair in which to rest our weary bodies. Hearing from an old friend. Getting a few minutes outside. Seeing the myriad of ways our communities are caring for each other. Practicing and witnessing small acts of generosity do our souls good.

There is a heaviness in the world and in our own hearts these days, and maybe today in particular. The grief is real. It is hard. We can bear it together. We can get in the boat with each other and share our burdens. And together we can also be watching and searching for all the signs of hope and new life. They are there. Always. Thanks be to God. AMEN.

Bearing with one another in love

Bishop Charles Henry Brent

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
DFMS Noonday Prayer on Zoom
March 27, 2020
Commemoration of Bishop Charles Henry Brent


May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Oh my friends, somehow God and the lectionary committee know just what we need to hear. Just what we need and the world needs. “Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them . . .” I needed a story of healing and compassion today. I needed to be reminded that Jesus is here with us. That our God is a God of grace, a God of healing, and compassion.

Now I think first it is worth addressing the bit about healing. I think we can often think of healing as complete erasure of disease, as though it never happened. Now we already know that is not possible in these circumstances. Not everyone is going to make a miraculous recovery. In these circumstances, I find it helpful to remember that the resurrected Christ still had his wounds. We are not going to come through this crisis unscathed, as individuals or as communities. We are going to be wounded. And yet, even in the midst of all the suffering and the challenges, God’s healing love is at work in our hearts and in the world. We can trust in God’s abiding presence. We can trust that new life and new possibilities will come. We can trust that hope and transformation are real. We can be on the lookout for signs of grace and compassion each and every day. They are there, if we look.

And we can also be a sign of grace and compassion for each other. We are called to be a people of compassion. Here we are at the end of another week. For many of us this has been a week of adjustment. This working, parenting, living, doing everything at home thing has shifted from something temporary that we figured we might do for a few weeks to something we are going to likely be doing for months. I don’t know about you all, but I am tired. There is a heaviness in my heart and my soul. We are a people grieving so many losses. We are grieving deaths of people near and dear. We are grieving for the ever rising death toll around the world. We are grieving the loss of freedom. We are grieving the loss of how we used to live our daily lives. We are grieving the inability to be in the same room and touch people who mean the world to us, which makes us grieve the fact that we cannot do our grieving together. We are also grieving the loss of dreams, of hopes, of plans for our future. We are grieving so much. We know that when this is all over the world is going to look so very different.

We are grieving so much, in so many ways. First and foremost we need to have compassion for ourselves. Let us be gentle with ourselves in these days. We will not be able to do everything we want to do, and we will not be able to do it to the standard we normally set for ourselves. That is okay. Today is a day for us to allow good enough to be good enough.

It is also a day to have compassion with our family and our friends. My husband, our two kids and our dog are all in our house together all the time now. We love each other a great deal. We have space. We have plenty of food. We can go out for walks. And we are not used to being all together all the time while also trying to do work and school and worrying about the state of the world. Getting on each other’s nerves is inevitable in this time. So we need to be compassionate with each other as well.

And we all need to be compassionate with each other in this time. It is important to remember that “compassion” literally means “feeling with.” We need to feel and understand the myriad of new challenges we are all facing at this moment. We need to remember that we are in this together, and we have so many examples to follow among the ancestors of our faith. Bishop Brent, who we remember today, is certainly one. He became Bishop of Western New York, after a long tenure as the Missionary Bishop of the Philippines, in 1918. Just in time to lead that diocese through the Spanish Flu Pandemic. In the Philippines Brent had been active in combating the scourge of opium addiction, from that holy work and from a prayer he wrote, we get a sense of what kind of a leader Brent was. He was one of compassion and care. His prayer is one of the prayers for Mission that we pray in Morning Prayer. Brent wrote:

“Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your Name. Amen.”

Indeed we are called to reach forth our hands in love. Or as our passage for today from Ephesians says, we are called to “lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love.” My friends, we are indeed called to bear with one another in love. There is much to bear today, and there will be more tomorrow. Let us hold fast to our conviction that the way through this is to reach forth our hands in love, to have compassion for ourselves and for each other. We can get through this, together. AMEN.

Annunciation and Magnificat

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
DFMS Noonday Prayer, via Zoom
Feast of the Annunciation, March 25, 2020

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Today is the Feast of the Annunciation. It is the day we celebrate Mary, the Mother of Jesus, and her willingness to say yes to God. Along with the story of the Annunciation in our Gospel, we get Canticle 15, also known as the Magnificat in place of our psalm today. The Magnificat is one of my favorite pieces of Scripture. It is the song that Mary sings when she meets up with Elizabeth. Elizabeth tells her that she is blessed among women, and Mary responds with a song about what God has done and will do. And this song is not only beautiful and inspiring, it is a song that has a significant place in our tradition. If you pray Evening Prayer or attend Evensong on a regular basis, you will notice that the Magnificat is always said or sung. That tells us that basically the Magnificat always has something to say to us, no matter what day it is. No doubt that is true for us today as we struggle in the midst of a global pandemic.

What is it about the Magnificat that is so important, so meaningful for us as followers of Jesus?

I think it tells us three important things about God and about ourselves. It tells us about MERCY, CHANGE, and PROMISE.

First, we are reminded that God is merciful. That God loves us. That God cares for us. With so much fear and uncertainty in our hearts and our communities in these days, we could lose sight of that very important truth. We need that truth, and we need to remember what it means for Mary to have spoken the truth about who God is and how God cares for us. Mary was woman ostracized and possibly even shamed by her community. She was on the margins. She was a woman at a time when women were regarded as property. She had no rights, no power, no authority. And yet here she is in the Gospel of Luke, doing what men do, what prophets do, speaking truths about God with authority and conviction. Such important truths that they are written down and preserved for generations to come.

The fact that Mary is the one speaking of God’s favor, God’s love, and God’s mercy reminds us that our God is not just the God of the powerful. God’s mercy, God’s love are for all people, everywhere. Especially for those on the margins. Especially for those who feel unworthy of God’s love. And that my friends is an important reminder for each of us in this time when no doubt more and more people are feeling marginalized each day, as they face illness or death, as the unemployment numbers rise, as more and more people face a personally or communally unstable future. We, the Church, have a call to minister with, to serve, to care for those on the margins. The needs are great throughout our communities, and are going to be increasing in the coming weeks and months. May we remember that our God is a God of compassion and mercy. May we be generous with ourselves and with all those around us. May we be agents of mercy wherever we go.

Second, Mary talks about change. Aren’t we all learning a lot about change in these days. So much of what has been the status quo is changing. Mary and Jesus knew something about changing the status quo in their time too. Jesus’ whole life and ministry were about inviting people into a new way of being that was a transformation of the status quo. And as his followers, we too are invited to join in that transformation. It is worth remembering what an act of faith it is for Mary to say all these things about what God is doing and then to live into the path that has been set before her. Can you imagine it? Imagine knowing that your child would have an amazing impact on the world, would change the course of history and bring hope and salvation. Imagine knowing that before you have even held the child. And imagine knowing that would also it come with enormous cost. Imagine knowing all that and still saying yes? Mary had deep faith and profound courage. I think it is important to note here that my favorite definition of courage is being afraid and doing it anyway. I don’t doubt Mary was afraid. How could she not be? And yet she says yes to God. Yes to being Jesus’ mother, even though the road would be so very rough. What an inspiration for us in a time when we know the road ahead will be rough and full of uncertainty.

Mary’s courage also brings us to the third element of the Magnificat and why it matters for us. It matters because the Magnificat is about promises. It is about God’s promises and our promises. Mary reminds us that God keeps promises. God does not forget them. God is faithful, and we are called to be faithful as well. This does not mean that God’s promises will always be fulfilled in the time or manner in which WE would like. It is important to note that God does not promise us an easy road. God certainly did not promise Mary an easy road. What God does promise is to be faithful. God promises to be faithful to who we know God to be. God promises to be Emmanuel, God with us. And God invites us to be faithful to our promises, to be faithful followers of Jesus. We are called to be faithful and courageous like Mary. We are called to trust in God’s abiding presence, even when we feel afraid. This means stepping out and stepping up to do the right thing, even when we are not sure how it is all going to turn out.

So, I invite you to carry the Magnificat through the days and weeks ahead as we continue to live into the ever changing realities of this global pandemic. Carry the Magnificat with you each day. Carry its truth. Carry its hope. Carry its conviction. Carry the bold and comforting knowledge that God is merciful, that God is bringing about change in the world, and that God is faithful. May those gifts and truths in turn inspire us to be merciful, to join with God’s reconciling love at work in the world, and to have the courage to keep our promises, even when we feel afraid.

AMEN.

Salt, Light, and Gregory the Illuminator

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom 

Gregory the Illuminator, March 23, 2020

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. And may that point us to the living Word, who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

“You are the salt of the earth.” “You are the light of the world.” “Let your light shine before others.” Today I am grateful for these familiar lines of Scripture. We need salt and light right now. We need that which gives hope, depth, and richness to life. The fear and uncertainty are swirling. Many of us are in states that are now in a virtual or actual states of lockdown. We can make quick trips out for essential items, but we have basically been asked to stay home. In a matter of a few short days our daily routines, how we do our jobs, how our children go to school, how we get our basic necessities, and possibly even how we understand the world, has changed. Things look so very different than they did. 

And we may know many others for whom the impact of this pandemic is far more immediate and severe - those who are ill, those who are healthcare workers or first responders, those whose dire financial circumstances are represented in the ever increasing numbers at feeding programs and in unemployment claims. So much has changed, is changed, and will change. It is indeed a blessing to be gathering daily with you all for a time of prayer.

I always find the practice of communal worship to be grounding. It reorients me and helps me keep my priorities straight. I find myself in need of that all the more in these days. I need to be reminded to take a deep breath, to let go of my desire for certainty or definitive answers. I need to be reminded that God is here. God is with us. We will indeed get through this, together.

Indeed, the Gospel for today is so apropos. We are the light of the world. The fear and the uncertainty can feel overwhelming. And we cannot let them paralyze us from acting. Nor can we let the fear trick us into thinking we are powerless. Don’t get me wrong, there are moments when this whole thing is like a tsunami and I am just standing on the beach waiting to be caught up in its tumult. But then I pause. I breathe. I pray. I check in with a friend, and I am pulled back to the truths of our faith.

We are salt. We are light. We have power and agency. We can do good works in the midst of all of this. We can keep connecting with each other. In whatever ways are appropriate given our various contexts, we can do what the Church has always done in times like these - we can care for those who are most vulnerable. We can ensure that the light of God shines in the darkness. We can ensure that the flame of hope is never extinguished in our own hearts and homes and in our wider communities as well.

It is important for us to remember that we are not alone in this effort to embody light and hope for the world. We can do it together. We can bolster each other in our faith and in our work. And we can remember that we follow in a long line of saints who have struggled through challenging times, who faced difficulties and yet did not waiver in their faith. Gregory the Illuminator, who we remember today was imprisoned in a well for 13 years because he refused to participate in pagan rituals. Thirteen years! That is a long time. A few weeks or even months largely confined to our homes is not looking so bad after all. In Gregory’s shoes, it could seem easy to give up, and yet he did not. He persevered and was able to share the light of his faith (he is Gregory the Illuminator after all) with people throughout Armenia.

So, my friends, while the challenges before us are real, and they will test our faith and our endurance, they need not leave us disheartened or disillusioned. There is always hope. In the midst of everything, countless acts of kindness and generosity are being done everyday. We are salt. We are light. We are finding more and more ways to stay connected to each other, despite our physical separation. Through our faith, through our actions, through all the good that is being done around the world, there is light in the darkness. And together we can make that light even brighter. AMEN.

St. Joseph

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
DFMS Noonday Prayer on Zoom
March 19, 2020
Feast of St. Joseph

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word, who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
In the hallway of the retreat center where I go regularly for Spiritual Direction, there is a small painting of Joseph holding the baby Jesus while Mary sleeps. It is a simple painting that looks like it was probably done in the 1970s or 80s - reminds me of illustrations in the Little Golden Books of my childhood. The painting reflects its era, and the baby Jesus is far too white. Despite its flaws, I have consistently found myself drawn to this picture. I think part of this is because it is an uncommon image. There are so many different images of Mary holding the baby Jesus. In classic art, in icons, and in umpteen Christmas cards. We so rarely see images of Joseph as an engaged father. We are rarely invited to think about him as a caregiver for Jesus. That image of Joseph holding Jesus while Mary sleeps invites us to rethink our very familiar version of the story that we carry around in our own minds and hearts.

I don’t know about you all, but I am finding comfort in that right now. “Being invited to rethink things.” Well that just about sums up the week doesn’t it? We are being invited to rethink everything. From our how we do our work, to how we interact with our community to how we do our grocery shopping and how we wash our hands. Add on to that a high level of anxiety in our hearts, our homes, our communities and the world. Oof. What a lot to be dealing with at once. It can feel like quite a test of our resilience, of our faith, of our ability to hold on to hope and trust in God in the midst of darkness. Hmm. That also sounds like the story of Joseph.

One of the things I have always loved about the story of Joseph that we usually get in Advent is that it is such a classic human story. Joseph is going along with a nice plan for his life. He and Mary are going to build a nice life together. They will do the things the average family in Nazareth did in the 1st century. But then the Holy Spirit intervenes, as she so often does. Mary is pregnant and everything seems to be going to turn upside down. At first Joseph is going to dismiss her quietly, quite understandable . . . things are not going according to his plan. But blessedly the Holy Spirit intervenes again, and helps him to understand the fullness of what is happening. The plan is not going to be exactly what he thought it was . . . and yet on many levels it is going to be more wondrous and amazing than he could have possibly dreamed. Joseph is left with a choice. Does he walk away because things are not going how he imagined they would or does he stay in the complicated, messy situation that also has amazing possibilities? Does he say yes to God and choose to step into a now uncertain future? Does he choose faith and trust or certainty and isolation?

Now, for most of us our current dilemmas are not exactly the same. We are not being asked to welcome the Son of God as the newest member of our family. And yet at the more basic emotional and spiritual level, the questions are the same. What does it look like for us to move forward in faith even when the future feels scary and uncertain? How do we trust in God, trust in goodness, trust in life and possibility, when it seems like everywhere around us doors that we thought were open are suddenly closing? There is a very real temptation to give into the fear and the worry. Fear is sneaky that way. Playing out the worst case scenarios and running through all kinds of possibilities in our heads can have the illusion of being productive and prepared. Now I am not saying we should not be prepared. But stocking up on groceries and medicine for an extended time at home or making concrete plans with our family is a different thing from lying awake at 2 in the morning playing out disaster movie scenarios in our brain.

So what exactly does it look like to choose hope? I will tell you what it looks like for me, and I hope some of that will resonate. It looks like being present in the moment, and noticing the little things. A daffodil blooming. The smiles and laughter of my children. The longer days. The fact that these days I get to eat three meals a day with my children. The clarity of priorities a crisis brings - in the midst of all of this, it is easy to be sure of what really matters. Choosing hope also looks like being gentle with ourselves. It looks like being compassionate with ourselves, our loved ones, our colleagues and friends. Life is hard right now. Adding anger and frustration to the mix won’t be helpful. And that leads me to the other tool of building hope. Relationships where trust is paramount and vulnerability is always possible. Holding on to hope is rarely (if ever) a solo endeavor. It is possible because we do not walk alone. We have companions on the way with whom it is okay to be fully ourselves, to name our fears and our frustrations, to process our challenges. Relationships that support us, inspire us, and help us to be our best selves.

So I hope that today, and every day in these challenging times, you will be given the grace, the courage, and the companions you need to choose hope. To follow in Joseph footsteps, stepping out into an uncertain future, trusting that the possibilities that God has in store for us are always more than we could ask or imagine. Amen.

Saint Patrick

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
Noonday Prayer for DFMS via Zoom
Feast of St. Patrick, March 17, 2020

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that lead us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Good afternoon friends. I am grateful for this time of prayer to be together, even in the midst of the challenges and uncertainties we are facing. I think most of us have some experience of working at home on occasion, and to be looking at it as our reality for many weeks is a whole other thing entirely. Especially for those of us with kids at home! I hope we will all be gentle with ourselves and acknowledge the spiritual toll this can take on us, even if we are able to stay physically healthy in the midst of this global pandemic.

I am also grateful for the gift of our lectionary. As so often happens, we can find the solace we need for this time in our Scriptures and in the life of St. Patrick. In more secular culture, this day has become about all things Irish and all things green (beer, milkshakes, cookies, etc), but there are far more meaningful elements to the life of Patrick. I am finding solace in two things in particular. First, in Patrick’s own story. Remember he was taken as a slave to Ireland, then he escaped and returned to England. Did he just stay in England and go about his life? No, he returned to Ireland, determined to continue preaching the Gospel and sharing God’s love with the world. Patrick could have taken the easy way out. He could have decided his captivity was enough of a challenge, enough of a good work for this lifetime. But he did not. He chose to do more. He chose to step into new challenges and worked to ensure that more and more people knew the life transforming story of Jesus Christ. A good model for us on the days when we might feel exhausted or overwhelmed. As faithful followers of Jesus, we are not called to give up when the going gets tough. We are called to persist, as Patrick did. AND, and this is a really important AND. We can persist because we are not doing it alone. God is with us, and we are a community.

If you have ever been to a priest’s ordination, you have likely heard the hymn “St. Patrick’s Breastplate” (listen here), its text is a poem that is attributed to Patrick, and it too contains some important solace for these times. Like our Psalm for today, it reminds us of that all important truth that God is with us and God is so much bigger than we ask or imagine. My favorite stanza is:

I bind unto myself today
the power of God to hold and lead,
his eye to watch, his might to stay,
his ear to hearken to my need;
the wisdom of my God to teach,
his hand to guide, his shield to ward;
the word of God to give me speech,
his heavenly host to be my guard.


Indeed God is our guide, our teacher, and our guard. The fear and uncertainty are swirling around us, and they likely will for some time to come. Today we are reminded that the way forward is to keep our focus on God, to remember that we never have to walk alone. We walk in the footsteps of saints like Patrick. So, so many of our fore-bearers in the faith have dealt with challenges, not unlike those we are currently facing, and they have found a way through, triumphed even. Like them we can keep our trust in God and our connections to each other (even if we are using different methods to do that). We can keep reading the Scriptures and saying our prayers, reminding ourselves to keep our perspective wide. This too shall pass. And we are in God’s hands, always, no matter what happens. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Gregory the Great

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of our Lord, Episcopal Church Center 

Feast of Gregory the Great, March 12, 2020

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I smiled when I got the rota for March. I get to preach on the feast day of Gregory the Great. A gift indeed. He was one of the thinkers I wrote about in my doctoral dissertation. I spent a number of years living with his life story and many of his writings. He is like an old friend, and so it is an honor to get to share some of my favorite insights and challenges of this great saint of our tradition with you today. And typical Holy Spirit, I also believe there is much of value to be found in Gregory’s life and writings for this particular time and place.

Gregory came from a prominent Roman family, and he eschewed that privileged life for a quiet monastic one. In that Gregory is an exemplar of faith, he knew that living a life of deep faith and devotion was more important the material wealth or political power. Although Gregory took his desire to live out his faith a bit far. He loved ascetical practices and followed them so strongly and faithfully that he ended up making himself ill for most of his life. In this, Gregory is an example of what not to do. It is possible to have too much of a good thing. Practicing piety is important. Being deeply faithful is important, but it does not need to be taken to the extreme of self-harm. In fact, that ends up being counter productive. Gregory accomplished much in his life, but he could have done even more if he had not been ill so much of the time.

Speaking of what not to do, Gregory offers us another model on that front in his commentary on the book of Job. Gregory spends a good deal of time focused on the behavior of Job’s friends. You know the ones? The ones who come to see Job when he is suffering and who sit around talking about how Job must have done something to deserve this. It is like they are trying to solve a logic or a thought puzzle. They are doing a clinical analysis of how this situation came to be, and they seem to have forgotten about the emotions and real suffering of their friend who is right in front of them. Job’s friends are exactly how we should NOT behave in the midst of suffering.

In the midst of the fears and realities of a global pandemic, this is a good reminder for us. There are plenty of narratives going around that play on fear or stereotypes or prejudice. Viruses do not obey the lines of division we human beings like to draw for ourselves. Diseases and the broader experience of suffering are universal experiences. While the realities of classism, sexism, racism, and all the other isms can mean that we experience suffering to varying degrees, no one is immune from it.

So, if we find ourselves thinking like Job’s friends or we find ourselves starting down the mental road of enumerating why we are superior to someone else (even if we are only doing so in our own head), we ought to pause and reassess. The Gospel for today is a helpful reminder. We are called to be servants. We are called to be humble. We are called to be kind. We are called to be generous. In case we were wondering, it is not about us. It is about giving of ourselves for the greater good. It is about following in the way of Jesus, offering ourselves, our gifts, our love to God and to the world so that everyone might be enriched by it.

So in this time of increasing fear, when it can be so tempting to give into narratives that promote division and separation, let us seek to be a force for love and compassion in our communities and the world. It will do our own hearts good, and it will do the world good. AMEN.

Feast on Joy

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Grace, Hartford

Lent 1; March 1, 2020

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7; Romans 5:12-19; Matthew 4:1-11; Psalm 32

May God's Word be spoken. May God's Word be heard. May that point us to the Living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The other morning, as I came into the kitchen from an early morning CrossFit class, our daughter Katherine was sitting at the piano playing beautiful music. Our son, Halsted, came running down the stairs saying, “Mom, mom, mom, mom.” He jumped up and gave me a big hug. You know the kind of hug only kids can give? The one that wraps arms and legs around you with a fierceness that you didn’t realize could come from such a small body. It was a moment of delight and gratitude. A perfect way to begin the day. 

It was a moment in which I got to “feast on joy.” I have been thinking about that moment as I reflect on the readings and collect for today. Here we are at the beginning of Lent. A time when we have taken on or are still thinking about taking on, a new discipline. A time when we can focus a lot on what we should give up or what we should NOT do. Particularly with the emphasis in our readings today on temptation . . .

First, we get the classic reading from the third chapter of Genesis. The story of the Fall. That  fabulous origin story that helps to explain why life is so difficult, messy, and fragile. We aren’t in the Garden of Eden anymore. Adam and Eve disobeyed God. They listened to the wily serpent and gave into temptation. Now, we are all suffering the consequences. Clear take home lesson: “Don’t give into temptation.”

Then we get our Gospel from Matthew, where Jesus is tempted by the devil. And by tempted we mean really tempted. Jesus is offered the world, quite literally, if he will merely bow to the devil’s authority. Jesus does not give into temptation. Yet again, Jesus is the paragon of virtue, the preeminent example for us to follow. Further reinforcement of the message: “Don’t give into temptation.” 

And its Lent, so it can seem virtuous to focus our efforts on not giving into temptation, but I want to nuance this a bit. So often our focus in Lent can be on not giving into the temptation of dessert or wine or some other treat we love. I have always found it more fruitful to think about Lent as an opportunity to start a new discipline, a new habit. It is an opportunity to make a positive change that we hope to continue, even after Easter. 

There is a quote, a Lenten invitation from a former Presiding Bishop, Arthur Lichtenburger that I have found helpful in reframing how I think about Lent. It is where I got that “feast on joy” phrase that described my wonderful morning of music and hugs from our children. 

Bishop Lichtenburger invites us to:

Fast from criticism and feast on praise; 

Fast from self-pity, and feast on joy; 

Fast from ill temper, and feast on peace;  

Fast from resentment, and feast on contentment; 

Fast from jealousy, and feast on humility; 

Fast from pride and feast on love; 

Fast from selfishness, and feast on service; 

Fast from fear, and feast on faith.

If I am going to think about not giving into temptation this Lent, it is far more life giving to think about not giving into the temptations of fear or jealousy or pride. Given the harshness of our news headlines, the realities of evil and suffering in the world, the acrimony that seems ever present in our civil discourse, it could be easy to give into the temptation to let fear win. There are a lot of voices out there that would have us believe that we have much to fear. 

But we are not a people of fear. We are a people of hope. We are a people of joy. As Katherine’s music and Halsted’s hug reminded me the other morning, we all need a little more hope, a little more joy in our lives. Life is indeed difficult, messy, and fragile. And it is also beautiful, magnificent, and full of blessings. The question is, often, what are we looking for? What is our lens? What is our frame? If we choose to look for all the things that confirm our fears. If we choose to buy into a theology of scarcity, a belief that we are all in competition and there will never be enough, it will be easy to find things that confirm our fears. The devil likes nothing more than playing on our fears and convincing us that we are better off on our own, separated from God and each other. 

On the other hand, that is not the life to which God calls us. God calls us to an abundant life. To a life of joy and love, a life that is firmly guided by the conviction that there is always enough. That we are enough. That love is stronger than hate. That faith and hope are stronger than fear.

If Lent is an opportunity for us to turn over a new leaf, to reorient ourselves more fully toward God, then I invite us to do that by being on the lookout for the ways in which God’s joyful, abundant, life-giving love keeps showing up in our lives. Be on the lookout for smiles, for hugs, for laughter, for music, for opportunities to build relationship and connection. We could all use a “feast of joy” in our lives. So may our hearts be all the more open to receive those gifts when they are offered, and may we be inspired to create joy for others. AMEN.