When Miracles Don't Happen

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer 

Thomas Gallaudet & Henry Syle, August 27, 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. 

Our Diocesan Offices used to be located in a large house on Asylum Avenue in Hartford. I always thought this was an odd name for a street, as I assumed it referenced some long ago insane asylum in Hartford. The Asylum Hill neighborhood is a notable one, it contains the homes of Harriet Beecher Stowe and Mark Twain. But the Asylum in the name is not for an insane asylum, it is for the “The American Asylum at Hartford for the Education and Instruction of the Deaf & Dumb Persons” founded in the early 1800s. That school is now known as The American School for the Deaf and is located a few blocks from my house in West Hartford. It is actually quite fitting that our Diocesan Offices used to be on Asylum Ave, for the School for the Deaf and the history of the Episcopal Church in CT (and beyond) are very much linked. Today we remember and honor two priests, Thomas Gallaudet (whose father founded the School for the Deaf) and Henry Syle, who was the first deaf priest in The Episcopal Church. 

Our Church has a long history in ministering with the deaf community through education and various parish based ministries. I am finding that history and the examples of Thomas and Henry to be helpful in nuancing my reading of today’s Gospel. Of course, as one might expect today we get a story of Jesus healing a deaf man. I will admit to finding these healing stories challenging. They are wonderful and glorious, of course. But I cannot help but think of people I know who have been blind or deaf who would have loved to have such a miracle cure. They never did. 

How are we supposed to sit with that? How are we supposed to sit with any seemingly insurmountable problem for which we desperately desire a quick and simple solution? If only Jesus were here to instantly fix whatever is wrong. Don’t we wish that were true! 

This is where I think the lives of Thomas and Henry are so helpful. No doubt we (and probably they too) wish for miraculous solutions to the difficulties we face. And yet they do not always happen. So what did Thomas and Henry do? Did they sink into a deep depression and give up? No, they did what they could. And what they could was a lot. Their ministries educated and empowered people who were often at the margins of society, particularly in a time when there was no technology for hearing aids or cochlear implants. 

So I think sometimes we get to be Jesus. Sometimes we encounter challenges that we have exactly the skills to handle. I feel extraordinarily grateful that my children are still at the age where almost all their difficulties can be solved with a conversation and a lot of hugs. I know the days will come (no doubt sooner than I would like) when that will no longer work or even be a welcome solution. They will face difficulties that I cannot fix. 

On those days, and whenever any of us encounter a problem that is beyond our skill set. I hope we will remember Thomas and Henry. We are not always called to make a problem disappear. Sometimes we are called to educate and empower. Sometimes we are called to walk with people and support them in learning to live with a new reality. 

This can be a struggle for those of us who love to fix things and have neat and tidy solutions. It can feel like a failure for us to be unable to make everything better. Thomas and Henry invite us to reimagine our definition of success. They invite us to remember that healing is about wholeness and the fullness of life, not necessarily about erasing a disease or impediment. Thomas and Henry remind us that the fullness of life is possible, even in the face of personal challenges or conditions that society would label as “other.” It is possible because we are a people of faith, and because we are blessed with teachers, mentors, friends and companions on the way who will help us figure out our own version of thriving. 

God is always inviting us to be a people of hope, to find new life. May we always have the grace and courage to accept that invitation. Amen. 

God's Will be Done

Seine River in Paris

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

Louis of France, August 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.

It is a prayer we pray daily, perhaps even multiple times a day (especially if you have discovered that it is just the right length for handwashing during a pandemic), “Our Father  . . . thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” Like so many elements that are nearly habits in our faith lives, we run the risk of having them become rote or even devoid of meaning. Today we commemorate the remarkable life of Louis of France, a secular ruler who used his power to further God’s will in the world. 

Louis reformed the justice system and ensured that the nobility were accountable for how they treated their vassals. He established hospitals. He promoted learning. He sought to build systems and structures in society that cared for the most vulnerable. He was not without his faults, as he also promoted and participated in two Crusades. But we should not let those choices blind us to all the good he did. 

History is full of plenty of stories of monarchs and rulers who have used their power for self-aggrandizement. Our reading from Samuel is a good example - a king who takes from his subjects to enrich himself and his courtiers. The Lord and Samuel try to offer a different way, but the people of Israel insist on having a king. And of course, we know how the story goes. They get a King in Saul, then David, then Solomon, etc. They also get a long series of prophets who keep having to tell the King and the people that their manner of living was not what God was calling them too. Think of Nathan chastising David for his killing of Uriah or Amos calling out the wealthy for ignoring the needs of the poor. Or Micah reminding the people that God desires us to be kind, to be just and merciful, not to just be lavish with material sacrifices at the Temple.

What we have in Louis of France is someone who sought to live out the message of those prophets, who sought to align his will with God’s will. We have someone who sought to use his power for the benefit of all people, especially the poor and the vulnerable. If you know anything about Liberation Theology (the belief that Jesus is solidly on the side of the poor and marginalized), you might even say he was a liberation theologian about 700 years before it was popular. 

It seems there is an invitation in our Scriptures and in our commemoration of Louis today. It is an invitation to be attentive to God’s will in our lives and an invitation for us to be deeply thoughtful about how we use our power. We pray daily that God’s will be done. What do we mean by that? How do we know what God’s will is? I think there are some things that can help us with this discernment.

If we are sitting with a question of what to do in a given situation or we are wrestling with some important life question or dilemma, we can think of those Old Testament prophets. What might Amos or Micah or Nathan say? How does this align with those values? Or we can use the language of our Presiding Bishop in helping us think about what Jesus might do in a similar situation - what is the most loving, life-giving, liberating way forward? 

Those questions can be very helpful. I also find I often need to get out of my own head. I need a conversation partner (or sometimes even more than one) to help me think something through. I often hear God best through the wisdom of a friend or family member. Those beloved people who know me well, who offer a different perspective, and invite me to be my best self. They always help me to see the big picture and to figure out the best way out of whatever dilemma I am facing. And if the challenge is the kind we cannot easily solve, then they help me figure out how to live into the complexity. The journey is so much richer and more meaningful when we do not try to figure it all out on our own. I am reminded of this beautiful truth again and again. 

The other thing that we must keep in mind when we are making decisions and choosing a path is our power and how we can use it for good. We may rarely feel powerful. Years of feeling as thought we are the only or one of the only ____ (name your category: age, race, gender, sexual orientation, class, etc.) can leave us focusing on where we feel powerless. But we often have more power than we think. Rarely does a decision we make only impact our own selves. We can have an impact on others. Especially for those of us who are in positions of power and privilege because of our race or our role in the Church, we have an obligation as people of faith to use that power as Louis did, as the prophets did, as Jesus did. We have an obligation to use our power for the building up, for the thriving of all God’s people. 

I hope that as we pray “Thy will be done” in the days ahead, it invites us to think of how we can follow in Louis’ footsteps and how we might listen more deeply to the ways God is calling us to join in building a kingdom where all people can flourish. Amen. 

Hope in the midst of suffering

 

One glimpse of the splendor of creation

Rev. Molly F. James

DFMS Noonday Prayer

St. Bartholomew, August 24, 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 don't know about you all, but it feels like Psalm 91 might have been written just for us... pestilence and sickness, thousands falling. Oh my. It sounds far too much like our news headlines. In a document that is thousands of years old. What are we to make of this?

I think we can find hope and reassurance. The challenges we face have been faced and overcome by generations before us. Even by generations that did not have our advanced technology or level of scientific knowledge. If they can do it, surely we can too. There is hope and reassurance in this psalm, because it reminds us of the all important Truth to put our trust in God. That has to be our foundation, first and foremost. 

It could be tempting to read this psalm and think that it is saying if we only pray hard enough or do all the right things, then we will be saved from the sickness. It does say that if we choose God, then no plague will come near our dwelling. That sounds nice. If only it were that simple. But we know it is not. Viruses don't ask your faith affiliation or check when the last time you went to worship was. The status of our prayer lives is not some kind of magic shield that will keep us from being infected. Washing our hands, wearing a mask, and taking precautions are far more likely to help with that.

But just because our 21st century knowledge would say that proper hygiene is our best protection, we would be amiss to toss aside the rest of our psalm for today. There is a profound wisdom, a profound comforting truth at its heart. It is the truth that God is our refuge. That we do not need to fear. 

It is a hard and challenging truth for us to face the fact that there are no guarantees of how long we have. There is no way for us to be fully alive, to engage with the world, to be in meaningful relationship without taking some risk. If we did not venture forth we would miss out on the splendor of creation. If we did not do our work and stay connected with colleagues, valuable ministries would wither, and we would miss out on so many opportunities to learn and grow. If we did not risk love, if we did not allow ourselves to care deeply about other people and did not allow others to care for us, we would miss out on a beautiful gift. We would miss out on a glimpse, a taste of what it means for us to be beloved of God. We would miss out on so much joy.

There are indeed risks in life, my friends. Nothing can ensure that we never get hurt or never fall ill. We are all mortal. And, and this is a really important and, we are people of faith. We are an Easter people. Neither pain, nor suffering, nor death ever have the last word. Hear that again. Neither pain, nor suffering, nor death ever have the last word. God has shown us most profoundly on Easter morning, and over and over again in so many stories and in our own lives that LOVE has the last word. Love is and always has been stronger than death. 

That is the truth we can hold on to today. In a world where there is so much uncertainty and the mundane tasks of daily life can feel far more risky and complicated than they used to, it can be easy to lose sight of that truth. And yet it is there. God is our refuge. Our strength. Come what may, the truths that we are beloved of God and that love endures will be there. They do not change. There is our hope. There is our salvation. 

We do not need to do anything or be a certain way to earn it. We cannot earn it. It is pure grace. Pure gift, freely offered by God each and every day. May our hearts be ever open to receive that gift. Amen. 

 

A little more light

 

Monk's Window in Cistercian Abbey

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

Bernard of Clairvaux, August 20, 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. 

In my senior year of college, I took an art history course on Cathedrals and the Arts. We looked at lots of religious history and architecture, and how it changed over the centuries. The abbey churches of the Cistercians stood out as a turning point from the heavy, dark architecture of Romanesque churches to the lofty light filled cathedrals of the Middle Ages. There is a particularly notable feature about Cistercian windows. While they are often still “stained glass” they are usually far more translucent than we might expect. There is far more light than color.

Today we celebrate the feast day of St. Bernard of Clairveaux, a notable monk who significantly expanded the Cistercian order. There are lots of things we could focus on about Bernard and his order - their rule of life, their particular place on the landscape of monastic Christianity (they are a stricter version of the Benedictines), or the way Bernard’s sermons inspired the Crusaders. Hmm. Lots of deeply problematic and tragic history associated with the Crusades. We have enough tragedy in the world right now, I don’t think we need to think about more. And all of us have had to adopt a new “rule of life” in recent months, but unlike those monks, it is not one we have chosen for ourselves. And while no doubt we have found opportunities to connect with God because of it, our current rule is not one we want to become permanent. We long for the time when in person gatherings will be the norm again. 

So, given the state of the world at present, I think there is far more value in us reflecting on the simple beauty of Cistercian architecture and the invitation in today’s beautiful Gospel passage from John. There is no doubt each of us, our communities and the world could use more light and more joy in our lives. Jesus said to the disciples, “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” Full disclosure, John is my favorite Gospel. I love the poetic language, the imagery, the themes of light and darkness. And today’s passage is no exception. Jesus is inviting us to abide in God’s love, to know his joy, to find a joy that is complete. 

Here is the thing my friends. Joy and love can be words that we use lightly or easily. They are familiar. They adorn greeting cards, and we talk about enjoying a good meal or loving some new gadget we bought. I almost want to put an asterisk by those words today. I want a footnote that says, “But not in the usual sense.” The enjoyment of a thing or an experience can be wonderful and meaningful, but it is fleeting. The love and the joy of which Jesus speaks is not fleeting or temporal. It is not attached to any material thing or any particular experience. It is foundational to our very being. 

That’s the thing. The very important thing. It is there. Always. The question is whether or not we are letting it in. It is like the light and those cistercian windows. We have a choice. We can have tiny windows that let very little light inside. We can close ourselves off from the world and from each other. We can focus too much in our heads and get ourselves stuck on all the scary “What ifs.” We can lose ourselves in our tasks and our desire to be productive, allowing the cultivation of relationships to keep falling to the bottom of the list. 

Or we can put connection first. Jesus tells the disciples that they will abide in God’s love by following the commandments. At their heart, those are really about maintaining connection, about maintaining a right relationship with God and with each other. That is how we access that love and that joy of which Jesus speaks. We find it by staying connected to God and to all those whose presence points us to God. To those who embody God’s love. To those whose presence fills us with joy. 

I hope that as we remember Bernard today, as we hear our Scriptures, as we hear Jesus’ invitation, we will find more and more opportunities to let the light into our lives. It is there. Always, even on the days when we feel exhausted, overwhelmed, frustrated or just plain sad. Sometimes we might just need to take a walk outside and look around. Sometimes we might just need to call a friend. Or look at a favorite piece of art. Or read a good book or a favorite poem. Or do something silly with a child. Or cook a favorite food. Or listen to music that heals our soul. There are a myriad of ways to bring more joy and more love into our lives. And the most marvelous thing is that when we connect with that joy and that love, when we connect more deeply to God, we are connecting to that which endures. It can never be taken from us. Thanks be to God. Amen. 

The Fruits of Putting God First

Splendor of Creation in Maine

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

Ezekiel 24:15-24; Psalm 79:1-8; Matt. 19:16-22

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. 

“Jesus said to him, ‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money* to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’” Well,  considering that you can see that I am still in my home office, and am present in chapel because I have my computer and the router downstairs is connecting me to the internet, you may have guessed that I did not follow through on Jesus’ command to the rich man before writing this sermon. In fact, I could not have written it without a most essential possession  -  my laptop! 

Now, if any of you have a Saint Francis moment after hearing this Gospel lesson, I am sure Amazon Marketplace or Ebay would be glad to help you sell all your possessions. Like Saint Francis, there is a good and noble history in the Christian tradition of choosing poverty as a way to serve God. I am not sure, however, that it is the path all of us are called to take. I think, actually, there is another layer of meaning in this reading. And it is one that can be particularly meaningful to us in these times when we may feel overwhelmed by all the anxiety in the world at present. 

It is worth asking why Jesus told this man to sell all his possessions. Was it really about the material goods or was there something else? I think what Jesus is emphasizing in his command to the rich man is that there is nothing that should come before your relationship with God. 

I don’t actually think Jesus is saying that possessions are all bad in and of themselves. He and the disciples needed clothes, shoes, food, and the occasional boat to travel around and conduct his ministry. It is not about the stuff. It is about how we view our possessions. Are we putting them above our relationship with God? 

At its root, the Gospel is asking us to check in on our priorities. Are we connected to God? Are we sufficiently grounded or are we finding ourselves distracted, frustrated or anxious? There is plenty to be anxious about in the world right now. The weight of the dual pandemics of COVID-19 and systemic racism weigh heavily on our hearts. There is much uncertainty about what our work and family lives will look like in the coming weeks. We could set ourselves spinning about all kinds of scary what ifs or simply be emotionally overwhelmed by the magnitude of suffering in the world right now. 

In some ways those are the easy roads to go down, we could just fall into them slowly bit by bit, task by task. We need to choose God. Choose Faith. Choose Hope. It does require some work on our part. But here is the really good thing. It is a small amount of effort for an immeasurable reward. We know this. It is why we come to chapel. It is why we cultivate the relationships in our lives that are life-giving. The ones with people whose wisdom and sense of humor always helps us find our center and keep a broad perspective. The people who help us see God and ourselves more clearly. It is why we spend time in the splendor of creation. It is why we take a few minutes to sit and breathe deeply, to savor a cup of coffee or tea or a delicious meal. It is why we read books that make us laugh, that make us think, that warm our hearts. It is why we spend time with friends and family, particularly those of another generation -those who see the world differently, connecting us to the past and the future. It is why we do all of these things and whatever else feeds our souls.

So, consider yourself reminded that you will be a better follower of Jesus, a better human being, if you put your relationship with God first. Take note of the myriad of opportunities we have to do that each day. Yes, we have tasks and important work to do. And, we must always make time for that which really matters. For in so doing, we will be enriched. Our hearts will be more open, and we will be less anxious. We will have and be able to share more grace and peace. No doubt the world could use more grace and peace. May we always have the courage to choose God, and may we share the fruits of that choice will all those we meet. Amen. 

Jeremy Taylor and Living a Full Life

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Jeremy Taylor, August 13, 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. 

As some of you know, Jeremy Taylor, is one of the theologians I wrote about in my dissertation, so today is another day where I feel like I get to visit with an old friend. And like any good friendship, Jeremy is someone from whom I have high regard, deep respect, and with whom I do not always agree. 

I have great sympathy for him. He had 10 children, but only three of them outlived him. He was a prisoner during the English Civil War, and he had a lot of challenges in his diocese. He was not someone who wrote about suffering as a theoretical matter. One of the things I admire most about him is that his experience informs his theology. 

This is evident in a 1665 letter Taylor wrote to his friend John Evelyn. He wrote: “It hath please God to send the small poxe and fevers among my children; and I have, since I received your last, buried two sweet, and hopeful boyes; and have now but one sonne left whom I intend, if it please God, to bring up to London before Easter; and then I hope to wait upon you, and by your sweet conversation and other divertisements, if not to alleviate my sorrows, yet at least to entertain myself and keep me from too intense and actual thinkings of my troubles . . . But for myself, I bless God I have observed and felt so much mercy in this angry dispensation of God, that I am almost transported, I am sure highly pleased with thinking how infinitely sweet His mercies are when His judgments are so gracious.” One could focus in on Taylor’s statement about God “sending” the small pox to his children. There is a long and possibly problematic history in the Christian tradition of blaming God for all one’s suffering or as seeing it as always a form of punishment. 

I don’t believe Taylor was being punished, and a harsh view of God as angry and spiteful does not actually fit with the whole of Taylor’s theology. In fact Taylor, believed that God is present with us in the midst of suffering. God is where our hope is to be found.  In Holy Living, Holy Dying he wrote: “To rejoice in the midst of a misfortune or seeming sadness, knowing that this may work for good. . . This is a direct act of hope, to look through the cloud, and look for a beam of the light from God.” Taylor knew from personal experience that we need to seek out the hope and the joy - the blessing of friends to keep our perspective wide. 

It might seem ironic or counter-intuitive, but for Taylor, the way forward, the path to thriving in the midst of suffering is to have an awareness of death. As he wrote in a funeral sermon: “Go home and think to die, and what you would choose to be doing when you die, that do daily.” Taylor’s admonition invites us to live with purpose, with intention. It invites us to remember that life is fragile and precious. He knew full well that there are no guarantees how long any of us has. As our Gospel reading today reminds us, we do not know the day or the hour. The question is not about quantity; it is about quality. Taylor lamented that if we “spend in waste what God hath given us in plenty, when we sacrifice our youth to folly, our manhood to lust and rage, our old age to covetousness and irreligion, not beginning to live till we are to die . . . then we make our lives short.”

Ultimately Taylor is offering us a holy invitation. It is an invitation to focus our priorities, to ensure that we do not waste the precious gift of time that God has given us. In this time when our world has been turned upside down, and we are having to reimagine how we do all sorts of things in our professional and personal lives, it is a good opportunity to pause, to reflect. To ask ourselves what really matters? What is essential? Are we able to invest sufficient time in the relationships and the activities that give our life meaning? Or as Taylor might frame it, if we die tomorrow what are we going to wish we had done? How about we start doing that now? 

This is a time where it could be easy to give into fear. Taylor does not do that. He confronted the reality of mortality and took it as an invitation to live more fully. May each of us feel empowered to do the same. AMEN. 

Footnoted version here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1_4HJH8oUjGhZKqGLTsQr0knGuV3bfwnxvctDJTlkj0U/edit?usp=sharing

Holy Listening

https://www.oca.org/orthodoxy/the-orthodox-faith/worship/the-church-year/transfiguration

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Feast of the Transfiguration, August 6, 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. 

The summer between my first and second years of seminary I did a chaplaincy training program called Clinical Pastoral Education (often abbreviated as CPE). It was a wonderful learning experience that taught me good skills for pastoral care and helped me begin to try on what it means to walk with people as a pastor. More importantly, though, it was a learning experience that taught me a lot about myself. Ultimately that is the great gift of CPE, it helps us look at all our own stuff, and our own baggage, so that when we walk into someone’s hospital room, we are able to be fully present to them wherever they are. 

For me, one of the greatest moments of insight came in one of our afternoon group sessions. There were six other people in the training program with me, and we spent many hours each week in group time, reflecting on what we were learning and discovering the various ways our personalities did and did not work well together. Anyone who has ever been in a meeting with me will be able to tell you that I am not shy about jumping in or offering my ideas. In fact, I can be too quick to jump in. Pair that with my aversion to conflict, and you have someone who is all too ready to jump in, fill awkward silences and try to fix anything. Blessedly, my classmates and supervisor did not shy away from holding a mirror up to help me recognize this about myself. They helped me to see that my desire to fill the space or my eagerness to share my ideas could even prevent others from having the time they needed to think or to share. So, one afternoon I decided to take this insight to heart, and I stayed silent for an entire group session. It was an enlightening experience. 

I listened in a whole new way. Or to put more bluntly. I actually listened. I didn’t spend my time formulating my response or thinking about what story in my own life matched with what I was hearing. It wasn’t about fixing a situation or needing to fill a silence. I was just there to listen. I learned a lot that day. It made me realize that I don’t always have to jump in, and it made me realize that sometimes the right “answer” in a given situation is just to listen. 

I have been thinking back on that learning experience, and as I read through our very familiar lessons for this feast of the Transfiguration, I was struck by the line: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” Listen to him. That is what God was commanding the apostles to do. It is what God is commanding us to do. 

You’ll notice God does not say “Listen and Respond.” God does not say, “Sort of listen with one ear while you are formulating your own thoughts.” God just tells us to listen to Jesus. 

That is such an important reminder for all us, particularly in this time. There is so much going on in our world. There is so much information and misinformation out there. There is lots and lots of talking going on all around us. We need our wise and discerning hearts. We need each other, we need our faith to help us hear the truth, to hear what really matters, to listen for God. 

I would guess that most of us can attest to the healing and restorative power of listening. We can think of conversations where we have unloaded a really challenging experience or a terrible day in a cascade of words to a beloved friend or family member, and when we have finally stopped talking, they say, “what do you need?” And we realize that was exactly what we needed. We just needed to tell our story. We needed someone to listen. 

So, what does good listening look like? What does it feel like? How might we become better listeners? How might we listen to Jesus and each other more fully? 

For me, there are three factors that are an important part of my listening well. I offer them here, in the hopes that they might be helpful to you too. 

First is Mindset or well-being. As they say, change begins with me. If I want to be a good listener, I have to take care of myself first. I have to be comfortable in my own skin, aware of my own boundaries and able to ask for what I need. This means I need to have a good support system in place and healthy places to process my own challenges, so that I can be available to others. If I am all tied up in my own mess, I won’t be able to listen to others. This also means letting go of our own egos or our need to be right. We can only listen for God’s voice if we are humble enough to admit we probably don’t have it all figured out yet. 

Second is Trust. Real listening is about being fully present to the other person without letting our own agenda drive the conversation. Authentic listening involves vulnerability. It involves opening our hearts to create a space where the other can share what’s on theirs. Vulnerability cannot and should not happen when there is no trust. 

Third is Guidelines or Rules of the Road. Particularly in professional contexts and learning environments, I have found it tremendously helpful to have some shared principles about how we will be in community together. A colleague and I have just this morning had the first session of an affinity group that will be working its way through the Sacred Ground curriculum, which is designed to help those of us who are white do anti-racism work. We started our time with a set of discussion guidelines. These guidelines help me practice the principles of mutual respect and honesty, while not holding anything too tightly and assuming the best about others. They are a gift. 

On this feast of the Transfiguration, God is inviting us to listen, first and foremost to Jesus, and then to each other. May our listening be a gateway to deeper relationship with God and with each other.  

AMEN. 

Proclaiming love and resurrection in the midst of fear

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Joanna, Mary & Salome

August 3, 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.

Today we get a little bit of Easter. I am sure it will come as no surprise that I love Easter. I love our Easter story. I even love today’s version of the Easter story. The complicated one where “afraid” is the last word of the text. 

I love it because it is stark, honest, and truthful. It doesn’t sugarcoat the situation or try to tie it up in a neat little package. It is real. Everything in our lives does not go swimmingly or brilliantly. Fear is real. Especially in this time. It is good to be reminded that if we are afraid, we are in good company. 

It is also important to note the context of their fear. No doubt they were afraid because of the significance of what they witnessed. And yet our pericope, our passage, for today is misleading if we think it means that fear has the last word. We know that the story does not end with the women being afraid. The story continues, because even though they are afraid they do go and share the news of Jesus’ resurrection. They live into my favorite definition of “courage” or “brave”: being afraid and doing it anyway. 

And we know the story does not end with their proclamation either. The story continues with us. I believe there is actually an important truth to discover about ourselves at the heart of this Easter story of the women at the tomb.  Now, in order to uncover that truth, it may help to know a bit of background about the culture of Jesus’ time. First off, the society of Jesus’ time was not democratic or egalitarian.  Hierarchy abounded. The Jews were subject to the authority of the Romans, and then Jewish women were subject to the authority of Jewish men. There were clear divisions and in Jewish society things were also divided by what was considered clean and holy or what was unclean and bad. Most of what related to the holy - worship, sacrifice, etc. was the purview of men.  That which was unclean - like birth and death were the purview of women.  This was not unique to Jewish culture. Much of the ancient world relegated the roles surrounding the beginning and the end of life to women.  It seemed logical.  Women gave birth after all, so why should they not also attend to the dead.  

So it is not notable that the women go to the tomb. What is notable is that WOMEN become the messengers of the Resurrection. Jesus doesn’t first appear to Peter or John or any of the other disciples, he appears to the women. He gives them the good news - and I mean the GOOD NEWS - to tell.  In fact, Mary Magdalene has often been referred to as the Apostle to the Apostles, for it is she who first proclaims the reality of the resurrection.  It is women who announce to the disciples the profound and beautiful truth that is at the heart of our faith: God’s love is stronger than death.  The authors of the Gospels should be given a lot of credit for being willing to tell this story, for it is quite a counter-cultural story.  It is a story that puts the figure of women (who would normally have been on the margins of society) into the center of the story and vests them with the powerful task of proclaiming the central message of the Christian faith.
This should come as no surprise of course, for the central theme of Jesus’ life and teachings was to share God’s love with everyone.  He ate with tax collectors and sinners. He healed lepers.  Again and again in his life and ministry did he reach out and bring in those on the margins of society.  Jesus was all about overturning the cultural norms.  He was all about proclaiming the profound truth that God’s love was meant for ALL people, EVERYWHERE - it wasn’t just for the men or for the wealthy or the powerful.

And so what does this mean for us? What does it mean for us that women are tasked with proclaiming the joyful news that Jesus has been raised from the dead?  It means that the truth of Easter and the reality of resurrection applies to all of us. God’s transforming love reaches out to all of us - no matter who we are, no matter where we are.  AND perhaps most importantly it means that ALL of us are called to proclaim the truth of God’s love with our words and our lives, just as the women did. 

No doubt we have stories of how God’s love has been a transformative force in our lives, and I hope that is true particularly in the midst of these challenging times.  I hope we have stories of ways God’s love has shown through the moments that have seemed very dark indeed or stories of how new life has been brought forth when we felt overwhelmed by the realities of death and suffering in the world. I hope we have stories of new opportunities that have surprised us when we had given up hope and all the doors seemed closed. I hope we have stories of the gift of love or new friendship when we were least expecting it. I hope we have stories of the sustaining support of a community of faith when we have faced hardship or struggle.  God’s love shines forth in our lives in countless ways. 

And today God calls us to follow the example of Joanna, Mary and Salome. God calls us to go forth and share that story, even when we may feel afraid. We are called to share the story that God’s love is more powerful than anything - even death.  And the stories of how that love has been transformative in our lives. The world is hungry for stories of love and joy. May we always have the courage to tell them.

AMEN.