Holding Fast To Joy

Grand Central Terminal

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. Matthew's, Wilton

Advent 3, December 13, 2020

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11; Psalm 126; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8,19-28

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. 

Paul writes to the Thessalonians, “hold fast to what is good.” He even tells us to “rejoice always.” Really? I want to say. Really, God? Is this the message you have for us today? Don’t you know how many things we are missing right now? Don’t you know how many reasons there are for us to be frustrated and sad right now? It is about to be Christmas, and we are deprived of holding people we love. For most of us it has been weeks or months since we held onto a handle in a subway car or the top of a Metro North seat. We have not held an elevator door for a colleague hurrying to their office or the door of a restaurant for the next patron. Medical professionals and first responders have held the hands of far too many who have died. We feel surrounded by loss and grief, and our Scriptures are telling us to rejoice? 

If you want to rail and argue and rage back against this text you are not alone. There is much to grieve in this time. We need to acknowledge the truth and the reality of the loss. It hurts. This is hard. Really hard. Especially for those of us who are used to having the power, the privilege, the resources to make things happen as we want them to, when we want them to happen. 

But here is the thing. Grief is not all there is. Yes, the challenges are great. The losses are probably more than most of us have ever experienced or ever thought we would experience. We need to be gentle with our hearts in this time. We need to be gentle with each other. The grief is real, but we cannot allow it to blind us to the beauty and the grace. Even in the midst of grief, there is cause to rejoice. 

That is what Paul means. The statement to “rejoice always” does not gloss over the reality of suffering. It is not meant for us to pretend that everything is okay even when it is not. It means that even in the midst of suffering there is cause for rejoicing. Always. It is Advent. It is the season where we are reminded that no matter how short the days are, no matter how dark it gets - literally or metaphorically - the darkness does not win. John the Baptist came to testify to the light. To announce to the world that the light shines in the darkness. 

It may be hard to see. On some days it may seem nearly impossible, but I promise that the light is there. Paul tells us to hold fast to what is good. Indeed we can hold fast to much, even in the midst of challenges. 

We may be struggling with all the people, all the things that we cannot literally “hold” in this season. But even if we cannot literally touch them, the love we have for them does not depend on being in the same room. In fact not being in the same room with them might be the most loving thing we can do for them right now.

There is the light. In acts of kindness and generosity. In a smile, even if it is on a screen. In the gifts of technology and modern life that allow us to work from home, to gather for worship in a way that keeps everyone safe, and to order delicious food to our doorsteps. Celebrating with family and friends in cyberspace even across great distances and time zones - possibly even a gathering of people who have not been in the same room for years, if ever. 

What we can “hold fast” to in this time may not always be tangible. It is the truths of our faith. The beauty of this world. The sunlight on the trees. The sky filled with stars. The myriad of ways we have to show each other how much we care - acts of grace and compassion, large and small. 

Even in the midst of stress and struggle, there is cause to rejoice. There is hope. Always. Things will not always be this way. We will again be able to gather in person. We will be able to travel, to ride airplanes and trains. To linger over a long meal with a dear friend in the corner of our favorite restaurant. It will all be possible again. And in the meantime, we can keep our spirits strong - to seek out all that feeds our souls and connects us to God and each other. To take more time for prayer. More time to care for our bodies. Time for sleep. Time for play. We can make more calls, send more letters. We can give generously. We can be more willing to accept help when it is offered. Indeed love and beauty will sustain us in this time. 

God is always present, always inviting us into deeper relationship. We need only keep our hearts open to receive that invitation. May we have the courage and the grace to do so this Advent and always. AMEN. 

Seek God, Beloved

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Ambrose, December 7, 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 saint for today only became a bishop because everyone was fighting. Our Scriptures are full of stories of people being beaten and cut into pieces. Blood. Abominations. Gah. Enough already God. Don’t you know we are in the middle of a pandemic? Don’t you know that we have plenty of terrifying news headlines, without needing to read about gruesome horrors in our sacred texts. We are not currently in need of reminding that humanity is capable of terrible things or how fragile and uncertain life is. We are surrounded by that truth. 

We need solace. We need comfort. We need hope. There is a long road ahead of us out of our current crisis. It may even get worse before it gets better. We need the joy, the sense of possibility, the light that will sustain us through the present darkness. And that seems hard to find today. Until I go back to our Psalm. 

Our portion for today closes with the line, “You speak in my heart and say, "Seek my face." *

Your face, Lord, will I seek.” Ah there it is. The reminder to connect with God. To connect with our heart. To see God. 

I am reminded of the closing song of Les Miserables, when Jean Valjean is dying. The line that has stayed with me, perhaps more than any other line from that musical: “And remember the truth that once was spoken, To love another person is to see the face of God!” Yes. Indeed. That is where we meet God. In each other. To seek the face of God is to seek out Love. It is to seek out connection. It is to be present with one another. 

The griefs are many in this time. They are personal. They are communal. They are global. But we do not bear them alone. It is Advent. It is the time we are reminded that God is with us. Emmanuel. God with us. And we know this truth because we can see God in the faces of those we love. We can bear these challenges, because burdens become so much lighter when they are shared. 

Take heart my friends. Even in the midst of all the challenges. Even in the midst of the grief that weighs heavily on our hearts these days. Even when we cannot be physically present with one another. The connection remains. The truth remains. The Love is there. We can see each other. We can see God. We can know, in a smile. In a laugh. In a kind word. In a gaze. That we are beloved. We are beloved of God. No trial or tribulation can change that fact. 

Be present to your own heart in these days. Listen for God’s voice. Seek God out. Reach out. Connect with those you love, so that you may show them God’s face. And be present to them, so that you too may see God. And God’s presence will carry us today and always. Amen.

Ease and security in the midst of chaos

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Commemoration of Nicholas Ferrar

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 text from Proverbs today closes with these lines . . . “but those who listen to me will be secure and will live at ease, without dread of disaster.’” Those lines got me thinking. Will be secure and will live at ease. Ooh. That sounds wonderful. Especially today. There is much that is weighing on our hearts and souls these days. It might be challenges in our own lives, our own families, or our communities. Or perhaps it is just the sheer volume of heart wrenching news headlines that come at us. A global pandemic. Oh, and it is the holiday season, which can come with its own set of complicated family dynamics and challenging memories to navigate. 

At first, those lines make me want to know where I find that magical elixir. Where is the way forward that does not have so many challenges? That life, that one that looks like a permanent vacation on a tropical island. Where do I find that? 

But then I catch myself. I catch my magical thinking. I catch my wishing for something that I know is impossible. A life free from suffering. Proverbs is not giving us the recipe for a life free from suffering, it is offering us an invitation to find peace and security, to find ease and comfort in the midst of challenges. 

While I think it is right and meet to be wishing and working for the outside circumstances to be different. I am inordinately grateful for all of the ways and all of the people who are doing that. All the hard work that is happening - particularly by medical and scientific professionals to bring healing and relief. We can and should do much to alleviate unnecessary suffering - from illness, from injustice. 

And we cannot and will not eliminate everything. So, we have the invitation to find peace and comfort in the midst of it all. I think this means having practices that help us stay grounded and connected to God. It can be tempting to think this means we have to be like Nicholas Ferrar whom we remember today. That we have to found a new religious community and try to pray without ceasing. I am sure most of us are too exhausted to even begin to contemplate that, let alone attempt it. 

This is when I find it helpful to remember that with the right mindset, much of our daily life can be prayer. Prayer is not limited to being on our knees in the right place with the right words. We can live prayerfully wherever we are, whatever we are doing.

A number of years ago, I read a book that I continue to go back to when I am struggling with prayer or feeling like I am “failing” at spiritual practices. The book is called Sabbath in the Suburbs. It is written by Mary Ann McKibben Dana, a Presbyterian Pastor who lives in suburban DC. She and her engineer husband have three kids in elementary and middle school. They undertake the goal of practicing a sabbath every week for a year. They choose Saturdays because that is the only common day off. The book chronicles their efforts. There is a moment from the chapter on Advent that has stayed with me. Mary Ann looks at her combined to do list of church and family tasks and realizes that a full on sabbath where you stay home and really rest is just not possible that day. So, she decides she is going to go through her task list “sabbathly.” Mary Ann reminds us that it is our attitude, our disposition that matters. Real life happens. We are not always able to live up to the lofty goals we set for our own spiritual journeys. But the realities of life do not mean we have to beat ourselves up for failure. We can simply adjust our mindset and seek to carry the spirit of sabbath with us. If our mindset is in the right place, even our tasks can be prayer.

We can honor the legacy of Nicholas, a legacy of prayer and devotion. We can discover what it means to find security and ease. Not because the world has somehow dramatically changed around us, but because we have changed. The transformation has happened in our hearts and minds. Even in the midst of whatever crises and challenges we may face, we will know that peace of God, because we have kept ourselves grounded and connected to God and to the practices that restore our souls. AMEN.