St. Thomas and the truths we know in our bones

 

Rev. Molly F. James,  PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

December 21, 2021

Psalm 126; Habakkuk 2:1-4; John 20:24-29

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. 

Ah, St. Thomas. He feels like an old friend. I would guess the same true  is for many clergy across the Church. Somehow in its wisdom, the Lectionary Committee decided that it would be appropriate for this story of “Doubting Thomas” to be the Gospel for the Sunday after Easter, every year. So those of us who spent years as an assistant or an associate or serving a small parish where there are no other clergy have a personal library of sermons on this text. They pair nicely with our sermons on the prologue of the Gospel of John which is the Gospel for every year for the Sunday after Christmas. 

While I have certainly had my moments of feeling frustrated by the repetition in our lectionary, those moments where I want to say, “Thomas? Again? Really? How am I supposed to come up with something new to say about him?” But of course if I pause and breathe and sit with it, and I feel differently. I think about my time in Exeter in the UK when I got to sit in the Cathedral for evensong day after day. And you know what is true about that service, the Magnifcat is sung. Pretty much daily. We only get Thomas twice a year: 1 Easter and his feast day. We get the Magnificat everyday. Why? Because the Magnificat is always a good idea. It is, indeed, a text, a message we need to have be central to our lives, to the daily practice of our faith. It is a message that speaks powerfully into whatever kind of day we are having. 

And I believe that the same is true of Thomas. His story speaks powerfully to us again and again. I think it especially speaks to us in this present time. How often, in recent days especially, have we felt like Thomas? Which story, which news headline, which study, which infographic or chart are we supposed to believe? How do we trust information when it seems to be changing on a daily or hourly basis? Do we need to change our plans for the holidays? What is the best way forward for us in our particular circumstances?

The uncertainty and anxiety are swirling all around us. Again. And we are exhausted. We are disheartened and frustrated. If we wanted to find reasons to doubt, reasons to fear, reasons to give into that same sense of foreboding and disillusionment that tempted Thomas. It would be easy to join him, “See, everything is terrible. They have killed my Lord. And to make matters worse someone stole his body, The world is out to get us. Nothing we hoped for is going to come true. All our dreams have been dashed.” Thomas requires actual proof, an actual incarnational experience to believe that his fears are not true. To believe that the tomb is empty because resurrection is real. Because God’s love is stronger than everything, even death. 

And we cannot blame him. The fundamental truths of our lives are not ones that we know just because we hear them or read them. Think about how we talk about them. We talk about knowing them “in our bones.” The most important truths of our lives are not merely intellectual. They are not just information. They are experiential. They are incarnational. 

That’s why we can still feel disquieted after we read the news headlines or the latest CDC briefing or the latest study on any of the myriad challenges our society is currently facing. Even if it is good news, it is just information. We need to be reminded of the fundamental truths of our lives and our faith, and that doesn’t happen through information. It happens through experience. 

So my friends, in these days, when you find yourselves joining Thomas in fear and doubt, reconnect to the experience of faith. Light a candle. Pray with an icon. Walk in the splendor of creation. Call that friend whose voice is a balm to your weary spirit. Hug your loved ones more often. Listen to the music that restores your soul. Attune your senses to all the signs of light and hope in our world. In gathered community. In more hours of daylight. In smiles and small acts of kindness. In the gift of quiet moments. In laughter. In meals shared, even on Zoom. The affirmations of God’s love. Of hope and possibility are all around us. We just need to be listening with our hearts  as well as our ears. AMEN.

Advent: Waiting and Preparation

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

Monday, November 29, 2021

Psalm 122; Isaiah 2:1-5; Matthew 8:5-13

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. 

Well, my friends it is Advent. It is that season of waiting. Waiting for the light. Waiting for Jesus. Waiting for that quietness described in our psalm. Waiting for healing like the centurion’s servant in our Gospel reading. Waiting for the realization of Isaiah’s prophecy that swords will be beaten into plowshares and no one will learn war any more. 

Our world is waiting. Waiting for a day when we can be less afraid of the headlines. Waiting for case numbers and death tolls to go down. Waiting for justice to be realized. Waiting for the day when we won’t all feel so exhausted and worn out. And that’s just the global waiting. No doubt we have our own versions of Advent. We are waiting in our personal lives for a change to be realized or a milestone achieved. The waiting is pervasive. And it can certainly be anxiety provoking. Waiting on its own can seem passive. As though we have lost our agency or our influence. As though whether or not anything changes or is realized is all up to external forces and the winds of chance. Blessedly, it is not. 

It is indeed true that there is much that is beyond our control. We cannot simply snap our fingers and make a sick friend well or bring the prophecy of Isaiah to fruition. And yet it would be a grave mistake to think that we are powerless in the face of all the challenges we face, individually or collectively. 

We must also remember that Advent is a season of preparation. There is indeed much we can do. We can be a light in the midst of darkness. Our presence, our work, our relationships matter. We do and can have an impact far larger than we often give ourselves credit for in day to day life. 

I have been listening to a book by British Organisational Psychologist John Amaeci called The Promises of Giants. It is a book about leadership, but it is markedly different from so many other books about leadership. It starts with the premise that we can “win” and “lead” wherever we are in life or in an organization. It also starts with the idea that our impact is enormous. We all are and have the capacity to be “giants” to others. I have found the book to be funny, engaging, and full of valuable insights. At first, John’s belief about the enormity of our impact was hard to hear. Did that mean we have to be over vigilant and second-guessing everything? By no means. Rather John reminds us that our impact, our ability to enact real change in ourselves, our communities, and the world is not about splashy moments that make headlines (although those certainly can have a profound impact). Most change happens through discipline and hard work. It happens because we set audacious goals and strive to achieve them. It happens when we are willing to do the day to day work that is often behind the scenes and unglamorous. It happens when we hold ourselves and each other accountable to inspiring standards. We have a profound impact because of who we are and the habits we have. Because of how we move through the world. We are indeed powerful, and it is up to us to decide how we use that power.

In the midst of this season of waiting, in the midst of all the challenges, it could be easy to give into fear or to buy into that critical voice that says that what we do doesn’t really matter. I hope that this Advent we will do neither. I hope we will pay careful attention to all the ways that light and love are alive in the world. All the ways in which the kingdom is breaking in. And I hope we will feel energized and inspired to be reminded that God is Emmanuel, God is with us. The Christ light is within each of us. We can indeed bring the light into the world. Together, with God, with each other, transformation is possible. Amen. 

Grief and Hope

My Dad and me

Rev. Molly F. James

DFMS Noonday Prayer 

September 15, 2021

Psalm 116:5-9; Sirach 38:9-17; 2 Corinthians 1:3-11; Matthew 24:1-8

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. 

“My child, let your tears fall for the dead,

   and as one in great pain begin the lament.

Lay out the body with due ceremony,

   and do not neglect the burial.

Let your weeping be bitter and your wailing fervent;

   make your mourning worthy of the departed,

for one day, or two, to avoid criticism;

   then be comforted for your grief.”

Oof. This passage hit a little close to home this week. Saturday was the 20th anniversary of 9/11. As many of you know, my cousin Ben died when the towers fell. Like so many thousands of others, our family has a face, a name, a personal connection that gives that day an additional solemnity and heaviness. And then my dad had a consult with his palliative care physician. The physician has a wonderful bedside manner. He is kind and compassionate. He listens. He offers his wisdom and expertise. He laid out the various options and gently offered what he thought the best course would be. That course was clear to all of us, including my dad. It is time for him to enter hospice care. His limited ability to swallow has meant that his body is already showing the effects of not eating. It may be weeks or even months, but it will not be long. Whether he falls or has pneumonia or his body simply continues to give out, his medical team will now only provide comfort care. 

My dad has had Parkinson’s for many years now. We knew this day was coming. We thought it might have come multiple times before when he has had a particularly bad fall or choking incident. There is, of course, lots of grief in this new reality for my family, as there has been all along the journey of this disease as we have noted each task or activity my dad could no longer do as he had. The reality of recent weeks has been such a sharp contrast from what was. 

My dad was an avid athlete. He was one of those people who possessed true kinesthetic intelligence. He could do any sport reasonably well. He could play a round of golf or join a pick up soccer or hockey game and hold his own even if it had been years since the last time he played. He taught me to ski and play tennis with unending patience. When I was little he would even ski holding me up between his legs on the steep slopes that my older brother loved. Almost without fail, he would win our local tennis tournament every year, but our good friend who was in charge of the prizes always gave the trophy to my grandmother for teaching my dad how to play. 

He has a ridiculously high metabolism - and combined with his love of being active that meant he could always eat well and lots of it. And he loves to eat. Always happy to finish anything we left behind. Overjoyed to sit with a plate of delicious food and people he loved. And he loves people. He is curious about the world. Always desiring to learn more. If he sat next to a stranger on an airplane, he would be able to tell us their life story when we picked him up from the airport. He took time to listen and to care. He always took the “Counselor” in “Attorney and Counselor at Law” part of his job very seriously. 

While these days a smoothie or a milkshake are all he can manage for food, he has not lost that joie de vivre or ability to connect with people. He made fast friends in the assisted living community where he has lived this past year. In no time at all, he knew everyone’s name, and he is beloved there. 

While our mourning is and will be deep, there is already comfort to be found in how my dad lived his life. His own father died of a brain tumor at the age of 38. This meant that my dad has spent his whole adult life knowing that life is fragile, precious, and uncertain. It was a meaningful truth he modeled for me even before my own life experience confirmed it. He has lived with grace and purpose. He has considered every day he got to have, especially the decades he got to live past age 38, as a gift. Always finding joy. Rejoicing and marveling in the splendor of creation. Reveling in the gift of time spent in conversation with those he loved. He has lived a full life and certainly shown us that what matters is the quality of our time, not the quantity. 

And I have no doubt each of us have our own stories of what we are grieving this day, this week, this year. The realities and challenges of this past year and a half do mean that we have much to grieve. It is okay for our weeping to be bitter and our wailing fervent. We can and should make our mourning worthy of the departed. And given the magnitude of our individual and collective grief, it will likely be more than a day or two of mourning. That’s okay. Contrary to the verses I quoted above, I don’t think we will or should be criticized for how we live with our grief. It is also true that we can find comfort in the midst of our grief. In lives lived fully and well. In each other. In community. In the truths of our faith - the reality of resurrection. Easter is real. Hope is real. Love is ALWAYS stronger than death. Thanks be to God. AMEN. 

Caring for our well being

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

September 9, 2021

Martyrs of Memphis

Psalm 116:1–8; 2 Corinthians 1:3-5; John 12:24-28

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. 

Today we remember Constance and her companions. We remember those who stayed in Memphis to care for those who were ill in the midst of a yellow fever epidemic in 1878. It is a week for remembering and honoring those who are called to places of tragedy and disaster. On Saturday we will honor the 20th Anniversary of 9/11 and all the lives lost that day. It seems particularly meaningful and important to honor all those first responders who walked into the building that day. All those who sought to help. All those who willingly put their lives at risk to help others. 

And of course there are thousands and thousands of first responders and health care workers who do this everyday. Thankfully the advent of PPE and advances in medical technology have meant that nurses and doctors can care for people with infectious disease and have a very low risk of infection. Don’t we wish we could send some PPE and an infectious disease handbook back in time to Constance and her companions. 

So in addition to the value of medical advances and PPE, what else might we learn from Constance and her companions? I think we can certainly be inspired by their sense of call and dedication. It is indeed noble and holy to see a need and respond, to give what we can to help others. There is that oft cited quote from Frederick Buechner about how our vocation is found where our passion meets the needs of the world. 

And yet, I do not believe we are called to mimic or follow in their footsteps of martyrdom, despite the Gospel’s talk of losing one’s life. While it is certainly true that there are things worth dying for, I do not believe we need to seek them out or continually put ourselves at that level of risk. Thankfully, I think most of us are not in daily situations with anywhere near the level of risk that Constance and her companions faced.

Of course, I do not think that makes us immune from the more metaphorical sort of martyrdom or the slow martyrdom that can come from pushing ourselves too hard for too long. There are real risks to our health and well being in not getting enough sleep, enough water and good food, enough exercise, in not taking care of our bodies and our souls. 

I think we all know the surge of adrenaline that gets us through a crisis. When it matters. When the need is urgent. When we are inspired, we can do more than we thought possible. That is a wonderful gift of evolution and biology. But that is not a reality or a pace that is sustainable for the long term. We need to pace ourselves. 

We have a long road ahead of us. We are not going to be able to put COVID behind us as quickly as we might have hoped. And the realities of systemic injustice in our society and our world are not going to go away overnight either. The world needs us. It needs our gifts and skills. It needs our passion. It needs our faith. It needs the truth of the Incarnation and the truth of the Resurrection. It needs to know that God is with us. It needs to know that Love always has the last word. 

But we are not going to serve anyone if we work to the point of exhaustion. Or if we become so overwhelmed by the headlines or the magnitude of what lies ahead of us. Side note, that if you feel overwhelmed, Nadia Bolz-Weber had a great blog post recently about why we feel overwhelmed: https://thecorners.substack.com/p/if-you-cant-take-in-anymore-theres

So my friends, let us take inspiration from our faith, from the reminder that our consolation is in Christ, it is not contingent on anything in this world. The truths of our faith stand no matter what the headlines say. We can carry those truths with us as we go about the work to which we are called. And as we go about our work in the days ahead may we honor Constance and her companions by seeking to care for our well being. May we strive to find time each day to do something that strengthens our faith, that reconnects us to God and to each other. And may doing so keep us grounded and filled with hope. AMEN. 

Choosing Rest

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
St. John’s, Essex, CT
July 18, 2021
2 Samuel 7:1-14a; Psalm 89:20-37; Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-34, 53-56


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.

[Good morning friends. I am grateful to my friend Kate for the invitation to be here. As I was preparing to come here, I realized that it has been a decade since I stood in this pulpit to bid farewell to you as your associate rector. It is indeed a joy to be here in this place that had such a meaningful role in forming me as a priest.]

Now anyone who has been on a road trip with me or been to a meeting I have hosted or just generally spent more than a few hours with me, knows that I cannot go very long without eating. I also assume this is true of everyone else, so snacks are never far away. I love to cook and love to eat good food. A leisurely meal where each bite is savored, where the conversation is meandering, meaningful, and punctuated with lots of laughter is my idea of a perfect evening. And so you can perhaps understand why I would find the line in our Gospel this morning so troubling, “they had no leisure even to eat.” No leisure to eat. What? How could this be? If I were there with Jesus, I would be applauding his intervention with the apostles. Too busy to eat? Not okay. Not at all. That is not enjoyable nor advisable for our health and well-being. We need to eat, and we need to take time to be with those we love. Those whose company fills our souls as well as delicious meals fill our stomachs.

The Apostles were keeping a frantic pace. So much coming and going. They were trying to do as much as they could to address the needs in front of them. Their effort was noble, but Jesus saw the writing on the wall. Their pace was not sustainable. They were on the road to burnout. They needed to take a break. He invites them away to a deserted place. He wants them to learn to do ministry at a pace that allows them to feed their souls as well as their bodies.

I think this reminder about pacing, and this reminder to do our life and ministry at a pace that sustains our bodies and souls is a particularly important one for us in this season. As the world reopens and we return to so many things we missed, it could be easy for us to quickly accelerate to an unsustainable pace, like that of the apostles. There is so much we want to do. Hopefully one of the gifts of this past year has been real clarity about where our priorities are and what really matters to us. Even amidst all the loss and challenges of this past year, I hope we have also come to see how much connection and community matter to us. How much it matters to be able to gather in the same physical space. Hopefully we have been reminded of the gifts of not hurrying from one place to another. The gifts of time at home. The gifts of quiet. (Although if you are a caregiver or everyone in your house was doing everything at home in the midst of this pandemic, quiet might have been a very rare commodity. I, for one, came to savor a few minutes of silence on the way to the grocery store.)

Jesus is onto something. We need time apart from work, from the hustle and bustle of daily life. We need time away. We need vacation and retreat. We need time to connect with God, time to remember whose we are, and that we belong to something much larger than ourselves. Without time to connect with God we risk losing our spiritual depth or giving into the myth that we can do it all ourselves.

Now it is easy to push back on this. There is so much work to do in the world. The world needs us - the world especially needs the abundant gifts that are present in this remarkable community of St. John’s. And for those of us with caregiving obligations the idea of a break or time off seems like a pipe dream. For those of us working in jobs that figured out how to go fully remote on a dime, we may even feel like we are working more than ever. We’ve lost (at least for a time) those walks between meetings, or that commute time on the train (I am guessing Geof would join me in missing those long commutes on Metro North without meetings), or time in airport lounges or just a daily commute in the car. When your office is mere steps from your bed or your kitchen, it is easy to have a day with meetings in all the available time. The days can feel far fuller than when we traveled miles and miles.

So what are we to do? Well, I think we have an important choice to make. Do we want to go along like the apostles? Do we want to do life and ministry at such a pace that we do not even have time to sit down and enjoy a decent meal? There are lots of societal messages that would reinforce that. In her work on wholehearted living, Brene Brown notes how American society sees exhaustion as a status symbol. If we allow ourselves to be defined by our productivity, by our achievements, and our accomplishments, then it is easy to just keep pushing, to just keep going without regard to our wellbeing.

Or do we want to accept Jesus’ invitation to rest, to renewal? Now that cannot always be accomplished by literally going away to a deserted place. If you get solitude for a walk in the woods or at the beach, wonderful. But I think it is important to remember the restorative power of just a few minutes. We do not literally have to go to a desert. We do not even have to be alone. We just need to slow down. We need to breathe deeply. We need to pay attention and be present - notice what is happening. Take a few moments to note what we are grateful for on this day, in this moment. Those simple actions can make a world of difference.

As we return to so much that we have missed, I hope that we will do so at a pace that feeds our whole selves - body, mind, and spirit. I hope we will make time - even just small windows - to do that which restores our souls. The world needs us. It needs our gifts. And we can only share them when we are whole and nourished. AMEN.

The Who and the What of our journey

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. John’s, West Hartford, CT

July 4, 2021

Ezekiel 2:1-5; Psalm 123; Mark 6:1-13

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 love to travel. And I have been blessed that in my current role, I get to do that a fair amount of it (the last year being a notable exception of course). I love seeing new places and meeting new people. I especially love seeing the breadth and depth and diversity of the Church in so many different places. Those of us who are frequent travelers usually have a system setup that makes it easy to pick up and go. This allows us to not be unpacking and repacking all the time. It allows us to enjoy our time at home and only have to do a little laundry. The airplane safe toiletries already in the suitcase. The backpack with snacks, a water bottle, tissues, a first aid kit, travel pillow, headphones and whatever else we might want for the next flight. We have all our stuff ready to go.

So, what are we to do with texts like our Gospel this morning. Jesus “ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics.” Take nothing for the journey? What? Nothing. Not even a change of clothes. No snacks. No money. This seems like a harsh instruction. I want to push back on the text. I want to argue with Jesus. I want to say how experienced a traveler I am, and I know what I need. It’s not much. I can carry it all myself, so really won’t it be okay if I just bring a few things? Please?!

I could get myself all worked up about this. Worked up into quite a state. Bound up in my own certainty, my own thinking. But then I pause. I take a deep breath. I hear the voices of wise and beloved people in my life who invite me to consider how my narrow focus and need to plan and be prepared might actually be keeping me from hearing the deeper message, the deeper invitation at the heart of today’s text. 

Ultimately I think there are two key points for us in this text. The first is just a few lines back in the Gospel. Notice something important here - Jesus sends them out two by two. He does not send them out alone. There is no emphasis on rugged individualism here. No lone rangers. No going it solo. The work God calls us to is meant to be done in a team, with a partner. And it is meant to be done in community. Notice that Jesus does not send them out to be hermits in the desert. He sends them to towns and villages. He sends them to share the good news with others, but invites them not to be too invested in the outcome. If what they have to offer is not received by the community, it is okay to shake the dust off your feet and move on to another place, another community. In other words, it is okay to “fail.” It’s okay if it doesn’t all go perfectly or right the first time or the fifteenth time. What matters is the journey and that we do not work alone. 

There. That’s it. Not alone. That’s what really matters. That is what Jesus is trying to communicate to the disciples. It’s about teamwork. It does not matter WHAT you take on the journey. It matters WHO is on the journey with you. Tunics and sandals and bags. That’s just stuff. You can find stuff anywhere. What is not easily found is a companion for the journey. 

And this brings us to the second point in Jesus’ commands to the disciples. Priorities. Jesus is telling them not to take all the stuff with them, because he wants them to understand that it is not about stuff. It is about people. It’s about connection and community and learning together. And the messiness and glorious joy of being in relationship with other human beings. It is about knowing that what is possible together is far more meaningful, impactful, and rewarding than what would ever be possible on our own. It’s about people.

And isn’t that a truth that we have had reinforced over this past year, over these months of challenge and struggle. No amount of stuff. No amount of two dimensional interactions on Zoom can match the glorious gift of a hug or the gift of simply being able to reach out and hold the hand of someone we love. Amidst all the stress and strain, amidst all of the loss of this year. Amidst all of it, I hope that we have also been given the gift of clarity. The opportunity to reassess our values and our priorities. Life is indeed fragile and uncertain. As the oft quoted words of poet Henri Frederic-Amiel say: “Life is short. We don't have much time to gladden the hearts of those who walk this way with us. So, be swift to love and make haste to be kind.” I hope that as the world reopens and we return to so many things we have missed - like the joy of gathering together in person to worship God - we will not lose or forget the gifts we have been given. 

We will deepen our focus on those who journey with us. We will put more energy into the WHO. We will be less concerned with the WHAT or the outcome of our efforts. It is the connection that matters. It is the relationships that matter. No doubt the world needs the Good News. No doubt it needs more love. It needs more kindness. May we be swift to share those gifts as we venture forth into the future of a world reopened. May we join together in transforming ourselves, each other, and this world to more fully resemble God’s kingdom, God’s dream. A more beautiful future is possible, if we have the courage to follow Jesus’ lead and step into it together. Amen. 

Good and Bad Fruit

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

June 23, 2021

Genesis 15:1-12,17-18; Psalm 47; Matthew 7:15-20

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. 

“Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.” Really? We have to go here? All this judgment and condemnation. Where is the reassurance, the comfort, the inspiration we are all seeking in the midst of these uncertain and challenging times. Things seem “back to normal” in so many ways, and yet if we pause and reflect, even for a moment, we know that there is not really any “going back.”  The world, and we, will never be the same again. This past year has been a crucible, an experience of challenges and struggle, an experience that has reshaped our understanding of the world and of ourselves. We may feel comfortable eating in restaurants and getting on airplanes, but we are fooling ourselves if we think we have just picked up where we left off in March of 202o.

So, as we try to navigate our way into this new, maybe we can say “post,” Pandemic way of being, I find it hard to hear this text. Hard to think of God judging us so harshly. Wasn’t one of the central lessons of the past year how much it matters to be compassionate? We are all in this together. Everything will be better if we can show each other more grace and care. How do we square those important lessons with texts that seem to divide the world into good fruit and bad fruit?

As I think I have shared with you all before, when I encounter one of the judgment texts, I return to insights gained from psychologist Eugene Kennedy who wrote a book of reflections after 9/11 entitled, Meditations at the Center of the World. In it he talks about some of the various judgement passages in Scripture - how we often get this theme of bad fruit or chaff being thrown into the fire. Instead of seeing it as dividing the world into good and bad people, Kennedy invites us to see and have compassion for the complexity of ourselves and other people.

We are fruit, mostly good and with a few bad spots. Or perhaps better yet we are the barrel of apples. So much good, and also the occasional bad apple.  We are the whole stalk - the wheat and the chaff. None of us is all good or all bad. Life is just not that simple. 

What Kennedy also reminds us of is that what is good in us is real, it is what is eternal. It is what lasts. God’s “judgment” of us is not wholesale. It is about helping us come to see ourselves fully and to let go, to throw into the fire that which does not give life. That which impedes our ability to grow in relationship with God and with each other. That is what should be cast into outer darkness. That is the fruit, the chaff that should be burned. 

Hopefully one of the gifts that has come our way in the midst of this pandemic has been a sense of clarity about ourselves and the world. A sense of clarity about what really matters to us. Where are our priorities? What are the things that we put down that we don’t actually need to pick back up again? What are the things that we can let go of? We picked up plenty of new anxieties and challenges in the last year, and hopefully we also discovered more clarity about what brings us joy and where we want to invest our precious time and energy. 

So, my friends, I hope that you will see in today’s Gospel an invitation rather than a condemnation. An opportunity to pause and reflect as the world reopens and we do more and more things. There is new life possible out of all the pain and loss of this past year. We are an Easter people. That truth stands at the heart of our faith. May you find this time of transition to be fruitful and life-giving. May it offer you an opportunity to grow, in all the various roles you inhabit. Most importantly may it offer you the opportunity to say yes to a path that affirms your identity as a beautiful and beloved child of God. Amen.

Reflections on Identity

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

June 17, 2021

Marina the Monk

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 Marina/Marinos the Monk, a 5th Century monastic. Marina was born as Miriam. Her faith was strong and at the age of marriage, she chose a monastic life rather than marriage. She shaved her head, doned male clothes, and joined her father at a monastery. It is unclear whether Marina was simply rejecting marriage, desiring to live as a monastic, but there were no convents, or truly needed to live life out as man because that matched his internal identity. The intrigue of this story could easily make Marina one of these people to add to your list for the parlor game of “If you could have dinner with five people, dead or alive, who would they be and why?” Even if we cannot know or fully understand the circumstances of Marina’s life, I do believe that the story provides us with much food for thought and opportunities for reflection on our own lives. 

I believe that there is a fundamental invitation here for us to think about identity. In what ways or times in our lives have we felt the need to be like Marina? When have we felt the need to hide some essential piece of our identity in order to fit in with a community or group? Of course, there is a certain amount of that we do all the time. We don’t share intimate personal details with a seatmate on an airplane the way we would at our best friend’s kitchen table. Having boundaries and knowing what information we should share and where is an important life skill. Like Marina, we have likely had times when holding back some piece of personal information was what kept us safe. As the saying goes, “Don’t bleed with sharks.” It is okay to be protective of ourselves, and to be discerning about how fully we share about ourselves in the communities of which we are a part. Being able to share the truth of who we are requires trust. So it is okay to be sure that is there before we open up. Especially if we find ourselves in communities like Susanna did in our first reading today - a situation where the deck is stacked against us and no matter what we say or do, we cannot convince those in power and authority of the truth of our experience. 

That’s one side of the invitation - for us to reflect on how we navigate our own identities, particularly in situations where we do not have power. The times in our lives when we are Marina. The other side of it is to think about the times in our lives when we are the monks or Marina’s father. What do we do when we are the ones with power and authority? When we are the ones responsible for creating the culture and environment. The monks assumptions about Marina and their rigid enforcement of how they believed things should be meant that Marina spent 10 years as a beggar at the monastery’s gate because they erroneously assumed Marina had impregnated a woman - only to learn upon Marina’s death that was a biological impossibility. So there is an important question here for us. When have we been like the monks? When have we been like the elders in Susanna’s story? When have we made assumptions about someone’s identity that have cost them dearly? When have we lost out on someone’s wisdom, insight, perspective because we were too quick to judge, too rigid in our assumptions, and too stuck in our own worldview? I would guess that we have many stories - from small moments when we were just moving too quickly to pay full attention, to big moments when deeply embedded ideas have cost us an opportunity or a relationship. Hopefully, today we have a reminder that it does not always have to be that way.

We have the opportunity and possibility - especially when we are in positions of power to shift the culture. We have the opportunity to transform a culture from rigid to open. We have the opportunity to foster community where people feel comfortable to bring as much of their identity as they choose. Where the realities of disclosure are decided by individuals themselves and not by those in power. Where diverse perspectives and experiences are honored, and where we are consistently open to learning and change. 

It is my hope and prayer that together we can find more and more ways to join with God in creating a world where people do not feel the need to hide the truth of their identity. A world where our diversity is recognized as a source of beauty and strength. Amen. 

Reflections on the Transfiguration and being present

Rev. Molly F. James

DFMS Noonday Chapel

May 14, 2021

Psalm 92; Ezek. 1:28-3:3; Luke 9:28-36

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 get the Gospel for the Feast of the Transfiguration. It is a familiar story - a feast we celebrate multiple times a year. It is officially in August, but then we always get this story on the last Sunday of the Epiphany.  And here it is in the daily office in May. Clearly this is an important text for us. And whenever I get a familiar text, I am reminded of my seminary professor’s wisdom: “Don’t confuse familiarity with understanding.” 

So, I am trying to look at this text anew, to see what it might be saying to us in this context, in this time. I will admit that I am having a great deal of trouble empathizing with Peter. “Lord, it is good for us to be here . . .” Here? No, Lord, not here. Not here where we are exhausted. Not here where we are tired of spending so much time between the same four walls. Not here where we are pretty sure this is our third or maybe it’s our seventh Zoom call of the day. Not here where we are afraid. Not here where the headlines are too full of violence and heartbreak. Not here where the problems of society seem too much to bear, too much to tackle. Not here, please Lord. 

We want to be over there. Somewhere in the future where we are traveling freely. Worshiping in person. Celebrating the sacraments. Hugging our family and friends. Where we feel safe and filled with joy. 

We have had enough with “here” - with exhaustion and anxiety. 

That is a good reason to keep reading in the passage. And to remember that Peter does not win that argument. They don’t build houses and just stay. They keep going. And there is our comfort. It will not always be like this. Already more things are possible than was true in previous months. Things are opening up. The beauty of the springtime helps us to remember the reality of change and new life. There are signs of hope all around us. 

So we can indeed have hope. We may not be instantly transported to that future where things will be better, but we are moving in that direction. 

As we make this journey from here to there, I hope we can be mindful of two important lessons from our text today. First, a reminder that we do not journey alone. Jesus did not go up that mountain alone. He did not come down it alone. He did not turn toward Jerusalem alone. The disciples were with him. 

We do not travel alone either. Even in those moments when we may feel isolated in our own challenges and struggles, we need not be. We are beloved children of God and there is a community of people who care about us. Who walk with us. Who will gladly drop what they are doing to be a listening ear or whatever we might need. Sometimes though, in order to receive that wonderful care, we need to ask for it. We have to be willing to share our struggles. I find this a challenge sometimes. I seem to have inherited far too much of my Purtian ancestors’ ability to keep a stiff upper lip and an external veneer that says everything is fine, even if it is not. Hopefully you all are better at asking for help and reaching out when you need it. 

Second, our text invites us to be present. Note that the voice from the clouds tells the disciples to Listen to Jesus. It does not say ignore. Go about your business. Nevermind us over here. It tells them to Listen. And that is a good reminder to those of us who might like to hurry things up or are wishing we could magically transport ourselves to another time and place. We can hold on to the knowledge that things will not always be the way they are, so we can trust that change will come. That means that we do not need to fear being present. Being present does not mean we are stuck. It means paying attention. It means being open to the ways that God is showing up in the world and in our lives. It means being on the lookout for the signs of hope, the glimpses of beauty, all that points us to the essential truths at the heart of our faith. That we are beloved. That there is always light. That there is always hope. That Easter is real. That love always has the last word. Always. Amen. 

 

Anxiety, Lilies, and staying connected

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

May 12, 2021

Psalm 119:97-120; Baruch 3:24-37; Luke 12:22-31

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.


“And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?” Oh my. I struggle with this passage and this line in particular. In fact, it is enough to inspire worrying about worrying. Jesus is right. Worrying doesn’t DO anything. But it is not as simple as just deciding not to worry. It does not seem to just be a switch I can turn off.

And there is so much anxiety just floating in the air right now. What are the most recent guidelines? What can I do now that I am vaccinated? What will life be like this summer? When can we travel to see family? What is it going to be like when we go back to the office? How do we keep from being on pins and needles, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for things to shutdown again because of another surge? How do we know that we will be safe? How do we keep our loved ones safe?

Like all of you, I am no stranger to fear and anxiety. My most profound experience of them was in the months following the end of my chemotherapy treatments. Once I had finished them and was sent back to my “normal” life, I felt adrift. I did not know what normal was anymore. I was out of survival mode, and I finally had the emotional and mental space to begin to process the magnitude of what I had just been through. I began to really grapple with the reality of my own mortality. And I was scared. The recurring question was, “If cancer, this terrible thing I never thought could happen, did, what was there to protect me from all the other terrible things in the world?” I wanted someone to promise me that I would have a long, full life with no more tragedies in it.

Of course, no one could give me that promise. There are no guarantees about how long we have. Whether we are in the middle of a pandemic or not. It is just that the realities of the pandemic have brought all of us face to face with mortality more often than we might like.

So what do we do? It would be easy to get ourselves all stirred up or feel like we are in knots in the midst of everything. And no doubt there are times that we do. But we are not powerless. The anxiety does not have to be the dominant narrative in our lives.

We can remember the rest of the passage - remember the flowers and the birds. Remember all the ways God is present in the world and in our lives. God is with us. We are never alone. And we can seek out the resources that help us to be grounded and connected. While it can be tempting to withdraw and isolate ourselves when we feel anxious, connection is the key. Relationship is the key. We need each other. We need conversation. We need support and care. We need the people whose wisdom widens our perspective, who remind us of all the sources of hope that surround us. What are the lilies in our lives? Where is the beauty that takes our breath away? We need the people who help us laugh at ourselves, at life, at the world. We need the people whose presence brings a smile to our face. We need people whose very being helps us remember that no matter what happens today, we are a beloved child of God.

It is true that we cannot add hours to our life by worrying. We can add quality to our lives by taking care of ourselves. By seeking out all the resources that help us to care for our whole selves. By seeking out the relationships that restore our souls. By ensuring we have enough time with the people who make us laugh, keep us humble, and inspire us to be more faithful followers of Jesus. Amen.