Light and Grace Abundant

 

The Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. Martin’s, Hartford, CT 

1 Christmas, December 29, 2024

Isaiah 61:10-62:3; Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7; John 1:1-18; Psalm 147 or 147:13-21

In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. 

There is an interesting thing about the readings for today. When you go to look them up in the lectionary, you will see a note that simply says: “All years.” Normally we have a three year lectionary cycle, A, B, and C. But there is an exemption for the Sunday after Christmas. It doesn’t matter what year it is or whether Christmas was a week ago or yesterday, we will read the same lessons. 

When I first discovered this I was annoyed. Dear Lectionary Committee, why would you do that to us? Couldn’t we have some variety for inspiration? Isn’t there another set of readings? Another Gospel we could have today? One that was a bit more Christmas-y. This one is all about Words and Light and seems at times to be more about John the Baptist than the birth of Jesus. 

But then I pause and think. Hmm. Well, it probably wasn’t the goal of the Lectionary Committee’s goal to annoy preachers. The repetition of these readings is probably not a lack of creativity on their part. The Lectionary year only started on the first Sunday of Advent, so it’s not like they have run out of possibilities already. 

So, that would mean they put this same set of readings here on purpose. Why might they have done that? Oh, you mean there is something about these readings, perhaps about our Gospel in particular that is so important we need to hear it every year? Well, that would make sense. 

So what is it about these readings that is so important that we need to hear them every year? That Christmas isn’t really complete without them?

I think it is that these readings go to the heart, the center, the meaning of Christmas. In the readings for our Christmas services we get the story of the birth of Jesus. It’s easy to get focused on lots of elements of that story. Joseph and Mary’s arduous journey. The fact that there is no room for them at the Inn. The tableau of Joseph and Mary and all the animals gathered around the manger. The shepherds being surprised by the angels and then going to visit Jesus. It’s easy to get caught up in the narrative, the story, the images brought to life by so many of our favorite carols.

We need that story. It is an important and profound story of God coming into the world in an unexpected way to unexpected people. It is an essential part of our faith to know that God came as a tiny infant - that there is no part of the human experience which God does not know. The incarnation is indeed central to the Christian faith. 

And yet what matters is not just THAT God became fully human in the form of the infant Jesus. It’s that God came into the world FOR us. That is the message that is at the heart of the readings today. Isaiah and Galatians speak of salvation. 

The Psalm reminds us of God’s power. Salvation is one of those words that can get said so often we stop focusing on what it means. And we often use it in a nebulous sense that focuses on having the right beliefs to get into heaven. 

I do not think that is what is meant by salvation in our readings today,  or in our Anglican tradition for that matter. Salvation is not about having a right belief system or saying or doing just the right thing to earn God’s love. On this point our Gospel reading is essential. Note that it says: “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” Hear that again: “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” Grace has been given to us - all of us - from the fullness of who God is. And not just a sprinkling. We have received grace upon grace. We have received grace in abundance. 

Now, it can be easy to think, hmm “grace,” that’s just like “salvation.” Another loaded word we use often without unpacking its meaning.  It sounds nice, but what does it really mean? And what does it have to do with our salvation. Well, I think it has everything to do with our salvation. 

This grace, this love of God, that came into the world at Christmas truly is life-changing. It is indeed our salvation. It means that no matter what we have done, what we do, or what we don’t do, we are loved by God. It means that there is no error, no misdeed, no wrong decision we can make in our lives that is beyond God’s love or grace or forgiveness. It means that no matter how scary our lives may seem - no matter what is weighing on our hearts - grief, loss, fear, anxiety from the realities of our own lives and communities or just the state of the world - we are never alone in our pain. God is there. Right there. Grace is there. Love is there. Offered again and again no matter the circumstances. 

I would guess that we all know people who live out this truth in a way that others can see. They are the people in our lives who are always quick with a smile and a hug. Quick with compassion and humor rather than criticism or anger. Their “joie de vivre” is not superficial or shallow. They are not strangers to the hardships of life or the pain of loss. It’s just that they are quick to find the joy and the blessings while also acknowledging the pain. They hold onto the truth that God’s grace is abundant and ever present as an anchor in the midst of the chaos of life. So when life deals us unexpected challenges, think of and reconnect with those people whose faith is rock solid. Let them be our guides and examples. Let them stand as witnesses to the love of God. 

Indeed that is our saving grace, to know in our hearts and in our bones that we are loved. That love always has the last word. That there is no force in this world that can ever be stronger than God’s grace upon grace. Indeed that is a truth that we and the world need to hear again and again. 

Our Gospel reminds us that God’s light is shining and the darkness of the world can never overcome it. In case it helps to have a tangible reminder, I have brought some little candles for you all. Don’t worry they are battery operated so they are appropriate for all ages. I hope you might keep this candle somewhere you will see it often, so that you can always remember that God’s abundant love and grace are ever present, even on our hardest days. Amen.  

Carrying Christmas with us

The Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. James’s, West Hartford

Christmas Day II

Isaiah 62:6-12, Titus 3:4-7, Luke 2:1-20, Psalm 97

In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen. 

I was having a conversation with a friend recently about the busyness and stress of our respective lives. We talked about how this time between Christmas and New Years when our offices are closed and our email inboxes slow to a steady trickle rather than a daily flood, feels like the eye of the storm. Kids are off from school. There’s time for games and naps or simply lounging on the couch with a good book. There’s an ease and a peacefulness in the daily schedule that seems the polar opposite of our day to day professional lives. We know we will have to return to that life and that world. To the challenges we know are coming and those that will surprise us. 

And yet, I find myself longing to figure out how to carry the joys and the peace of this time with me. It’s just the same way I feel about our liturgy this morning. So often the holidays can feel harried and stressful. Did I get the right gifts? Will the dinner turn out okay? Maybe it wasn’t a good day to try a new recipe? Will everyone get along? What if someone brings up politics or the economy or religion? Will we go home mad at each other? Wait, wait - isn’t Christmas supposed to be about joy and celebration - why do I feel so stressed out? 

And then we come here. To this peaceful sanctuary (and if there are any small children here, know that their presence and their sounds do not disturb that peace, they merely add to the joy). We get to hear and sing beautiful music. We get to hear the familiar Christmas story. We get to be fed in Word and Sacrament. If we let the liturgy wash over us, we can, even if only for a few minutes find that peace that indeed passes understanding. 

And it can be fleeting. Our to do lists. Our anxiety about time with extended family or our sadness at being without those we love today. Or the heaviness of the news headlines. Something. Anything will creep back in and our brains will start going. And before we know it, we are miles down a mental road and the peace is gone. 

How do we hold on to it? Well, I think our Gospel today might have some wisdom for us. Pay attention to the last few lines. The shepherds have come to visit Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. They are in awe - full of wonder and excitement - telling the story of the angels’ appearance to them in the hills. Sharing all the angels said about who Jesus is and why his birth is so significant. And what does Mary do? Note what it says: “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” Hmm. Note that it does not say that Mary entertained the shepherds making tea and serving them. Note that it does not say that she debated with them about what the angels said nor did she dismiss their experience because she already knew that truth. No, she treasured the fact that others were affirming what she already knew about the baby in her arms. And she pondered their words in her heart. 

Oh. You mean she focused on the positive? On the gifts and blessings of the moment? You mean she took a few minutes for herself to think quietly? Hmm. For those of us who like to do, who like to be busy and productive and helpful this whole idea of pausing and slowing down and thinking quietly can seem anathema. 

And I am beginning to wonder if there isn’t something to Mary’s behavior that might hold the key to carrying a little of the peace and calm of this morning into the rest of our daily lives. Because no matter what, the demands of our daily lives and the world will come back to us, perhaps even as soon as we walk out the door this morning. 

So, how might we become more like Mary. What would it look like to “ponder something in our hearts”? Notice again that Mary does not get up to do a task nor does she start in on a monologue or a long conversation. It’s just a moment. The story goes on. The shepherds leave, and anyone who has ever been around a newborn baby knows that moments of literal peace and quiet are few and fleeting. 

So, the Gospel is not asking us to completely transform our daily schedules and meditate 10 hours a day. The invitation is to follow Mary’s example. To ponder things in our hearts. To take just a moment to reflect, to be grateful, to focus on the blessings even in the midst of the chaos and flurry of daily life. 

The peace we know in this place, in these days, need not be completely fleeting. We can find it again, for today we celebrate that God has come to dwell with us, to know the fullness of the human experience. So, no matter what the world may throw at us, we need only take a moment to pause and ponder, to remember that the love of God and the peace of God are right there if only our hearts are open to receive it. Amen. 

 

God in the unexpected

 

The Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Christmas Eve, December 24, 2024

Isaiah 9:2-7; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14(15-20); Psalm 96

In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. 

One of my favorite Bible professors in seminary frequently reminded us “Don’t confuse familiarity with understanding.” I think tonight’s Scriptures might be the easiest ones with which to do that. We know this story so well. There’s a census. Joseph and Mary travel by donkey. There’s no room at the Inn, so Mary gives birth in a stable. Angels come to the shepherds who are in awe, and go to visit the new baby. Mary treasures their words in her heart. 

It is a beautiful and familiar story. And with its familiarity we can lose sight of some of its most profound truths. We can forget the significance of how God chose to show up on this night. God did not make an appearance as a full grown man who could immediately begin his preaching and teaching ministry. God did not show up as a prince born in a palace. God did not come in any form that society would have recognized as powerful or influential. God came in the form of an infant. A helpless, innocent child who was completely dependent on those around him for everything - food, shelter, care, love, safety - everything. And God came to poor parents who were ostracized from their community for the scandal of Mary’s pregnancy. And God came precisely at the time of a census which meant Jesus couldn’t even be born at home or at an Inn. He was born in a stable. 

Any of you who have spent time on a farm know that barns are not always the cleanest of places nor do they have the freshest air. The peaceful tableau of a crèche scene or a Christmas card can sanitize out the muck, the smell, the close quarters, and the noise of the animals. 

So God came into the world in a messy way to the least likely of people. And then to whom did God announce this glorious event? The emperor in Rome? The local governor? The priests in the temple in Jerusalem? Anyone in a position of power and privilege? Nope. The angels showed up to shepherds grazing their flocks in the nearby hills. Poor laborers who had no social status to speak of. Again God showed up in an unexpected place, at an unexpected time to the least likely candidates. 

So what does all this mean of us? Other than hopefully helping us to feel a little more deeply the significance and the impact of the Christmas story - to not just nod and smile or stop listening because we know just how it goes. I actually think there is a profound lesson in this story for us, here, now, on this night in 2024. 

I learned a new word recently. It’s “Refugia.” Maybe some of you know it? It’s the natural phenomenon that occurs in the wake of a disaster where there are little pockets of safety, of refuge, where life clings on and from which new life begins. I learned it in a book entitled Refugia Faith by Debra Rienstra. She opens the book by talking about the eruption of Mt. St. Helens in 1980. At the time scientists thought it would be generations and generations before any life returned to the mountainsides. But within only a few short decades, the mountainsides were covered in grasses and flowers with trees growing and a vibrant animal life. That speedy return to health and vitality for the mountain was possible because of little pockets of “Refugia” - little nooks and crannies sheltered by rocks to tree roots or under moss that were protected from the shower of hot ash that coated everything for miles around in 1980. 

New life was possible. Transformation was possible because life clung on and sprouted in tiny and unexpected ways. Hmm. Hope and new life because of something tiny and unexpected . . .sounds a bit like our Christmas story doesn’t it? 

And that is indeed the message I hope we will carry with us from this night. Hope and new life are always possible. Always. It is just that we often have to look for it in the most unexpected places or the most unexpected ways. 

I have no doubt that there are many of you who are struggling (or who know people who are) on this night and in this season. Whether it’s the challenge of navigating a first Christmas without a beloved person. Or perhaps navigating unexpected health or financial challenges. Or maybe it is just that the needs of the world and the divisiveness of our political realm are weighing on us. Maybe we are just weary and anxious. We don’t know what the future holds. We are longing for a sense of peace and stability that seems elusive. 

No matter what it is that has made our hearts heavy in recent times, I hope we can hold on to the beautiful truth of our Christmas story. I hope that we can be on the lookout for the pockets and the signs of Refugia in our own lives. There is hope. There is light. There is possibility for us all. 

It is not likely to come neatly wrapped in a bow under the tree. It will come in messy and human ways that are unexpected. A surprising bit of good news. A call from an old friend. An extra few minutes to rest and breathe deeply. A conversation with someone whose wisdom and sense of humor always help us see our way out of our current struggles. The gift of time and connection, so that we can remember daily that we are loved, and that God has a long and glorious history of making God’s presence known in the world in the most unexpected ways. If we keep our eyes, our ears, and most importantly our hearts, open then we too can join the shepherds in awe and gratitude. Amen.  

Hope in the Middle of the Night

 Rev. Molly F. James, Ph.D.

Chapel of Our Lord

October 22, 2024

Eph. 2:11-22; Psalm 85:8-13; Luke 12:35-38

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. 

‘Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit.’ Really, God? Really? Haven’t you noticed we are anxious and tired? I really could use a good night’s sleep, and maybe an extra nap to boot. Trying be a good parent, a good priest, a good Christian, a good human, all while perennially being inundated with news headlines about war and rocket attacks here, fire and hurricane and flooding there, plus the systemic realities of poverty and racism and gun violence - it’s exhausting. And there is so much anxiety around us about what is going to happen in our country in the coming weeks. God, could we please have a day off? Or maybe we could just take a nap and you could wake us up when the world is safer and more stable? 

Of course it would be easy to be weighed down by this passage, especially if we are feeling worn out. And then there is repeated use of the word “slave.” A word that is historically and theologically laden. A word that ought to make us shudder and wish we could banish its reality for our vocabulary and the world. And yet we know that as much progress we may have made in the political world with constitutional rights and voting acts, the dreamed for reality of equality for all people is not realized. And human slavery still happens across the world in far more hidden ways today. Oh my, there is so much heaviness in this chapter. 

God, I am still wanting that nap. Oh wait, you are saying it wouldn’t be very Christian of me to just curl up and ignore the realities of the world? Oh wait, there might be more to this all if I keep reading? Oh, you mean I shouldn’t just jump to my own conclusions and simply reinforce my own ideas and feelings. There might be some value in staying open and curious? Hmmm. Okay, I’ll keep reading. 

Okay, so there is something about being blessed if we stay awake and alert. Note, actually I did what I often do when I am struggling with a passage - I went to read the Message version. I am glad I did. It offered a very helpful perspective:  “Lucky the servants whom the master finds on watch! He’ll put on an apron, sit them at the table, and serve them a meal, sharing his wedding feast with them. It doesn’t matter what time of the night he arrives; they’re awake—and so blessed!’” As usual Eugene Peterson has made the passage come alive. Imagine waiting up into the dark of night only to have the leader return, full of joy and grace, and willing to make a meal for us? That really does change things doesn’t? And not just because you all know I love a good meal!

The end of this passage changes everything. It puts the stress of the beginning in a whole new light. Maybe God is simply acknowledging the harshness of the current realities. And reminding us sometimes it is literally or figuratively the middle of the night, and we are anxious and trying to keep busy. Then what? Well, actually if we can stay awake, if we can do our part, if we can have faith and trust in God and those around us, there is tremendous hope. 

Because guess what? God does not leave us alone with our thoughts and our anxieties. God is present. In fact, God is present with us to offer joy and sustenance to get us through until morning. Now, it may not always come in the literal form of a feast cooked for us, although I would certainly love that! It will come in the form of joys and blessings that will sustain us through our challenges. And here’s the thing. They are there. In beautiful warm sunshine, in the smile and the presence of a friend, in an expected piece of good news, in the opportunity to do work that brings us joy, in the gift of gathering together in this space for worship, in the simple joy of time to savor a cup of coffee or a favorite treat. We just have to open our eyes, we have to stay alert to them. 

So, my friends, I hope in the midst of all the challenges in our lives and in the world, we can hold on to the hope and the sustaining truth of this passage. Things may seem dark at the present moment, but we are never alone. And if we stay alert, we will continue to be surprised by the blessings - small and large- that come our way. Amen. 

Teresa of Avila and Parenting

Rev. Molly F. James, Ph.D.

Chapel of Our Lord

October 15, 2024, Teresa of Avila

1 Samuel 3:1-18; Psalm 42:1-7; Romans 8:22-27; Mark 1:35-39

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 have been reading a really helpful parenting book lately entitled “Good Inside” by Dr. Becky Kennedy. It was recommended by a dear friend. So far it has been an insightful and practical book that I am really appreciating. Perhaps the thing I appreciate most about it is that she says it’s never too late for repair. No matter how old we are, no matter old our kids are, it’s never too late to do things differently and re-wire our brains. The miracle of neuroplasticity. That’s the most hopeful thing I have found in this book. 

And this book has also challenged me. Perhaps her strongest point is that the best way to be a better parent is to do our own work. To take care of ourselves. Get enough rest and exercise. Eat well. Take time off. Do things that feed our souls. Reflect on our own childhood experiences and how they shaped us. Just like when Ms y of us were doing CPE, we need to be aware of the baggage we bring into the room. What are the behaviors in our children that trigger us? How might we work on our own challenges in order to be more fully present and best able to parent our children?

Here’s the thing though. While I find this all valuable parenting advice, I actually think it’s also really good advice for being a human and being a Christian. If we want to grow more fully into the stature of Christ, if we want to be who God is calling us to be, then we have to put the work in. We cannot simply sit around complaining about how everything would be easier in our lives if this person would stop doing X and that person would start doing Y. As much as we might wish to be able to change the behavior of our parents, our friends, our children, our colleagues, government officials, etc, etc. We cannot. The only person we can change is ourselves. 

Living our faith fully means investing in ourselves. Investing in our own well being. It means that we don’t run ourselves ragged nor do we do things just for the sake of being busy or seeming to be productive. We do the things that are worth doing. We do the things that build up the kingdom. 

Today we remember the mystic, St. Teresa of Avila who is perhaps best known for saying:  “Christ has no other hands but your hands to do his work today; no other feet but your feet to guide folk on his way; no other lips but your lips to tell them why he died; no other love but your love to win them to his side.” 

God is calling us, each of us, as God called Samuel. God is calling us to be our best selves. To live our faith with our lives and our bodies. To embody that love for everyone we meet- whether they are people we will have years upon years with like our children or our best friends or they are someone we will meet only once for a few minutes. 

Here’s the thing that is at the heart of what Teresa taught and at the heart of Dr. Becky’s parenting advice. We can do nothing for the world if we do not have love. If our hearts are not filled with love, we cannot share it with the world. And I think for many of us, especially those of us who are high achievers and doers, it can be to easy to just get doing and fail to pause, reflect, and see ourselves as worthy of the same love as everyone else. 

So, I hope that in the midst of this time of transition. In the midst of waiting and wondering how it’s all going to turn out for our church, our nation, and our world, we can turn a little bit inward to care for ourselves and to do that which fills our hearts with love, to see in ourselves the potential God sees in each of us. For when we are filled up with God’s love then we can indeed be Christ’s hands and feet to the world. Amen.