End of the Day Tantrums and the wisdom of James

 

Rev. Molly F. James, Ph.D.

St. James’s, West Hartford, CT

September 22, 2024, Proper 20B

Psalm 1; James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a; Mark 9:30-37

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. 

There was an article in the New York Times recently that caught my eye: “End-of-day meltdowns are not just for kids.” Hmm. Oh, you mean that thing where I pick my kids up and am short tempered with them for no particular reason and just wish dinner would magically appear on the table and the laundry would all do itself is not just a me thing? Oh. 

The article went on to describe some helpful suggestions for how those of us parents (and really any adults) might alter our routines to help us have calmer transitions and more patience. Because of course the end of the day (or middle of the day) meltdown is not unique to working parents with small children. All of us get stressed and snap at those we love. 

All of us fail to live up to the wisdom we have in the Letter of James today: “Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.” 

Peaceable, gentle, willing to yield? Does that sound like how any of us feel when we are stressed out or melting down or dealing with a sense of overwhelm? I doubt it. 

So, what can we do? How might we help ourselves and those around us do better? Because I have certainly found it to be true that if I meet someone else’s grumpy with more grumpy that doesn’t serve either of us. If one of us can be centered and full of mercy then the whole situation changes. 

Fortunately that article had some helpful suggestions of a lot of small things we can do. 

First off, is to be able to recognize when we are feeling stressed. Hopefully we can learn to do this on our own, and sometimes we need help. I know I often need a friend or one of my children to say something to me like: “Hey you seem out of sorts. Are you okay?” A nice, polite and gentle way to say, “I really don’t like how you're behaving right now, and it feels like you are taking stuff out on me.

And then we need to de-stress. This doesn’t have to be a complicated regime. It can be some simple acts that take a few minutes. Take some deep breaths. Go for a walk. Pray. Especially saying a prayer that is familiar and grounding - Our Father, 23rd Psalm, one of those beautiful prayers from Compline. Or keep a favorite verse or two of scripture handy. Or have a cross or beads or a rock or something tangible you can keep in your pocket or your bag to help you reconnect with God. 

I know for me there is something important and profound that happens in prayer and worship. My mind is more focused. I have found my priorities again, and I no longer feel stuck in the swirling anxiety and stress of my own head. This is why worship matters. Why prayer matters. It actually makes a substantive, tangible difference in our bodies and our lives. 

The other thing that matters is that we have routines. We need to have habits to help us transition from one part of your day to the other. What if we don’t work right up to the last possible moment before we transition home for the evening? What if we are more intentional about putting our phone aside? What if we change our clothes when we get home? Or take a few minutes to listen to a song that always lifts our spirits? The possibilities are endless. 

And we need to be able to tell those around us what we need. Do we want to jump right into conversation the moment we walk in the door? Or do we need a few minutes of quiet? Are we 100 times more able to engage if the first thing we do when we get home is have a snack and a glass of water? And what about our kids? Are we asking them what works best for them too and then living into that together? 

This may seem like a long list or sound like a lot, and I hope you can see that they are small actions - just a few minutes, a few small changes here and there that can have a profound impact. 

No doubt the world and our lives need more of the “wisdom from above” that is “pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.” It is the life of humility and grace that Jesus describes in our Gospel today. When we act more like an innocent, joyful child than the squabbling disciples who are far too focused on who is the greatest. 

Imagine a world where there is more gentleness and mercy than envy and selfish ambition? Sounds beautiful right? Well, we may not be able to change the whole world this week, but if we can change our own hearts and habits it will make a difference in our lives. And who knows what the ripple effects of that could be? 

AMEN. 

Weakness, Strength, and learning we are enough

Rev. Molly F. James, Ph.D.

St. James’s, West Hartford, CT

July 7, 2024

2 Corinthians 12:2-10; 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. 

Our Epistle from Corinthians ends with the line: “Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” Often when I read Paul’s letters, I want to start arguing with him. What do you mean content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities? No thank you. How could we possibly be content with that list of things? Haven’t you been around when hardships have befallen us - do the conversations around our dinner tables sound content to you? And I can well attest from my own life experience as a teenager and as a parent that:“It’s okay. The Apostle Paul says we should be content with insults.” is not an adequate response to the mean things kids say to each other. 

Also, Paul, have you read the news headlines lately? There are calamities and hardships in our communities and around the world. Are we supposed to just smile and nod and say “oh well”?

Somehow passivity in the face of hardship and calamity doesn’t fit with my understanding of Jesus. This is the guy who turned over the tables in the temple courts when people were being cheated. This is the guy who went out of his way to heal people and to care for and speak up for the marginalized. It does not seem that being a follower of Jesus involves being passive in the face of hardship or injustice. 

So if that’s not what Paul meant, what did he mean? What does it mean that we can be strong in our weakness? What if Paul doesn’t mean that we are meant to be weak in the sense of passive, but weak in the sense of not relying on our own power or thinking we can do it all on our own?

What if being “weak” is actually about turning it over and trusting in God more than ourselves? What if it is about realizing that divine power is far greater than any human power?

Those hardships and insults and calamities are not of ultimate consequence because they are of human origin. Nothing we humans can conjure up can ever be more powerful than God. Ah, there it is. There’s an understanding of Paul that fits far better. That actually rings true with my understanding of Jesus and the messages at the heart of our faith.

There is nothing in this world that can separate us from the Love of God in Christ. Nothing. As Paul says in the book of Romans: “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” As Good Friday and Easter show us, there is nothing humans can do to each other, even death and crucifixion that are more powerful than God’s Love. God’s Love always has the last word. Always.

I believe this applies not only in the cosmic sense, as Martin Luther King, Jr. said, the arc of history bends toward justice. I believe this fundamental truth applies for us as individuals too. And some days, I think that is the reminder we need most. That we are loved, and we are strong - even when we don’t feel that way. 

One of my favorite Christian singers is Lauren Daigle, and she has a song that beautifully expresses this, entitled “You Say.” 

She says: “I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I'm not enough

Every single lie that tells me I will never measure up

Am I more than just a song of every high and every low

Remind me once again just who I am because I need to know

You say I am loved when I can't feel a thing

You say I am strong when I think I am weak

And you say I am held when I am falling short

And when I don't belong, oh You say I am Yours . . .

The only thing that matters now is everything You think of me

In You I find my worth, in You I find my identity.”

So whether you are feeling weighed down by the calamities of the world or of your own personal life this week, I hope you can find solace in these truths. There will be days when we feel weak and persecuted. There will be days when we feel insulted or as though the hardships we face are insurmountable. And on those days, we can know that we do not have to face them alone. In fact, we are never alone. And we do not need to rely on our own power to get through whatever it is. We may feel weak, but God says we are strong. Our worth. Our identity comes from being beloved of God, not from the voices in our head or even those around us that tell us we are not enough. We are enough. We are God’s beloved. And God working in and through each of us, and all of us together can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. AMEN. 

Run and not go weary . . .together

Embed from Getty Images

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. James’s, West Hartford, CT

5th Sunday after Epiphany, February 4, 2024

Isaiah 40:21-31; Mark 1:29-39; Psalm 147:1-12, 21c

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 reading from Isaiah ends with the lines: “but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

They shall run and not be weary? Really? I want to say, Isaiah, are you paying attention? Have you read the news headlines? Have you seen our calendars? Do you know that we still have not figured out what it means to have lived through a pandemic? Can’t you see that we are exhausted? From work, from school, from the stress and strain of all that we are supposed to be doing. Also, it’s February. It’s cold outside and the days are still short. It’s hard to be energetic when we can’t get enough sunshine.

And then I pause. I take a deep breath. I think about what I know of the world in Isaiah’s time. The plagues. The persecutions. The stress and strain of everyday life where you had to walk to get your water and there was no such thing as food security for anyone. Oh. Maybe instead of arguing with Isaiah, I should listen more deeply, because if he can talk about running and not being weary then maybe he really does know something. 

So, how could we keep going and not burn out? What is it that allows us to be capable of more than we think we are? Well, our faith, for sure. And there’s more to it than that. 

A story my brother told me kept coming back to me this week. In high school, he did a number of NOLS wilderness trips in the summers. One of his leaders told a story of leading a group in the tundra of Alaska. The leader was out ahead of the group. He came up over the crest of a hill to discover that he was only yards away from a mother grizzly bear and her cubs. He froze. He stood absolutely stock still. The mother bear rose up on her hind legs and stared. He thought: Well, this is it. Not sure how I can get out of this one. Then she returned to all fours and quietly walked away with her cubs. The leader was stunned. How could that possibly be? And then he turned around and realized that the entire group of 20 people had come up behind him. With their arrival instead of being a lone person far smaller than the bear, he had become something enormous that frightened the bear. 

I have held onto the image of that story for years and years now. Whenever I have had to go into a difficult situation, I have thought about who I am bringing with me. My family, my friends, my mentors, those people in my life who incarnate God’s love for me, whose wisdom has always helped me be grounded - sure of who God is and who I am. 

And if we turn to the Gospel for today, we see that Jesus is not doing his ministry alone either. He is with his disciples. He does his healing ministry with others. He sends them out two by two to minister on his behalf. Jesus takes time for himself, of course, but he does not stay on his own. He knows that success only comes with shared power and authority - with shared ministry. 

Oh. That. Not doing it all alone. Not thinking we are on our own to face this challenge or that crisis. Hmm. Maybe that is what Isaiah meant? We won’t grow weary as long as we stay connected to God and to each other. 

So, my friends, just in case you have been or are ever tempted to go ahead on your own like that NOLS leader, may I remind you that there truly is safety in numbers.  You might think you are just fine out on your own. I might think that too. I often have - usually with poor results. So may I recommend that whatever challenges lie ahead, you do not face them alone. Look around. See? You are surrounded by people who care about you and would drop everything to help. That’s what it means to be community. That’s what it means to be Church. We hold the faith for each other. We incarnate God’s love for you. This community is here. Day after day. Week after week to remind us that we are never alone. And we are beloved of God. Amen. 

Christmas Day Homily 2023

St. James’s, West Hartford, CT

Rev. Molly F. James, Ph.D.

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.

In the hallway at the Holy Family Retreat Center just up the road, there is a small painting that caught my eye years ago and has stayed with me. It is an image of Joseph cradling the baby Jesus while Mary sleeps behind him. 

It is an image that seems to pick up where our Gospel story ends. It has been quite a night. Mary has given birth. There has been a multitude of the heavenly host in the countryside. The shepherds have come to visit. It is just what you want when you are two new parents trying to take care of a baby in a barn - a whole crowd of visitors you have never seen before! 

Of course, this is no ordinary baby. Mary and Joseph already knew that, so they aren’t surprised to see the shepherds, and Mary treasures all the words in her heart. She knows who this baby is and what a difference he will make in the world. 

So there she is peacefully sleeping after all the hub-bub. I imagine Joseph is rejoicing that he finally got Jesus to sleep too. Ah, he thinks, a few minutes of quiet. The painting captures this beautiful, peaceful moment. And we know it is only a moment. 

Our Gospel tells us that just a little while earlier there was joyful chaos and the stable was full of visitors. And anyone who has spent time around an infant knows that it does not stay endlessly quiet. Sleep does not come in glorious eight hour chunks in the beginning. Soon Jesus will wake up and need to be fed or changed or soothed. 

That bit about being fully human and fully God - yup, he needed milk and diapers like every other baby ever. Of course Jesus had his blissfully peaceful moments where everyone just oohed and ahhed at the beautiful baby. And he had his very loud and upset moments where no doubt Mary and Joseph wondered what they were doing wrong and when was this baby going to stop screaming. 

I think it is that both/and that is so important for us to hold on to this Christmas. That peaceful moment captured by that painting could make it seem all perfect and divine. And yet that doesn’t tell the whole story. It is much more complicated. Christmas was messy. Birth is messy. Babies are messy. They are also beautiful and inspire in us a level of love we did not know we had. 

The Christmas story is one of breathtaking beauty and life-changing truths. It is also a story of the mess of human existence, of suffering, exclusion, and oppression. 

No doubt our own Christmases have been, are, and will be complicated too. There will be those moments where we wish we could just stop time and savor all the beauty and love around us. There will be moments where it seems like chaos reigns or nothing is going as we had hoped or we are just profoundly aware of what or who is missing in our lives. 

It is okay. Christmas doesn’t have to look like the perfection on someone else’s Christmas card or Instagram feed. It can be messy and complicated and beautiful - sometimes all at once. That’s the thing. That’s life. That is the world into which Jesus was born. That’s what God chose. God chose to come be right there with us in the complicated and the messy. 

God chose to come into the mess. That is the Good News of great joy. God is with us. Emmanuel. God’s love is with us. And God’s love is more powerful than any pain or suffering we might encounter. God’s love is louder than the chaos. It is stronger than our grief. 

Maybe that’s why Mary was sleeping so soundly. She knew who Jesus was and that his presence, God’s love incarnate, would make all the difference for the whole world.

So however your Christmas is going and however it continues, I hope you will hold the mess and the beauty together. I hope you will remember that God’s love is as real in our lives as it was for Mary and Joseph that first night. I hope you will remember that Love makes all the difference. Today and always. Merry Christmas. Amen. 

Funeral for Jim Shafer

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Grace Church, Hartford

Funeral Mass for James Shafer, November 11, 2023

Ecclesiastes 3:1-18, Psalm 23, Revelation 7:9-17, John 14:1-6

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

It’s 8 am on a Wednesday morning in 2014 or maybe 2015. We are seated at the table at Effie’s. Jim and Father Jerry in their usual spots at the end. Then Charlie Morse and Father Wayne. Then Father John, Tom, and me. Although there are four priests at the table, I am the only one in a collar. A woman comes up to me and says, “What is this?” She was trying to make sense of what a woman priest in her early thirties was doing having breakfast with a group of men who are decades her senior. I explained simply that we were sharing breakfast after Church. 

Because it would have taken me the rest of the morning to explain to her that as surprising a group as we may have seemed, I treasured those breakfast conversations. Even though I had to stop participating in them when I took on my current role at the Church Center in NYC, I still treasure all those years of Wednesday mornings conversations. And most days, with Pamela and Rowena and Sandra there was a far more equal gender balance. Throughout the years there was always laughter and joy. Topics ranged from the mundane to the sublime. We talked about church, politics, history, and daily life. I am a better priest for all those conversations. I am a better human for all those conversations.

Jim’s quiet, kind, gentle presence at that breakfast table and throughout so much of the life of Grace was a true gift. Always attentive to the needs of others. He had a small bowl of oatmeal every Wednesday because he had another meal with a friend later in the morning. He had quite a busy calendar, and often it was not just social. He seemed to be always taking care of or helping someone out. 

It seems so fitting that today as we remember Jim and celebrate the new life he has in the nearer presence of our Lord, we hear the Gospel story of Jesus going to prepare a place for us. You know how we come to know Jesus more fully through the gifts and presence of those who are our companions on the way? Having known Jim and been the recipient of his myriad gifts of preparation and care for our sacred spaces, particularly our altars and all that goes into the celebration of the Eucharist, I have a new understanding of what it means to have a place prepared for us. 

The preparation would be meticulous. It would be quiet and gracious. Everything one might need or want never more than an arms length away. No matter the age of a vessel or a linen, it would be spotless and in perfect working order. All the stress would melt away. Everything is right there so that we can focus solely on the act of worship. Everything is prepared so that we can be fully present to our Lord. 

For one who spent so much of his life giving to others, it makes me smile to think of Jim at peace, fully cared for in the presence of our Lord. All the burdens are gone. As Revelation reminds us there is no more hunger or thirst, and the temperature is perfect. There is no physical discomfort. Only springs of life. And no more tears. The pain has ended. 

That is our hope. As followers of Jesus, as people of faith, we know that life has changed, not ended. We may no longer be able to sit across the breakfast table from Jim, and yet he is not gone from our hearts or from this community he loved and which loved him. He is with us. His example is with us. We will carry his spirit forward in our own acts of kindness and generosity. As we take care in our own preparations or gratefully receive the preparations of others, we will be reminded what a gift it is to care and serve. God is in the details, and God is glorified by our ministries and our relationships with each other. 

Our hearts are full. Of sadness and grief, of course. And also of joy and gratitude. For this community. For the saints, like Jim, whose life inspires us to be a more faithful follower of Jesus. Who reminds us that quiet grace and seemingly small acts of generosity can have an impact far greater than we might imagine. 

May each of us go forth from this day, from this celebration, to walk a little more faithfully, and may we remember that each of us is beloved of God. Indeed we are loved more than we know. AMEN. 

Hope in the midst of uncertainty

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. James’s Episcopal Church, West Hartford, CT

November 12, 2023

Psalm 78:1-7; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Matthew 25:1-13

We are coming to the end of Ordinary Time, and it’s almost Advent. This means that we get texts about judgment and the second coming of Christ. Our Gospel says, “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” Our Collect for today reminds us that Christ will come again with power and great glory. And then our Epistle reminds us that so many in the early church thought Christ was going to return in their lifetime. 

So here we are 2000 years later, and he hasn’t come back yet. What are we supposed to do with these texts? What exactly is the 21st century meaning of the parable of the ten bridesmaids with their lamps? Are we just supposed to remember to keep our cell phones charged and flashlights on hand in case the power goes out? Well, that is wise practical advice, I think there is more to it than that. 

There is a profound lesson at the heart of today’s texts. Life is uncertain. There are no guarantees. Indeed none of us knows how long we have nor how long those we love have. Our news headlines regularly remind us of the fragility of human life. Whether it is war or violence or natural disasters. And I would bet that most of us don’t need news headlines to know this fact. We have plenty of reminders in our own lives and our own communities that life is precious, sacred, and uncertain. 

I know that for many of us whenever this reminder comes along it can bring us up short or feel like we got punched in the stomach. It is a hard truth to face. One we would prefer we did not have to face. 

That is why I think it is so important that we read this Gospel alongside our Epistle. We need to hear again and again that we are a people of hope. We do not need to grieve as others do, as those who have no hope. 

We have hope. We have hope in God, in our faith, and in each other. The fragility of life can be a source of inspiration. It can inspire us to live life to the fullest. To be grateful each day for the myriad blessings in our lives. It can help us slow down a little and pay attention. We can be present to the moment. 

We believe that Jesus was raised from the dead. We believe that neither death nor evil have the last word. Love is stronger than death. Love wins. Hope wins. There is more to life than what we can see or know at this moment. 

And there are days when it is hard to hold on to that truth. Hard to believe that Love is the most powerful force there is. We can feel overwhelmed by the stresses and strains of our daily lives. By the magnitude of suffering that is all around us. 

And so we have to return again to the words of our Epistle today. We have to remember that we will grieve. It is important to note that nowhere does Jesus promise a carefree life or a life free from suffering. What Jesus does promise us is that we have hope in the midst of that grief. 

Grief will never consume us or define us. We are never alone in our grief. There is no grief in this life that Jesus does not know. We can trust in that truth. We can trust that grief will never have the last word. The love of God made manifest to us in Christ is stronger than any grief. 

If today is a day where you are struggling to hold on to that truth, it is okay. You are not alone. We have all had those days. And that’s why we have each other. That’s why we have Church. That’s why we have community. We hold the faith for each other. So, if you are struggling, know that we got you. We will hold the truths of our faith for you today. And next week or next month, when its someone else’s turn, you can hold the faith for them. 

So, even if it feels tenuous today, know that the beautiful truths of our faith are real. The words we say, the hymns we sing, the food we share - all of it - grounds us and connects us more deeply to God and each other. So no matter what the future brings, know that you are standing, we are standing together, on a foundation that cannot be shaken. AMEN.

Lessons on Communication from Job

 

https://www.latimes.com/opinion/op-ed/la-xpm-2013-apr-07-la-oe-0407-silk-ring-theory-20130407-story.html

Rev. Molly F. James, Ph.D.

DFMS Noonday Prayer

Psalm 122; Job 5:8-9, 20-27; John 16:33–17:5

Commemoration of Conrad Weiser 

July 13, 2023

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. 

So today we commemorate Conrad Weiser, who was a peacebuilder between Pennsylvania settlers and the Indigenous People, particularly the Mohawk and Iroquoi. He had a gift for facilitating communication across difference. So much so that when he died, an Iroquois man said, “We are at a great loss and sit in darkness ... as since his death we cannot so well understand one another.”  And relations between British colonists and the Iroquois deteriorated after his death. 

I find it amusing that our OT reading is from Job. While the passage we just read is okay on its own, as it emphasizes that we can trust in God. This passage in its wider context is much more problematic. Here’s a refresher, in case you haven’t read Job lately. God makes a bet with Satan to test Job’s faithfulness. He sends all kinds of tribulations Job’s way - he loses family members, livestock, property, and has no end of physical suffering. In the midst of it, his friends come to see him and offer pastoral support. Although, I am very glad that Job’s friends never came to visit me in the hospital. While they are correct to affirm God’s goodness and righteousness, the only way they have to explain suffering is that Job must have done something very wrong to deserve so much pain and suffering. So basically they have come to see Job to find why he screwed up and to affirm their own superiority. 

Think of how it would feel in the midst of great loss and personal suffering to have people come to see what you did to cause it?  In the midst of great suffering, I am not sure we even want to hear a lot of sermons about how righteous God is or how everything happens for a reason. We don’t need platitudes or all those unhelpful things people say. I am sure we have all had the experience in the midst of our own suffering when we find ourselves having to comfort someone who has come to see us, because it is clear that our suffering is causing them great anxiety. I lost count of the number of people who told me about their relatives who died from cancer upon learning my diagnosis. I know they were trying to make a connection, but it was really not helpful to be reminded that I had a life threatening illness. 

So I find it intriguing that on a day when we are commemorating someone whose gifts for communicating across differences supported peace in Colonial America, we read from Scripture’s most profound lesson about how not to show up when your friend is suffering. 

What are we supposed to remember and take away on this day? I think it is the importance of communication and humility. We need to honor each other’s differences and never assume we have all the answers. If someone we love is suffering, don’t try to explain it. If you are not sure what to say, just be present. Knowing we are not alone in suffering means more than all the theological treatises we could ever read. Incarnate God’s presence. Affirm the truth that we are beloved and will never be alone. 

And don’t bring them your anxiety. If you are not familiar with the idea, I commend to you the concept of the ring theory (see picture above), which I first encountered in an opinion piece in the LA Times (https://www.latimes.com/opinion/op-ed/la-xpm-2013-apr-07-la-oe-0407-silk-ring-theory-20130407-story.html). 

Wherever you find yourself in the circle, you are only allowed to dump out. Never in. 

If only someone had drawn this diagram for Job’s friends. Fortunately, we have it, and we have countless good examples of listening and being present in Scripture, in history, and in our own lives. So we can follow in the footsteps of the women at the cross and be steadfast and present whenever someone we love needs us. God is with us always. May we live and act in ways that always point to that truth. AMEN.