Holy Cross Day

Cross at a Church in the Azores

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer, via Zoom

Holy Cross, September 14, 2020

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the Living Word, who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Today we celebrate the feast of the Holy Cross. It may sound strange, but this is actually one of my favorite feasts of the Church year. Now, don’t get me wrong, of course I love Christmas and Easter. Of course I find Holy Week to be tremendously meaningful. It is more that today feels like a more personal and intimate feast day. It is like Holy Week in miniature without all the logistics and details we clergy have to keep track of then. It is a day that is a real gift. It is a day to contemplate what the Cross means in our own lives. 

For me this day has real, personal significance. When I was in the midst of my own discernment process for ordination, I was asked what moment in our Lord’s life I connected with most deeply. My answer was immediate: the Cross. I was 22, and I was only a few years removed from a battle with bone cancer. It mattered a great deal to me that our Lord and Savior knows the fullness of the human experience, including the realities of pain and suffering. My intimate connection with God came through confronting my own mortality and knowing that God knew exactly what I was going through. 

I know I am not the only one for whom the realities of the crucifixion hold deep meaning. No doubt we have all had profound experiences of personal pain and suffering. And like so many of the notable Christian theologians and mystics, we have come to the realization that God’s presence can often be most deeply felt in the midst of those challenging experiences. Profound experiences of suffering have a way of narrowing our vision. The mundane distractions of daily life fade away, and we are left with what really matters: our relationship with God and with those around us. The experience of illness or profound loss can take away so much, but as St. Paul so eloquently reminds us, there is nothing in life, not even death, that can separate us from the love of God. And it is so often in those crucible moments of our lives that we see the love of God most fully and feel it most deeply in our own hearts. 

That is the truth of the Cross. The Cross shows us the depth of God’s love for us. God loves us so very deeply that God is willing to give of God’s self, even to the point of death. This is a profound reality, and it is often the pathway to a deeper relationship with God. There is, however, an important caveat to be made here. 

While I absolutely believe that suffering is an avenue to deepen our connection to God, that does not mean that suffering is a good in and of itself or that it should be sought out. Our Collect today asks that we might “take up our Cross” and follow Christ. That phrase deserves a little unpacking. And our readings help us to do that. Our readings, particularly the Epistle from Philippians and John’s Gospel remind us that love and self-giving generosity are at the heart of the Cross. They remind us too that we are called to be children of the light. God does not wish for us to experience pain or suffering. We must remember that Jesus came so that we might have LIFE, and have it abundantly. 

Unfortunately, there is a strand in our Christian tradition that has said that since suffering is a way to God, we should seek it out (note the monastic traditions of self-deprivation or even self-harm). Or perhaps even worse is the way the Church has used the glorification of suffering to promote oppression. Sadly,there is a legacy of the Church saying to those on the margins or those who are oppressed that they should accept their current reality as their “cross to bear” and to find consolation in the fact that suffering brings us closer to God. 

One of my favorite theologians is a Roman Catholic sister from Brazil named Ivone Gebara. She is a feminist theologian who is deeply critical of the Church for the ways in which it has used the Cross to perpetuate those on the margins of society, particularly women. Gebara helps us to look at the reality of suffering with an important critical lens. When we encounter suffering in our lives, our own or others, we must ask an essential question: is this suffering endemic to the human experience (that which we can expect because our bodies are mortal and natural disasters exist) or is this suffering the result of injustice? If it is endemic, then we must learn to live with it, and it is here that we can be grateful for the gift of feelings God’s presence most abundantly in the midst of suffering. If, on the other hand, the suffering we have encountered is the result of injustice then we followers of Jesus are called to fight injustice. 

There is far too much injustice in our world today, and recent events have highlighted the ways in which systemic injustice can compound the suffering of illness and disasters. The disproportionate numbers of our black and brown brothers and sisters who have been affected by and died from COVID-19, show us just how complicated things are and how much work we have to do. Illness is not a suffering that we should merely accept if we are ill because the realities of injustice mean that we have been put at a higher risk or have been denied access to adequate health care. There is suffering in life which we cannot fix, but there is so much suffering that we can alleviate by promoting a more just and equitable society. We need policies, systems and structures in our Church and our society that reflect our belief that every human being is a beloved child of God worthy of dignity and respect.  Indeed, as people of faith, we are called to take action and to speak out against injustice wherever we find it.

So I hope that this Holy Cross day will be a day of comfort and inspiration for all of us. I hope we can find comfort, in the midst of our own trials and tribulations, in the profound truth that God knows our suffering and God is present with us even in our most painful moments. And I hope that we will also be inspired, particularly those of us who are in positions of power and privilege, to fight against injustice. I hope that we will see that if we have any cross to bear in life it is the hard and holy work of realizing God’s dream of justice and life abundant for all people. 

AMEN.

Faith and Storms

Clouds

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

June 30, 2020

Psalm 5; Amos 3:1-8, 4:11-12; Matthew 8:23-27

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 story of Jesus stilling the storm. Ah wouldn’t that be wonderful? If we could just tap Jesus on the shoulder and say, um Jesus, could you maybe do something about the multiple storms that are brewing in our world and our nation right now? Could you just snap your fingers and have the virus be gone, racist structures transformed and our economic realities stabilized? That would be great. Thanks. 

If only things worked like that. If only. In the midst of the current challenges - in the midst of rising infection rates and in the midst of the ways issues of systemic injustice have been brought to the fore and the ways society and our economy have been so deeply affected by all that is going on in the world - it is easy to wish for a quick solution to our problems. Easy to wish that we could just push a button or flip a switch and have everything be transformed. We know that is not possible. What is happening in our world right now is far more complex than a simple windstorm on a lake. 

So, I think we have a choice. We can either get stuck in the place of wishing things were different, wishing for some kind of magical solution to the problem. Or we can focus on what Jesus said to the disciples in the midst of the storm. He told them to be not afraid and to have faith. 

What does that look like for us? What do we hold on to in the midst of times when we may feel fear, anxiety, uncertainty? 

A favorite prayer in the Compline service reminds us as those who may be wearied by the changes and chances of this world to put our trust in God’s eternal changelessness. That is where we find our hope, our grounding, our rock. In God. It is in a deepening of our relationship with God, a deepening of our connection to God that we find peace and stillness. We can be like Jesus - at peace, at rest - even when there is a storm swirling around us. 

So, today’s Gospel is a reminder to us that our call as a people of faith is to stay grounded and connected to God in the midst of the storms of life. We are never alone in those storms, even if we might feel that way. As we pray at the end of our morning prayer service, Christ is protecting us through the storms. Note it does not say that Christ is preventing the storms or stilling them immediately for us. That prayer reminds us that Christ is with us and protecting us through the storms. 

The invitation then is for us to be attentive to what it is in our lives that help us stay grounded and connected to God. How can we remind ourselves of the all important truth that Christ is with us in the midst of the storms of life? 

I imagine this might look a little different for each of us. And I would guess we have some elements in common. I would guess that we all share a gratitude for this Chapel community, this faithful group of colleagues who pray together to keep us grounded in the midst of things. No doubt all of us have personal prayer practices and other worshipping communities as well. And we have people - beloved friends and family members, and possibly also some professionals like a spiritual director and/or a therapist - all of whom bring their own particular gifts to help us stay grounded and connected to God. So often we can hear God’s Word or feel God’s presence best through the words and presence of another person. 

And as I have mentioned before, I also believe that how we care for our physical selves is a part of keeping us grounded in our faith. Eating well, drinking enough water, getting enough sleep and exercise, being sure we take time off. All of those things help too. 

I hope some of these practices resonate with you. I hope that today you are reminded to continue that practices that have served you well in the past, and possibly invited to pick up a new one to help carry you through this week or whatever storms lie ahead. Do not fear. Keep the faith. God is with us.

AMEN. 

  

Reflections on Wednesday in Holy Week

Cross in Chapel of Our Lord

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of Our Lord, Episcopal Church Center

Wednesday in Holy Week, April 17, 2019

Isaiah 50:4-9a; Hebrews 12:1-3; John 13:21-32; Psalm 70

Our daughter is eight, and this winter she and I started reading the Little House Books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. These were absolute favorites of my childhood, and it has been a joy to share them with her. Currently we are in the middle of the third book, On the Banks of Plum Creek. If you are familiar with this book, then you know it is the book that has some tragedy in it. We are only a few chapters past the horrors of the grasshoppers. It reads like something out of the book of Exodus. The Ingalls family has staked their future and the house they are living in on a successful wheat harvest. A plague of grasshoppers arrives just days before the wheat is ready to harvest. The grasshoppers cover the landscape. The family tries to build fires around the wheat field. They work tirelessly and completely in vain to save their crop. The grasshoppers eat every plant for miles around. Charles Ingalls ends up having to walk 200 miles east to find work as a farmhand to earn enough money to keep the family from becoming completely destitute. I read that book many times as a child. I knew how the story went. And yet, even as I was reading it outloud to Katherine, I found myself wishing and willing for a different outcome. I somehow hoped (beyond all reason) that the story could go differently and the family could avert tragedy and loss.

Isn’t it remarkable that even when we know the story, even when we know how everything is going to turn out, we can still find ourselves wishing for a different ending? I don’t know about you, but I often find myself feeling that way at this point in Holy Week. We have had Palm Sunday. We have read the passion narrative. We are moving systematically through the story. Tomorrow will be Maundy Thursday, and then it will be Good Friday. We know where this is going. We know how painful it is going to get. We know that our Lord will give “his body to be whipped and his face to be spit upon.”  

And yet, there is some small part of us that just might be wishing it could go differently. Does it really have to be like this we ask? Couldn’t Judas have found a different way? Why did he have to betray Jesus? It is a familiar dialogue, isn’t it?

Isn’t it the conversation we have with God when we encounter our own sufferings and challenges? In the midst of an experience where our buttons are pushed by a friend who sees the world differently than we do or in the midst of a new difficulty that is requiring us to draw on our reserves of strength and creativity. Or perhaps in the midst of a time that feels very dark and seemingly hopeless. We say, “God, if there is a way I could learn whatever important lesson I am supposed to be learning here without all this suffering that would be great. Okay? Thanks very much.”

Oh, if only that were true! If only we could just ask God for the cliff notes version. It is so very human of us to want the reward without the hard work. It is so understandable that we would want to find a better way forward that minimizes our suffering.

And yet, we know that is not how it goes. Suffering is a part of life. It will come. We cannot eat, exercise, medicate, or will ourselves a life free from suffering. It is not possible. Just as this story of Holy Week cannot unfold in any other way, there will be pieces of our lives over which we do not have control. We cannot control the weather. We cannot control the actions of other people. We cannot control when those we love will die. We cannot control everything about our own health and well being. There will be suffering that will just come.

And yet, I do think there is an important distinction to make here. Our Collect for today asks that we might have “grace to accept joyfully the sufferings of the present time.” That is a statement that can only be made from a position of privilege, and I do not think it is a fully accurate description of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. Yes, there is much to be learned in the midst of our suffering. Yes, there is suffering (death, disease, natural disasters) that is endemic to the human experience. We will have to find ways to cope with it. AND, there is also suffering that is the result of injustice. There is suffering that is the result of systemic oppression. Suffering that is the result of the very human sins of sexism, racism, classism, etc. This is suffering that should NOT be. This is the suffering we Christians, especially those of us who are in positions of power and privilege are called to do something about. This suffering is not to be accepted joyfully. It is to be named, called out, and stopped.  

So, I want to go back to that feeling we get when we are wanting a story to turn out differently. Sometimes that is just wishful thinking on our part, particularly when we are reading a history book. But when it happens to us in the here and now, when we look at a situation and have a niggling feeling that things should be different that feeling is worth noting, worth paying attention to. Because it just might be the Holy Spirit inviting us to be a force for transformation in the world.

We cannot go back and redo the story of Holy Week. BUT we can use the story of this week to be an inspiration for us to act differently in our own lives. The realities of betrayal and innocent suffering are real in our world. Greed and selfishness can cause people in power to act without regard for the implications of their actions. Innocent people are punished for crimes they did not commit. Far too many people spend their days being made to feel less than because of their race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity . . .you name it.

We cannot change the story of Holy Week, but we can change our lives and the lives of those around us. May we have the grace and courage to do just that, today and everyday.

AMEN.

On Suffering

“So, what do you study?” or “What did you write your dissertation on?” These are pretty common questions when you have the initials PhD after your name. Since I wrote a doctoral dissertation on suffering, I have had to come up with a succinct and (hopefully) interesting way of summarizing my work. The subject matter pretty much guarantees that I will only have about thirty seconds before my questioner will desperately seek out greener pastures or begin to joke about how the ordeal of doctoral work is in and of itself a dissertation on suffering. While some of you may have heard the “elevator speech”version of my dissertation, I think it bears sharing here as well.

Our collective hearts break at the reality of yet another mass shooting, and again like with Sandy Hook, innocently people were gunned down in a place of sanctuary, a place that should always be safe. I find myself returning to my own research for comfort and for a theological framework with which to move forward when what I really want to do is curl up and weep. So, here it is, in the hopes that it might help you think theologically about the reality of suffering whether in Sutherland Springs or your own lives and communities. I also hope that it will motivate us to action to work for a different future.

“My dissertation develops a contemporary theology of suffering in conversation with five theologians who almost span the history of the Church: Gregory the Great, Julian of Norwich, Jeremy Taylor, C.S. Lewis and Ivone Gebara. I chose them because they all write theologically out of personal experiences of suffering. If you take Ivone as a starting place, then she asks the very important question: is this suffering endemic to the human experience (like disease or natural disasters-things we can reasonably expect to encounter in our lives) OR is this suffering the result of injustice? If it is the latter than we, as Christians, are called to fight against it, to speak out and to prevent it. Suffering that is the result of injustice is not some cross we have to bear; it must be stopped. If it is suffering that is endemic, then we can return to Gregory, Julian and Jeremy for wonderful resources and spiritual practices to help us cope. We can also read Lewis, so that we can have permission to be angry in the midst of our suffering.”

I hope you find comfort when your suffering is endemic, and I hope you remember that Jesus calls us to action whenever we encounter injustice in the world.  

_________

If you are interested in the full length version, my dissertation became the book pictured above, available from Wipf & Stock and on Amazon.