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. 

Love and Hope in the midst of Violence and Pain

 

Rev. Molly F. James, Ph.D.

DFMS Noonday Prayer

March 29, 2023

Feast of John Keble: Psalm 15; Romans 12:9-21; Mark 1:9-13

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. 

Oh my friends. We have been here before, and I don’t like it one bit. There was the original idea I had for a sermon at the beginning of this week. And then someone walked into an elementary school and shot children and teachers. Again. Our hearts are breaking. Again. 

It is hard to find words. There is just pain and anguish. And fury at a country that loves its guns more than its children. 

I think all of you know that I assisted Trinity, Newtown and our bishops in the wake of Sandy Hook, so there is a particular pain in watching another elementary school go through this horror. Especially since it has been more than a decade. Benjamin Wheeler should be in high school. He should have his driver’s license, and be beginning to think about where he is going to college. 

The pain is real. No doubt we all have our own stories where we have been closer or more connected to the horrors of gun violence - in supermarkets, in neighborhoods, in religious communities, in night clubs, in so many places where people gather to seek the simple joy of being together. 

So what do we do with all this pain? Well, I think the Holy Spirit has given us a gift in the midst of all the challenges. Our readings and the commemoration of John Keble. That passage from Romans . . . Let love be genuine. . . Don’t seek to do vengeance. Don’t act in spite or hate. Indeed. The only way forward is to keep being grounded in love. To keep acting out of love. Over and over again. 

And find all the small ways we can be a prophet for God and for Love. That’s what John Keble is most known for - preaching a sermon to the legal community and government leaders to criticize them for forgetting God. For seeing the Church as a mere institution and not a prophetic messenger of God’s love. May we not fall prey to the same error. May we find our ways to preach God’s love wherever we are. May we not lose heart even when it seems things will not change. 

I found myself thinking of John Lewis this week. Do you remember when he spent hours sitting on the House of Representatives floor advocating for gun control?

There was a photo that went around social media from the March in Selma, with the caption of something like: “I don’t think John Lewis is afraid of the gun lobby.” 

I found myself thinking of him and so many others in the civil rights era who persisted and persisted - even when things looked very bleak, even when children were dying. They did not give up. They did not turn to violence. They kept marching. They kept sitting. They kept showing up, until the laws changed. All the residents of Nashville today can sit at the same tables in a restaurant because John Lewis and his fellow college students staged sit-in after sit-in enduring humiliation and arrest until the laws changed. Side note, if you haven’t seen the documentary “Good Trouble” I highly recommend it. 

So in the midst of our pain this week, let’s remember John Keble and John Lewis. Let us remember that even a single person can indeed make an impact. Let us remember the truth that they proclaimed with their words and their lives: Love always has the last word. Amen. 

Reflections on feasting and fasting

                                                   

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Shrove Tuesday Homily

DFMS Noonday Prayer

March 1, 2022

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 my friends, it is Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. Shrove Tuesday. A day for pancakes or beignets or some sort of feasting. A day for eating way more sugary deliciousness than we might normally eat. All in preparation for the beginning of Lent. Quick let’s get all our gluttony in befor our fasting in the season of Lent or at least on Ash Wednesday.

Here's the thing, friends, I am not good at fasting. I am sure it comes as no surprise that the priest who loves to bake cookies and always has a basket of snacks in her office doesn't like fasting. Intellectually I get it. It seems like a great way to cleanse your body and to focus on God, on all things spiritual. But here's my difficulty, as everyone who has ever taken a trip with me can attest, I am less fun to be around if I don't eat regularly. I get tired and cranky. I don't feel good, and I usually end up with a headache. And since I get enough of those because my left shoulder is missing a bone, it all conspires to have fasting be a pretty unpleasant experience. And I am pretty sure that is not what God intended. 

Jesus came that we might have life abundant. Not misery abundant. Now, of course, some of you may find fasting to be a glorious way to deepen your relationship with God. That is wonderful! I hope you fast as often as is meaningful to you, whether it's Lent or not. 

I just think it's important for those of us for whom fasting is not an enriching experience are reassured that we are not lesser Christians nor have we failed at Lent before it's even started. Nor do I think that not fasting tomorrow means there can be no feasting either. I think feasting (in moderation) is good for our souls. And I don't just mean eating more fat and sugar than we usually do. Occasionally, a special dessert or an extra cookie might just be the thing. Most of the time though, I think feasting doesn't need to be about overconsumption of food. I think it is about the quality of what we eat, how it nourishes our bodies and souls, and how good it feels to savor a delicious meal.

I also think that it is important to remember that our feasting and fasting don’t necessarily even have to be about food. Many of us have complicated relationships with food or medical realities that dictate what we can and cannot eat. Many years ago a colleague shared a wonderful quote from Presiding Bishop Arthur Lichtenburger (and if his name seems familiar, it’s because its on the wall in the lobby of 815). He was Presiding Bishop when it was built. He invites us to:

“Fast from criticism and feast on praise; 

Fast from self-pity, and feast on joy; 

Fast from ill temper, and feast on peace;  

Fast from resentment, and feast on contentment; 

Fast from jealousy, and feast on humility; 

Fast from pride and feast on love; 

Fast from selfishness, and feast on service; 

Fast from fear, and feast on faith.”

Indeed. Our feasting and fasting do not have to be about what we eat. They can be about the disposition and habits of our hearts. I think especially this year, when we are exhausted and stressed when the world seems to be either on the brink of descending into chaos or the brink of returning to some kind of normalcy depending on the day or hour or who are talking to or which news outlets you follow. And given all the supply chain issues, it is probably best if our feasting  is not contingent on what what we can find on our grocery shelves. 

So in the days and weeks ahead, I hope there is plenty of feasting, even though it will be Lent. I hope we all keep finding moments and practices that deepen our faith, fill us with peace, and help us to remember that we are surrounded by love. Today and always. Amen. 

 

Complete Joy

 

Rev. Molly F. James, Ph.D.

St. Matthew’s, Wilton, CT

May 9, 2020

Acts 10:44-48; Psalm 98; 1 John 5:1-6; John 15:9-17

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 was always that kid who needed to do their homework first before they could go out to play. And I like to work ahead. Always wanted to be sure I had an assignment done early and handed in on time. Procrastinating made me nervous. I wanted to have all my tasks completed, and then I could have fun. This strategy worked well until about middle school. Once there started being long term projects, where there was always something I could be working on, it became much more difficult. Once I hit college and grad school, where part of the learning was about discerning priorities - I was assigned more work than could be accomplished and needed to sort out what was essential - it really became impossible to try to finish work before I could play. This was a struggle. I really wanted to be able to have a completed to do list I could put down, relish my sense of accomplishment (yes, I am an achievement oriented Enneagram 3 for those of you are into that), and then celebrate with time outside with friends, a good book, a movie, a special meal, etc. 

I thought I could keep those things nicely separated. Work and tasks over here. Fun and celebrations over here. And I thought real fun and joy were only possible when I finished my work. “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” That your joy may be “complete.” I know that complete joy. It’s what would be possible if only I could have that magical fully completed to do list. It would be what is possible when all the tasks are done, and I have nothing left to worry about. 

That’s not how life goes. We do not live in some mythical universe where all the tasks can actually be accomplished. There will always be more to do, more that could be done. 

That realization, that truth could have been the source of great stress and anxiety (and some days it still is!). Instead I am learning (slowly), thanks to wonderful people in my life who are kind and patient teachers who care deeply about my well being, that joy is not contingent. 

Joy is not something I earn when I finish my tasks. It is not my reward. It is not dependent on my productivity. It just shows up. It shows up with the beauty of springtime blossoms. It shows up with the embrace of a loved one we have not hugged in far too long. It shows up in the laughter of children. In the first bite of a delicious meal. It shows up in the sound of a voice or a smile. A surprise phone call or text - just to say someone is thinking of us. A favorite piece of music. A card in the mail. A few extra minutes to put our feet up and breathe deeply. 

Except, how can we talk about joy being “complete” in this time? How do we talk about joy when our news headlines are so full of suffering? How do we talk about joy when we are all grieving all that has been lost in the past year? How do we talk about joy when we are this tired, or maybe weary or exhausted would be more accurate? How can we talk about joy when even some of the most joyous moments of our lives are tinged with sadness - for that loved one who is not there to celebrate with us, for the what ifs of the path not taken, for knowing it won’t be like this again? 

Here’s the thing though. If joy is not contingent on my completion of tasks, then it is also not contingent on how much energy we have or what the news headlines say or whether we have been able to fully compartmentalize our grief. The joy is not contingent on anything. And joy being “complete” is not about the absence of grief. Like so many things in our faith lives, when we would like clear lines and tidy boxes, God is inviting us into abundance. 

I think Eugene Peterson’s Message translation is helpful here. In this passage, he does not call joy “complete,” rather he calls it “fully mature.” Yes. Fully mature. Like a delicious cheese that allows for complexity and depth, for a fullness of texture and flavor. It’s okay for it to be complicated. Life is complicated. Our experiences, our feelings, do not fit in tidy little boxes. It is not as though we do grief on Mondays, so we can have joy on Tuesdays. 

Life is messy. Life is wonderful. God is inviting us into the fullness of it all. The joy is a gift - one that will just show up in our lives, if we are paying attention. It is not contingent on anything. And the thing is, if we can open our hearts to the joy, if we can let it in to sit alongside the grief we feel, something remarkable will happen. Our joy will deepen because our grief reminds us how precious, beautiful, and fragile life is. We can pay attention more fully to the joy because we know the realities of loss. And the grief will lessen because the joy has come - we have again been reminded that Easter is real - pain and suffering never have the last word. Love is stronger than death. Today and always. Amen. 

Healing and Wholeness

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

Thursday, April 15, 2021

Damien and Marianne of Molokai

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, friends, you get me two days in a row, and we have another set of texts on healing. Well, the good news is, that is a topic about which I have no shortage of things to say. It is something I have spent a lot of time thinking about! 

Although we could focus on the people. Like yesterday, we have another set of examples of wonderful, selfless individuals in Damien and Marianne who were willing to risk their own lives to care for people in need. In their case it was a leper colony in 19th century Hawaii. We also get something else in today’s texts - both in Isaiah and our Gospel. We get stories of healing. And that is where I would like to focus.

If we just had our Gospel story where “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them” we could have a very narrow definition of healing. We could think it is merely the absence or reversal of a disease. It certainly can be that. I hope we all have lots of stories of people who have full and complete recoveries - where it is as though they were never ill to begin with. And we all know, likely from personal, real life experience, that is not always how it goes. Disease is not always erased. Sometimes death still comes even when we have fervently wished for another outcome. Our lives do not always reflect that ideal world offered to us in the Gospel for today. 

And so, I think it is important to look at our other texts, and to think more broadly about our experiences. Our passage from Isaiah talks about healing. And healing does not only mean the absence of disease. Healing is about comfort. Healing is about being in right relationship with God and with each other. Healing is about wholeness. 

It took me a long time in my own journey to get to that understanding. For a long time I wanted healing, in my own life, in my own body to look like a complete restoration. I wanted someone to be able to replace the collarbone they surgically removed. I wanted a body that did not feel diminished. That was not physically possible. Collarbones move too much. They took too much out, and if they put a replacement in there there was a risk that my body would reject it. I really am better off with all my muscles sewn together even if that comes with its own set of challenges. 

So if that door of restoration was closed to me, if I could not go back to “before,” what might healing look like? For me, on a practical front, it has looked like building up the strength of my back and my shoulders to compensate. But more importantly, on a spiritual front, it has meant coming to an understanding of healing and wholeness that is much bigger than what my physical body can or cannot do. 

In many of the healing stories, Jesus tells the person who was healed, “Go. Your faith has made you well.” In many translations it is “Your faith has made you whole.” I like that better. Our faith makes us whole. It is not about what our bodies look like. It is about our faith. It is about our relationship with God and with each other. We are made whole when we are connected to God. When we are present to God, and we are open enough to allow God to be fully present with us. 

Wholeness then is about honoring and welcoming God’s presence in our hearts and lives. A fitting message for this Easter season where we hear again the stories of how the resurrected Christ (who still had his wounds) made himself known to the disciples. We can indeed be made whole, no matter the outcome of physical illness or trauma. That wholeness is a gift from God. We need only be open to receive it. Amen. 

Practicing the ministry of presence together

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Commemoration of Zenaida, Philonella & Hermione

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 three women physicians known for treating everyone who came to them regardless of their ability to pay. It is indeed a time for giving thanks to all those in the medical profession who have worked so tirelessly to care for so many people in the last year. They have given their expertise and brilliance. They have given their care and generosity. In some cases they have given their lives to help others. What a beautiful example of the power of love. That self giving love of Jesus has been evident in so many ways and places over the last year. 

Indeed let us honor physicians and all healthcare workers, as our reading from Sirach does. Let us praise their skills and wisdom. Their God given talents to care for those who are ill. Indeed in the midst of illness we should pray, and we should seek medical treatment. We need both. Prayer is always a good idea. So is doing everything we can to take care of our physical bodies. 

Of course, it would be selling them short to say that the gifts of a physician are merely in applying the principles of science. There is more to it than that. It is not just about making the right diagnosis or having the right medicine. There is an art to healing. An art that requires wisdom and understanding. 

I think most of you know by now that I have a long and complicated medical history. Born twelve weeks prematurely, a cancer patient at 13, and then two high risk pregnancies that blessedly resulted in wonderful healthy children brought into this world by c-sections. I have also worked as a hospital chaplain. I have spent a lot of time receiving and observing medical care. It is just that, “care.”

It is care of the whole person. In fact, I learned a lot from doctors and medical professionals about the ministry of presence. About how much it matters how we show up. This is the kind of thing that applies to all of us in our professional and our personal lives. Are we able to be present when someone needs us? And I mean fully present. Looking people in the eye. Listening. Really listening. Open to learning. Open to hearing another point of view. Are we communicating with our body language, with our eyes, with our facial expressions, that the person we are with matters? Can we be the person today who affirms for them the truth that they are a beloved child of God?

Doing that, being that present takes work. Especially this year. We are all tired. Or maybe weary is a better word. It is easy to feel overwhelmed. We all need the space to grieve. Especially now. Things are beginning to feel hopeful and open again, so little by little our bodies are lightening up on their tight grip on everything. I think many of us have been in survival mode for the past year. We have been focused on just getting through it all. We have been coping. We have just been figuring out how to get to tomorrow. It is only now, and in the weeks and months ahead that we can begin to really grieve, to feel the magnitude of what this year has meant. To feel and begin to understand how we and the world have been irrevocably changed by what has happened. It is a time to be gentle with ourselves. To have compassion for ourselves and each other. 

And so it may seem like an impossible task that we are being asked today. To work at being more present. But here’s the thing. I think it might actually be the key to no longer feeling weary and anxious. Because being present has rewards that far outweigh the challenges. Being present enables us to build connections with each other. It reminds us that we are not alone. Remember it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile. Remember that smiles (even behind a mask) are the good kind of contagious. When you see someone else smile, when you have helped make someone else smile, how can that not bring joy to our hearts? 

No doubt there are days when we feel empty and depleted. That’s okay. This has been a hard time. And we don’t have to stay that way. None of us has to do this alone. We are all in this together. If we can be more present to each other, we will build each other up. Together we can have what we need to move forward into the glorious future God has in store for us. Amen. 

The both and of Easter

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Easter Monday, April 5, 2021

Psalm 16:8-11:Acts 2:14, 22b-32; Matthew 28:9-15 

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. 

Alleluia. Christ is risen. Happy Easter, friends. There is joy today. Joy in this season. Joy in all that we have to celebrate. Spring. Warmer weather. Sunshine. More and more people getting vaccinated. But I also think it is important to honor the fact that the resurrected Christ still had his wounds. The resurrection did not erase the crucifixion. It transformed it. Easter reminds us that death and suffering do not have the last word. But Easter does not ignore the realities of suffering or pretend they are not there. 

So even on this day, and even in the midst of all the causes for rejoicing, I want to give us collective permission to hold our grief alongside our joy. The grief is real. I bet that most of us did not get to have the Easter celebrations we long for. Hopefully there was meaningful worship and beautiful music. Hopefully there was chocolate and a delicious meal. But no doubt there are people we wanted to hug and could not. People with whom we wanted to sit and linger over the last bit of desert. Even in the midst of celebrations, even in the midst of hearts that are full of gratitude for the transformational truth that love is stronger than death, even in the midst of that we grieve. We grieve for what we are missing in our own immediate lives and neighborhoods. We grieve for our nation, for the realities of systemic racism and injustice that continue to plague us. We grieve for our world and the tragic loss of life from this pandemic and so many other preventable causes. The grief is personal, and it is global. 

We need to honor that grief. We need to acknowledge it. To feel it. Trust me, this WASP with lots of Puritan ancestry has tried the whole “keep  a  stiff upper lip, I can just keep going and pretend it’s not there” thing. It never turns out well. We need to grieve. And we are in good company. Think of the emotions and actions identified in the Gospels on Easter morning. Mary Magdalene weeping. The disciples running home. The women being afraid, as they are at the end of Mark, and in today’s Gospel in Matthew. There is not a lot of rejoicing in our Easter Gospels. What we see is the grief and the fear of the women and the disciples. 

Not a big surprise really, if you think about it. Nothing is going the way they thought it would. Their beloved leader and teacher is dead. Brutally executed as a criminal. They go to do one final gesture of love and care for him, and his body is gone. Talk about adding insult to injury. They are deprived of the ritual caring of the body that would have brought them some sense of solace and comfort. They start home and are completely surprised to meet Jesus on the way. Over and over again in the past few days their hopes have been dashed and their expectations have been overturned. No wonder they are afraid when they meet Jesus. But here’s the thing. The line just before our Gospel passage today is: “So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples.” The women have just been told by the angel that Jesus is not there because he has been raised from the dead. They leave with fear AND great joy. There it is. The both and of Easter. It is okay. We get to hold it all. We get to feel both the great joy of the resurrection and the fear and grief of it. The realization that we do not know what the future holds, only that it will not and cannot look like the past. 

As we grieve what is lost, what has ended, what is missing, let’s hold on deeply to hope, to the conviction that while we might not be able to hold on to him, Jesus is present with us still. Let’s hold on to the hope, to the conviction that we are being invited into a future that is indeed different, and it just might be more wonderful, if we can trust in the power of God’s love. 

As C.S. Lewis ends his Chronicles of Narnia, “ . . . the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only  been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

Beauty and possibility await today and always, if our hearts are open. Amen. 

Making Love manifest

 Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Maundy Thursday, April 1, 2021

Psalm 116:1,10-17;1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-17,31b-35

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. 

It is Maundy Thursday. I want nothing more than to be gathered in the same place as you all. To honor the holiness of this day by washing each other’s hands or feet and by breaking bread together. Oh how we do not realize how much the tangible aspects of our faith matter until we cannot share them with each other. We are embodied. We worship a God who was incarnate in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. Our bodies matter. Touch matters. To feel the water on our skin matters. To taste the bread matters. To sip the wine matters. All of it matters. 

There is lament on this day. Lament for what is not possible. Lament because this is Holy Week. Lament for a week and a world that have reminded us of the horrors we human beings can inflict upon each other. The tragedy of gun violence. The trial of the officer who killed George Floyd. We have been reminded of the realities of loss and oppression all too well this week. But that is not all we remember today. 

It is Maundy Thursday. Maundy from the Latin for “Mandate” - for the new commandment that we have been given. “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.’” At its foundation, at its heart, that is what today is about. 

The pouring of the water. The gentle touch of a towel. The feel of the bread in our hand. The sharing of the cup. All of those are expressions of love. They are merely tangible manifestations that point us to that far deeper and more profound truth. Ah. There it is. The reminder I found myself searching for in the midst of all the lament and loss of this week, of this season. As much as I wish to be gathered in person. As much as I wish to share the water, the bread, and the wine. Those things, those tangible realities are not the point. Love is the point. That beautiful truth. That profound reality - that we are beloved of God. So beloved that God would give anything, give everything, to show us the depth of that love. That love is not contingent on anything. It does not require us to do something. It does not require water or bread or wine to show up. The love of God is present with us, always - wherever we are. 

Now I do not want to discount the tangible manifestations of God’s love. Just because we cannot have the ones we are used to, the ones we expect, the ones we long for, does not mean we are without signs of God’s love. It does not mean we cannot make God’s love manifest for each other. 

Indeed my friends, you have been doing just that, making the love of God manifest here in this chapel space for over a year. You make it manifest with your smiles, with your words, your presence. With your trust, your tears, your grace. And I know that this time is a mere glimpse into the rest of your lives, and it consoles my spirit to know that you are making that love known in the world throughout your day, wherever you are. 

We have a new commandment. A foundational commandment. Love one another. Make God’s love manifest in the world. Let the depth of this day, of this week, of this season, of this reminder of just how profoundly we are loved by God - a love that is an outpouring, a self-giving, a love that is not earned. A love that is not contingent on anything. Let this love fill your hearts, so that you may continue to go about your lives making it manifest for all the world to see. The world needs that love. Today and always. Amen. 

Meaningful, Abundant Life

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Commemoration of Elizabeth Seton

January 4, 2021

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. 

It is four days into the New Year, Verse 18 of our Scripture says: “But they all alike began to make excuses.” I am not sure whether to laugh or cry. Does the lectionary committee or the Holy Spirit really know human nature that well? That four days into the New Year we might already be making excuses for why we are not following through on our new year’s resolutions? 

Actually, I think this Scripture points to an important truth about human nature, about how we live our lives, about how we live out our faith that is applicable on any day of the year whether we made a new year’s resolution or not. The truth that is at the heart of today’s Gospel reading is that it is far too easy to make excuses, far too easy to get distracted, and far too easy to lose sight of what really matters. 

We can puff ourselves up. We can think we are different. We can think, if we were invited to a banquet with Jesus, we could not possibly think anything was more important than that. We would not possibly miss God’s message to us. But if we are honest, we easily could. We could think our possessions or our human relationships are more important than God. Or we could just think that we will do that tomorrow. We can go next week when we have more time. 

Of course this is not to say our possessions or our human relationships are inherently problematic. The issue is only when our possessions or our relationships become a barrier rather than a conduit for deeper relationship with God. 

We are reminded again and again in our Scriptures, and in the life story of Elizabeth Seton, who we remember today that we are called to lives that are rich, that are deep, that are meaningful, and fulfilling. That meaning is not found in simply accumulating more stuff or more superficial relationships. 

It is found in connecting with others, with God. It is found in caring for others. It is found when we expand our vision and reach out our hands in love. It is found when we keep our focus on God, first and foremost. 

That’s the thing. When we can do that, when we can keep our focus on God, when we are focused on what really matters - on the actions, the relationships that give life meaning, on the practices that draw us closer to God and lead us to live more fully into who God created us to be - when we do that, all the other stuff just seems to sort itself out. 

So as we live into this new year, this year that is filled with hope and promise, and most assuredly a few more challenges too, may we take a moment to pause. A moment to remember that God invites us to the abundant life - not the frantic life, not the disordered life, not the carefree life - the abundant life. We are invited to live well. To connect deeply. To give generously. To seek out joy and laughter. 

So whatever other disciplines we may be taking on in this new year, may we also find more ways to live well, to live abundantly, to live with meaning and purpose. In so doing, no doubt we will find our hearts filled and our souls refreshed. Amen. 

Remembering we are loved

Garden at Harkness Memorial Park in CT

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

October 27, 2020

Eph. 5:21-33; Psalm 128;Luke 13:18-21

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. 

“Wives, be subject to your husbands, as you are to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife just as Christ is the head of the church, the body of which he is the Savior. Just as the church is subject to Christ, so also wives ought to be, in everything, to their husbands.” So, it may not come as much of a surprise to you that I find this to be a challenging reading.  It seems to go against my own values, my own understanding of what marriage is supposed to be in today's world.  I want to start arguing with the text. I want to argue that it was written for another time and another place. Its author was trying to promote the social mores of his day. I want to argue that his vision of marriage does not fit my own ideas, those of our current world, or the modern Church. I want to point out to the author that the woman's marriage vow in the Book of Common Prayer has not contained the word “obey” since the 1892 Prayer Book. 

So, I could make these points. Yet where does this arguing get me? The author is not here to argue back. Nor I do not have the right to go editing or changing this text, nor is it likely the 5th chapter of Ephesians is going to be removed from the Christian Canon, just because I find it problematic! This arguing only gets ME upset. If it accomplishes anything, it keeps me from really reading the text, from really listening to what they text is trying to tell me. It keeps me from seeing the breadth and depth of this text. 

The broader message at the heart of this text that is valuable for all of us is about our relationship with God and our relationships with each other. Note that the text actually starts with the line, “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.” 

The language about human marriage, about human partnership is an analogy. The language of the intimacy of partnership is the best way we have of describing our relationship with God. And the values that underlie this passage, that underlie a marriage at its best, are, in fact, applicable to all deep and strong relationships. 

A marriage at its best is a relationship that is grounded in love, respect, and care.   Founded on trust. Where each is faithful. Where we put the needs of the other above our own. Where we value the good of the whole over any solitary gain for ourselves. Where forgiveness and grace abound. It is a relationship that brings out the best in the other.  A relationship of mutual joy. A partnership where each brings strengths and gifts that enable mutual flourishing. 

This is to be our relationship with God and our deep and meaningful, relationships with each other. This also means it is God’s relationship with us. I think that is the part we might need reminding of these days. It can be easy to talk about our love for God and the obligations that come with that. We can be measuring ourselves up, striving to do more. I think sometimes we forget that relationships are a two way street. We forget to acknowledge and really let into our hearts the truth of God’s love for us.  God loves us with a profound, deep, and unending love. Ultimately Ephesians acknowledges that this love, this partnership is a mystery- it is beyond words. A love deeper and more beautiful than we can describe or fully comprehend. This love can only be lived. 

Lived with joy and passion. Lived with gratitude. Lived without fear. We are loved by God, utterly and completely.  It is an unending love. No matter what; we are loved.  

We are called to live out the truth of God's love in our lives. We are called to “walk in love as Christ loved us.” We are called to love ourselves, to love our neighbors. We are called to show God's love to the world. To be an example of grace and forgiveness. To be an example of light and love. Even in the face of hate, even in the face of darkness. We are called to live out the truth that God loves us.

Yet so often we do not live as though this is true. We often live in fear. We live in fear of our mistakes, afraid of our shortcomings, afraid we are not worthy of this love. We live afraid of the future, afraid of the “What ifs?” And in our fears we seem to forget the truth, the foundation of our faith. We are loved. Our sins are only scary if forgiveness is not possible. The future is only scary if God is not in it. Yet Christ tells us over and forgiveness is possible. Grace abounds. And God does not abandon us. The future will contain challenges- there are no guarantees that the road will be easy - yet we are promised that God will always be with us. ALWAYS. The truth of God's presence, and God's love in our lives is an enduring, eternal truth. 

So let us live into this truth in our lives. May it give us quiet confidence. May it give us strength to move forward in spite of our fears, in spite of the challenges we face. May we be open to God's daily reminders of how much we are loved. Each and every day may we live into and proclaim with our lives the deep and profound assurance that each of us is loved by God.  AMEN.