Mary and Martha or Michelle and Molly?

Molly & Michelle in college

Rev. Molly F. James

Chapel of Our Lord, Episcopal Church Center

Mechtilde and Gertrude 

November 19, 2019

May God's word be spoken, May God's Word be heard, and May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

So, if we just changed the names, today's Gospel story of Mary and Martha could easily be about my college roommate Michelle and me. I am definitely a Martha. I get easily distracted by all the things I have to do. I get thinking about all the things I am supposed to do, and I often feel like I can't relax until I have done all the things on my “to do” list. I often like to work ahead. This meant in college that I would often write a paper days or even weeks before it was due. My roommate, Michelle, on the other hand, was quite adept at waking up early and cranking out a very good paper the day it was due. I marveled at this skill. To me that seemed like a very stressful way to do things. Yet the interesting thing was, my roommate did not seem very stressed. And although I know her mother would have preferred that my study skills inspired on Michelle, it happened the other way round. Mostly Michelle inspired me.

I learned that it was in fact possible to leave one's work behind and go have fun. Michelle helped me to remember that time having fun, time building relationships is important. Just as, if not even more important, than homework. Michelle showed me that life is much more fun if you learn how to forget about the “to do” list on occasion. It may be possible to do all our homework first in elementary school, but as we get older our to do lists get longer and longer. It just does not work to try to always work first and play later. We have to develop a balance. We have to learn how to incorporate play time and sabbath time in the midst of our busy lives.

The Gospel story today reminds us that what really matters is sabbath time. There will always be things to distract and worry us. Always being a “Martha” is a recipe for burnout. We need to cultivate our Mary moments. We need to cultivate time to slow down and rest. Time to be spiritually fed. Time to listen to what God is saying to us.

This is a counter­cultural idea. As any glance at a newspaper or a television will tell us, our culture is continually offering us ways to do more. The internet, email and cell phones allow us to be “at work” wherever we are. Stores expand their hours and encourage us to shop online at any time of the day or night. Now, of course, when we have a problem or need something fixed, we're glad that a repair person is willing to come out on a Sunday. We are glad when we can talk to customer service person at 11 o'clock at night. But if we are making a regular habit of doing “work” at those late hours or on what should be our sabbath, we ought to be asking ourselves whether this is really the best use of our time.

We need to slow down. We need to take a break. Now, I am not advocating throwing out our cell phones or disconnecting our computers. And I am not saying that we should never do work on the weekend. Nor would Michelle say that. She has gone on to become a successful lawyer and has put in many over­time hours. But if we find ourselves feeling tired and overwhelmed, we need to check the balance of Mary and Martha time in our lives. If we feel exhausted, chances are we have let Martha take over. We have forgotten the importance of slowing down and taking sabbath.

Because if we do that, if we slow down and take time for ourselves, we will actually be more productive in the time we do work. We need time to just sit, as Mary does. Time to sit and listen to Christ. Time to listen to who God is calling us to be. We can be assured that God is calling us to be whole, healthy, happy people. God is not interested in seeing us overworked or burnt out. As Christ reminds Mary and Martha, the fruits of the sabbath are something that cannot be taken away. The gifts of a deeper relationship with God. The fruits of listening to Christ, of taking time to “sit at his feet” and absorb his message are everlasting.

I am sure we have all met people who seem to possess an inner peace. They do not seem harried by the affairs of the world or the challenges of everyday life. This is not a unique gift that is only given to a select few. It is a gift freely given by God to us all, if only we are willing to cultivate it.

As Michelle, my roommate, showed me, it is not a gift that is cultivated by doing more work. It is a gift cultivated by slowing down, letting go and putting things aside. It is a gift that is cultivated by valuing relationships more than tasks.

It is also about filling our spiritual reservoirs up, so that we have the strength, courage and abiding faith we need to be God’s people in the world. And the world is very much in need of faithful people. There has been far too much violence in our news headlines, in California, in Syria, in our own cities and towns. Too many communities are divided. We seem far more aware in recent weeks of the realities of human sinfulness and how much pain and suffering there is. There is much work for us to do in the world. The world needs our hope. It needs our story of how God can bring new life out of humanity’s darkest moments. The world needs our conviction that God’s beautiful, restoring, reconciling love is at work in the world. The world needs to hear our belief that transformation is possible. 

And in order to do that holy work in the world, we need Sabbath time. Sabbath is meant to be an integral part of our lives. Just as we care for our bodies by eating well and drinking water everyday, so to are we to care for our souls by observing sabbath. Sabbath does not necessarily mean that we have to withdraw from the world for one day every week. But sabbath does mean that we must be sure that we do not let days go by without taking time for ourselves to be with God. Especially as our hearts are breaking at our news headlines or at events in our own lives and communities, we need sabbath so that we have the strength and the courage to live out our faith in the world.

Time for prayer and Bible study are wonderful ways to deepen our relationship with God, and those are not the only ways. Sabbath time is time to do whatever it is that is restorative. That may be time to read a good book just for fun. It may be time outside. It may be time with loved ones or a phone call to an old friend. It may be watching a movie or playing a game. It may be time to work on a favorite craft or hobby. It may be time to just sit and do nothing. Whatever it is, it needs to be an integral part of our lives. We all need time for the things that help us to breathe easier, the things that make us smile. I think those two measures are a good way to test ourselves as to whether we have enough sabbath in our lives. How's our breathing? Is it slow and deep? Do we feel relaxed? And are we smiling? How many things have we done today that have made us smile?

If the answer is zero or only one or two, if our breathing is fast or shallow – those are telltale signs that we do not have enough sabbath in our lives. And we all know that each of us, and the world as a whole could use more hope and transformation, which will only be possible if we all have a little more sabbath. 

AMEN. 

Love and the limits of the English Language

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of our Lord, Episcopal Church Center

Charles Simeon, November 12, 2019

Psalm 145:8-13; Isaiah 12:1-6; Romans 10:8b-17;John 21:15-17

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.

Perhaps one of the most quotable movies of my childhood is the fairy tale movie, Princess Bride. One of my favorite quotes is from Mandy Patikin’s character, in response to his friend who keeps saying “Inconceivable!” He says, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” I think Mandy would fit right in with our Gospel reading for today. I can just imagine him standing next to Jesus and Peter, saying, "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” So true.  

This is one of those Gospel readings where the limits of the English language really do us a disservice. Jesus and Peter are having a conversation, but when we look at the original Greek, “conversation” might be a little generous. They are really talking past each other. Jesus keeps asking Peter if he loves him. Peter keeps saying he does, but they are not actually saying the same thing. Jesus is asking Peter if he loves him, using the Greek word, Agape. Peter keeps answering that he loves him using the Greek word, Phileo. As most of you likely know, those two words do not mean the same thing. 

Agape love is the love Jesus has for us. It is the love of spouses for each other. It is the love parents have for their children. It is the love of cherished values and principles. It is the kind of love that we would give anything to protect, up to and including our own lives. It is the self-sacrificing love we see most evident in the life and death of Jesus. 

And Peter just keeps answering him with “Phileo.” That’s the love of friends. It can be deep and meaningful, of course. But it is not the all consuming, all giving love that is Agape. It is just another story where it can be tempting to chide the disciples for how thick headed they can be. You want to shake Peter’s shoulder and say, “Don’t you get it? Don’t you hear what Jesus is asking of you? He doesn’t just want you to be his friend. He wants you to be willing to lay down your life for him.” It is easy to chide Peter for his thick headedness or for his fear, but really if we think about it, no doubt, we too have had our Peter moments. 

This conversation has significant staying power because it is a conversation any of us could have on any day with Jesus. We are faced with a question or with a dilemma, and through it Jesus is asking us, “Do you love me?” Jesus is asking us to do the right thing, even if it is hard. To follow the Way of Love. To do the thing that calls us into being our best self. To do the thing that builds up the Kingdom.  

And yet, it can be so tempting to be like Peter. Especially if we are tired or anxious. If we are feeling angry or unloved ourselves. If we are feeling short on patience, then it can be tempting to want to be like Peter and give just a little bit. 

But where our faith is concerned, where Jesus is concerned, a little bit does not cut it. Being a follower of Jesus is not something we can do lightly or half-heartedly. Jesus asks us to jump into the deep end of the pool, not to wade into our knees and call it good enough. It may seem like a lot to ask of us, to give our whole selves, our whole lives over to Jesus, but if we have ever felt the effects of agape love in our own human relationships, we know it is completely worth it. 

Perhaps you know that love from a spouse, someone who has willingly sacrificed in order to bring you joy. Or perhaps you have been blessed to have a parent who has given you that kind of love, where you have seen them put aside their own wants and desires in order to realize a dream for you? And if you are a parent, then you know what it feels like to give this love, it is instinctual and automatic. And the amazing thing is that it does not feel like a painful sacrifice, for the joy that comes from building up and caring for someone we love is a gift, a blessing far outweighs any challenges. And that my friends, is also the love that Jesus has for us. A generous, giving love that overflows into the world. 

In our Gospel today, and everyday, Jesus is inviting us to share in that love. To allow his love for us into our hearts, and to follow him, to love as he loves. Jesus is inviting us to be an example for the world of what it looks like to be a community of people who live lives overflowing with love. Jesus is inviting us to join him in transforming the world. AMEN. 

Prodigal Son

Embed from Getty Images

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of our Lord, Episcopal Church Center

Maryan of Quidun

Hosea 2:14–23;Psalm 130;Luke 15:11–24

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 famous parable about the prodigal son. The son who takes his father’s money and squanders it in a foreign land and returns home in disgrace. Although we would expect him to be chastised and punished by his father for how irresponsible he has been, he is not. No, instead he is welcomed with open arms and a feast has been prepared. And that, of course, is the point. This is the parable about the wideness of God’s mercy. It is a parable about how immense God’s love is. And I think there is another important message in this parable that is often overlooked. 

It is often overlooked, because the character is often overlooked. Who do we focus on in this parable? We focus on the father and the wayward son, particularly on days like this when we remember the life of someone like Maryan of Quidun who fell into sin and then repented. And of course, we all have had times when we have gone astray in our own lives, and so we can identify with the prodigal son. And I would bet most (if not all) of us can identify with the father figure. We know the joy of being reunited with a loved one. We know the joy that comes when reconciliation happens and a broken relationship is healed! But we don’t often focus on the other son, the one who is left behind and who is so angry that a feast is prepared for the brother who returns!

It is quite understandable that we have a dislike for that brother, because identifying with him would likely mean owning up to a part of ourselves that we don’t like. It would mean owning up to the part of ourselves that gets jealous of other people’s success. It would mean owning up to the part of ourselves that desperately wants to be loved and appreciated by others. It would mean owning up to the part of ourselves that operates from a theology of scarcity - a conviction that there is not enough love to go around, and so we must be in competition with our siblings for our parents’ love and with every other person for the love of God. 

I will admit to having my brotherly moments. My moments when I have been too self-centered and unable to rejoice in another’s success, moments when I have been sure there isn’t enough love to go around. 

I think if we take a good, hard look at ourselves and our motives, we will realize we have all been there. As much as we would prefer not to admit it, we have behaved in selfish ways. As it says in the Morning Prayer Rite I confession, we have “followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts.” We are guilty of operating from a theology of scarcity. 

Most of the time we focus on this parable as one of comfort, one that reminds us that we are loved by God even if we have gone terribly astray, even if we have squandered the gifts that we have been given. That is an important and valuable lesson. And I want to offer that there is another important and valuable lesson in this text. It is less about our own comfort and more about stretching us to be who God calls us to be. I believe the story of the prodigal son is an invitation for us to stretch ourselves and to be more graceful. It is a parable about grace, but it is not just about God’s grace - it is about how we can be grace-filled people too. 

It is an invitation to behave more like the father than the older brother. It is an invitation to operate from a theology of abundance. There is enough love, enough joy for everyone. We ARE NOT in competition for God’s love or each other’s love. There is plenty to go around. That is the thing about love, the more you give it away - the more you share it with others- the more there is to go around. 

So, the next time someone receives an accolade you thought you deserved or the next time you want to launch into an angry tirade about how undeserving someone is or the next time you feel your competitive spirit get the better of you, slow down. Take a deep breath and remember the story of the prodigal son. Try being gracious. Try seeing them through the father’s eyes, through God’s eyes. Try putting a smile on your face and reaching out in love. You might just be pleasantly surprised by the results!

AMEN. 

Reflections on Healing and Wholeness

St. Alban's, Simsbury

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Simsbury, CT 

Proper 23C, October 13, 2019

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7; Psalm 66:1-11; 2 Timothy 2:8-15; Luke 17:11-19

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. 

“Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” So says our Gospel reading from Luke this morning. I will own that this is one of my favorite passages of Scripture. It was on one of the stained glass windows in my home parish. It has been a formational passage in my own journey. As most of you know, I had bone cancer as a teenager. Given that experience, as you might imagine, questions of healing and wellness have long been central to my life. I think this passage deserves some unpacking. It can be tempting to just take it on face value. The difficulty is that when we do that we risk setting ourselves up for serious disappointment. On its surface the statement that “Your faith has made you well” is problematic. It could be seen as implying that if we only pray hard enough, we will be healed from whatever ails us. But we all know stories of truly faithful, good people who struggle with illness, loss or other challenges. Prayer can make a difference. It has an impact on us and on our world. But it is not a magic cure all that fixes everything. This is where I want to draw an important distinction between wellness and perfection. 

I think we often think that being healed means miraculous healing that erases all signs of disease. Like in our Scripture today where the lepers are made clean. Or are any of you Indiana Jones fans? In the Last Crusade, when they find the holy grail and pour water from it on his father’s bullet wound, the skin heals instantly and there is no sign of the wound. I think we are often hoping for that kind of healing in our lives. We are hoping that the pain and suffering, the scars, the wounds, whether they are physical or emotional, will just disappear. That somehow we can be “cured” in a way that erases any trace of a disease. It is not an accident that we think this might be possible. Think of all the advertising images that we see that emphasize having the perfect skin, the perfect hair, the perfect physique, etc. We are bombarded with images that emphasize a very particular, flawless image of what it means to be beautiful. But those superficial standards of what it means to be “well” and “healthy,” are not what Scripture gives us. 

Think of the Resurrection narratives. What is one of the profound truths about the Resurrected Jesus? Doubting Thomas only knows it is Jesus when he is able to touch his wounds. That it so important! Jesus still had his wounds. Resurrection did not completely undo the crucifixion, it transformed it. The reality of healing, of bringing life out of death, did not mean erasing the wounds. It is possible to have wounds AND to be transformed and made “well.” 

As someone who has been physically and emotionally scarred by life, and by the experience of having cancer in particular, I find such tremendous comfort in this truth. Our faith can be, and is, an essential part of our healing process. But having faith does not mean that we will not be wounded. We will have trials. We will be scarred. And that is okay. We are not alone in our challenges. Our Lord and Savior knows what it is to be wounded. He has offered reassurance to us that healing is not about being made perfect. It is about being made well and whole. That includes our wounds. It is possible to be well and still wounded at the same time. 

Many of you may also be familiar with the work of Henri Nouwen, and in particular his book, Wounded Healer. Nouwen’s premise is that our ability to minister with others in the midst of crisis is absolutely connected to our own experiences of being wounded. Our ability to be a comforting and healing presence is, in fact, enhanced by our own experiences of pain and suffering. We can walk with others exactly because we have confronted our mortality, because we have wrestled with the fragility and sacredness of life. I think it helps to have Nouwen articulate this truth for us, and we know this from our own experience. Think of the most profound relationships of your life. Do you feel a deep connection with that person because you like the same kind of soda or you have the same favorite color? Or because you like the same kind of shoes? Maybe, but I would wager that our most profound relationships are forged through moments of crisis and vulnerability. The relationships that matter most to us are the ones where we can be vulnerable, where we can share our wounds, where we do not feel the need to put up a false front of perfection. 

The relationships that matter most to us are the people we can call up in the middle of the night when our hearts are broken. The people who can tell us the truth in love, even when it hurts. The people who inspire us to be our best selves, precisely because they know our weaknesses and our challenges. 

So, while we are bombarded by images that promote a flawless, perfect life, I am not sure it is actually something worth wanting. I think I am okay with the fact that our faith brings wholeness to our brokenness not by erasing our wounds, but by making them holy. In the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, God has shown us that hope and beauty, that new life and possibility, are born not when everything goes just right, but when it all seems to be going sideways and wrong. 

Whatever wounds or brokeness you might be struggling with this week, whatever ways life has gone sideways, I hope you will take comfort in the assurance that God is with us in the midst of it all.  We do not need to pretend that life is perfect or that it should be. We can be honest about our challenges, and we can trust that God is at work in our lives and in the world bringing about healing and wholeness. AMEN. 

Reflections on Joy and Bishop Hobart

Bishop John Henry Hobart

Rev. Molly F. James
John Henry Hobart, September 12, 2019
Chapel of our Lord, Episcopal Church Center
Psalm 78:3-7; Titus 1:7-9; John 17: 11b-19

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 speak these things in the world so that they may have my joy made complete in themselves.” Joy made complete. That warms my heart and brings a smile to my face. Something I need this week. Yesterday was 9/11, always a hard day in our family. Our cousin Ben worked in the South Tower and died in the attacks. It is a day that simultaneously reminds me of what horrors and evil humanity is capable of, as well as what grace, goodness, and self-sacrifice. And as some of you know, this anniversary comes on the heels of losing an uncle and a dear family friend. In the midst of the grief and loss, it could be easy for me to give into the fear and anxiety, particularly since so many of our news headlines just seem to add to a culture of division and cruelty. A culture that chooses to believe there is never enough and that invites us to focus on what is lacking rather than the abundance and possibility that surround us.


Given that temptation, it is a good day to celebrate the life and ministry of John Henry Hobart. Our lessons today remind us that God is with us, and that God desires our joy to be complete. This emphasis on joy and possibility is also found in the life of Bishop Hobart. He was in leadership at a time when the Church was in decline, and its future and stability in the wake of the American Revolution was a real question. He had a choice, he could have given into a mindset of fear and scarcity. He could have been inwardly focused and bemoaned the losses. He was not. He chose hope and possibility. He trained more clergy, he planted churches, and engaged in mission. Now, Hobart was not perfect, we may not like his tactics, and we should acknowledge the imperialist manner in which he ministered to the Oneida Indians. I am not advocating for a wholesale imitation of Hobart. I do think his spiritual mindset and focus on hope is worth noting.


Hobart admonished one of his congregations to be: “Humble, submissive, penitent, and obedient, let us seek, by fervent prayer, that divine illumination and grace by which our faith will daily become more strong and triumphant, and our obedience daily more sincere and holy, until our faith shall terminate in the vision of the transcendent brightness of the divine glory, and our obedience in the rewards of perfect and eternal bliss.”*


This sermon reminds us of the daily challenge we face as followers of Jesus. It is the choice to keep striving, keep seeking after God or to give into fear. Hobart reminds us that it is not about our accomplishments, it is about our mindset. How do we see the world? Where is our focus?


My father-in-law was fond of quoting Abraham Lincoln, who said that people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be. Of course, our lives and emotions are more complicated and nuanced than that saying. And there is also some truth to it. What our mindset is matters. Are we convicted in our faith, are we seeking for our joy to be made more complete? Are we looking for possibility? Are we holding on to hope, even when fear is knocking at our door?


Remember that passage in Deuteronomy 30:15-20 where the people of Israel are given the choice been life and death? “See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity. . . I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life . . .” We have the same invitation, each and every day. The question is, will we choose fear and death? Will we choose to focus our energy and attention on that which brings us pain and sorrow? Or will we choose life? Will we chose hope and possibility? Will we choose to move forward in faith, trusting in the abundant, abiding love of God, and seeking out that which brings us joy? 

And I think it is important to note that joy is more than happiness. I wonder if Abraham Lincoln really meant to say joyful. Happiness can be superficial. Joy is happiness and more. It is deep and profound. It is a feeling in our bones, in our whole bodies. Not just a smile on our face.


I hope that we will stay strong in our faith, and that all of us have the support and encouragement to choose each and every day that which gives life to us and to the world. AMEN.

*(from Sermon 1, “The Illuminating Power of the Gospel“, Parochial Sermons in The Posthumous Works of the Late Right Reverend John Henry Hobart, D.D., Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the State of New-York, 1832.)

Remembering 9/11

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

17 Pentecost, Proper 19C: 1 Timothy 1:12-17; Luke 15:1-10

September 11, 2016

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 was a bright, sunny Tuesday with clear, blue sky when our cousin Ben went to work in his office at The Fiduciary Trust company on the 97th floor of the South Tower of the World Trade Center.  At first it seemed like any other day. There were tasks to be accomplished and appointments to be kept. A few minutes before 9 am, it became clear that it was a day like no other. Someone whose office window faced the other tower, came to tell him that a plane had hit the North Tower. The office began to evacuate. Our cousin Ben was a tall and imposing man, a natural leader with a generous heart. Beyond his regular job, he had been designated to be an emergency manager for his office. He helped his colleagues down to the 44th floor where they were able to get people onto elevators. Ben ensured the elevators were full and then stepped back. He walked down the remaining floors to street level. On the concourse where there were lots of emergency personnel, and he stopped to talk to them. He wanted to know what was going on. Minutes later the towers collapsed. His body was found right next to a fireman. We know the story of how Ben died because of all those he helped that day and because our family was one of the fortunate ones that had a body to bury. 

I think about Ben often. He was my mother’s first cousin. He had kids close to my brother and me in age, and we spent a lot of time together when we were kids - big Thanksgiving dinners and ski trips to New Hampshire. Ben had a wonderful sense of humor and a flair for the eccentric. He drove a purple Volvo with a pink pinstripe. Ben knew how to find joy in the present moment.

And of course, I think about Ben on this day. It is hard to believe it has been 15 years since September 11, 2001. Today will be a day of stories and remembering. Thousands of us have loved ones who connect us deeply to the tragedy of this day. Everyone over the age of 20 likely has a story of where we were when we learned the news. The images of the smoking and crumbling towers, of the damaged Pentagon and that field in Shanksville, PA are etched into our minds and hearts. While it is a day of sadness and grief, I also believe it can be a day of hope and transformation. It is a day that invites us to take stock of our lives and to live in a new way. 

There are thousands of stories like Ben’s. Stories of regular people who embodied compassion, generosity, and a sense of our shared humanity on that day. Small actions, like helping them on to the elevator or down the stairs. Actions that meant someone else got to go home and hug their kids that night. Think of all those phone calls and text messages sent by those who knew they would not survive. They said, “I am sorry.” They said, “Thank you.” They said, “I love you.” Innumerable witnesses to the fundamental goodness of humanity. The terrible evil that inspired the horrific acts of violence on that day did not have the last word. If we are paying attention, the messages of love and generosity speak far louder. 

And the world needs those stories and those messages. We need to be reminded that Love is stronger than death. We need to be reminded that Hope is stronger than fear. We need to be reminded that violence is not the solution to our problems. Divisions are not healed by attacking those who differ from us. 

I don’t know about you all, but I spent the afternoon and the evening of September 11, 2001 reaching out and connecting with those who mattered most to me. It was a day that reminded me of two very important truths that ought to always be at the forefront of my mind. First, we never know how long we have; life is short and risky. Second, relationships matter more than anything else. 

Interestingly, I think these truths are also at the heart of our Gospel today. Today we have the familiar story of Jesus searching for the lost sheep, and the woman searching for the lost coin. There is a sense of urgency in the Gospel. What has been lost is precious, and it must be found. There is no time to waste. We must focus on that which is most important. 

It is a parable that is meant to show us how much we matter to God. We are the sheep and Jesus is the shepherd. And yet it can be a human story too. It can just as easily be applied to our relationships with each other.  We all have people in our lives with whom our connection is essential. People who matter so much that we would drop everything and give of ourselves to ensure that we do not lose that connection. 

The juxtaposition of our Gospel and the anniversary of the tragic events of 9/11 give us much food for thought today. Life is short. We never know how long we have, and so we must ask ourselves the question of how we want to be remembered? What are the stories we want people to tell about us after we are gone? How have we cultivated relationships and sought to build connections? 

The thing that brings me up short in reflecting on our Gospel today and on the final hours of my cousin Ben’s life, is that he went seeking after anyone who needed help. He wasn’t just helping his best friend or a family member. He worked in a huge office. No doubt there were many people he guided to safety with whom he might not have ever even had a conversation. There were no favorites. 

Ben’s actions, and the actions of countless others that day, call me to a higher standard. They call me to seek out those who differ from me. Those who are currently strangers. As people of faith we are not just called to strengthen our ties with those whom we know and love, we are called to go seeking after those who are not in our inner circle. We are called to reach out and to contribute to the flourishing of ALL people. 

It is my prayer that we will have the courage and the grace to reach out and to seek after new relationships. May we follow the example of our Lord and Savior and live into the higher standard to which we are called. May we make the best use of whatever time we have left on this earth, so that the stories that are told about us long after we are gone are stories that inspire. 

AMEN. 

Good News for Today

Embed from Getty Images

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of the Lord, Episcopal Church Center

Micah 6:6–8; Psalm 43; Luke 4:14–21

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. 

Good news to the poor. Release to the captives. Sight to the blind. The oppressed go free. A year of the Lord’s favor. The Good News of our Gospel lesson this morning is good news indeed. I find myself particularly grateful for it, on multiple levels. 

The news headlines have been pretty overwhelming lately. From the destruction of Hurricane Dorian to yet another mass shooting. And news headlines are not always distant and global. No doubt many of us know people in the predicted or in the actual path of Dorian’s destruction. Our family learned yesterday that a dear friend and her husband were among the victims in that boat fire in California. And no doubt we have headlines in our local news about violence and tragedy in our own communities. The nature of news today means that it rarely matters whether or not it is a global headline or a personal one. We hear intimate, personal stories of violence either way, and they are tragic and painful. The speed and agility of communication in the 21st century means that we hear about the poor, the captives, the blind, and the oppressed in our own neighborhoods and in neighborhoods on the other side of the world. The sheer magnitude of human suffering is overwhelming. 

This is why we need the Good News this morning. We need to be reminded that God is at work in the world. That this prophecy of Isaiah that is retold by Jesus, does not just apply to Ancient Israel nor to the Palestine of Jesus’ day. It applies to us too. We need to be reminded of the stories that so rarely make the headlines. Stories of the hundreds and thousands of men and women around the world who dedicate their lives to feeding the hungry and caring for the disabled. Of lawyers and activists who give their time to help the oppressed and captives go free.  

I also think this is a prophecy that matters on a deeper, more personal level. It is Good News that can have a real impact in our own hearts and in our own lives. If we take Jesus’ words on a more metaphorical level, how might they apply to us as individuals? Are there places in our lives where we feel depleted or run dry? Are we suffering from a poverty of spirit? Are we allowing ourselves to be held captive by fear? Do we feel oppressed in some way? Do we need to find a way to break free or at least to change how we are taking care of ourselves? 

What in our lives might be a stumbling block for us? What might be preventing us from more deeply engaging in relationship with God or with each other? How might we see today’s Gospel as an invitation to move into a different future? What burdens might it be time for us to lay down? Are there amends we need to make? Or do we need to do a better job of surrounding ourselves with people who recognize our gifts and who help us to thrive? 

No doubt each of us could use a little Good News, a little transformation, a little restoration and reconciliation somewhere in some part of our lives. I hope that today, we can hear the Good News of our Scripture. We can take comfort in Micah's reminder that God does not require us to make sacrifices of cattle or oil. What God desires from us is to live lives of humility that seek to promote justice in the world. I hope we can hear in that a call to be a part of creating a more just future for all people. 

And I hope that we can hear the generous invitations in Jesus’ prophecy. An invitation to live into a new and different future. An invitation to look for and to give thanks for the ways that this prophecy is being fulfilled on a local and a global level. And finally, I hope we can live into Jesus’ invitation to trust in God’s love. An invitation to trust in the hope and possibility of a new future. An invitation to let go of whatever burdens, whatever fears, whatever it is that might blind us to the depth of God’s love or hold us back from living into the fullness of who God has called us to be. 

I pray that each of us will have the courage, today, and every day, to step out in faith, into a new future, trusting that the Good News of God in Christ is real and meant for each one of us.
AMEN.