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. 

Holding Fast To Joy

Grand Central Terminal

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. Matthew's, Wilton

Advent 3, December 13, 2020

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11; Psalm 126; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8,19-28

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. 

Paul writes to the Thessalonians, “hold fast to what is good.” He even tells us to “rejoice always.” Really? I want to say. Really, God? Is this the message you have for us today? Don’t you know how many things we are missing right now? Don’t you know how many reasons there are for us to be frustrated and sad right now? It is about to be Christmas, and we are deprived of holding people we love. For most of us it has been weeks or months since we held onto a handle in a subway car or the top of a Metro North seat. We have not held an elevator door for a colleague hurrying to their office or the door of a restaurant for the next patron. Medical professionals and first responders have held the hands of far too many who have died. We feel surrounded by loss and grief, and our Scriptures are telling us to rejoice? 

If you want to rail and argue and rage back against this text you are not alone. There is much to grieve in this time. We need to acknowledge the truth and the reality of the loss. It hurts. This is hard. Really hard. Especially for those of us who are used to having the power, the privilege, the resources to make things happen as we want them to, when we want them to happen. 

But here is the thing. Grief is not all there is. Yes, the challenges are great. The losses are probably more than most of us have ever experienced or ever thought we would experience. We need to be gentle with our hearts in this time. We need to be gentle with each other. The grief is real, but we cannot allow it to blind us to the beauty and the grace. Even in the midst of grief, there is cause to rejoice. 

That is what Paul means. The statement to “rejoice always” does not gloss over the reality of suffering. It is not meant for us to pretend that everything is okay even when it is not. It means that even in the midst of suffering there is cause for rejoicing. Always. It is Advent. It is the season where we are reminded that no matter how short the days are, no matter how dark it gets - literally or metaphorically - the darkness does not win. John the Baptist came to testify to the light. To announce to the world that the light shines in the darkness. 

It may be hard to see. On some days it may seem nearly impossible, but I promise that the light is there. Paul tells us to hold fast to what is good. Indeed we can hold fast to much, even in the midst of challenges. 

We may be struggling with all the people, all the things that we cannot literally “hold” in this season. But even if we cannot literally touch them, the love we have for them does not depend on being in the same room. In fact not being in the same room with them might be the most loving thing we can do for them right now.

There is the light. In acts of kindness and generosity. In a smile, even if it is on a screen. In the gifts of technology and modern life that allow us to work from home, to gather for worship in a way that keeps everyone safe, and to order delicious food to our doorsteps. Celebrating with family and friends in cyberspace even across great distances and time zones - possibly even a gathering of people who have not been in the same room for years, if ever. 

What we can “hold fast” to in this time may not always be tangible. It is the truths of our faith. The beauty of this world. The sunlight on the trees. The sky filled with stars. The myriad of ways we have to show each other how much we care - acts of grace and compassion, large and small. 

Even in the midst of stress and struggle, there is cause to rejoice. There is hope. Always. Things will not always be this way. We will again be able to gather in person. We will be able to travel, to ride airplanes and trains. To linger over a long meal with a dear friend in the corner of our favorite restaurant. It will all be possible again. And in the meantime, we can keep our spirits strong - to seek out all that feeds our souls and connects us to God and each other. To take more time for prayer. More time to care for our bodies. Time for sleep. Time for play. We can make more calls, send more letters. We can give generously. We can be more willing to accept help when it is offered. Indeed love and beauty will sustain us in this time. 

God is always present, always inviting us into deeper relationship. We need only keep our hearts open to receive that invitation. May we have the courage and the grace to do so this Advent and always. AMEN. 

Seek God, Beloved

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Ambrose, December 7, 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. 

Our saint for today only became a bishop because everyone was fighting. Our Scriptures are full of stories of people being beaten and cut into pieces. Blood. Abominations. Gah. Enough already God. Don’t you know we are in the middle of a pandemic? Don’t you know that we have plenty of terrifying news headlines, without needing to read about gruesome horrors in our sacred texts. We are not currently in need of reminding that humanity is capable of terrible things or how fragile and uncertain life is. We are surrounded by that truth. 

We need solace. We need comfort. We need hope. There is a long road ahead of us out of our current crisis. It may even get worse before it gets better. We need the joy, the sense of possibility, the light that will sustain us through the present darkness. And that seems hard to find today. Until I go back to our Psalm. 

Our portion for today closes with the line, “You speak in my heart and say, "Seek my face." *

Your face, Lord, will I seek.” Ah there it is. The reminder to connect with God. To connect with our heart. To see God. 

I am reminded of the closing song of Les Miserables, when Jean Valjean is dying. The line that has stayed with me, perhaps more than any other line from that musical: “And remember the truth that once was spoken, To love another person is to see the face of God!” Yes. Indeed. That is where we meet God. In each other. To seek the face of God is to seek out Love. It is to seek out connection. It is to be present with one another. 

The griefs are many in this time. They are personal. They are communal. They are global. But we do not bear them alone. It is Advent. It is the time we are reminded that God is with us. Emmanuel. God with us. And we know this truth because we can see God in the faces of those we love. We can bear these challenges, because burdens become so much lighter when they are shared. 

Take heart my friends. Even in the midst of all the challenges. Even in the midst of the grief that weighs heavily on our hearts these days. Even when we cannot be physically present with one another. The connection remains. The truth remains. The Love is there. We can see each other. We can see God. We can know, in a smile. In a laugh. In a kind word. In a gaze. That we are beloved. We are beloved of God. No trial or tribulation can change that fact. 

Be present to your own heart in these days. Listen for God’s voice. Seek God out. Reach out. Connect with those you love, so that you may show them God’s face. And be present to them, so that you too may see God. And God’s presence will carry us today and always. Amen.

Ease and security in the midst of chaos

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Commemoration of Nicholas Ferrar

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

Our text from Proverbs today closes with these lines . . . “but those who listen to me will be secure and will live at ease, without dread of disaster.’” Those lines got me thinking. Will be secure and will live at ease. Ooh. That sounds wonderful. Especially today. There is much that is weighing on our hearts and souls these days. It might be challenges in our own lives, our own families, or our communities. Or perhaps it is just the sheer volume of heart wrenching news headlines that come at us. A global pandemic. Oh, and it is the holiday season, which can come with its own set of complicated family dynamics and challenging memories to navigate. 

At first, those lines make me want to know where I find that magical elixir. Where is the way forward that does not have so many challenges? That life, that one that looks like a permanent vacation on a tropical island. Where do I find that? 

But then I catch myself. I catch my magical thinking. I catch my wishing for something that I know is impossible. A life free from suffering. Proverbs is not giving us the recipe for a life free from suffering, it is offering us an invitation to find peace and security, to find ease and comfort in the midst of challenges. 

While I think it is right and meet to be wishing and working for the outside circumstances to be different. I am inordinately grateful for all of the ways and all of the people who are doing that. All the hard work that is happening - particularly by medical and scientific professionals to bring healing and relief. We can and should do much to alleviate unnecessary suffering - from illness, from injustice. 

And we cannot and will not eliminate everything. So, we have the invitation to find peace and comfort in the midst of it all. I think this means having practices that help us stay grounded and connected to God. It can be tempting to think this means we have to be like Nicholas Ferrar whom we remember today. That we have to found a new religious community and try to pray without ceasing. I am sure most of us are too exhausted to even begin to contemplate that, let alone attempt it. 

This is when I find it helpful to remember that with the right mindset, much of our daily life can be prayer. Prayer is not limited to being on our knees in the right place with the right words. We can live prayerfully wherever we are, whatever we are doing.

A number of years ago, I read a book that I continue to go back to when I am struggling with prayer or feeling like I am “failing” at spiritual practices. The book is called Sabbath in the Suburbs. It is written by Mary Ann McKibben Dana, a Presbyterian Pastor who lives in suburban DC. She and her engineer husband have three kids in elementary and middle school. They undertake the goal of practicing a sabbath every week for a year. They choose Saturdays because that is the only common day off. The book chronicles their efforts. There is a moment from the chapter on Advent that has stayed with me. Mary Ann looks at her combined to do list of church and family tasks and realizes that a full on sabbath where you stay home and really rest is just not possible that day. So, she decides she is going to go through her task list “sabbathly.” Mary Ann reminds us that it is our attitude, our disposition that matters. Real life happens. We are not always able to live up to the lofty goals we set for our own spiritual journeys. But the realities of life do not mean we have to beat ourselves up for failure. We can simply adjust our mindset and seek to carry the spirit of sabbath with us. If our mindset is in the right place, even our tasks can be prayer.

We can honor the legacy of Nicholas, a legacy of prayer and devotion. We can discover what it means to find security and ease. Not because the world has somehow dramatically changed around us, but because we have changed. The transformation has happened in our hearts and minds. Even in the midst of whatever crises and challenges we may face, we will know that peace of God, because we have kept ourselves grounded and connected to God and to the practices that restore our souls. AMEN. 

Waiting for Transformation

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. Alban’s, Simsbury, CT 

Morning Prayer, Advent 1, November 29, 2020

Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18;Isaiah 64:1-9; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9; Mark 13:24-37

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

“And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” Keep awake. Really? That’s the last word of our Gospel for today? Keep awake? Well, I don’t know about you all, but that is not really what I was hoping for today. An admonition? About staying awake? Dear God, can’t you see how exhausted we all are. We are weary. And the days are short. We need more sleep. There are even days when we would like to just say, “Could someone please wake me up when this is over?” We want a break. We want things to be different and all we are told is to stay awake? Where is the comfort in that? 

Actually, when I pause, when I take a moment to breathe and reflect, I find myself wondering if our text is offering us an invitation rather than an admonition? What if it is not a harsh command to keep going past our breaking point? What if it is an invitation, a gentle reminder to pay attention because God is at work in the world? An invitation to remember that there is light in the darkness. Always. 

It would be easy to see this text as an admonition. It is Advent after all. A season that is not just about waiting for Christmas. It is also a time when we are invited to take the long view, the cosmic view. A time when we are invited to see that there is more to life than the here and now. A time when we are invited to remember that our actions, our choices matter. They matter to God and the matter to the world. How we live our lives matters, because we have the power to make a difference in the world. We have the power, the opportunity to be a part of building up God’s kingdom. We have the opportunity to be a part of transforming the world. 

But we cannot do that if we are asleep. We cannot do that if we fail to pay attention. We cannot do that if we choose to turn away from God. 

And the fact that we can choose to turn away from God, that we have that power, brings me to a description of Hell that I find very compelling. In his book, Tokens of Trust, which is an exposition of the Apostle’s Creed, Rowan Williams describes “Hell” as God eternally knocking on a door we are struggling to hold shut. Oh. That is a bit different than brimstone and lakes of fire. Hell, judgment, separation from God are not some threat looming over our heads. Hell is a choice we make. A place we find, because we have chosen to turn away from God’s ever present love. 

Now, you may be thinking, phew! That’s easy. I mean, why would we turn away from God? But here’s the thing, and why I think we need the invitation from today’s Gospel. We need to be alert. It is not always easy to see the path that leads us toward God. 

Sometimes we get stuck because we are exhausted and we cannot think straight. Sometimes we are full of fear and anxiety and we want to do something quickly, really just do anything to lessen our fear or anxiety. Sometimes we are stuck in a pattern that no longer serves us. Sometimes we are angry, and we just want someone else to feel our pain. For any number of reasons, it is certainly possible, sometimes even seems easier, for us to choose the wrong path. To choose a path that takes us away from God.

So what might it look like for us to stay alert? What might it look like for us to pay attention? I realize this sounds like one more thing to add to an already long to do list in this Advent season. This complicated, confusing, exhausting Advent season that does not look like any we have known before. But here’s the thing. I actually think that figuring out how we “keep awake,” and how we “stay alert” might actually make everything else better. 

We do all know how to do this. We know the practices that help us. We just need reminding. I know I do. I can myself far down a road of anxious what ifs or so wound up in my to do list. I need help. I need those beloved people in my life, who say, “Molly, slow down.” Those voices who remind me to take care of my physical and spiritual well-being. Those people who say, “Wait. How can I help?” Whose wisdom helps me to see the bigger picture or a way forward I had not considered. 

It’s Advent. And we are waiting. We are waiting for Christmas. We are waiting for the transformation of the world. And here’s the thing. This is not, should not, be sitting around twiddling our thumbs kind of waiting. We are not powerless. We have the opportunity each and every day in the choices we make, in how we live our lives - from simple smiles and acts of kindness, to where we spend our money, to how we use our power and influence in decision making, in the connections we make - we have the opportunity to be a part of building up the kingdom. We have the opportunity to make a difference, even on a small scale - it matters. 

There is our hope. Change is possible. Darkness does not last. It will not last because we can bring more light. Together. Each day, by choosing to draw closer to God. Amen. 

 

Pearls and Treasure

Field in Maine

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Commemoration of Margaret of Scotland

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. 

One of the gifts in the midst of all of the challenges of this pandemic is that I get to hear my friends preach. Even if we both have Sunday morning duties or even if we are hundreds of miles apart, the wonders of online worship means we can be present to each others’ ministry in ways that were not previously possible. I had the opportunity to hear a friend preach on this parable of the treasure and the pearl when  came up in our lectionary this summer. I have long thought of myself, of humanity as the buyer in this story. A good Protestant work ethic, a type A, slightly workaholic personality who is highly driven means that I saw this story as reinforcing the idea that we are supposed to sacrifice. We are the ones who are supposed to give all we have, all we can for the building up of the kingdom. 

My friend offered a different interpretation. One that turned my understanding on its head. He invited me to consider the possibility that rather than being the buyer, what if I am the treasure? What if I am the pearl? Oh. That is a very different thing. 

If I am the treasure. If we, each and everyone of us, are the pearl of great price then this is not a parable about how hard we should work or how much we should sacrifice. It is a parable about how beloved we are of God. It is about the joy God finds in us. Oh. That is very different indeed. 

I don’t know about you all, but I needed the reminder of that all important truth this week. The days are full. There is much important and meaningful work to be done. Some of it is easier to do remotely, but much of it is missing the intangible benefits of conversation and collegiality that come from being in the same place as friends and co-workers. The virus is surging again, and many think cases will not peak until January. There are wonderful hopeful signs in terms of treatments and a vaccine, but it is clear that we still have a long road ahead of us. There are divisions in our country, and we have much important and meaningful healing and reconciliation to do. So many bridges need building. Anyone else exhausted yet? 

That is why I needed that reminder. That all important beautiful reminder that we - each and everyone of us - is beloved of God. We bring God joy. Our “worth” is that of treasure and the most magnificent of pearls. Our worth is beyond measure. We do not earn that worth. We are beloved. We bring God joy just by being. Just by who we are. God loves us because we belong to God, because we are of God. 

What a gift. What a blessing. Let us rest a moment in that truth. Let it sink into your heart, into your bones.

I don’t think this interpretation is giving us permission to just stop and do nothing. All the other truths of our faith still apply. We are followers of Jesus. We are called to bear God’s reconciling, redeeming Love to the world. We are called to do good works and care for people’s needs like Margaret of Scotland who we remember today. 

This interpretation of the parable just invites us to start differently. It invites us to be gentle with ourselves and with all those we meet. Perhaps this parable can help us in the moments when we find ourselves getting aggravated or annoyed with those with whom we disagree. What if instead of focusing on everything that is frustrating us, we remember that this person is also a pearl of great price, that they too are beloved of God? What if we try to see them as God does and to see what about that person brings God joy? Of course this does not mean we compromise our own morals or principles, it just means that we have compassion for people. 

The world needs more compassion. And it can begin with us. We can do our part each and every day by having more compassion for ourselves and for each other. We can see the world with God’s eyes. With eyes that seek out beauty, joy, and goodness wherever it can be found. AMEN. 

Lessons about tradition and companionship from Seabury

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Commemoration of Samuel Seabury

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. 

As I think most of you know, I am a priest in the Diocese of Connecticut.  While I was ordained by the Diocese of Maine, I have lived in Connecticut for all of my ordained ministry. This means Samuel Seabury is an almost mythical figure. His portrait has a prominent spot in our diocesan offices, artifacts from his life and ministry abound. Our diocesan archives has his mitre, and I think some of his hair! His desk is the altar at Berkeley Divinity School. I think his chalice has been used at the consecration of all his successors. And so on . . .

We could focus on the life of Seabury and his significance in the history of our Church, but there are lots of texts that have already done that far more thoroughly than I could do in a homily. Rather I would like to focus on what his consecration as the first American bishop might mean for us now, as the staff and volunteers of the DFMS and as individual people of faith. 

I think there are two profound and important lessons that his consecration can offer us. The first is that being connected to and in relationship with our tradition matters. Think about it. At the end of the Revolutionary War, our Church could have done the same thing the new national government did. It could have severed all ties with United Kingdom. It could have struck out on its own and said it was going to do its own thing. That might have been easier. No transatlantic travel involved. Leaders could have just written their own Prayer Book with whatever they wanted in it. Even when Seabury got to England and discovered that he couldn’t be ordained a bishop there without swearing an oath to the crown, he could have decided to just get on a boat and go home. He did not. He went to Scotland. He sought out another branch of the Church that had been ordained in historic succession, where he would not be required to swear an oath to the crown. 

Seabury sought to stay in line with, in relationship with, the tradition he loved. He did not want to sever all the ties with the past. Our history matters. There is so much wisdom to be carried forward. We cannot do that if we ignore or toss out all that we have inherited. And Seabury’s venture to Scotland even ended up enriching our tradition. Our American Prayer Book is one that draws on the linguistic riches of both the English and the Scottish books. 

Staying connected to tradition is as important for us as it was for Seabury and his compatriots. One of the many things I love about our Prayer Book is that it contains prayers and promises   that have been prayed by the faithful for centuries. This gift grounds me and widens my perspective. Especially in these challenging times, it reminds me that I am not the only one who has faced hard times. Our ancestors in the faith have struggled. And they also found comfort and sustenance to carry on in the midst of it all. They have found inspiration and perspective. 

in these beloved, familiar words. We can all be reminded that there is more to life than whatever is troubling us in this particular moment. 

Which brings us to the second lesson from Seabury’s consecration, a reminder that we cannot go it alone. Seabury could not become a bishop without three other bishops participating in his ordination service, a requirement we still hold to today. Again, Seabury could have gone off on his own. The men (yes, all men) who elected him could have decided to establish a new church with singular leadership. They did not. They honored our connection to tradition. They chose a path that says even the most senior leadership in our Church is not a solo activity. In this time when we are all working in our own spaces, quite literally separated from our neighbors and our colleagues, it is all the more important for us to remember that we are a part of a team. We cannot, and we should not go it alone. Isolation can be lonely and troubling for our souls. It is also likely to make us less generative, less creative, less adaptive - all the things we need to be in the midst of our current challenges. 

So on this day let us give thanks for the thread, the connection that traces back from us to Seabury, all the way back to the birth of our Church. May we give thanks for a polity (a Church structure) that does not let us do it all on our own. In whatever challenges we are facing today and in the days ahead, may we not forget all spiritual riches which we have inherited. Remember that we are not alone. We stand in a long line of faithful who have overcome great challenges, and we are blessed, deeply blessed to walk our journey with colleagues and friends who enrich us daily. AMEN.