And I Mean To Be One Too (On Tuesday)

An icon of all the saints (those known and unknown to the Church)

 

 Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

 

© 2024, The Rev. Seth Olson

 

This sermon was preached on All Saints' Sunday (November 3, 2024) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles. Video of the sermon may be found here. 

Holy God, Sanctifier of all the saints, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

 

Happy All Saints’ Sunday! 

Now, when I say “saint” who comes to mind? No, I am not fishing for compliments. Maybe it’s someone like former Archbishop Desmond Tutu who was instrumental in overthrowing the apartheid government of South Africa. And, who along with South Africa's First President Nelson Mandela developed the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to bring healing to a hurting nation. I once met Archbishop Tutu who was maybe 5 feet tall but whose presence was enormous!

 

On his visit to Sewanee (where I was working at the time) he greeted every student, faculty member, and administrator he met. This was nice and pro forma for most honorary degree recipients, but Archbishop Tutu also intentionally sought out kitchen workers, maintenance men, and the cleaning crew to tell them thank you. He went out of his way to express gratitude for them and to share about the interconnectedness of our lives. I am sure some of those workers who lived in rural Franklin or Grundy County, TN had no clue who that man was, but to a person they were all smiling after he spoke with them. 

 

Desmond Tutu is a Saint. The Church agrees about this. All Saints’ Day though is not for Archbishop Tutu. Well, it’s not JUST for him. All Saints’ Day is different. It’s for ALL the saints. Not just the ones that the WHOLE Church recognizes or remembers. So, if this is the case, what’s it mean to be a saint?

 

Saint, as a term, has gotten confusing, layered with unnecessary guardrails and guidelines. In the New Testament, the word simply meant a member of the Way of Christ, the nascent Church, which was living in the light of the Resurrection. Every “parishioner” so to speak was a saint. 

Nowadays we have mixed up this term. We tend to think it means someone who is “perfect” (by worldly or otherworldly metrics). Truthfully (and more to the point), the root word for saint connects to another familiar Church term “Sanctus,” the hymn of praise that we join the angels, martyrs, apostles, and heavenly hosts in singing every Sunday during Holy Communion. What are the first words of that unending anthem? Holy, holy, holy. What does it mean to be a saint? It means to be... you guessed it... holy, holy, holy. However, if you think that to be holy means to be an antisocial hermit that spends all day praying in a cave, you may have conflated the term pious with holy. To be holy means to be set apart. Sure, hermits are set apart, but that’s not the only way for God to distinguish you. Our Holy God calls us into work fit just for us—that's right, there are missions set out only for you to complete.

 

Are y’all with me still? 

 

Maybe the best way to understand all this is to indulge in some beautiful theology within one of our Communion hymns for today, “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God” by Lesbia Scott. Some do not like this folksy tune, but the hymn writer created it as a children’s song to teach about the lives of the saints on All Saints’ Day, so taken in that light, what’s not to love?! 

 

It begins, “I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true, who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.” Then, it subtly hints at some Saints of the Church—a doctor (Luke the Evangelist and Physician), a queen (Elizabeth), a shepherdess on the green (Joan of Arc). All of these folks were saints of the Church. Then, comes something important for us to understand hagiography (the study of saints): “They were all of them saints of God, and I mean, God helping to be one too.” God is helping them to be saints. Hmm?... Interesting, I wonder, does God help us in the same way... hold onto this.

[A brief aside here: Through the stanzas, then other saints are listed. And, the best bit of this hymn may very well be in the second stanza, when “And one was a soldier (Martin of Tours), one was a priest (take your pick), and one was slain by a fierce wild beast (Christopher)”[1] is sometimes switched to sing, “And one was a soldier, one was a beast, and one was slain by a fierce wild priest.” I give you permission, even blessings, to sing this today and into the future! Here endeth the aside.] Alright, so the lyric that may very well turn our understanding of being a saint on its head comes at the very end of stanza three, “For the saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too.”

 

See saints aren’t just the Desmond Tutus, Queen Elizabeths, and Joans of Arc of the world. Although maybe we should remember that all these were just folk just like me (and you). Instead, all of us are called to be set apart for God’s work. All of us are to walk Christ’s Way of Love. So, what might this look like? Do we have to greet every person we meet with a smile, be burned at the stake, or get slain by a fierce, wild priest... I mean beast? Maybe, but our Holy Scripture for this day truly give us a better glimpse of how to be one too.

 

Our lessons give us powerful visions of what it means to be God’s saints, a people set apart. Not in the sense of some unreachable perfection, but as ordinary people called to live anything but ordinary lives. Isaiah speaks of a feast prepared for all peoples, a world where God will wipe away every tear. We are to be compassionate and caring for one another in good times and ill. 

 

John’s Revelatory Dream for the End of Days promises a new heaven and a new earth. We are to be a part of making this world look more like God’s Dream and less like the nightmare it often is to quote Saint Michael Curry now retired Presiding Bishop of Our Church. The Psalm reminds us that “the earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it,” which helps us see that we aren’t in this alone, but participating with God in this holy work. And in John’s Gospel, we see Jesus calling Lazarus from the tomb, bringing life where there was once only death. The saints of the Way of Christ though were the ones who unbound the once-dead Lazarus to restore him into holy community. This is our work as saints too. 

 

Taking into consideration these readings and what we’ve learned about saints, what does it look like for us, in this time and place, to be ones who are set apart for God’s work? 

 

First, consider your closest relationships: family, friends, and this church community. Being saints here means showing up with love, forgiveness, and compassion. It means working toward the common good in our neighborhoods, choosing the hard work of community over isolation. It means holding each other accountable, but also holding each other up in prayer, kindness, and encouragement.

 

Next, expand wider. In the book of Revelation, John envisions a new heaven and a new earth, one in which God declares, “See, I am making all things new!” To be a saint isn’t just a far-off hope; it’s a present call to action. We are invited to participate in God’s work of renewal now, to help bring about that new creation. And that extends into how we engage the public sphere. We can’t separate our faith from the rest of our lives—not from our workplaces, not from our schools, and certainly not from our responsibilities as citizens. 

 

This week, many of us will exercise one of those responsibilities as we go to the polls to vote. As we prepare to do so, may we remember that our call to be saints includes this responsibility, too. Saints aren’t called to retreat from the world but to engage it, to bring the values of God’s dream into every part of it. 

 

In our Gospel reading today, Jesus stands at the tomb of Lazarus and calls out, “Unbind him, and let him go.” This is Jesus’ work—to bring freedom, healing, and wholeness. And as saints, this is our work too: to bring life where there is death, to unbind where there is oppression, to heal where there is pain. This work includes every choice we make in our lives and every vote we cast.

 

We will not agree on every political issue. We will not all vote for the same candidates. And, friends that is okay, for I believe we can all agree on this: as saints, we are called to align ourselves with values and virtues that reflect God’s dream for this world. Values of compassion, justice, humility, and love. Values that lift up the vulnerable, care for God’s Creation, and protect the dignity of every human being.

 

It is no small thing to be called saints. And it’s not easy. It requires courage, sacrifice, and discernment. It means sometimes having difficult conversations, choosing the path that is harder, being willing to make decisions that go against the grain of our own interests for the sake of loving God and loving neighbor. And yes, sometimes it means making choices that challenge the status quo and disrupt patterns that keep us bound in cycles of injustice and suffering.

 

As saints, we don’t just live for ourselves. We live for others. We live for God’s vision, for the world that is possible when people walk the Way of Love. We live for that day when we will all sit down together at God’s great feast, every tear wiped away, every division healed, and every injustice made right.

 

So, this week and always, let us go forth with the courage of saints. Let us live and act as people set apart—not for our own sake, but for the sake of the world God loves. And let us remember that we do not walk this path alone. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses—saints past and present; saints in this room and beyond—cheering us onward, guiding us forward. For the saints of God are just folk like you, and I hope you mean to be one too! Amen.

 

---

[1]Pam McAllister, “What hymn celebrates lives of courage and generosity?” on Ask Her About Hymns Blog [https://askherabouthymn.com/what-hymn-celebrates-lives-of-courage-and-generosity/, written: October 27, 2016; accessed: November 1, 2024].

Friends for the Journey

We all need friends to help us read the map of our Faith journey.

This sermon was preached on October 31, 2018 during the transferred Feast of Saint Simon and Saint Jude. The readings that inspired the sermon were the following:

Deuteronomy 32:1-4

Ephesians 2:13-22

John 15:17-27

Psalm 119:89-96

“When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who comes from the Father, he will testify on my behalf. You also are to testify because you have been with me from the beginning.” These words ended today’s Gospel lesson. In the Episcopal Church we do not often speak of testifying or that dirty word “evangelizing.” And yet, Christ foretells not just for his disciples, but for all his people that we are to share His Good News, even to the ends of the earth. So, how do we do this? I’ll tell you how… WITH FRIENDS! More on these friends in just a moment.

As a kid, I often heard stories at home and at Camp Winnataska about King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. I loved these stories of bravery, perseverance, chivalry, and seeking Christ—and His Holy Grail. You know, the Grail is the chalice that Jesus and His disciples drank from at the Last Supper? Legend tells us that Joseph of Arimathea caught some of Jesus’ blood in that cup and it became forever sanctified. Allegedly it even helped Joseph survive for decades in prison even without food. At some point the Chalice was lost and King Arthur sent his Knights on a quest to find the Grail. This is where the going with friends comes into play.

Two of my favorite characters in the Arthurian Legend are Sir Bors and Sir Percival. They were the best of friends—they fought together, prayed together, and sought the Grail together. Even when Percival died, Bors struggled to continue and it was only the search of Christ’s Cup that spurred him to keep going. Hearing of their sort of Christ-focused friendship inspired me as a youth to seek that sort of friendship in my own life. And, as an adult I have found other examples of Christian friendship, like in our saints for today.

Saints Simon and Jude were disciples of Our Lord. Upon Christ’s death they were terrified, but through the power of the Resurrection and the imparting of God’s Spirit they shared Jesus’ Good News all the way to Persia (over 1,000 miles away). They supposedly did this work together. They preached together. They traveled together. They even died together as martyrs in the young Church. Throughout the New Testament Scriptures describing the Early Church we hear of saints like Paul and Timothy as well as Peter and John working together for Christ. And, these ones would not have been emboldened to do God’s work of sharing the grace of Christ with others without each other. Yes, this was true then, but it is also true now.

Today more than ever we need one another. In a book called Christians Among the Virtues Stanley Hauerwas and Charles Pinches speak of the friendship required for our life-long journey. For us to grow to trust God more fully we need friends who will walk with us, friends who have walked before us, and friends who will walk after us. This is to say that in this journey with Jesus we need companions and contemporaries who will be the Simon to our Jude. We also need those who have journeyed before us and who know how to read the map so to speak. Finally we need to pass along our wisdom with those who will walk the journey with Jesus after us. So how do we find these fellow travelers?

Well, you who are sitting here in Church are already surrounded by some fellow wanderers. Still there are more ways to find other pilgrims. One way to sprout new spiritual friendships is through the Cursillo Movement—can you tell I just came off that mountaintop experience myself? I’d love to talk more with you about that. Or, about Spiritual Direction if you want another perspective on reading the map for your journey of faith. Another way to make new spiritual friendships is by coming to Bible Studies, Sunday School classes, or other Christian Formation opportunities here at St. John’s. There are retreats at Camp McDowell, in Sewanee, and in Cullman. Also, you might want to share wisdom you have with others by teaching a class—Harry Moore would love more Christian Formation volunteers. Or, you could serve with our Children’s or Youth Ministries or at Banks-Caddell. The ways to be friends with saints around us is innumerable.

We all need a Bors to our Percival, a Jude to our Simon. Each of us needs spiritual friends that connect us both to older and younger generations. We all need companions for our lives of faith. Who are your friends for the journey with Jesus?

The Power of Prayer

This sermon was preached on the Feast Day of Vida Dutton Scudder at St. John’s Church. The readings for this day were the following: 

Isaiah 11:1–10

Psalm 25:1–14
John 6:37–51

The Dean and President of the Seminary of the Southwest (SSW) when I attended school there was a priest named Doug Travis. To my class he was a monumental figure. He almost felt like a folk hero with a hallmark deep, booming voice. He hailed from out in West Texas in a little town called Tulia. Anytime he presided at Holy Eucharist he—how do I put this?—glistened. Once when he was having a coughing fit during the Eucharistic Prayer he even drank some of the unconsecrated wine just to keep going with the service. But, his legend did not only have to do with humorous liturgical moments in the middle of the service.

Dean Travis had helped SSW through some of its darkest days. During the aftermath that followed the 2008 financial crisis, he made some very difficult decisions that allowed for the seminary to keep going. When he had to fire some longtime employees he did so with such grace and care that people still talked about it when I arrived a couple years later. He never talked about these difficulties, rather he chose to point to what he truly believed was the goal of seminary education: forming mature, Christian leaders.

Almost every sermon that Dean Travis gave had to do with this theme of developing influential people to step up in the 21st Century Church. My friends started to think that he was like a toy with a drawstring that once pulled released one of a handful of catchphrases. Sure, “Mature Christian Leadership,” was one of them, but he also almost always said, “The older and older I get, the more and more convinced I am of…” (fill in the blank). One such sermon still resonates to this day.

While talking about some research that showed that people are more spiritual than they have ever been, but at the same time less religious, Dean Travis pointed to something one of his daughters said. She was more convicted of the power of the Church than ever. Dean Travis on the other hand insisted that the older and older he got the more and more convinced he was not of the power of the Church, but of the power of God. Though the Church is flawed, God is not. Even if the Church fails, God won’t. Hearing these words from the leader of a seminary were both powerful and challenging. He then charged us to be part of leading people to Christ in the Church—not for self-promotion, but for sustenance, life, and transformation. Dean Travis’ words continue to challenge me to wonder why is it that I do what I do, why do we do what we do? We stumbled upon our answer today.

In this afternoon’s first lesson we heard of the perfect vision—not for the Church, but for all of Creation. Isaiah described that in God’s perfect reign even the nature of wild animals changes such that all dwell in peace. Wolf and lamb, leopard and kid, calf and lion, child and snake all living in harmony with one another. These images are so profound that they often overshadow the very first words about this peaceable kingdom. “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse.” These words that prophesized Christ Jesus’ ministry also provide an image for us in the modern Church.

Think about this, a stump is something that is dead or dying. When we see stumps in our yards we want them removed. I watched during construction as a landscaping company sawed down some stumps and used machinery to dig up their roots. A stump then is an eyesore, a nuisance, or at best a place to sit for a moment. But, it is from that place of death and dying that God brings about the salvation of all people. We can take heart in this.

In our own lives, in the world, and even in the Church we might see things that are not life-giving. What are the stumps of your life? A once vibrant relationship now dormant? A long ago brilliant hope in our government now decaying? A closely held belief, now dying, that you might finally pursue your true calling in life? Whatever the stump God wants to raise a shoot out of it. God yearns to bring new life and God’s reign of peace from it—especially in the Church! So how does this happen?

The saint we celebrate today had an answer for this question. Vida Dutton Scudder was born driven! She was the child of Congregationalist missionaries in India in the mid-19th Century. After excelling in school and college Scudder founded several religious organizations devoted to community living and intercessory prayer. It is in this latter area of ministry that Scudder provided for us a way to bring new shoots out of stumps where resurrection is needed.

Scudder’s example and writings about having an active and vibrant prayer life give us a most helpful pathway. On this journey we are invited to access God’s deep desires to bring new life to us. Scudder wrote, “If prayer is the deep secret creative force that Jesus tells us it is, we should be very busy with it,” adding that there exists a surefire way “of directly helping on the Kingdom of God. That way is prayer. Social intercession may be the mightiest force in the world.”[1] If you are seeking something, pray for it. If you are yearning for new life, speak to God about it. If you want a shoot to grow out of a stump, give it to God in prayer. And not just like we are writing a letter to some cosmic Santa Claus.

When we pray we open our hearts to God. We speak and we listen. We pass along our deepest desires and we hear God’s deepest longings for us. To paraphrase Dean Travis, the older and older I get the more and more convinced I am that when we take the broken stumps in our lives to God in prayer God raises new shoots in us such that we become mature Christian leaders for this day. Pray always for God’s reign to come!

---

[1] Lesser Feasts and Fasts (2006). “Vida Dutton Scudder.” 410.

The Quality of Mercy

This sermon was preached on the transferred feast of St. Matthew at St. John’s Church. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:

Proverbs 3:1-6

2 Timothy 3:14-17

Matthew 9:9-13

Psalm 119:33-40

“Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9:13)

Today we celebrate not a saint, but a sinner—a tax collector even. Nobody—then or now—likes a tax collector. We’ll bend over backwards to elect a politician who is utterly scum if their opponent has run on the platform of raising taxes. And, those who figuratively come to take our hard earned cash. Well, we do not like anybody coming in and taking something away from us. So it is surprising that today we remember a greedy good-for-nothing.

Today is the transferred feast day of Saint Matthew. And, somehow it feels fitting to be celebrating a despised tax collector just two days after quarterly taxes were due to the Alabama Department of Revenue and the IRS. In his day Matthew was near the top of Israel’s Most Hated list—if there were such a thing. Sure some of the hatred towards tax collectors gets passed down to us, but back then it was even more intense.

In Jesus’ day a tax collector did not have a starting salary or an hourly wage. Instead, they made their money by taking more than was allocated for the imperial tax. Devout Jewish folk did not like tax collectors because they were making their living dishonestly. Patriotic Jewish people living under the yoke of the Roman Empire hated Jewish tax collectors, like Matthew, even more because they were working for the enemy occupiers. No wonder throughout the Gospel accounts we find that tax collectors were the social outcasts of the day. They were lumped together with prostitutes, adulterers, and anyone who had done something to deserve getting leprosy (as though it were under their control). But, that was not how Jesus saw them.

The last words Jesus spoke in today’s Gospel lesson point us in a challenging direction. This path, which we are called to walk, leads us to responding to those sinful, wretched, and hated ones of our own day not with vengeance, but with mercy. Through Christ we hear God challenging us to have mercy on others instead of extracting sacrifice from those whom we loathe. Of course, this is not easy, but as the bard, William Shakespeare himself wrote:

The quality of mercy is not strain'd./

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven/

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:/

It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes./

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest;/[1]

Mercy is a double gift that is most powerful in the most powerful. It is a quality that extends from God’s own Trinitarian nature. And yet, we live in a world that is obsessed with proving ourselves right and others wrong. We seek to extract justice in the form of vengeance instead of practicing forgiveness and reconciliation. We persecute the tax collectors of our own age, even if it is simply by avoiding them or speaking in hushed tones about them. In short, we have not gone and we have not learned that God desires mercy, not sacrifice.

During a midweek sermon a few years ago the Rev. Evan Garner spoke about the tax collectors and lepers of our own day. Who are the people we avoid as a result of what they do? In our society who is it that we ignore? What persons do we completely isolate simply because of who they are?

The answers in our culture within the Southeastern United States appear vast. Yes we still don’t like tax collectors, but more notably we want nothing to do with pedophiles, sexual offenders, and murders; some of us have trouble with Muslims, While Supremacists, the Alt-Right, the Alt-Left, Socialists, Feminists, and really anyone who has a different view from our own; we don’t want to socialize with adulterers, criminals, certain types of rednecks, most Yankees, and almost all foreigners; we do not know how to approach those with special needs, those going through divorce, those who have lost their job, those suffering from dementia, and often anyone who is not like “us.” We may not have problems with Jesus having dinner with a tax collector, but we sure will get squirmy if we have to sit down with our modern day version of “them” to break bread. But, that is precisely what we must do.

Not too long ago in this part of Matthew’s Gospel account, Jesus made a challenge. He told those who struggled with the sin they saw in someone else to get the plank out of their own eye first. Then, and only then, so maybe never, for none of us will ever be sinless, can we address the sawdust in the other’s eye. As we follow Jesus this is the only way. We must seek mercy, forgiveness, and reconciliation for ourselves and with others. That is the true path of peace, the true course of Christ, the way of love.

On this day when we remember a Saint who was also a sinner (hint: that was true of all of them), let us hear again Jesus’ challenge. We are to seek mercy not retribution, for none of us is worthy to dine with our Savior. Still he invites all of us to the table. And all who turn around and come to meet him here, regardless of their sins, will not be turned away. Everyone is welcome here. For that, thanks be to God.

---

[1] William Shakespeare, “The Quality of Mercy” www.PoemHunter.com accessed September 19, 2018 https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-quality-of-mercy/

Modern Day Prophets

An icon of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Who are the prophets of our day? Who are those people who are voices crying out in the wilderness? Said another way, who are the inspiring ones whose words and witness challenge us such that we stick them out on their own? I have some answers of my own, but I am curious about you. Who are those people who provide a challenging, annoying, or even infuriating call to change your life? These prophets and their cries often get misremembered—much like with the Pharisees’ own celebration of prophets who came before them—we might believe we would like a certain prophetic witness when in reality that person’s words and actions convict or even condemn us.

A good example of this is the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. He was a great leader in seeking change. He started a nonviolent revolution, taught about peaceful resistance, and preached the Gospel of love. However, often we forget all of the challenges that he and others freedom fighters faced seeking better (but sadly still not equal) civil rights. We turn the Rev. Dr. King into a more appealing caricature of himself. One that is easier to swallow. In reality he was one that challenged and condemned the status quo as he sought true and lasting justice for all. King was not the only one though.

We do a similar thing with Mother Teresa. She was less a prophet and more a prophetic witness. Still we think that she was kind and sweet. But, we forget how she struggled with the poor of Calcutta. We overlook the grime, the mess, the filth, the hunger, and the pain that she lived with in her own life.

Even the greatest New Testament prophet John the Baptizer gets a cuddly lacquer applied to his rough life. He wore camel’s hair. He ate locusts. This was not for a fun camping trip or new diet, but for life. He went out into the wilderness for perspective and so that he could have clarity when he cried out against the powerful of his day. But, these prophetic witnesses are not all, we make Jesus into someone he was not and is not.

Jesus did not come simply to make us feel better about our lives. He came to change us, to transform us, and oftentimes this means he came to challenge us. When he called out the Pharisees for pledging their support to prophets of old but completely missing the prophets of their own day he was giving us a mandate as well. We must continue to be open to how God’s word is being spoken to us not just in the past, but right now. So, again I ask, “Who are the prophets of our own day?”

Prophets are those who call us back into lives of integrity—that is to say lives in which our thoughts and actions match up with our beliefs—and lives of righteousness—that is to say right relationship with God. Jesus pointed out that the Pharisees did not do this. So who calls us into lives of integrity? Who calls us back into right relationship?

Those who call us to respect God’s Creation. This means Climate Scientists, Ecologists, and Environmentalists who call big companies and us out for abusing this world we have been given to steward. If we are out of sort with the rest of what God has created can we possibly be in right relationship with the Creator?

Those who call us to respect one another. Protestors who call for equal rights for those who have historically been marginalized, abused, and treated as property (i.e. women, immigrants, and people of color). These who are trying to raise our level of awareness to the hurt that others experience on a daily basis are prophets of our day.

Those who call us to tolerate those who differ from us. Jesus lived in a world that was multi-cultural and multi-religious. The Roman Empire was vast and expansive and its captives and citizens were from all over the known world. At times Jesus tried to exclude those outside of the faith of his people, but the Gospel story shows us that those times usually ended with a widening of the story for Jesus and that person. This is to say that Jesus’ and the other’s vision of who God includes broadened. Today, we are called to see that all of us are God’s children. God wants all of us to be united together as one body. People who call for cross-cultural and inter-faith dialogue are prophets of our day.

There are many others who speak truth, but we might have a kneejerk reaction towards them, especially at first. Prophets though often are too challenging at first for us to accept. This was true with the religious during Jesus’ day and it is true now. I invite you to expand your vision to hear the prophets of our day. No one likes to change, but God calls all of us to be transformed by the prophetic words of Christ still be spoken today. As Max Lucado has written and our Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has often quoted, “God loves you where you are, but God does not intend to leave you where you are.” Who are the modern day prophets? And, how are they calling you in to the power of God’s transformation?

Faithful Devotion Leads To Faithful Action

An Icon of the Blessed Virgin Mary

This sermon was preached at both St. John's, Decatur, AL and St. Andrew's, Birmingham, AL. The lessons that inspired the message were the following:

• Isaiah 61:10-11
• Galatians 4:4-7
• Luke 1:46-55
• Psalm 34 or 34:1-9

 Some of my memories of the church where I grew up still come back to me from time to time: Standing up in an old wooden pew gazing at the mystery of the Holy Eucharist unfold. Smelling frankincense. Seeing the smoky yellow hue envelope the sanctuary when the light shining through the golden stained glass windows hit the smoke of a billowing thurible. Lighting a candle at the foot of the Mother of Jesus. Admiring a vivid icon of a Civil Rights martyr. Taking in people of all backgrounds sharing a sign of peace, then the Body and Blood, then the mini-feast of Coffee Hour.

These images not only float back to me, but they represent my upbringing at St. Andrew’s Church, Birmingham. Even more than those powerful memories, the church of my childhood gifted me with two profoundly important Christian virtues: reverent piety and faithful action. Yesterday and today in the Church Calendar may be the most fitting days to celebrate these virtues.

No time in the entire Church year is as St. Andrew’s-y as the Feasts of Blessed Jonathan Myrick Daniels (celebrated on August 14^th) and the Blessed Virgin Mary (celebrated on August 15^th). In their individual witnesses of the Good News of Christ Jesus these two beloveds of God tied together reverent piety and faithful action— intentional devotion and social justice. Even more than the back-to-back nature of their celebrations in the calendar of saints, God weaves these two holy ones together. And, we will discover just how closely in just a moment.

Yesterday, when remembering the life of Jonathan Myrick Daniels I found myself struck by his faithful action. He traveled down to Selma, AL to take part in the Civil Rights Movement. While others from the Episcopal Divinity School came with him for a weekend, as most of them were about to depart Daniels wondered what that would look like to locals—just staying for a weekend. So, he made arrangements to stay longer. After spending some time back in the Northeast to finish finals and to fulfill family obligations, Daniels returned to the Black Belt of Alabama where he would soon be martyred by stepping in front of a shotgun blast that was intended for young, black woman. Sometimes it is hard to know what would strengthen someone to withstand such a holy calling as martyrdom. How could Blessed Jonathan have the courage to stand up for his sister in Christ? What sustained him? What can sustain us?

Daniels felt so challenged and encouraged not simply on his own, but through faithful devotion. That is to say his ability to faithfully act emanated from his time spent in daily individual prayer—the Daily Office—and his time spent in communal prayer—the Holy Eucharist. He was ready to be a martyr because he practiced martyrdom by stopping what he would have otherwise been doing to pray to and to commune with Christ. One part of the Daily Office though served as a poignant catalyst for his pilgrimage to the Black Belt area. It was in the words of the Blessed Virgin Mary that Jonathan Daniels heard God beckoning him. As Daniels described it:

“My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.” I had come to Evening Prayer as usual that evening, and as usual I was singing the Magnificat with the special love and reverence I have always felt for Mary's glad song. “He hath showed strength with his arm.” As the lovely hymn of the God-bearer continued, I found myself peculiarly alert, suddenly straining toward the decisive, luminous, Spirit-filled “moment” that would, in retrospect, remind me of others—particularly one at Easter three years ago. Then it came. “He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek. He hath filled the hungry with good things.” I knew then that I must go to Selma. The Virgin's song was to grow more and more dear in the weeks ahead.[1]

The life of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Good News of Christ thus was woven into the life of Jonathan Myrick Daniels—reverent devotion inspiring acts of social justice. Our love and devotion of God, our holy parent, is inseparable from the call to serve God’s beloved children. Jonathan’s life reflected this truth, and so did Mary’s.

Throughout the Gospel of Our Lord Christ Jesus we discover snippets about Mary’s life. Gabriel’s unbelievable message, the Holy Spirit coming upon her, the escape to Egypt, the Passover pilgrimage to Jerusalem, seeing Jesus teach, going to the foot of the Cross, and seeing the Risen Christ, all of these were moments of reverent devotion and faithful action. Often though we do not think of Mary’s everyday speech. Sure, we recall fondly, as Daniels did, the Magnificat. But, what about her everyday speaking? We do not hear a lot of that in the Gospel accounts—save for John’s.

At Jesus’ first miracle, at the wedding feast in Cana, Mary’s says something so mundane that we might easily forget it. Once the wine ran out Mary told Jesus such. When Jesus confided in his mother that he was not ready—that it was not yet his hour—Mary turned to the servants. And said words not just of a loving mother, but of one who points us in the direction of following Jesus: “Do whatever he tells you.”

All of us who follow Jesus are called to mix together the great virtues exemplified in the community of St. Andrew’s—reverent devotion and faithful action. We are called to reverently devote ourselves to prayer and to nourishment in the sacraments. And there we are to listen to Christ just as Brother Jonathan did, and like Mother Mary said we are to do whatever Christ tells us. Amen.

---

[1] The Jon Daniels Story, ed. William J Schneider (Seabury Press, NY, 1967).

The Nearness of God

God's Transcendent and Intimate Nature on Display

This sermon was preached at St. John’s Church, Decatur, AL on Saint Thomas A Kempis Day. The readings that inspired this message were the following:

Psalm 33:1-5,20-21 Ecclesiastes 9:11-18 Ephesians 4:32–5:2 Luke 6:17-23

How do you know when you are near God? Presumably if we all were like Moses and had a burning bush moment, then it would be easy to see. But, it’s not always so easy.

How do you know when you are near God? As our reading from Ecclesiastes reminded us things do not always happen according to our own plans. The same can be said of moments spent with God. Sometimes when we least expect to recognize God in our midst, God shows up. And, other times we just know that we will see God, and then we don’t. This can be eternally frustrating.

How do you know when you are near God? Maybe that is the wrong question. For God always resides within, beside, before, behind, beneath, above, and beyond us. The trouble comes in our recognition, our comprehending, and our knowing this Truth. We do not always get that God is nigh. So, how do we? How do we know it and trust it?

There are countless ways for us to keep aware of God’s immediacy. When I was younger though I tended to think that God was not all that close. I thought that God had wound up creation like a clock and then left it ticking along. Now though I see the fallacy of this belief. There have been too many times, there have been too many moments, there have been too many occasions when God has been closer than my own heartbeat to me. I see things differently now.

God dances with God’s creation at all time and in all places. God laughs with us, weeps with us, walks with us, sits with us, and rests with us. God eats with us, imbibes with us, listens with us, prays with us, celebrates with us, and lives with us. This is not at all a new phenomenon. God has always been intimately connected with the creation God made. Still, there are moments when we may not feel any of this. Perhaps that is why we call God not only Father and Son, but also Spirit.

The Spirit of God often gets depicted in inconsistent ways. God’s Spirit is a fire, a dove, a breath, or a gust of wind. This feels hard for me to comprehend. How can a changeless being also be compared to these things? This is hard to say. Still to say that God cannot change seems a fallacy for that limits God’s own ability to move, grow, or decide something different. What may help us here is knowing that it is us that move, grow, and decide something different—we are the fleeting ones like grass that soon whither. Happy, I know! So what?

Do we just go through life hoping for a glimpse of a God who may or may not speak to us? What do we do? Do we think that God is flimsy and flip-flopping all the time? That does not seem right. So what?

The Good News is that we have been given in the life of Christ the great mystery of God Incarnate, Man Divine. The mysterious and hard-to-behold Truth is that Jesus was both fully human and fully divine. If this is truth, then what other mysterious paradox might we hold about God? God is eternally changeless and eternally changing? God is intimately close and yet ultimately transcendent? We always receive comfort from God and yet are always being challenged to grow in the way that we see God. This is the wisdom that the saint whom we celebrate today shared with the Church.

Thomas A Kempis was born in the 14^th Century in Germany. He became part of the Brethren of the Common Life, was a priest in Germany, and died in 1471. That’s about all we know about him. But, he left us one of the greatest Christian works of his day, The Imitation of Christ. In that book he invited followers to live by the example of Christ Jesus. More than that he let readers know that God’s gracious will does not always conform to what we expect. The following is from his work:

When God bestows Spiritual comfort, receive it with a grateful heart; but remember that it comes of God's free gift, and not of your own merit. Do not be proud, nor over joyful, nor foolishly presumptuous; rather, be the more humble for this gift, more cautious, and more prudent in all your doings, for this hour will pass, and temptation will follow it. When comfort is withdrawn, do not immediately despair, but humbly and patiently await the will of Heaven; for God is able to restore you to a consolation even richer than before. This is nothing new or strange to those who know the ways of God, for the great Saints and Prophets of old often experienced these changes. ...Indeed, the temptation that precedes is often a sign of comfort to follow. For heavenly comfort is promised to those who have been tried and tempted. “To him who overcomes,” says God, “I will give to eat of the Tree of Life.”

The consolations God gives to us do not always look the same. Sometimes they are more challenging. But, all is gift from God. We are called to persevere and remain faithful as God continues to love us and be faithful to us.

Reconciling Love

When Jesus asked Peter if he loved him on a beach, Jesus was modeling reconciling love for us.

This Sermon was preached at St. John’s Church, Decatur, AL during the Healing Eucharist on July 17, 2018. The sermon was inspired by the following passages from Holy Scripture:

Psalm 92:1-4,11-14 

Jeremiah 3:15-19
1 Timothy 3:1-10
John 21:15-17 

Jesus says, “Do you love me?” And how do we reply? Countless times each day Jesus whispers in our ear, “Do you love me?” If we reply by echoing Peter’s words, what will Jesus say to us in return? Jesus tells us what he told Peter: feed my lambs, tend my sheep, and feed my sheep.

This story of a Jesus having breakfast on the beach with his disciples lies very closely to the heart of the Church. In John’s Gospel account alone this passage unfolds. Here Jesus untangles the web of guilt that wrapped around Peter—a knotted mess he created by his three-fold denial of Jesus on the night between Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. This story hits at one of the most foundational pillars of our Faith. Namely that even denying Jesus and betraying him at his death cannot counteract God’s reconciling love.

Truly, there is nothing that can undo God’s powerful forgiveness. But, what does this look like when it is not just an individual person dealing with guilt or disconnection? Like for example, what does this sort of reconciliation look like when churches are feuding, denominations are breaking away, or countries are warring with one another? The saint whom we celebrate today shows us what God’s reconciling love looks like during times of national upheaval.

After the Revolutionary War the Church of England in America did not quite know what to do with itself. Our predecessors wondered what would become of the Anglican Church here in the newly founded United States. Before the war there were no bishops because the Brits did not want to give a colony that kind of power. During the Revolutionary War the New England states had felt a pinch as their clergy people were almost exclusively from England and so they often had their loyalties split between Church and colony. In the Mid-Atlantic and Southern states the clergy’s allegiances were more unified against the British. Many removed King George’s name from their prayers. Then, after the Americans’ surprising victory it was even more uncertain how the English Church in America would proceed.

This was the first time in the history of the Church of England that a colony had gained its independence. How would the Church grapple with this developing reality? How would this messy web be untangled? How would the wounds inflicted upon fellow children of God be healed across the Atlantic Ocean? Well, one way was to stay united in Church structure or polity.

After the Revolutionary War the first American Bishop consecrated was Samuel Seabury, who through the Church of Scotland received his episcopate. He made some promises about the first American Prayer Book being created. Seabury said that he would follow the Scottish form of the Eucharistic Prayer in which there is an invocation of the Spirit or Epiclesis. This was unlike the Eucharistic Prayer in the Church of England. And, quite often Seabury’s remembrance overshadows our saint for today, William White, who served as the first bishop of Pennsylvania.

White was unanimously elected as Pennsylvania’s first bishop and he was ordained in England by the Archbishop of Canterbury and York as well as the Bishops of Bath and Wells and of Peterborough. His theological background may not have been as astute as others in his generation, but his ability to build consensus and heal divisions was rivaled by no one in his era. White served as the Presiding Bishop during the organizing General Convention. He was the chief architect of the Constitution of the Protestant Episcopal Church in America. To put it precisely, he was a born leader who through his Spirit-given gifts brought about healing and reconciliation during the years after the American Revolution.

Christ Jesus empowered Presiding Bishop White to feed lambs, tend to sheep, and feed them. But, when we see such a profound witness of Spirit-driven leadership we may believe that we cannot accomplish what White did. God’s Truth though challenges that notion. All of us have a ministry. Each one of our stories fits together in the story of Christ Jesus—the Good News of God’s Beloved. We may not be the Presiding Bishop at the first General Convention, but we are called to be like Peter and Bishop White who heard Jesus’ call to feed and tend to God’s flock. Let us also be part of God’s reconciling work in this world!

Faith Stands With The People

Enmegahbowh was the first Native American ordained in the Episcopal Church.

This morning at staff meeting we read this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson. We do this every week to start our time together. Always I hear something that gives me a new insight on the Good News of Christ Jesus. Usually though, someone else says those wise words. This morning though I heard something come out of my own mouth that I really needed to hear.

In regards to the Parable of the Mustard Seed, which is this Sunday’s lesson, I said this story is an opportunity for us to trust God more deeply—even when the evidence is not there. Today and every day, we have this option. We always possesses the opening to have faith. Of course, this is not always easy.

There are moments in life when our hearts are troubled. Times when we receive difficult news, when we face adversity, or when that which previously brought us strength no longer does. During these days we can respond in many different ways.

We can give up on God, try to rely upon ourselves, turn to some other substitute for God, complain that life is not fair, or avoid our troubles altogether. I have done all of these before with only pain to show as a result! And, while in the moment they may feel good and right and fitting responses, they do not in the end lead to the fullness of life in Christ. There is of course, a generous other course to take when this world seems hard to bear.

In today’s Gospel lesson from Luke we discover the wild, counter-cultural path to blessedness. Jesus tells his followers that despite what the world told them God’s hallowed ones were poor, hungry, weeping, hated, and persecuted. What? Jesus’ words make no sense! I have spent my life avoiding these negative things. And, perhaps you have as well. So, how can these things lead to blessedness?

When facing poverty, hunger, sadness, hatred, or persecution one can respond with fear, anger, or bitterness. Or, one can see these moments of hardship as blessed moments when one trusts more fully in God. Yes, it sounds illogical. Sure, it’s a bit crazy. Of course, I would expect you to look at me funny at this moment. Still, when we face big challenges and when we find ourselves without the elements of a “good life,” then we discover that we cannot make it on our own. This is a natural next step in maturing our faith, and what is more we have countless examples in the history of the Church that show us this path. And, we celebrate one such hallowed one today.

Enmegahbowh was the first Native American to be ordained in the Episcopal Church. Even before his ordination, he showed great faith in God—even against great adversity. Enmegahbowh grew up with some standing among the Ojibwa people, and he was raised to be a medicine man. Despite his position, the chief of the Ojibwa tribe imprisoned Enmegahbowh, presumably because the latter had professed his faith in Christ.

During Enmegahbowh’s imprisonment, the tribe leader planned a general massacre of white people settling in that part of Minnesota. Enmegahbowh escaped imprisonment to inform the settlement at Fort Ripley. This prevented more blood from being shed.

When after this, Enmegahbowh was offered a more comfortable life in Canada, he chose another path. Enmegahbowh’s name in English means “The man who stands by his people.” He truly lived into the fittingness of his name by staying with the Ojibwa people despite opportunities for an easier life. His faith in God meant that he would remain poor, hungry, and even hated by some for some hard years. He did this not because he expected something more, but solely because he trusted in what God was doing. Eventually his trust in God was tangibly rewarded as his people received a new settlement, a steam sawmill, and church missionaries to help assist in the mission.

This one who stood with his people shows us an example of faithfulness. We too have opportunities every day, every hour, and every moment to trust God. This is not easy work. And, in fact, it may be the most difficult thing we ever do. Still, our lives as followers of Jesus call us to have faith even against the greatest troubles we face. Our faith will not make our problems disappear, nor will we be guaranteed a happy ending on this side of the grave. But, as we grow deeper in our faith what we will discover is that God walks with us and is present with us always. And that is the greatest blessing of all.

A Much Needed Challenge

An image depicting the martyrdom of Thomas Becket of Canterbury.

Way back during the Middle Ages the Church ordained Thomas Becket as the Archbishop of Canterbury. Better known for his martyrdom when he stood up to King Henry II over the rights of the Church, Becket also bears a powerful connection to this coming Sunday. After Becket was consecrated as archbishop on the Sunday after Pentecost, he instituted a new festival to be celebrated yearly on that occasion. It was not a self-congratulating feast but rather a day dedicated to the Holy Trinity. Thus, Trinity Sunday was born—and for almost 856 years now clergy people throughout the Western World have been grumbling.

For 51 other Sundays throughout the year the Episcopal Church has a fairly straightforward way of doing things. Particularly, we practice a familiar pattern in regards to the Liturgy of the Word when we learn from parts of the Bible. Through various seasons we celebrate God’s saving love as exemplified in Holy Scripture and particularly in the story of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. Easy enough right? Well, it’s not easy, but it is at least straightforward. But then, almost out of nowhere comes this Trinity Sunday, which feels a bit like the tail wagging the dog.

Even with almost a millennia of practice, Trinity Sunday retains a certain sense of oddity. It is a day in the Church when we remember a doctrine. The rest of the Sundays in the Church Year we let the Scriptural themes and stories speak for themselves, but on this day we shoehorn chosen Scripture to fit this belief about God. This day almost feels backwards. Almost. As we have been practicing it for the better part of a thousand years, it has also almost gained some sense of normalcy. But, imagine for a moment if we had Resurrection of the Dead Sunday, Justification Sunday, Total Depravity Sunday, or Doctrine of Your Choice Sunday. I am sure some would love it, but it would feel odd to me.

You may be thinking, other parts of the Church do this, and you are right. Nowadays in the broader Church, preachers circle a topic for a week or multiple weeks. They might use a thematic series to discuss sin, relationships, prayer, mission, or calling. And yet, rarely do preachers engage such a challenging doctrine as that regarding the Holy Trinity. It is one that has led to so many heresies. So, why do we do it?

The cop out is to say that all powerful word in the Church: TRADITION! Still, I think there has to be more to this than we did it last year (and the 850 something before it). Why would we keep doing something that is so challenging? Why keep going with something that leaves us—not just the preacher but the entire congregation—feeling a bit off kilter? Why continue bumbling and stumbling around in a delicate area that could get us labeled as a heretic? Well, perhaps it is because despite reciting our belief in a Triune God every week in the Collect, the Nicene Creed, and the Eucharistic Prayer, we seldom live our lives with this belief at the core. Maybe it’s dangerous to speak for you, but I have to sadly admit that I am a bad Trinitarian Christian.

How many of my prayers start with Father? How many of them end with Jesus? We just celebrated the Spirit coming down at Pentecost yesterday, but how easy it is for me to overlook the work of the Holy Ghost! I am deficient in remembering that Our Triune God exists co-eternally together. It is hard for me to remember that while the Father is not the Son is not the Spirit, and the Son is not the Father is not the Spirit, and the Spirit is not the Father is not the Son, they are all God.

So, while this week is frustrating, and while I might say a few choice words under my breath about Thomas Becket, I need this week. I need the challenge that God gives me to try and wrap my mind, heart, spirit, and strength around who God truly is. I won’t ever finish that work on this side of the grave. And, I will probably butcher some description of God this week—if I have not already. Still, I believe when we try to faithfully understand, experience, and express the beautifully complicated nature of God we please God. Yes, we must be careful and cautious to speak the Truth, but to be afraid of speaking it altogether is like not sharing the best news you have ever heard.

As I bumble my way through speaking of the unspeakable, I find that a couple good places to start the work of understanding, experiencing, and expressing God's Triune Nature are the Collect for Trinity Sunday (below) and the Creed of Saint Athanasius.

Almighty and everlasting God, you have given to us your servants grace, by the confession of a true faith, to acknowledge the glory of the eternal Trinity, and in the power of your divine Majesty to worship the Unity: Keep us steadfast in this faith and worship, and bring us at last to see you in your one and eternal glory, O Father; who with the Son and the Holy Spirit live and reign, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

(Book of Common Prayer, 228).

Passionate About Bread

Delicious bread... What about the bread of life?

This sermon was preached at St. John’s Church, Decatur, AL on the Third Wednesday in Easter. The lessons used were the following:

Acts 8:1b–8
John 6:35–40

When I was a child I loved bread so much. I would save whatever roll or toast or croissant or biscuit was on my plate until the very end. My obsession over bread was so well known in my family that they often made fun of me for it. They thought it was funny how I saved my bread for last or made subsequent trips back to the kitchen not for more of the main course, but for a side roll. I wonder sometimes if I have that sort of passion for the bread of life. Do you? Do we?

We find ourselves during this Third Week of Easter in the midst of John 6, which is all about bread. The bread of life to be more specific. We will hear this chapter again for five weeks this July and August. By the end of that time, we may all be too stuffed to hear any more about the bread of life. But, at this moment, when we are less satiated by glorious gluten, Jesus being the bread of life tastes fresh. So, if I am passionate about that bread—if I do not merely consume the Body of Christ, but allow it to consume me and to transform me, what happens? Well, our story from the Acts of the Apostles gives us a couple of hints.

Yesterday we heard the story of Stephen’s martyrdom and today we heard the story of Saul’s persecution of the early Jesus movement—both point to how the bread of life not only feeds but transforms our selves, souls, and lives. Stephen heard the story of Jesus, he was transformed by the bread of life. He was called to distribute sustenance to the poor. In his death he relied on Jesus as his source of strength. And, even after his death, as Evan reminded me today, his grave would have been a place where early Church members shared Eucharist to commemorate and celebrate his life and his second-birth into heaven. Stephen’s life, death, and example point to the power that the bread of life can have on an entire community. What about Saul?

We may be familiar with the story of Saul, but how was he transformed by the bread of life? Saul, the pious of the pious among the People of Israel, devoted his life to being devout. When others stoned Jesus to death, they laid their coats at Saul’s feet. He was a persecutor of the early Church because it threatened his own Faith. Of course, all of that changed one day on the road to Damascus. There he was blinded by God, heard God’s voice, was healed by a Christian, and his life turned from a persecutor of Christ to one of his greatest evangelists. God gave Saul a new name Paul. Right then, his old life died and he was born again.

In this new life, Paul was nourished by the bread of life. Through consuming that bread he was transformed, and he became consumed by the Body of Christ. He articulated that image for us, such that we hold onto it to this day. Paul would eventually die his own gruesome death standing up for the very thing he had persecuted others for. This sounds very much like transformation. How did it happen? Through being nourished by the bread of life.

So, what about us? How will we be transformed by the bread of life? When we come to this table, when we approach the Good News of Christ Jesus, when we share in fellowship with others, when we give of ourselves to God’s work in this world, when we pray to God, when we dwell in silence with God, in all of these ways and many more we take in the bread of life. The changes that we may show are probably too numerous to name; however, we will look something like Stephen and Paul.

We will be filled with God’s Good News. We will share it in churches, in public spaces, and even to the powers that be. We will care for the weak and the outcast. We will feed others with the bread of life physically and otherwise. Wherever it is we go we can be fed by the bread of life. And wherever it is we go God will be there to transform us, just as God did with Stephen and Paul through Christ who was and is the bread of life.

Divine --> Human

Nothing is impossible with God, so what will be possible for God through us?

There have been moments in my life that remain beyond my comprehension. Some of them I remember and others have been told to me over the years. All of them mystify me.

When I was four years-old I had a conversation with Jesus in the backseat of my family’s van. I cannot believe that happened. When I was twenty-three years-old and in Quito, Ecuador a charismatic preacher gave me a blessing that knocked me over. I did not think something like that was possible. When I was twenty-four years-old I and in the middle of the Easter Vigil I experienced a visceral call to serve in God’s Church. I still am trying to grasp that instant.

Each of these experiences of the Divine do not make rational sense to me. While they were all very human in nature, it is hard for this human to comprehend that these things actually happened. In much the same way I wonder about Mary’s visit from the angel Gabriel.

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Annunciation. The Church usually observes this festive moment on March Twenty-Fifth—nine months before Christmas Day. However, this year that date fell in the middle of Holy Week and so it has been transferred to the first available day when we have regular worship here at St. John’s. This is the day when we recall the preposterous story of God choosing Mary to bear God’s Son into the world—a little splash of the Nativity right here in the midst of Easter!

While the Annunciation may stand out to some as an unusual story, God does enter into the lives of humans. I do not think I am unique in my experiences of the Divine. Truthfully, I believe God knocks on the door of all of our hearts on a daily basis. Do we pay attention to how God enters into our lives?

Mary was paying attention. When Gabriel came to her saying, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” She was perplexed and pondered what was happening, but she at least saw God’s messenger in her midst. How often do I miss God’s messengers now?

As the conversation continued, we as listeners get an inner glimpse into the heart of Mary. While she was favored, her heart was afraid. God’s messenger tried to calm Mary. Gabriel told her who this child would be—the Son of the Most High God whose kingdom will have no end. Mary’s response reveals her lovely human concern.

Mary did not get glimpses of grandeur as Gabriel spoke. Instead she had a practical concern. She wondered, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” Mary here modeled for us being open to God, but also remaining who we are. She did not think too highly of herself. Instead she aimed to humbly serve God, even if things did not make sense.

Gabriel responded by expressing how God would make unbelievable thing a reality. The messenger told how the Holy Spirit would be with her, how her barren cousin Elizabeth was with child, and how nothing is impossible with God. God provided a means, proof of God’s power, and why that was the case through Gabriel’s words. Even then though, I imagine that Mary had a million questions. Instead of getting stuck on them though, she responded by saying, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Mary’s example for us stands out as magnificent. She showed us that when God breaks into our lives we may not fully comprehend it. However, we can say yes to it. Still, Mary’s model gives us something more.

Sometimes I find a certain aspect about the life of Christ Jesus difficult to comprehend. The Church teaches that Christ Jesus was completely divine and completely human. Like other mysteries of our Faith this makes my head hurt. Mary’s life though helps me to form a sort of bridge that begins to give me deeper understanding.

Mary was a mere mortal. She was fully human, we might say. And yet, she had encounters with angels. She bore the completely human, completely divine Christ Jesus within her. She was the God-bearer, or as the Orthodox say, “the Theotokos.” Even though she was a lowly human, the God of the whole universe came to dwell within her. If this is possible—for nothing is impossible with God—then of course a fully human, fully divine Christ Jesus seems possible.

While this still may be hard for us to get our minds around, Mary helps us to know that God yearns to be in our lives. The fully human, fully divine Jesus was born through the fully human Mary. What might God bear through us regular, old humans? Nothing is impossible with God, so what will be possible for God through us?