Do we really want Jesus?

Last week I watched the remarkable documentary Four Falls of Buffalo, which chronicled the Buffalo Bills making and losing four consecutive Super Bowls. If you have not watched this film do yourself a favor and find it on Netflix. In four straight football seasons starting in 1990-91 and ending in 94-95 the Bills were the best team in the American Football Conference, but each of those years they heartbreakingly lost to a team from the National Football Conference. In spite of always being the bridesmaid never the bride, that team showed some remarkably winning attributes.

Jim Kelly the quarterback of that team said that all of the adversity he faced prepared him to fight and win a battle with cancer. The head coach of the team, Marv Levy, urged his players onward using the vigor of Sir Winston Churchill who never, never, ever gave up and the anonymous poem featuring Sir Andrew Barton who urged “Fight on my men/A little I’m hurt but not yet slain/I’ll just lie down and bleed a while/And then I’ll rise and Fight again.” And perhaps most inspiring was the story of Scott Norwood the kicker. Norwood missed the game winning field goal in the 1991 Super Bowl, but faced the music answering press questions for 30 solid minutes after the game. When he returned to Buffalo the crowd hailed him by shouting, “We want Scott! We want Scott!” Overwhelmed with emotion the kicker prophetically promised to make it back to the big game the next year. If only Jesus had been born in Buffalo and not Bethlehem of Nazareth, maybe then his own people would have accepted him.

In the midst of the fourth chapter of Luke’s gospel account Jesus makes his way back to his hometown of Nazareth. As was his custom, he went to the synagogue to participate in the Sabbath. He was given a scroll to read and was handed the whole text from Isaiah. Rapidly he turned to the following portion:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

Because he has anointed me

To bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

And recovery of sight to the blind,

To let the oppressed go free,

To proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

Jesus topped off this reading by saying, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Amazingly at first, all the religious leaders were amazed.

The synagogue leaders thought of Jesus’ words as being gracious. They perhaps felt some warm and fuzzy feelings hearing what he said. Maybe they even went so far as to believe that they were going to bring the good news, release to captives, sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed, and all that comes with the Lord’s favor. And then, Jesus pokes at their amazement with these words coming from “Joseph’s son.”

The fervor with which Jesus unleashed his questions to the synagogue crowd presents difficult questions. If he was building a solid relationship with those people from his home town why would he push them in this way? For what reason would he bring up a proverb about a doctor curing himself if he had not yet faced overwhelming persecution? And, what is the point of talking about those whom Elijah and Elisha did not heal? The crowd does not just react to what Jesus said, but instead responded with homicidal intent. This overreaction speaks to why Jesus did what he did.

When Jesus spoke to the crowd those religious leaders created expectations with the passage from Isaiah. The people wanted not just to be a part of the year of the Lord’s favor, but they wanted it to happen exactly how they had envisioned it. They wanted to be the ones in power. They wanted to overthrow the Roman authorities. They thought they were the ones who were poor and would be raised by God. Mistakenly they thought that God’s favor only applied to them.

If Jesus were born in Buffalo, Burbank, or even Birmingham we might expect that he would be welcomed more fully than he was in Nazareth. Perhaps the crowd might shout, “We want Jesus! We want Jesus!” even in the face of not doing what we might want. However, we will continue to miss the Good News of Christ’s redemption if we believe that Jesus just came to show us the way. Jesus came to free everyone from believing that it is my way or the highway. It is time to accept the Truth that all are created, loved, and sustained by God.

Epiphany: When the Rest of the World Gets It

An Epiphany meme found on www.reddit.com

Today is Epiphany! YAY! The Wise Men finally reached their destination. As a child the Sunday closest to Epiphany was when we did the full Nativity pageant. Sure on Christmas Eve we had some fun with Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus; however, it was not until later that we brought out the full cast. I loved playing the part of the Innkeeper the most, as the lines were short and I got to sit in a pew by myself; however, I also loved being one of the Magi. As much as today is about the Wise Men, we often can confuse their presents with the deeper significance of their presence at the side of Jesus and his mother.

Yes, this is the day when three guys triangulated the city of Bethlehem with a star that led them to the baby Messiah and his mother, but it was also the precise instant that persons outside the Chosen People of Israel came to see, gift, and worship the Incarnate God in the person of Jesus. THIS IS A BIG DEAL! For thousands of years the tribes of Israel had worshiped the One God, but it was not so clear that anyone else cared or "got it." And yet, in this moment three men who practiced a completely different religion that focused far more on stars and the natural world than a monotheistic interpretation of God traveled from afar to be with this new born king.

Epiphany is the celebration of the rest of us getting it. Jesus had come to his people and according to John's Gospel account the people did not recognize him (1:11). So for another people to come, see, and worship him as God opened up a completely new possibility for the saving work that Jesus did. This was not just something confined to one group, one tribe, or one religion. This was the event that uncorked the beautiful saving embrace of all people.

Those in the Eastern Orthodox Church celebrate this as the most high moment of what is called the "Nativity Cycle" that is Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. They can easily relate to the ones from the East, so this makes sense that they love this day. Although we in the U.S.A. are not from the East we are Gentiles like the Magi. So, this is our day to celebrate salvation coming to us as well! Those in the Eastern Orthodox Church do not just confine Epiphany to a remembrance of the Wise Men though, they (and we with them) celebrate different moments of other people getting a glimpse of Christ's coming in Jesus, most notably the Baptism of Jesus and Jesus' first miracle at a wedding reception in Cana.

Today is the day when all people are invited to get the miracle of Christmas. We are invited to dwell fully in the mystery of Emmanuel: God with us. The Divine comes to earth to save all people. Today we go with the Wise Men to see the mother and child. We watch as Jesus rises from the River Jordan and hears God's voice calling him "My beloved Son." We celebrate heartily as Jesus transforms water into wine. This is the day when we get invited to be part of God's people, as we recognize the transformative power of the Incarnate One.

Why Are You Searching?

Merry Christmas! That’s right we’re still celebrating Christmas here at St. John’s. We’re slowly creeping with the Wise Men towards Epiphany when the light of Christ will be made manifest to the whole world. You can see the Wise Men have progressed from behind the altar on Christmas Eve to the offertory basin table last week to over on the piano now. Having been raised Episcopalian and being pushed to continue celebrating Christmas for the whole twelve days, I have never understood the majesty and mystery of Christmas being confined to one day.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not pointing a finger at those who have already taken down decorations. I know life is busy, other stuff has to happen, but to me it is such a sad sight to see all the marvelous build up to Christmas come crashing down immediately after we sing Silent Night on Christmas Eve. Trees come down on Boxing Day. All the twinkling lights are put away soon afterward. Is there a sadder sight in the world than those inflatable lawn Snowmen or Santa Claus once the air has been let out of them?

Even if your decorations are securely boxed up in self-storage I invite you to dwell a little longer in the Season of Christmas, for the Incarnation is not so much to be understood as it is to be experienced. We struggle with what it means to have God come among us. I can do my best to preach on this mystery, but all my words will fall short of capturing the love that brought heaven and earth together. So, instead of rushing on, I think we must stay here a little bit longer in the manger, in Jesus’ childhood, in the glow of the light of the world, so that we can ponder and experience more fully Emmanuel. Otherwise Christmas Day ends and everything deflates like the blow up Santa Claus, and we are left light-less in the dark and cold of winter.

So how do we sit here with him who came to save us? Back before most folks had un-decorated for Christmas there was a sign in a yard that read: “Wise Men Still Seek Him.” While I wish it said wise people still seek him, it would not make as much sense, seeing as though the Magi were men and not people. Still this sentiment beckons us to continue to wonder and wander seeking God with us. When we attempt to find the incarnate God, I think we make it too complicated. We go on elaborate pilgrimages, we pay for expensive retreats, and we take on unruly disciplines, instead we do well to search for him in the most obvious of places. This was precisely the dilemma that Mary and Joseph went through in today’s gospel story.

It was the Festival of Passover and every good Jew was in Jerusalem. This meant that people were everywhere. Those going would travel in large groups, dozens and dozens of people from small towns walked and rode with one another. For this reason, parents would often not worry about their children, especially as their children reached the age of maturity. Jesus was almost an adult at age twelve, so Joseph and Mary would have been more worried about their other children.
For some reason, I get an image of Home Alone, the movie, when Kevin’s mother finally realizes they have left him home alone in Chicago while they traveled all the way to France. At the end of that film Kevin and his mother are reunited with a joyful embrace. This is not what I see happening in today’s gospel. Mary says, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” I can see Mary grabbing Jesus by the ear when she says “Child!” Make no mistake this not a loving sort of nickname, this rather is an insult towards the almost “of age” Jesus.

This is the only canonical instance of Jesus as anything other than a baby or a full grown adult. Even in early puberty, he possesses such wisdom. All had been amazed at him, but what is more amazing is his response to his anxious parents. “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” They had gone all over the place looking for him, but with these two questions the young Jesus pierces through the generations and gets us to wonder for ourselves why are we searching for him, as we ought to know that Jesus is still dwelling in his Father’s House.
Yes, at this point in time Jesus was speaking specifically of the Temple. And, yes as Christians we believe that we have been adopted as children of God through faith in God’s death conquering love in the work of the Cross and Resurrection. So, the Holy Place has been expanded beyond just one spot to all of Creation. And yet, here we are worshiping together in God’s House.

I remember the first time I walked into this church. Evan brought me through St. Mary’s Chapel. The lights were off, it was night. He flipped on the lights and tears welled up in my eyes. I was stunned by the beauty of this place and by the holiness of this space. I could feel the walls and ceiling dripping with over a hundred years of prayerful devotion. Immediately, I knew that Jesus was here, the Spirit was here, God was here.

The Season of Christmas is about God coming to dwell with us. Sometimes we rush through life, we rush through our services, we rush through seasons, such that life never seems to slow down at all and we miss God who is with us. In this season of the Incarnation when God became flesh and dwelt among us, we are invited to sit a little longer in the manger and in the mystery. Jesus wants to know why are you looking for him? And if you want to find him, looking here is a good place to start.

Saint John: A Son of Thunder

After my first semester of college at Sewanee, I came home deflated. Do not get me wrong, I had a great first semester academically and athletically. My grade point average was high and my teammates voted me the most improved player on the soccer team, but still something big was missing. I told my parents that I wanted to transfer to somewhere in Alabama to a school where I already had friends. They agreed under the condition that I finish out one whole year at Sewanee first.

One of the first days back at Sewanee in the Easter semester my friend Kaeley invited me to a student led worship service and Bible study. While I had been once before, on that occasion I did not feel very welcomed; however, everything changed this second time around. A dorky looking guy named Adam came up to me, he immediately gave me a hug, and asked if I wanted to join his men’s Bible study. The excited face he wore beneath his glasses and shaggy beard made me look past how nerdy he appeared. At that same moment a prematurely balding freshman named Will came up to reinforce the offer. They said almost in unison we call ourselves “Boanerges,” which means “Sons of Thunder.” From that moment on I never thought about transferring again. For their offer to join their group was not just an invite from them, but also God saying, “Follow me.”

Today we remember one of the original sons of thunder, John the Apostle and Evangelist after whom our church is named! John was originally a fisherman with his father Zebedee and his brother James. James and John were “sons of thunder” because of how feisty they often were. As fishermen, they woke up early. They worked all day in the sun and the rain. They reeked of fish. Maybe leaving the family business was difficult on some level, but when Jesus said to John, “Follow me,” I can only imagine that leaving behind smelly, hard labor was the obvious choice. And yet, what lay ahead for this fisherman was anything but easy.

John quickly became one of the disciples that Jesus invited into deep, powerful, and mysterious moments. At the raising of Jairus’ daughter, John was there. At the Transfiguration, John was present. In the Garden of Gethsemane, John was falling asleep. John was even referred to as the disciple whom Jesus loved. Of course, this is in John’s own telling of the good news. John’s preaching of the good news through his Gospel account, letters, and revelation produce some of the most powerful moments of Scripture. Where would we be without his prologue or mystical vision of the End? We might therefore think that he was a pompous and proud man, but the truth is he was always just a simple fisherman who shifted his focus from creatures of the sea to human beings.

Each and every one of us is called in the same way that John was called. Jesus calls us too. Of course, he wears lots of disguises while calling. Sometimes it’s a friend in need. Sometimes it is our church asking you to come a little deeper. It might even be two new friends from the “Sons of Thunder” beckoning you to study scripture and goof off. Jesus is calling. How will you be sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father? How will you see yourself as a beloved disciple? How will you call others into relationship with Christ? Jesus says “Follow me.” Will you go like John?

Saint Thomas: Through the Doubt

The song "Doubting Thomas" appears on Nickel Creek's 2005 Album Why Should the Fire Die?

Today we celebrate Saint Thomas one of the twelve apostles of Jesus. Thomas, at least in the English speaking world, has earned a conflicted moniker “Doubting Thomas.” We heard an example of his “doubting” in today’s Gospel lesson. Thomas, absent when Jesus first appeared after the Resurrection, questioned the preposterous story from the other disciples that Jesus had been risen. “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe” (John 20:25). I have in the past heaped on criticism of the wavering disciple, but I am less sure today that Thomas’ doubt is problematic.

As we remember Thomas this week we would do well to see through the typical understanding that he was merely a hesitant follower of Jesus. According to Church lore he died (on December 21st) while serving as an evangelist in India, not peaceably in a hospital bed, but instead Thomas was martyred. We might say that from the moment Thomas saw the wounds of the risen Christ his life shifted; however, I believe that the questioning of this disciple served him and serves us well. Thomas, especially at this time of year, helps as a guide for those of us who possess questions; we can wonder about the stories of Angels’ proclamations, Mary’s pregnancy, and God’s Incarnation with this disciple as our model.

Doubt though, is like a double-edged sword. One edge cuts through an oversimplified version of the mystery that is our transcendent and immanent God; the other side cuts us off from believing with a childlike faith. Of course, with all the far-fetched aspects of the Nativity narrative sometimes a little bit of humor helps to lighten the seriousness of our Faith. Recently I saw a Christmas card that did precisely this. Two women were talking on the cover of the card. One woman said to the other, “A virgin birth, I can believe in that, but three wise men, I’ve never even met one wise man let alone three.” Laughter has the potential to unlock some of our stuffiness around serious questions, and allowing ourselves to laugh about how serious we become certainly helps. And yet, doubt we never voice can stiffen our hearts, cloud our minds, and choke our souls not just when it comes to God’s story, but also our own story.

The holiday season is not cheerful for all. Family struggles become apparent. The absence of lost loved ones shows painfully clear. We might ask, “Why is there such darkness at a time when we celebrate the greatest light coming into the world?” Even the best of us can struggle with keeping our focus on the illumination of the incarnation in the seemingly dark shroud of unasked doubts. My kneejerk reaction when facing these questions is to shove them down, so that I never voice my concerns. However the theologian Paul Tillich reminds us of something that Saint Thomas knew well, “Doubt is not the opposite of faith; it is one element of faith.” This Christmas season if and when doubts arise, do not lock them away, for that is when we become stagnant followers. Instead, allow the wanderings and the wonderings within to strengthen faith shining a new light on those areas of uncertainty.

In our Episcopal Tradition we have a wealth of wonderful worship resources including a book called Holy Women, Holy Men. This book tells the stories of saints from past and present. The scholars who describe Saint Thomas remind us that “The expression ‘Doubting Thomas’… is not entirely fair to Thomas. He did not refuse belief: he wanted to believe, but did not dare, without further evidence. Because of his goodwill Jesus gave him a sign, though Jesus had refused a sign to the Pharisees. His Lord’s rebuke was well deserved: ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe’ (John 20:29). The sign did not create faith; it merely released the faith which was in Thomas already.”   Thomas believed. He had given up his life to follow Jesus, and yet, his doubts had locked up his faith.

The band Nickel Creek wrote a beautiful song entitled, “Doubting Thomas.” Through the progression of the song part of the chorus changes from “I took a promise/But I do not feel safe/” to “I can’t keep my promises/Cause I don’t know what’s safe” to finally “I’m a doubting Thomas/I’ll take your promise/Though I know nothing’s safe/Oh me of little faith.” A mature faith allows for doubt, but this doubt is not an element that locks faith away, but rather opens up our wonder and awe of the Divine. To believe means being risky, unsafe, and vulnerable. This is so difficult.

To follow Jesus requires us to seek Christ through the doubt that obscures and somehow strengthens our faith. Through the doubt we find ourselves at the moment when Jesus shows his hands and his side to Thomas, we too are greeted by the Risen Christ. We, like the disciple, fall before Jesus recognizing He is Risen. We too are called to respond to God’s presence by sharing the Good News with those whom we meet. Doubt is not the opposite of faith; it is one important element of faith that invites us to wonder and wander with God. In this season of the unbelievable I invite you to be like Thomas, I invite you to seek the presence of Christ here in your midst, and I invite you to recognize the Risen Christ as your Lord and your God. Blessed are those who do not see and yet believe.

Hilda, Abbess of Whitby: Living Your Rule of Life

Today the Church celebrates Hilda of Whitby

Whether we know it or not, we are living life by a rule. This rule is sometimes hidden and at other times as clear as day. We consciously or unconsciously go about our days with this rule helping to make our decisions: guiding us in what we say, where we go, and how we act. As strange as this might sound we all have a Rule of Life, but Hilda whom we celebrate today presents us with a challenge. Instead of slogging through life unaware of the rule, Hilda’s witness as a saint of the Church, emerges as an example of how to live intentionally, so that God may fully bear Christ in us.

We will come back to the Rule of Life in a moment. First, let us go back in time. The Venerable Bede, the famous Church historian, wrote, “Hilda’s career falls into two equal parts,” as she spent thirty-three years in secular habit before dedicating the second half of her time on earth to monastic living. Now, before you tune out because monasticism seems ridiculous to those of us who live outside the walls of an abbey or monastery, let me pass along some wisdom that has changed how I view nuns and monks.

During the Reformation, when the Church Catholic underwent marvelous growth and tremendous splintering, a shift occurred that seems all but forgotten. The Protestants who were fed up with clericalism, the putting of clergy and monastics on a pedestal, finally had Holy Scripture that they could read in their own language and eventually books of prayer, so they could spend time with God at their own home. Many family members began to see their households as little monasteries. This seems to be a lost gift from the Reformation: we are invited to see our households as safe havens where our life in Christ is shaped as family and individual, then we are called to go forth to serve Christ in the world around us.

This vision where the home is the cloistered harbor of formation does not happen haphazardly. Just like in Hilda’s day when she founded the Abbey at Whitby a deliberate Rule of Life helps to guide how one lives, moves, and has one’s being. Interpreting a Rule of Life can be tricky, for it can diverge into legalism and earning God’s favor if we are not careful; however, we all live by rules whether we know it or not. The daily routines that we fall into are our unintentional rules. A Rule of Life therefore is not something to be maintained without grace, as much as it is a map and a guide to reveal that we are already home in God when we feel lost.  Now what Hilda’s witness asks us to do is to take on an intentional way of living within our own little monasteries, such that we clear away the clutter that distracts us from living the abundant life in Christ.

Hilda challenged those who came under her guidance to take on the virtues of “justice, devotion, chastity, peace, and charity” (Holy Women, Holy Men, 686). Everyone who met Hilda called her “mother” for she was that nurturing as a leader. Even when the Church in East Anglia struggled to bring together the Celtic and Roman branches of spirituality, she served as an example of obedience and reconciliation in the face of tension and division. Her life exemplifies an intentionality where our Rule of Life at home guides us to contemplative action in the world. What is your Rule of Life? How will you intentionally shape your life? God’s abundant grace reigns down at all times and in all places, search out a Rule of Life that helps us you to live the abundant life in Christ.

Facing Terrorism: Focus on Jesus

The stones of a building are not supposed to come crashing down. Ground beneath our feet is not meant to shake and rumble. No farmer plants seeds thinking that the season will end in famine. We do not wake up believing that a tornado will rip through our town. And no one goes through life expecting terrorists to incite mass murders nearby; however, these horrific, existence-shattering, and even life-ending events seem to be happening far too often.

This weekend I could not help but empathize with the painful reality that the people of Paris are feeling. I am sure you felt the same way. Bombings and shootings at a soccer stadium, a concert hall, and in a nightlife district rocked Parisians’ lives, much like how many of us felt shaken by the events of 9/11. And what is more, earlier in the week ghastly reports of terrorism arose from Beirut, Bagdad, and Garissa, Kenya. (All of the terror and all of the horror can very quickly put into perspective internet quibbling over the design on a coffee chain’s cup.) In this day and age, we cannot outrun the shocking news from every corner of the globe, and the news that grabs all of the headlines is of violence, famine, war, earthquakes, airline crashes, and other disasters. I have a very hard time with this being our current focus as a society, and I believe Jesus does too.

Last week’s gospel story focused on a widow, who with her two copper coins put in so much more than the showy gestures of the scribes. The outward signs of the religious were small compared to the inward abundance of the old woman. As soon as this teaching ended, Jesus and his disciples walked out of the Temple. This is where our gospel story picks up today.

One of the disciples marveled at the Temple. In that day the Temple was a sight to see. It was huge, with many balconies, covered walkways, and courtyards. Herod had the Temple built through the blood and sweat of others. It was constructed of marble to impress people from all over the world. While the magnificent appearance of the Temple was grandiose and attractive, Jesus had just finished teaching his disciples that inward devotion, not outward appearance was the mark of abundant life. Perhaps Jesus’ lesson was not getting through to the disciples, so he made a bold claim.

He said, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” These were ominous words, as the Temple would later crumble to the ground. And yet, Jesus revealed a deeper truth that persists to this day: nothing material in this world will last forever. Our greatest handcrafted achievements will one day fall down, even the mountains will be made low, the valleys exalted, and the crooked paths made straight. Still, this week I have a harder time making sense of this reality as it falls hard on my ears, and even harder on my heart. “All will be thrown down” does not engender solace or arise a sense of consolation from God. So what was it that Jesus was trying to tell his disciples?

At this moment, looking across from the Mount of Olives with his disciples Jesus was himself staring death in the face. He was in Jerusalem on the week of his crucifixion and could see the impending chaos that his disciples would undergo after he was captured and killed. The teacher was trying to pass along a Masters level lesson to his students. We too are to take on this difficult understanding.

The disciples pressed Jesus to talk about what he meant by the prediction of the Temple’s fall, but when they asked for a date and sign, Jesus did not give them a simple response. Instead of replying in a straightforward manner, he talked about false prophets, rumors of wars, wars, nations rising against nation, kingdom fighting against kingdom, and even earthquakes. Through this though he gave his followers great wisdom when he said do not let these things alarm you, or put another way, do not let all of those things distract you from what I am imbedding in you, what I am planting in you, what I am giving to you. For those things are not what is to come, the end is still to come.

“The end is still to come,” maybe this phrase does not instill in you a lot of confidence. Maybe I could say it in a little different way that will sound familiar to you Cursillo people. The best is yet to come. The best is yet to come might come off as pie-in-the-sky drivel, but I hope and believe that in God’s reality the best is yet to come.

When Jesus came to this earth he did not end senseless violence, famine, poverty, or war. We are well aware of this truth. And, his message that the end is further along was not something full of fluff. No, Jesus brought the good news that the best is still yet to come because God’s fulfillment of all in all is coming. Jesus started something when he brought healing and wisdom, freedom and release, life and love into this world. These virtues are not easily achieved, but by the grace of God this is the end, the goal to which all of us are headed when we live in Christ. Sometimes, like this week, it can be difficult to know that the beautiful end is the truth.

Just a little bit after this story from today’s gospel, Jesus shared a sacred meal with his disciples that we continue to share today. I can at times feel as though I do not understand the ways of this world. And yet, when I end up with my hands and heart open at God’s Table I know that the end is not mine to determine. Through Jesus God invites us to have a foretaste of the heavenly banquet that is yet to come where all God’s children will feast together. Yes, the end is yet to come. And yes, it is scary to not know what the end will look like. But, sometimes we get a glimpse of it.

Perhaps you heard a story that came out of Paris on Friday night. “Porte Ouverte” means “Open Door” in French. It was the hashtag that people who were already safe in France used on social media to invite those in danger off of the streets. Taxi drivers turned off their meters and shuttled stranded tourists and residents to safety. In the midst of a murderous rampage the love and open doors of strangers said to one another and to the entire world the end is still to come, the best is yet to come.

The distractions and dangers of this world are real. The pain that people feel in Paris, Beirut, Baghdad, Garissa, and elsewhere will not magically go away. We as followers of Jesus are not called to ignore the problems of this world. And yet, we are also not to be distracted from following Jesus, not even by wars, politics, disasters, or terrorism. As our reading from the letter to the Hebrews puts it, “And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” In the name of the Living God, Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer! Amen.