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.

Expectations and Resentment

Sometimes seminary education is about the scholarly work in the classroom and sometimes it is about the practical advice given elsewhere.

My Liturgy Professor spoke quickly with such verbose language and about such deep topics that my classmates and I would walk out of class thinking that we had been trying to drink water out of a fire hydrant. Dr. Nathan Jennings told us so much about the origins of our common prayer. He could articulate the mysteries of worshiping the Almighty in a way that often inspired awe at what I was getting myself into as a seminarian. However, sometimes what Dr. Jennings said about other aspects of life was even more profound.

“Expectations are resentments waiting to happen,” were his words at a New Student Orientation event. Expectations are resentments waiting to happen. I am uncertain of whether this was a phrase he coined or merely shared, but at least once a week I find myself coming back to this wisdom. This phrase stands out as particularly fitting in light of today’s Gospel lesson from Matthew.

Jesus has just capped off an impressive, rapid fire tour of teaching parables. He has compared the kingdom of heaven to treasure hidden in a field, a merchant in search of fine pearls, and a net thrown into the sea. Finally he summarized this series by saying scribes trained for the kingdom of heaven are like masters who bring forth the best of what is new and what is old. Then, Jesus and his band of followers make their way to his hometown. Instead of a continuation of this grand tour of teaching, something else entirely transpires.

In the synagogue Jesus begins teaching and the people were astounded, which at first sounds positive. And yet, in the next breath it seems the people of Nazareth cannot get past who it is that is teaching. They ask, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these deeds of power? Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary?” Apparently they cannot get past the origins of the teacher. Their minds already being made up do not allow them to hear and to receive with open hearts the message of Jesus. Their expectations are resentments waiting to happen.

How have you already made up your mind about someone? Who in your life is just the carpenter’s son? Who’s only the child of Mary? Jesus later will say that if you want to enter the kingdom of heaven you must enter it like a child. Children do not live with expectations. They respond with awe-filled gratitude and curiosity to each moment they exist. Your expectations are resentments waiting to happen. Instead of assuming God, your family, friend, or neighbor will respond in a certain way, which inevitably leads to resenting the person or situation when it does not; live your life with wonder learning from all whom God places in your way.

Can You See Now?

Sermon based upon 1 Corinthians 2:1-13

In a very astute observation Mary Hinkle Shore compares today’s reading from the letter of Paul to the Corinthians to an eye exam. Really, she likens all of what Paul does after his conversation to getting one’s eyes checked. She notes that when one goes to read the eye chart everything can become clearer or more blurry simply by the type of glass that is placed in front of one’s eyes. For Paul the glass that makes all things clear is Christ Crucified. I believe this is the event that shapes how we see the world too!

A few years back I had a conversation with a good friend. Even though we hold seemingly opposing views of God, he and I have the ability to share in intense conversations with neither of us getting offended. On that particular day he told me that he thought Christians today do not strictly live as followers of Jesus. Moreover, people who believe in Jesus also hold onto several other guiding principles. He stated thinking America is the only superpower, ascribing to one political party’s agenda, or even belonging to some group like the Masons could easily play a dominant role in living out one’s life. Looking at me he said, “You cannot possibly think that you identify primarily as a Christian.” It was a bold accusation!

How do I make sense of the world? What can I possibly say in the face of such a violent and tumultuous world? Where do I get my sense of direction in the hurricanes that blow through this life?

Paul, writing to a divided group of self-indulgent people in Corinth, made a way clear that illuminates a different path than the one obvious in his day. The worldly powers did not understand what Jesus came to do. They believed that he was dangerous. They thought he was misguided. They could see that if his message caught hold their power could slip away. Paul when he was Saul was very much a part of that group. He was a persecutor of those who followed Jesus. And yet, when he was blinded by God his vision became ever clearer not through a series of different glass lenses, but rather through the mystery of Christ Crucified.

Paul writes, “’What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him’-- these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit; for the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God.” In our world we can believe a lot of different things. We can so easily get swept up in other belief systems, but Jesus calls us to go with him into and through the mystery of the Cross.

I sometimes try to explain this mystery away, but this is not just a competing belief system, this is how I am to live my life. I believe we are called to follow Jesus by practicing resurrection with God wherever we are and wherever we go. To practice resurrection means that we lay down those things that are dying in our lives. We bury those things that no longer give us life and energy and vitality. In the tomb with Christ those things cease to exist in the way that we once knew them. These deaths are not easy, but require suffering and pain and grieving.

Somehow though the vision that Paul had is something that can allow us to see beyond the foolishness of this world and truly see what God calls us to see. Namely, we can perceive that the things that were being laid down are now being raised up. The valleys are being lifted up. The high places are being made low. And the way of God is being paved, not by some powers of this world, but by the mystery of Christ Crucified.

End Racism Sunday: Be Opened

On End Racism Sunday how do we confront a "racist" Jesus?

This sermon takes into account End Racism Sunday and is inspired by Mark 7:24-37.

Sermon audio may be found here.

We love dogs don’t we? We pamper them, walk them, and bathe them. We pay for their nails to get trimmed. We send them to spas, we buy them cute outfits, and even put them on extravagant diets. I’ve heard it said that if an alien looked down upon our part of the world, it would believe that dogs are the ruling species by how well we typically treat them. While we love dogs so much, to be called a dog does not often carry the same good feelings as the ones we get when we see our furry little friends.

To be clear dog idioms are a mixed bag. “You’re my dog,” “You sly dog you,” and “top dog” certainly stand out as complementary expressions. On the other hand though there is “sick as a dog,” “hair of the dog,” “calling off the dogs,” “shouldn’t happen to a dog,” “can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” and just for good measure, “thrown to the wolves.” Taken a step further no woman wants to be referred to as the female side of the canine species, and if you’re a man you don’t want to be called an SOB.

In Jesus’ day there were also doggy terms, like in today’s gospel story. When this Syrophoenician woman humbly approaches Jesus, his response comes across with a lot of emotional static. That is, we have a hard time hearing Jesus calling her a dog without cringing. Is Jesus being playful? Did some later anti-Gentile Christians put this into Mark’s story? Wasn’t Jesus all about being inclusive? These are just a few questions worth raising when we hear Jesus’ response to a panicked mother seeking her daughter’s healing.

The phrase that Jesus used was diminutive, meaning he did not call her a big mean dog. And yet, this phrase does not come across as “cute little puppy,” but rather something like, “that little b____.” (Micah D. Kiel, "Commentary on Mark 7:24-37" www.workingpreacher.org). There is however, something more problematic for us than Jesus calling this emotional fraught woman a dirty word behind closed doors.

This Syrophoenician woman was someone from outside Jesus’ own group. She was not a Jew like Jesus. The words he spoke can at best be seen as offensive and at worst can be read as racist. How we hear, interpret, and respond to this is all the more complicated by the fact that today is a Sunday set aside by our friends in the African Methodist Episcopal Church and adopted by our Church leadership to confront racial prejudice. This is a day being called End Racism Sunday. Yet, how do we do this when we hear Jesus saying about another group of people, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”?

It can be easy for us to retroactively defend Jesus by pointing to the almost universal tendency to stick with one’s own tribe. Still his words cut through this not so sturdy defense. More helpful in understanding what Jesus said is our heartfelt belief that he came to be a light for all people. The one we, as Gentiles, call our Savior was a Jewish man who came to expand the Chosen People of God from a select group of the Abrahamic Covenant to all those for whom Christ’s blood was shed. Even through our Faith in Christ the words he spoke to this Gentile woman nag at us. We cannot hide from the offensiveness of what Jesus said, especially today we must confront these words and learn from Jesus’ interaction with someone completely different from him.

In this story Jesus was in a foreign land. Traveling from work done in the overwhelmingly Jewish area of Galilee to Tyre, a place that was practically pagan. He was attempting to find a quiet place, but was immediately interrupted by one who should not even know who Jesus was. We can, I believe, all relate to the annoying feeling of someone pestering us when all we want is to have a moment alone. Despite the interruption Jesus listened. We do not know what she said, but we know she knelt before him and begged for her daughter’s healing. The humility did not strike Jesus, in fact, he became annoyed with her, comparing her people to dogs. What transformed this interaction was her boldness.

She did not get offended, melt into tears, or walk away when called a dog. The woman took the hurtful words, accepted them, and spoke something that demanded Jesus’ attention: even the dogs eat at God’s table. God’s overabundance goes beyond the Chosen People to all people, even the ones considered dogs. Jesus healed the woman’s daughter, as he heard the audacity of this brave one.
If we are to live as God intends us to live, we cannot speak from places of racial discrimination (not behind closed doors, not in jokes, not anywhere), but we must follow Jesus’ lead. Not in what he said, but in what he did. Jesus had a conversation with someone outside his own group. When he put his foot in his mouth, he was called out on it, and he did not deny his words. Furthermore, he sought healing in this relationship and with future generations of this family. What is more he went on to heal another person, which informs us more about this first miracle.

A man who could not speak or could not hear was brought to Jesus. Jesus did not only seek healing for this man, but I believe he also sought healing for himself. Jesus’ own ears and mouth, his heart and mind were opened by the Syrophoenician woman. Jesus connected back to the confrontation with her, as he took the deaf man aside, sighed, and said, “Ephphatha!” that is “Be opened!”
Be opened! That is what Jesus said to this man and to himself, and it’s what he models for us. Be opened! Open to those who are different than you. Be open to what they say. Be open to their reality being different because of the color of their skin. Be open to the possibility that you have been deaf and dumb. Be open when you say something offensive, so that you can own it, learn from it, and seek healing.

Today we intend to End Racism, but to do so we must recognize our own role in it. In a moment we will confess our sins to God and ask for forgiveness, and in the light of reconciliation Jesus shows us a path to walk: All of us are God’s chosen people not by what we do, but by God’s love for us; as God’s children we are called to speak with those who look different, listen to them, when we speak hurtfully we must seek healing and reconciliation; do not be deaf and dumb, but be opened. Ephphatha, that is be opened!