In our reading from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians today, Paul exhorts his fellow Christians to a higher standard of living. For Paul, this includes joyful singing. He urges them to “… be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

One of the biggest blows to churches during the covid pandemic was when we were notified that it was no longer safe to sing as a congregation. Thankfully for us here at Christ the King, we were able to have our soloist – Peter – sing at a safe distance from the balcony. And that indeed was a joyful noise.

But as lovely as Peter’s – or anybody’s - individual voice may be – Christian hymns are primarily to be sung communally. Whether we are trained or untrained singers – and the vast majority of us are untrained – the combination of our diverse voices harmonizes into a joyful noise unto the Lord.

So, I’ll never forget how liberated and joyful I felt when we finally were permitted to remove our masks and let loose over a year’s worth of pinned up singing. And the newfound, positive energy was not only audible - it was also visible. It indeed was a moment of spiritual, emotional, and physical liberation for us.

And this is not just my opinion – science tells us that this is true. Studies have shown that singing can improve your mental health and mood and be helpful during times of grief. It also stimulates the body’s immune response, improves lung function, and helps relieve stress.[1] One of the cruel ironies of the covid virus is that one thing that has been proven to help in times of depression, stress, and poor physical and mental health was also proven to be unsafe for unmasked crowds to partake in.

But the benefits of singing are not only physical and emotional. One of the greatest Christian theologians and practitioners of all time – St. Augustine – said, “He who sings, prays twice.” Reflecting on this quote from St. Augustine, Roman Catholic Bishop Columnas Conley notes that, “singing adds to our praise and worship of God—that our voices are gifts, with which we can make music to the Lord. Sung prayer expresses the joy of the heart, the happiness resulting from one who has encountered Jesus Christ and experienced his love. Sung prayer reminds us of the choirs of heaven, with whom we are called to praise God eternally in heaven.” 

So again, one of the great tragedies of the covid pandemic has been the arguably necessary silencing of the singing. And perhaps my greatest hope as it pertains to public worship as the covid numbers have spiked again is that we are still able to safely sing. Fine, I’ll wear a mask and stand behind this plexiglass. But I pray to God that it remains safe to sing.

One thing that I think oftentimes gets overlooked in our worship experience is the opportunity for hymns to spiritually form us. We place such an emphasis on the scripture lessons and sermon, that I think we can tend to overlook how the Holy Spirit might be working through the words and music of the hymns. They too are our “texts” for the day.

The opening processional hymn is almost always found in the “Praise to God” section of the hymnal, as that is what is prescribed for the opening section of our worship service. For today, David chose hymn # 423 – “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise” – one of the great hymns of the Christian tradition. In a world where people hardly read books or hand write letters anymore, and instead communicate primarily through brief, incomplete sentences made up of acronyms like OMG and LOL, where else can we not only read but also sing phrases like:

“Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light,

nor wanting, nor wasting, thou rulest in might;

thy justice like mountains high soaring above

thy clouds which are fountains of goodness and love.”

In a time of fear, anxiety, and political division, how nice is it to come together and put power, glory, and justice in healthy theological perspective, and to do so with such lovely poetry and music.

Our Offertory Hymn today comes from the “Christian Life” section of the hymnal, which is appropriate for the Offertory, as a primary component of the Christian Life is offering back to God and God’s people the gifts we have been given. The offertory immediately precedes the Holy Eucharist, where we literally consume Christ’s body and blood, taking them into our bodies. By choosing Hymn #700 as our offertory hymn, David brilliantly helps us make this connection to partaking of Christ’s Body in the Holy Eucharist by having us sing, “O love that casts out fear, O love that casts out sin, tarry no more without, but come dwell within.” Through the great mystery of the Eucharist, Christ indeed dwells within us.

Our Communion Hymn today – Hymn # 652 - gives us an opportunity to lyrically express the benefits of receiving Christ into our body through the Eucharist. Given the context of the anxious world around us, stanza 4 is especially meaningful:

Drop thy still dews of quietness

Till all our strivings cease;

Take from our souls the strain and stress,

And let our ordered lives confess

The beauty of thy peace.

What I am trying to do is to help us make the connection between the lyrics of the hymns and where they fall in the service. These hymns are not chosen randomly – they all serve to support the theological or liturgical theme of where they fall in the service. So, we should be able to make the connection between the Offertory Hymn and the Offertory, and the Communion Hymn and the Eucharist.

Our last hymn - Onward Christian Soldiers (#562)- is another one of the all-time greats of the Christian tradition. David chooses this hymn as our closing processional hymn from time to time because of its clear missional directive. Having been inspired by nourished through God’s Word and Sacrament, we are being sent out into the world “with the cross of Jesus going on before.” This line is crucial because we are being reminded that the symbol that we are following – the cross – is a symbol of self-sacrificing, self-emptying love.

And the last stanza speaks to what I began with – the power and joy of communal, congregational singing:

Onward then, ye people, join our happy throng;

Blend with ours your voices In the triumph song:

Glory, laud, and honor, Unto Christ the King;

This through countless ages We with angels sing.

I pray that we will continue to be able to sing as a congregation, and to do so safely. Our hearts, minds, and souls need to be able to lift our voices and sing.

[1] https://www.healthline.com/health/benefits-of-singing#benefits

In looking at today’s lections and trying to decide what to preach about I had several choices. Looking at the 1st lesson from the 2nd Book of Samuel, I quickly decided that I really did not want to talk about adultery. There is a rumor that goes around that basically says that when a preacher starts talking about adultery the congregation begins to wonder what he is feeling guilty about and I certainly did not want to go there. And then Richard solved that problem for me by only using the Epistle and the Gospel readings.

So then I looked at the Gospel because that is what preachers usually base their remarks upon. And I thought that since the feeding of the multitudes is in all 4 gospels, that you all could probably give a better sermon about it than I could, as you have certainly heard many sermons about it and the miracle of Jesus’ walking on the water which is part of today’s gospel.

That left the Epistle from Ephesians and I started to look more closely at it. And I realized the text is prayer that serves as a hinge between the first three chapters of Ephesians—its descriptions of what God has done by gathering up all things in Christ (1:10), breaking down the dividing wall of hostility, and creating in Christ "one new humanity" (2:14-15)—and the last three chapters of the epistle, which instruct readers about what they are to do in response. They are "to lead a life worthy of the calling to which [they] have been called" (4:1). Prayer stands at the intersection of reflection on what God has done (reflection that can take the form of theology) and obedient discipleship in God's world.

And this led me to remember an article a friend had sent me for a web source called I Disciple concerning praying and in particular the Lord’s Prayer. The article was by Sylvia Gunter and was entitled “Personally praying the Lord’s Prayer.” And I thought that I should and would share it with you. She begins:

Description

We can refresh our prayer lives and go to a new depth by talking to God many times throughout the day. Engaging God in conversation will be a great pleasure to his heart and will change our lives. 

Personally Praying the Lord's Prayer 

The Lord's Prayer is a biblical treasure we may take for granted because of its familiarity. We often recite it by rote, rather than pray it. The Lord's Prayer can warm our hearts devotionally, enrich our relationship with God, and aid our intercession. God has expanded my understanding of this jewel as I pray it often for myself and for others. The treasures of this prayer are both fresh and familiar (Matt. 13:52). It is refreshing, encouraging, and insightful. It is the greatest prayer taught by the greatest Person. It starts with the greatest, most personal title for God, our Father.

Praying the Lord's Prayer, not just saying it, can jumpstart a sluggish devotional life and take our prayer lives to a new level. These words of Jesus rich in personal application transform us from the inside out. Ask God for the gift of reading slowly. These 60-plus words are worth a lifetime of meditation and application in prayer. What could be more powerful than Christ-modeled prayer?

The Lord's Prayer highlights relationships of prayer: child to Father, worshiper to holy God, subject to King in his throne room, servant to Master, beggar to Provider, sinner to Savior, follower to Guide, dependent one to Protector, and subject to Sovereign Glory. This prayer reflects intimacy in family relationship, reverence for the Name above all names, submission to the sovereignty and will of the King, total dependence and reliance on the Giver of every good gift, cleansing from sin by our Redeemer, victory over temptation and ultimate triumph over the evil one by our Deliverer, and the power and glory of our eternal Lord of lords.

The Lord's prayer contains a focus of worship, a concise petition for basic physical needs, a standard of forgiveness, and urgent pleas for protection. It contains all the elements for a "Minimum Daily Requirement" prayer (worship, yielding to God's purposes, guidance, petition, forgiveness, victory over sin, victory in spiritual warfare, and focus on the magnificence of God). On the other hand, it is more than minimum and has limitless opportunities for expansion. God will bring to mind other parts of his Word that we can meditatively bring to bear on each of the index sentences of the prayer. It covers every aspect of life: relationship with God, with others, and to the forces of spiritual warfare that oppose us each day. 

Meditate on it before you get out of bed in the morning and throughout the day. It is completely portable. Isn't this better than idle thoughts, fears, past failures, future worries, and whatever else usually occupies our souls during those otherwise mentally-unemployed times? 

My goal is to inspire us all to refresh our prayer lives and go to a new depth by talking to God many times throughout the day. Engaging God in conversation will be a great pleasure to his heart and will change our lives. We touch God, like a squeeze of our hand in his, and equally important, he touches us back where we are, here and now.

For example, last week end I was struck by the word "hallowed," which we rush over because we don't feel its full weight. It means "holy." As I thoughtfully turned this phrase over in my heart and my spirit, I stood dumbstruck in awe of God. I asked, "God, who are you in your holiness? And how completely different are you than my wildest thoughts? Your holiness is not my concept of the purest I can imagine raised to the highest degree. Your holy delight is not just my most ecstatic moment taken to the nth degree. You are totally other. I cannot get my heart around such 'otherness.' " As Tozer said, "God is not the best we know infinitely bettered." So I asked, "Who are you?" and I thought of the statement of Jesus to Phillip,  "Don't you know me, even after I have been with you such a long time?" (John 14:9).  

Pray the Lord's Prayer afresh for yourself, as if for the first time, savoring every phrase and opening yourself to every word. Like this: 

Our Father: Abba, I belong to you. You are my intimate Papa. That's the truth from which I live and breathe today.

Who is in heaven: You are the I AM, the same yesterday, today, and every day. All Your promises are now, Yes and Amen.

Hallowed be Your name: Show yourself holy this day of my life in my thoughts, motives, conversations, and actions toward others. Let me not disgrace your holiness. By Your wonderful names, show me that You are the peace that I need, the victory I want, the guiding security I long to feel, the Daystar in dark times.

Your kingdom come: Reign in my life as You rule heaven. Come as King in righteousness, joy, and peace in the Holy Spirit.

Your will be done on earth: Be done, will of God, for Jesus lives in me delighting to do Your will. In my heart and my tasks, do Your will as it is perfectly done in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread: Let me remember who puts the food on my table and gives me the breath I breathe. You are my moment-by-moment strength for each step I take.

Forgive me my sins as I forgive those who sin against me: I want to tear up the IOUs I am holding because of wrongs against me. I want to keep short accounts, holding no offenses and no unforgiveness.

Lead me not into temptation: I don't want to act out of my weakness or wounded flesh, which is no excuse, just a plea for more of Your grace. Where sin and the need for healing abound, Your grace much more abounds.

Deliver me from evil: Protect me from physical and spiritual harm, because greater are You in me than my adversary who is in the world.

Yours is the kingdom, the power and the glory: I bow to Your sovereign control. You have all power and all ability to do all things well, and I want Your glory to take the credit for every answer. Amen.

Speak with God often, using the "model prayer" of Jesus as your guide. And we will have the opportunity to do so, shortly in this service, so that can be our first practice  session.

Scripture has a wonderful way of speaking to us if we allow it to. As we work our way through our daily - or at least weekly –Bible reading, certain themes will emerge. During some seasons of the lectionary, themes like creation, covenant, or steadfast love might weave their way through our assigned readings. When I see a common theme on a given week, I will make a mental note, whether I preach on it or not. But when I see it re-emerge the very next week, and the week after, I begin to wonder if I should not only take note, but also take it as a sign from God that this is what God calling us to wrestle with as a church community.

Using this line of thinking, it appears that whether we feel like it or not, God is calling us to wrestle with anger.

The Apostle Paul addresses anger in our lesson for today - most likely because he has heard that the church in Ephesus was experiencing some sort of conflict. At least we can rest assured that our era of Christianity isn’t the first to get angry at one another. After all, whether we are in the 1st century or the 21st century, the church is made up of fallen, sinful human beings. We’re bound to make a mess of things every once in a while.

But perhaps because he knew that even his Lord and savior Jesus Christ was prone to anger from time to time, Paul doesn’t chastise the Ephesians for feeling angry. He actually encourages it. You see, it appears that some of the Ephesians were putting on a false front, and weren’t being honest about their anger. Maybe they believed that being angry was displeasing to God, so they tried to hide it. But Paul wasn’t buying it. He knew how they felt. And he wanted them to express it – to him and to one another - in an authentic, truthful way.

In last week’s lesson, Paul told the Ephesian Christians to speak the truth in love to one another. If the truth we speak is anger, as long as it is expressed in love, we are being faithful members of the body. It is not easy, but it is how we are called to live as one body with many members.

The warning that Paul issues to the Ephesians and to us is about what our anger can do to us, and where it can lead us if we are not careful. He says, “be angry, but do not sin.” He knew good and well that anger oftentimes manifests itself in unhealthy, sinful ways. Most of the time, anger is associated with violence, whether it is verbal or physical.  Theologian Robert Roth said it well when he wrote, “Anger kills. Sometimes it is our physical or emotional undoing as we carry it around in our hearts and stomachs. Other times it fuels riots or wars. Uncontrolled or unmediated, anger kills.”

Understood that way, anger has certainly killed many communities, including many churches.

Paul goes on to say that when we let anger kill us so to speak, that is when we make room for the devil to move in. And that is when our anger leads us away from God and towards sin. And more times than not, that sin is violence of some sort.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. The sun doesn’t have to set on our anger. Our anger doesn’t have to be violent. We can “put away all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice.” We can “be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.”

Well, if you’re like me and you hear that from Paul, you’re thinking, “easier said than done.” After all, I find it very difficult to feel angry without feeling bitter or wrathful, or without succumbing to some sort of wrangling or slandering. To feel angry the way that Paul is asking me to feel angry is extremely difficult, and it takes a lot of hard work and discipline. In fact, feeling angry while also being kind might be the one of the hardest things for human beings to do.

But in spite of what many churches these days will try to tell us, being a Christian isn’t supposed to be easy. After all, as Paul reminds us, through our baptisms, we are called to “be imitators of God, as beloved children, and [to] live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

Our calling is nothing short of imitating God - the very same God who “gave himself up for us.” This God, who we have come to know in Jesus Christ felt anger. But when he felt angry, it was a righteous anger grounded in love. He was oftentimes angry with his own disciples, who lived in itinerant community with him for three years. But he never alienated his disciples, and he never left them – not even Judas, who betrayed him or Peter who denied him.

St. Augustine said that “Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are anger and courage. Anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain as they are.” Jesus was indeed angry at the way things were during his three-year public ministry. He was demanding radical change in the religious system of which he was an active, faithful member. He wasn’t an outsider advocating for change. He was one of them. And his mission was one of hope – hope for the kingdom of heaven to be realized here on earth. Hope for his Father’s will to be done on earth and it is in heaven. But in the words of Augustine, that mission gave birth to two daughters – anger and courage.  Anger and the way things were, and the courage to see that they did not remain as they were.

And as imitators of God, we are called to do them same. As followers of Christ, we are called to be a hopeful people. We are called to believe that things can and will be better for all of God’s creation. We are called to believe that there can be peace on earth and good will to all people. We are called to believe that as human beings, we can be reconciled with God and with one another, no matter how different we may be. We are called to believe that God has provided us with enough abundance that everybody can have enough – enough love, mercy, justice, food, shelter, natural resources, education, ansafety. The world tells us that this is nonsense, and that we are foolish to believe this. And to that, Paul says, “We are fools indeed! We are fools for Christ.”

And as fools for Christ, when we see that what we believe can and should be true hasn’t yet come to fruition, we are called to remain hopeful, which will give birth to anger and courage. But the anger we are called to isn’t a violent, destructive anger. It is a courageous, loving, honest anger that builds up instead of tearing down.

As a church community, we are made up of flawed, sinful human beings, and we are bound to get angry with one another, just as we are bound to get angry with how things are in the world around us. If we never felt angry at one another or at what we see on the evening news, then I’d worry that nobody cared. But as imitators of God, we are called to a standard that is radically different from what the world calls us to. We are called to ground our anger in love, not violence. We are called to genuine, authentic, healthy anger that pulls us closer to one another and closer to God. A difficult calling indeed. But we are not alone as we attempt navigate this countercultural way of being in the world. After all, we are all members of one body – that very same body that gave himself up on a cross for us; and that very same body that rose again from the dead three days. Anger filled with bitterness, wrath, and malice couldn’t kill Christ’s body then. As imitators of Christ, let’s make sure that it doesn’t kill us now.

 I love Paul’s letters because they are addressed to Christian churches, made up of mostly well-intentioned yet sinful Christians, and usually addressing some sort of disagreement, heresy, or conflict. Paul – like the prophets and messiah who preceded him, was the master of speaking “the truth in love.” And those truths that he spoke – or wrote – have grounded the Christian Church for nearly 2,000 years.

I’ve been preaching through Paul’s letters to the Colossians and Ephesians this summer, and more times than not, these ancient letters have had a providential Word for us. And that certainly is the case today.

So here we are, once again wearing masks and suffering from the effects of pandemic anxiety and fatigue. And just as we were during the most recent presidential election, we Episcopalians and we at Christ the King are divided on this issue. And I, like so many of you, am tired of it all.

I’m tired of many things - false information, finger pointing, and most of all, our wider culture’s inability to be curious. So many Americans don’t make an effort to listen to and learn from a wide variety of sources and people. So, when we are faced with a crisis like this pandemic, our nation and our communities oftentimes become divided. And I grieve over that, because it doesn’t have to be that way.

The Apostle Paul likely felt the same way when he’d catch wind of conflict that was brewing within his own Christian communities. Many of these conflicts were also grounded in false information, poor communication, and an unwillingness to be intellectually and theologically curious. As we’ve seen the past few weeks in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, the conflict was between the circumcision party and the non-circumcision party. Lines were being drawn as to who was in and who was out – based on how folks chose to understand the limits and scope (or lack of limits and scope) to God’s grace.

What seems to ring true for Paul is that more times than not, he felt as threatened by schism, division, and lack of unity within Christ’s Body as he was any particular theological disagreement. That is why so many of our greatest quotes from the New Testament about love, unity, and human relations come from Paul. It’s hard to find a wedding liturgy without a reading from Paul – particularly the most oft-used ones from 1 Corinthians and Colossians. Of course, when Paul wrote those lines in those two letters, he wasn’t addressing a couple about to be married. He was addressing Christians trying to be in community with one another in their newly formed churches.

And so, when he was addressing the Ephesian Christians who were in conflict with one another, he wrote, “[I]beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”

What if we all – as Americans, as Christians, as members of Christ the King, as members of our particular households – “made every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace?” What if we were more humble, gentle, patient, always bearing with one another in love?” I know that personally, I’d be a much better son, brother, husband, and father – not to mention a priest – if I more consistently and faithfully lived by this admonition from Paul.  

But how might we appropriate Paul’s ecclesiology – meaning, his theology of the Church – to our current situation? I think we can find a good example from his first letter to the Church in Corinth, and a reflection I found on it from Loyola Press.[1]

“Paul recognizes that some of the Christians in Corinth would have no problems eating meat from the temples. Nor should they do so.

So, about the eating of meat sacrificed to idols: we know that "there is no idol in the world," and that "there is no God but one." (1 Corinthians 8: 4–6)

The Christians in Corinth who realized that there is one God and that Jesus was the Son of God were not troubled by eating the meat that had once been offered to idols... Meat was meat, and those gods did not exist.

There were other members of the church, however, whose understanding of Christian teaching was not as clear. They were unsure of the relationship between pagan gods and the one God. These Christians were uncomfortable being served meat that had been used in temple sacrifices. As Paul notes:

‘But not all have this knowledge. There are some who have been so used to idolatry up until now that, when they eat meat sacrificed to idols, their conscience, which is weak, is defiled.’ (1 Corinthians 8:7)

The problem for Paul is that those Christians who rightly did not have problems eating the meat from idols would too many times criticize those who were having problems. The Christians who ate the meat thought that they had greater insight into the freedom won by Jesus Christ because they were not worried about pagan gods.

Paul was critical of those Christians who thought they knew better than their fellow Christians. He agreed with them in principle that meat was meat, and so they were technically correct in eating it. However, these Christians had to make sure that their sense of being right did not become a stumbling block for their weaker fellow Christians.

Paul emphasized throughout his writings the need for Christians to support one another and love one another. This is especially true because

‘Now you are Christ's body, and individually parts of it.’ (1 Corinthians 12: 27)

Paul is urged his fellow Christians to understand that with the freedom won through Jesus Christ is the responsibility that the individual has towards the community. Decisions that we make that we might think are our own private business in fact have social consequences. There is no such thing as a sin that hurts no one. Paul emphasizes that rather than think of our choices as simply our own business we have to recognize our responsibility to others as well.”

And while our nation continues to lack imagination and empathy as we disagree over how each of us thinks we should respond to the Delta variant of the covid-19 virus, let us, as members of Christ’s Body here at Christ the King, choose a different way forward. Let us, as Paul wrote, speak the truth in love to one another, remaining unified in Christ, which always seemed to be Paul’s first priority.  In his words, “We must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body's growth in building itself up in love.”

My friends, we can do this. But we have to do this together. There is no way that we can expect to all be in agreement over how we are to respond to this latest spike in covid cases. I know that after doing quite a bit of reading, learning, and listening, I have come to a different and more nuanced understanding of how we might respond to the pandemic. But as a member of Christ’s Body, what I personally feel, and what I personally think isn’t what is most important. What is most important is for me to always make our unity in Christ my first priority. When we do so, I truly believe that the fruits of the Spirit - love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness,  gentleness, and self-control -  will sustain us through this challenging time.

[1] https://www.loyolapress.com/catholic-resources/scripture-and-tradition/jesus-and-the-new-testament/saint-paul-and-the-epistles/st-paul-on-making-moral-choices/

As we continue our sermon series on Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, I’d like to draw our attention to the last sentence of today’s lesson. Paul uses the image of a holy temple to describe one, unified dwelling place for God to reside. This metaphorical temple is built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets. But it is Christ who holds the household together. Paul tells the Ephesians that “In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord.” And then Paul reminds them - and us - that this holy structure that is joined together by Christ and inhabited by God is none other than the Church.

I mentioned last week that when we read these letters from Paul, we have to remember the context in which they were written. By now, we take many things about the Christian Church for granted. Of course the Christian Church is made up of folks from all over the globe. Of course we are a multicultural body. Of course God doesn’t limit who can be a member of Christ’s Body. 

But when Paul was writing his letters to the Gentile Christian communities he founded throughout the Roman Empire, there was still a bit of an “insider” and “outsider” complex happening among Christians. Conflicts between the “circumcision” and “uncircumcision” parties within Christianity were still prevalent, and perhaps Paul’s primary challenge was to bring about the reconciliation between these two factions. 

But there was also the conflict between Christians and the Jews. Some in the Jewish community had a hard time wrapping their heads and hearts around the idea that a whole new population of people were claiming to be included in the household of God, and inheritors of God’s covenant promise. Indeed, there were factions and conflict both within and beyond this brand new religion called Christianity. There was an identity crisis that was being sorted out, not unlike other brand new groups and organizations. 

Interestingly, this same topic is being discussed in our Friday morning Men’s Bible Study, though we are studying the Acts of the Apostles. Much of the early Christian story was one of the tension between who or what was to be considered clean or unclean, sacred or profane, insider or outsider.

Ultimately, those who advocated for the inclusion of the Gentiles into the household of God, as well as those who advocated for the Gentiles not having to follow the Mosaic law won the day. And here we are - inheritors of the promise. 

Again, as I have said before, in our current context, I’m not so sure that any of us spend a lot of time dwelling on what might seem to be archaic arguments of centuries past. And if I am not careful, I can backslide into feeling like some of these arguments are irrelevant to me. But as I have been studying this letter to the Ephesians the past few weeks, as well as participating in the Friday Bible Study, I have had an epiphany of sorts. The more I dwell on these insider-outsider, clean-unclean, who is in - who is out texts the more I realize just how relevant these arguments are to me. 

As an American, well-educated, straight, white Christian male born in the American South, I have almost always been an insider. And because of that privilege into which I was born, I have never had to fight to be included. I have never had to stand up for my worthiness to be treated equally. So the paradigm within which I have operated has been that of the insider. 

What oftentimes happens to “insiders” like me is that eventually, we might become deeply convicted about letting the outsiders “in,” and sharing our access to privilege with them. And that is a good thing. I think that the Episcopal Church’s decades-old slogan - “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You” - is rooted in that paradigm, even if it is on the subconscious level. In this sense, our slogan might be short for “We in the Episcopal Church want to allow you to share in our abundance, because that is what Jesus calls us to do...and because we’re nice people...most of the time.” Now don’t get me wrong - there are much worse paradigms from which we could operate.  

But the epiphany that I have recently had has to do with just how much of an outsider I really am - and we really are - when it comes to the arc of salvation history. As Gentiles, we are the outsiders who were granted access and welcomed in. We are the ones who are lucky - or said better - blessed - to have a seat at the table. We are the ones who the Apostle Paul and his fellow missionaries made it their life’s work to advocate for in their missionary journeys. My friends, it very easily could have gone the other way. The mission to the Gentiles could very well have failed. It was a dangerous, risky, and a near-impossible mission to accomplish both spiritually and practically-speaking. 

But as Paul writes to the Ephesians, “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.” Of course Paul gives all credit where credit is due - to Jesus Christ and his work on the cross. It was Jesus’ death on the cross that opened the door for our salvation. But it was Paul’s persistent missionary work that carried the message “to the ends of the earth.”

So, the more I reflect on the profound courage and steadfast faith of the apostle Paul and his fellow missionaries, risking their lives to advocate for the inclusion of the Gentiles like me into God’s promise, the more grateful and humble I become. As a Gentile sinner living East of Eden, I have no business residing in the household of God on my own accord, yet, as Paul writes, “In [Christ] the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.” 

Paul has painted for us a picture of a structure that is made up of Jews and Gentiles together with the apostles and prophets as the foundation and Christ as the cornerstone. But the brilliant twist that Paul makes is that the metaphor shifts from God having a household in which we reside to us - the Body of Christ - being the household in which God resides. So it becomes God whom we are welcoming in.

When I think of the household of God - or even the Episcopal Church -  this way, it puts a whole new perspective on the whole insider-outsider paradigm. I would like to challenge myself to no longer operate from the position of the doorkeeper who is welcoming people and sharing my abundance and privilege with others because I feel like that is the right thing to do. Rather, I want to constantly be aware of the fact that as a Gentile, I am the outsider who was invited in solely by the grace, love, and mercy of Jesus Christ. I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t earn it. I wasn’t born into it. I wasn’t entitled to it. 

And when I think of Paul and the others risking their lives - traveling by boat and by foot - getting beaten, tortured, and imprisoned - because they were so convinced that we Gentiles belong in the household of God, I am grateful and humbled to the core. Let us all remember just how blessed we are to have been included in God’s plan for salvation history. And let us, with gratitude and humility, be faithful stewards of our inheritance by welcoming all - not because we rightfully possess something that we might  share with others, but rather, because we have have been graciously included and welcomed in ourselves.

It’s hard to fully understand and appreciate Paul’s letters when we read them today. That is why I’ve decided to spend so much time focusing on the Epistle lessons this summer. One reason I think that it is hard for us to understand St. Paul is because we take for granted some things that his original audience did not. For example, there were seasons in my life when I was less than faithful in my walk with Christ. But in the midst of my wayward journeys I never questioned whether or not I had a right or access to Christ’s mercy, love, and grace. On the other hand, Paul’s original audience - Gentiles - had to be convinced that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacobs could also be their God. Even though they were Gentiles, they were invited to be full members of God’s family. It seems to go without saying today, but back then and there, it was not an easy sell. 

So one of the primary objectives of this letter that we will be reading from the next few weeks was to convince the Gentile Christians in Ephesus that even though they were not Jewish, they too could be members of the household of God. And even more, the Gentile Christian men did not have to be circumcised to be fully grafted into Christ’s body. 

And what Paul was also trying to do in the opening section of this letter is to remind the Gentile Ephesian Christians that their inheritance was just as legitimate as the Jews’ inheritance. Their Jewish brothers and sisters were members of the household of God - children of Abraham - the minute they were conceived. They didn’t have to do anything except be born - and for the males - to be circumcised on the 8th day of their life. Their inheritance was more ethnic and cultural than it was some sort of choice. So Paul had to convince the Ephesian Gentile Christians that God’s family wasn’t limited to just one race of people. Gentiles also had a rightful claim to God’s inheritance.

Some call it luck, some call it divine providence, but most of us recognize that much of who we are and what we have simply have to do with where, when, and to whom we were born. So, if you were born in Jerusalem prior to the first century, you most likely would be Jewish. If you were born in Ephesus, you most likely would be a Pagan. For most of the world's history, people have inherited their religion, not chosen it. So for the Gentiles in Ephesus to choose a new religion was a radical departure from the norm.

I believe that a large part of why I am a college-educated, healthy, middle-class Episcopalian who pulls for the Florida State Seminoles is because of the household into which I was born. And my inheritance of certain values and privileges was not just from my parents, but from their parents, and the generations that preceded them. 

But St. Paul would say that the Christian faith that I inherited goes deeper and further than a few generations on my family tree. Paul says that God’s hand crafted our stories before the world was created. He told the Ephesians that “[God] chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. [God] destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will…”. Paul goes on to say that “In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory.”

By writing this, Paul is working hard to convince the Gentile Ephesians that their inheritance as children of Abraham, and thus children of God, is every bit as legitimate as the Jews’. And as such, their place in God’s kingdom isn’t earned by following the Law or any other sort of works-righteousness. They - and we - are made righteous through nothing or nobody other than Jesus Christ himself. Paul goes on to write, “In [Jesus] we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us.”

Again, as children of the Protestant Reformation who live in the United States, none of what Paul is writing to the Ephesians is really that shocking to us. We’ve heard this sort of thing over and over. Of course we’re included in God’s kingdom. All we have to do is respond in faith to God’s gracious invitation. Of course it doesn’t matter who we are, where or to whom we were born, or what our ethnicity, race, gender, or sexual orientation is. Through Jesus, God offers all of us the forgiveness of our sins and transformative, redemptive new life in Jesus Christ. How privileged we are to be able to say “of course” to these statements. But there are still many people today who haven’t yet heard or embraced this great Good News that in Jesus Christ, all qualify for God’s redemptive mercy, love, and grace.

So today’s letter to the Ephesians is a wonderful reminder for those people throughout history - and still today - who for one reason or another have not been able to say or feel “of course” to the belief that all human beings have access to a heavenly inheritance through Jesus Christ - or as Paul says, access “to the riches of [God’s] grace that [God] lavished on us.”

It’s also a wonderful corrective for those who believe that “the riches of God’s grace” is only for their own tribe - whatever tribe that may be. The bottom line is that this amazing grace that has been “lavished upon” us is - to use Paul’s word - an inheritance. We receive it as a radically generous, unmerited, and unearned gift. 

If you do not believe that to be true for whatever reason - either you haven’t heard it put this way or you haven’t really thought about it much or somebody has told you otherwise, the most important thing for you to take away from this message today is that you too are or are invited to be an adopted child of God through Jesus Christ, “according to the good pleasure of God’s will.” In other words, God wants and intends for it to be so. Paul calls this  “God’s glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved.”

If you already believe all of this to be true, I think the most important takeaway from today’s message should be what we are to do with this unspeakably incredible inheritance that has been “freely bestowed upon us in the Beloved.” If you are like me and you no longer need convincing that as a Gentile Christian, you have a rightful - albeit undeserved - claim to the inheritance as a child of God...great! Now our calling is to faithfully, and most importantly - humbly claim our inheritance by loving the Lord our God with all our hearts, souls, and minds, and loving our neighbors as ourselves.

While our nation celebrates Independence Day today, I am going to go out on a limb and say that I believe that as Christians, our identities are defined by our baptisms, not our nationality. When the first apostles carried the gospel message to the Gentiles, the definition of who and where “God’s people” were was radically changed forever. The first evangelists proclaimed that God’s favor – God’s love, mercy, and grace – isn’t limited by or directed towards any particular set of borders, boundary lines, or people. For those who want to claim God as theirs and only theirs, this may not seem like good news; but God can’t be contained, and that is the Good News we find in Jesus Christ. 

But wait a minute. Our Psalm for today, as well as much of the Hebrew scriptures, might lead us to believe otherwise:  

“Beautiful and lofty, the joy of all the earth, is the hill of Zion,  

the very center of the world and the city of the great King.”  

The great King the psalmist is referring to is King David, and the city being referred to is Jerusalem, oftentimes called Zion – the City of David. But does God favor Jerusalem over all other places? 

“Great is the Lord, and highly to be praised; in the city of our God is his holy hill…God is in her citadels; he is known to be her sure refuge.”  

I first heard about the “the City Upon a Hill” not in Sunday School or Confirmation Class, but in my 11th grade American History class. It was there that I first learned about American Exceptionalism, Manifest Destiny, and the like. I read about the Puritan preacher John Winthrop, who in 1630 preached to the English Puritans aboard the ship Arbella, employing the image of the city perched upon a hill, where Christian charity, affection, and principles would be on display for the whole world to see. We must remember that the Puritans were fleeing England because they were seeking religious freedom. In England, the belief was that God’s favor was limited to the National Church. The Puritans disagreed. Well, Winthrop was brilliant, resourceful, and inspiring, but not altogether original. After all, not only did the image of the City on a Hill emerge with the rise of Jerusalem under the reign of King David, it resurfaced in the 5th Chapter of the Gospel of Matthew, in what is commonly known as the Sermon on the Mount. As Jesus stood upon a hill, he told the parable of the Salt and the Light, saying, “You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden." John Winthrop used these images from Holy Scripture as a model for how he understood the Puritan mission in the new world to be. Much like the gospel message being carried to the Gentiles, the English Puritans were leaving their homeland to establish a New Jerusalem.  

So as our nation celebrates our 245th year of independence, are we still, as John Winthrop and the New England Puritans saw us, a city perched upon the hill? Are we exceptional? Are we uniquely favored by God, over and against other nations, in the same way that the Israelites believed themselves to be? As the unrivaled military and economic superpower of the world, is the United States the new Zion; the New Jerusalem?  

One thing that can be helpful as we try to unpack all of this is that Psalm 48 was likely written when the Israelites were living in Babylonian exile. In other words, it was written not from a place of power, but rather, from a place of powerlessness. Their glory days were behind them. The texts that come out of the exilic period express everything from deep lament, which spoke to their current situation, to triumphalism, which spoke to their nostalgia for the past as well as their hopes for the future. More times than not, the triumphalist, nationalist texts in the Bible come from a place of oppression, not a place of power. This is very similar to the themes we find in the Negro Spirituals of the 19th century. Like the texts that arose from the Jewish exile, these spirituals expressed nostalgia and hope, because their current situation felt so hopeless. 

So where do we find ourselves now in the United States? As a nation, we are clearly no longer operating out of the mindset of an oppressed people like those first English Puritans were. We are no longer the underdogs, resisting the power of empire, and boldly setting out to establish a New Jerusalem. We are the establishment. We are the empire. Yet, in spite of the fact that we as a nation have much to be proud of, many of us are still unhappy. Although we are the wealthiest and most powerful nation on the planet, we are also deeply divided. In light of the most recent Presidential election, some of us are rejoicing, while some of us are lamenting. The idea of what that “City Upon a Hill” should look like is very different for many Americans. The perfect city for one may not be a perfect city for another. 

So on Independence Day, many of us - like the Israelites in Babylonian exile and the African slaves in 19th century America – celebrate our nation’s birthday from the dual perspective of deep nostalgia and abundant hope. Many of us will reflect on the way things used to be – the good ole days so to speak. Others of us focus our attention forwards, believing that our best days have yet to arrive. Very few of us, if we are honest with ourselves, are completely satisfied with how things are going right now in our country. 

But our Psalm for today reminds us that in the midst of oppression, exile, and deep dissatisfaction, a voice of hope (along with, perhaps a dose of prideful bravado) can emerge. The psalmist hearkens back to a time when the attacking Assyrian army, upon seeing the city of Jerusalem perched safely upon the hill, fled in terror, without the Israelites ever even having to fire a single arrow from their bows. But in the midst of remembering their astonishing military victory over the Assyrians, perhaps it also occurred to the psalmist that when one lives by the sword, one also dies by the sword. Their military power and might under the reign of King David was unrivaled, and they enjoyed a great run so to speak. But their dependence on military power for their sense of identity and security proved to be their fatal flaw, and Babylon finally beat them at their own game. So the psalmist turns from the rally cry of military might to the true source of Israel’s hope for the liberation from Babylonian bondage:  

We have waited in silence on your loving-kindness, O God,  

in the midst of your temple.  

Your praise, like your Name, O God, reaches to the world's end;  

your right hand is full of justice.  

As we celebrate our nation’s independence from the powers and principalities of the empire, let us be careful not to embody the very empire that we defeated. Yes, our independence was won by an unprecedented, courageous military victory. And yes, history tells us that in World War II, we were undoubtedly the good guys; and thanks be to God the good guys won. And yes, our judicial and legislative branches of government have won countless important victories for the common good throughout our nation’s history. And one could argue that God’s hand was in all of these military, legislative, and judicial victories.  

But we must be careful when we either take all the credit for our accomplishments, or when we claim God’s favor for only ourselves. If Israel - God’s chosen nation – could fall, so can we. One look at our national budget and you will see that in spite of all of our material, intellectual, and natural resources, we are a nation that is living in great fear. We are placing the majority of our hope in the power of empire, the very thing we fought against when our country was founded.  

As Christians who are citizens of this great nation, let us practice our patriotism by proclaiming that our primary hope is not in empire. Rather, our primary hope is in the Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ. When we place our primary hope in Jesus, our empire won’t disappear or become irrelevant. That is not realistic, or even prudent. But they will be transformed in the same way that the Apostle Paul was transformed when he encountered Jesus on the road to Damascus. We must remember that on that day, Jesus redefined power for Paul, saying, “power is made perfect in weakness.” For Jesus, it was in giving up power that he was able to defeat the powers of sin, death, and evil. It absolutely makes no sense. But it is the gospel message.  

If we as a country want to be that city on a hill that is a beacon of light for all the nations to see and follow, we must turn our hearts, minds, souls, and bodies towards God. Writing from exile, the writer of Psalm 48 concluded that God is truly the right hand of justice. And in the very last verse, the writer gives all of the glory to God, not to Jerusalem. 

This God is our God forever and ever;  

he shall be our guide for evermore.  

The hymn – My Country ‘Tis of Thee –  does precisely the same thing that Psalm 48 does. In the last stanza, the accolades shift from our country to our God. It is God who makes us great, not we ourselves. In ancient Israel, and still today, no matter who we are or where we live, all glory be to God.  Amen. 

 Today’s reading from Paul’s 2nd Letter to the Corinthians comes at a great time in the life of our parish. If you’ve been around the past several months, you know that we’ve been talking about money quite a bit. If it feels like  we’ve had a yearlong stewardship drive, well, we basically have! Through God’s grace and the abiding faith of many lay leaders in our parish, we made the decision to launch a major building project and a capital campaign in the middle of a global pandemic. And I am delighted to report to you that as of today, we have surpassed our original financial goal of $675,000.

The members of the Rooted + Grounded in Love Steering committee deserve our deepest gratitude. They agreed to take on an incredibly  challenging task in perhaps one of the most difficult years in recent memory. 

As a member of this team, I think my primary role was to continue to remind us of the spiritual component of fundraising. Yes, there was a very pragmatic task at hand. We will always need to raise money to fund the mission and ministries of Christ the King. Our consultant Rob Townes calls that approach to giving as “giving to a need.” There are clearly articulated, pragmatic needs that need funding. Such is the case for all non-profit organizations. 

But Rob also helped us understand the more theological, spiritual approach to giving, which is our “need to give.” This component of giving can be more difficult to understand and embrace. Our “need to give” is grounded in our belief that we are created in God’s very own image. And as baptized Christians, we represent God’s image as Christ’s Body in the world. Jesus Christ was the ultimate gift giver - he gave everything - he emptied his full self - for all of humanity. In our reading today, Paul says it this way:  “For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich.”

So as representatives of Christ in the world, we too are called to be sacrificial givers. It is in our very DNA as beings who are created in God’s very own image. As such, when we begin to embrace this theological, more spiritual approach to giving, we begin to give simply because that is what we were created to do. Gift-giving becomes a primary part of our very own identity. And when this becomes the reason for which we give, we become less inclined to worry so much about the need for which we are giving. We don’t need to be convinced to give. We simply give because that is who we are and what we were created to do.

The context for today’s reading from Paul’s 2nd Letter to the Corinthians is the “Jerusalem Collection,” which was a major fundraising campaign by Paul, Timothy, and Titus. In the past year, they had requested money for the Christians in Jerusalem from all of Paul’s churches in Gentile territory. There was a severe famine in Jerusalem at that time, which, combined with the many other hardships and persecutions that Christians at that time and place faced, the Church in Jerusalem was in desperate need. As I mentioned before, there was a clear, pragmatic need to which Paul, Timothy, and Titus were asking their churches to give. 

But there was more to Paul’s fundraising campaign than the specific, pressing needs of the Christians in Jerusalem. Another reason for the Jerusalem relief fund was to “serve as an important, visible expression of the interdependence of believers worldwide.” We must remember that Christianity was a brand-new religion. And most of the people to whom Paul was writing were Gentile, Pagan converts to Christianity. They had no geographic, emotional, or ethnic connection with the people in Palestine. As citizens of the Roman Empire, they were accustomed to sending money to a foreign land. But that was in the form of forced taxation. And, whether true or not, the philosophy of taxation was that they would get things in return from the Roman Empire - namely, military protection and infrastructure such as roads.

But these new Christians were not in the practice of voluntarily sending money to other communities simply for the sake of helping others who were less fortunate. This day and age, most Christians are familiar with this sort of connectional, charitable giving. But that wasn’t the case back then. The Jerusalem Offering was perhaps  the first-ever Chrisitan “global” outreach initiative. And what Paul was trying to communicate to his churches was that regardless of a particular pressing need at hand, as Christians, we are called to be in relationship with one another. And one way that we can express that connectivity is through giving.  We are an interdependent body that shares in our abundance and in our suffering. Paul asserts that “it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance.  As it is written,

‘The one who had much did not have too much,

and the one who had little did not have too little.’”

In other words, as members of the Body of Christ, we are connected with one another, whether we are from the same community or not. And this principle also goes for the relationship between Jewish and Gentile Christians. Paul’s efforts to raise money for Jewish Christians who were suffering from Gentile Christians who were thriving was an effort to break down the barriers between these two ethnic communities. 

So with the Jerusalem Offering, in addition to his goal of meeting an actual, measurable need in the midst of a crisis, Paul was doing much more. He was instructing his churches on the need for Christians to give, because through their giving, we can become more like Christ. It was through giving and receiving money that these very different Christian communities could begin to experience their unity in Christ Jesus. 

And while Paul’s 2nd Letter to the Corinthians was written almost 2,000 years ago, in a context far removed from our own, the principles remain true for us today. As Christians, we are called to be generous, sacrificial givers. We give to needs that are identified for us, but we also simply need to give. And the community here at Christ the King has done a remarkable job of faithfully embodying the Christian call to sacrificial giving in a time when we were unsure how this pandemic would unfold. And though these have been challenging times for us here, they have been much more challenging for Beckwith - our diocesan camp and conference center which was hit hard by hurricane Sally and covid-19. So we committed to giving 10% of everything that we raised in our capital campaign to Beckwith so that we could embody the principles that the apostle Paul laid out for us today. And may we continue to look and listen for specific needs beyond our community to which we are called to give, while also giving simply because that is who God calls us to be and what God calls us to do.

Yesterday, I was in Pensacola for our Diocesan Standing Committee’s annual planning retreat. The Standing Committee in many ways functions like the vestry for the Diocese and Bishop. And while spending all day Saturday in a committee meeting four times a year isn’t my idea of fun, I have learned a lot and feel glad to be able to serve the diocese in this manner. 

We spent our time doing some group exercises related to themes of post-pandemic life, interdependence, and programs and events. Without getting too much into the weeds, the process we were using involved asking the question “why” after every statement. So, for example, in the area of post-pandemic life, one statement was that we needed to focus on growing the church. So that was written down, and then we asked “why?” To which someone might say something like, “If we don’t grow, we will die.” And then we asked “why?” To which someone said, “The church has to have members to live.” And so on. 

After three or four of these types of exercises, we began to notice that a common theme that kept emerging from our discussions was fear. So much of what we were discussing was from a defensive posture. “We have to grow or we will die.” As we kept asking “why”, inevitably the answer would be something along the lines of “because if we don’t do more of this, we will die.” If we don't do evangelism, or outreach, or fellowship, or discipleship, or whatever better, we will die.” 

But thankfully, we didn’t stop there. Because when we kept asking why, we were able to go deeper into missional territory instead of defensive territory. We evangelize to share the Good News of Jesus Christ with others, just as Christ commanded us to do. We have the greatest story ever to share and tell. So let’s go tell it. That’s a much more compelling vocation than practicing evangelism so that the Episcopal Church won’t die. 

Yet how ironic is it that this God who we have come to know in Jesus Christ did just that. He died. And if we applied yesterday’s workshop methodology to the fact that Jesus died, and asked “why,” we might say for the redemption of all creation.

Why? So that we might have life, and have it abundantly. Why? Because that is who God is, what God does, what God’s love looks like.” And so on.

If there was anybody who had wrestled with and perhaps conquered the tendency to be dominated by fear it was the Apostle Paul. Prior to his conversion, Saul was indeed a man who practiced his religion from a fear-based, defensive posture. But one of the many outcomes of his conversion and subsequent missionary activity was the paradigm from which he operated. In our lesson today, he is addressing the church in Corinth who have been led astray by what scholars sometimes refer to as the “Super Apostles.” They were other apostles who we might call false prophets or false teachers. And they tried to undermine Paul’s ministry by presenting a version of the gospel that was much more about outward appearance than from the heart. While the Super-Apostles may have presented well, they, according to Paul, did not model authenticity, vulnerability, and humility. They, like so many of us, were likely too afraid to go there. 

Paul might be mistaken for using fear-based pedagogy when he writes “For all of us must appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense for what has been done in the body, whether good or evil. Therefore, knowing the fear of the Lord, we try to persuade others…” But I think that Paul’s “persuasion of others” is always grounded in Paul’s firm belief that it is Christ’s righteousness upon which Paul stands, not his own. And such is the case for all of us. If, come judgment day, we are counting on our own righteousness to bring about reconciliation between God and humankind, we are all doomed. No amount of good deeds, church services attended, terms on the vestry, or volunteer hours will make us fully righteous in the eyes of God. Our only hope on judgement day comes from Christ’s sacrificial death on the cross. 

And for many of us who like to be in control, the Super-Apostles’ gospel might actually be more appealing. As Paul notes, they focused on outward appearances, and don’t you know that that is one of the hallmarks of Episcopalians. We like things and people and places to look nice. And we like to act nice and to do nice things for people. And don’t get me wrong - these aren’t bad things! But they aren’t the heart of the Christian gospel. The heart of the Christian gospel is summed up by Paul when he reassures his flock that they need not be afraid, because  “the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them...So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!”

My friends, that is the best news we could ever possibly receive, as individuals and most importantly as Christ’s Body in the world today. As baptized Christians, as a parish, as a diocese, and as The Episcopal Church, we have been empowered to live no longer for ourselves, but for Jesus, who died and who was raised for us. And because of that great Good News, we are a new creation. And as people of a new creation, we do not have to be afraid. Our mission is not to protect the Church from dying. Our mission is not to assume a defensive posture. Among many things, our mission is, as we prayed in today’s Collect of the Day, “to proclaim God’s truth with boldness, and minister God’s justice with compassion; for the sake of our Savior Jesus Christ.” 

 “Now what?” I think this is an appropriate question for us to ask today.

After all, we have quite a bit going on as we celebrate the Day of Pentecost, the sacrament of baptism, the return of the 8:00am service, and our first Sunday Adult Formation class in over a year.

When we wake up tomorrow morning after a long day of celebrating so many milestones, we might find ourselves wondering, “Now what?”

For Gus, Jody, David, and Sidney - the parents of the children we are about to baptize  - the questions become, “Now we have taken the initial step of having our child baptized, how do we continue this process of responding to the grace that she has received? What does “life after baptism” look like for her and for us? What, if anything has really changed?” Confirmation won’t be for perhaps another 12-13 years. So now what? 

Thankfully, our Holy Scriptures are filled with “now what” moments for us to ponder. In my opinion, the ultimate “now what” moment comes on the day that we now call Holy Saturday - the day after Jesus was crucified, died, and was buried. All of the disciples and loyal followers of Jesus were surely wondering what to do now that Jesus, who they believed was the messiah, was now dead and buried in a tomb.

Well God’s answer to the Holy Saturday “now what” was a resounding “Here’s what!” when he resurrected Jesus from the dead.

Ten days ago we celebrated the Feast of the Ascension, where the resurrected Jesus is swept up into heaven and the disciples are left standing alone and once again once again asking, you guessed it – “now what?” And just as Easter is God’s answer to the awkward “in-between” space of Holy Saturday, I think Pentecost is God's answer to the awkward “in between” space of Ascensiontide. 

God’s answer to the disciples who felt alone and aimless after Jesus permanently took his seat at the right hand of his Father in heaven was to breathe his Holy Spirit upon them like tongues of fire. On the Day of Pentecost, God sent the disciples a resounding, “Here’s what!” to their gloomy “now what” refrain. But the “here’s what” answer that God gave to the disciples wasn’t just the “in-the-moment” experience of roaring wind and tongues of fire. It was the forever promise that the Holy Spirit would be their Advocate and their Holy Comforter until the end of the ages. To me, that is the true miracle of Pentecost – the promise from God that we will never be alone - the promise that God the Father and God the Son, through the Holy Spirit, is always with us.

When I baptize Margo and Mary Louisa in a few moments, I will place the sign of the cross on their foreheads with holy oil, and I will say that they are “sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism, and marked as Christ’s own forever.”  This is an outward and visible sign of the inward and spiritual grace that through the power of the Holy Spirit, Margo and Mary Louisa will never be alone; they will always be claimed by God.

But as we celebrate the grafting of these children into the Body of Christ and God’s gift of the Holy Spirit on that first Pentecost, we find ourselves in the midst of transition. More and more these days, many of us have found ourselves asking “now what” quite a bit. Now that I am fully vaccinated, how will I re-integrate into the activities and communities that are so important to me? What if I am not yet ready for full integration back into public worship, formation, and fellowship? What if I have gotten out of the habit of coming to church in person, and still prefer participating from home? Will I ever return? Over the past 14 months or so, we have been living in that awkward in-between space like the days between the Ascension and Pentecost. Our lives have been inundated with difficult decisions, and we will still have important decisions to make for the well-being of ourselves and our community. 

I believe that the ultimate “here’s what” answer to the endless questions, anxieties, and problems that life can give is actually “Here’s Whom!” And that “whom” is God’s Holy Spirit - the Advocate, the Holy Comforter, who accompanies us wherever we go and whatever awkward in-between space we find ourselves in.

On this magnificent day – this day where we celebrate God’s sending of the Holy Spirit to accompany God’s people until the end of the ages; this day where we welcome the newest members of our church through the sacrament of Holy Baptism; let us remember God’s remarkable answer to the refrain of “now what’s” that he constantly hears. Let us remember that though Jesus ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father, we are not left alone to fend for ourselves.  God’s Holy Spirit - the Advocate, the Holy Comforter – is ever present and here to celebrate with us when we are joyful, hold us when we are grieving, to guide us when we are waking, and to guard us when we are sleeping. And if you ask me, that is the best answer we could ever receive.