Many of you know that my favorite preacher is Fleming Rutledge. If you aren’t familiar with her, look her up. She is a remarkable preacher, theologian, writer, and priest. She also was one of the first women to be ordained to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church. I just finished her 612-page magnum opus entitled “The Crucifixion: Understanding the Death of Jesus Christ” and it has impacted me more than any other book in recent memory. I can’t say enough about how grateful I am to have discovered Fleming Rutledge.

Another wonderful book of hers is called “Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Christ.” It is a collection of sermons and other writings related to the season of Advent. Our Wednesday Noonday Prayer and discussion group is currently reading sermons from this collection during for our Advent study. I highly encourage you to pick up a copy from the church office and join us on Wednesdays so you can experience the blessing to the Church that is Fleming Rutledge.  

One thing that she laments as it relates to Advent – and I touched in this last week - is the Church’s discontinuation of using the four weeks of Advent to explore the more deeply the biblical and theological themes of death, judgment, heaven, and hell. A while back, churches changed these admittedly dark themes to the more palatable themes of hope, faith, joy, and peace. Of course, these “new and improved” themes aren’t bad things to celebrate – and they are part of the Christian story. But they are not what the church traditionally has explored and engaged during the four weeks of Advent.

Rutledge fears – and so do I – that the present-day Church’s reticence to engage themes that don’t feel “positive” is a disturbing trend. If the church can’t give us the language and framework for understanding and coming to grips with the realities of death, judgment, heaven, and hell, then who or what will? Or to whom or what will we seek our answers?

So, in the spirit of the traditional theme of the 2nd Sunday of Advent, as well as in the spirit of our Collect of the Day and assigned scripture lessons, I

would like to talk about judgment.

In the Judeo-Christian tradition, the warning of judgment was a vocation designated for the prophets. In today’s case the prophet Isaiah proclaims of the forthcoming messiah: “He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins.” Should we be looking forward to this? Can’t we just focus on sweet baby Jesus in the manger?

In our gospel lesson today, Matthew tells us that “John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’ This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

‘The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.’”

Again, should we be looking forward to this? Why can’t we just play happy Christmas music and focus on sweet baby Jesus in the manger?

But we must remember that as Christians, the theme of judgment must always be understood through the lens of the One for whom John the Baptizer was preparing the way – the One who saves us from sin, evil, and death. Judgment and mercy are never to be held separately. This truth is what allows us to engage the topic of judgment faithfully and – ultimately - without fear.

As Christians, we are invited in a life that is deeper, denser, and

simultaneously more challenging and rewarding than what an easier, lighter,

“less judgmental” spirituality has to offer. And Advent is a season that

highlights this sort of Christian calling to enter into the darkness so that we

may better see the Light. The season of Advent is the time for us to first

enter into and explore the darkness that resides within and beyond us, so

that when Christ’s light comes, we will be ready, as our Collect of the Day says, “to heed [the prophets’] warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer.”

While Isaiah and John the Baptist’s call for repentance might seem judgmental or offensive to some – particularly in this day and age - their calls for personal transformation were an invitation to repentance; an invitation to turn back towards God.

I read an article a while back that told the story of a college student who complained to the university President because a sermon he heard in recent school chapel service made him feel bad.

The student went on to say that he didn’t go to chapel so he could leave feeling bad – he went to chapel in order to be affirmed and feel good. As a preacher, I have heard the very same thing said to me on more than one occasion. It simply comes with the territory of being authentic to our calling to tell the truth, even if the truth is uncomfortable.

So, in response to the student’s complaint, the President wrote an open letter to the student body:

Our university is …a place to learn: to learn that life isn’t about you, but about others; that the bad feeling you have while listening to a sermon is called guilt; that the way to address it is to repent of everything that’s wrong with you rather than blame others for everything that’s wrong with them. This is a place where you will quickly learn that you need to grow up! This is not a day care. This is a university!

I agree with University President, and I think that this was an important truth for his students to hear. I wish I had the courage to be so honest and frank when I hear complaints about not keeping things happy or positive enough during Advent and Lent.

I wonder how many folks, after hearing John the Baptist’s call for repentance, refused baptism because he made them feel bad about themselves. Some likely did, but it appears that most heard and heeded to his call.

I’ve heard really good sermons on repentance and really bad ones. And who knows, maybe the sermon preached at that school chapel was a really bad one.

But I think that John the Baptist’s call for repentance that we hear today - as well as that of the prophet Isaiah is about our recognizing that when the messiah comes with his winnowing fork in hand, we can trust that his judgment can never be separated from his mercy.

The authors of The Living Church Magazine’s “Anglicans Believe” pamphlet series remind us that “one of the most fruitful characteristics of medieval theology was the struggle to demonstrate how justice and mercy, both found supremely in God, are not contradictory, even if we find it hard to see how.”[1] Indeed, as Christians we are to believe that we can’t have justice without mercy, nor can we have mercy without justice.

Episcopal priest William Shand reminds us that “God’s judgment differs from ours…God sees things differently than do we. Is it not wise to assume that God’s judgment, just as God’s justice itself, is different both in quality and in substance from our own imperfect judgment?”

Yes, we will die. Yes, we believe that Jesus will come again to judge the living and the dead. But the Lord who will judge us is the same Lord who humbly chose to become a human being and live and die just as we do. And this same Lord suffered a horrific death on the cross on behalf of sinners like you and me. This is the same Lord – the same merciful and just judge - who we will face when he returns. And this is what the season of Advent is preparing us for. And this is the Good News of Advent.

And “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Amen.

[1] “Four Last Things: Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell”. from the “Anglicans Believe” pamphlet series published by The Living Church magazine.

“Are we there yet?”

                                    “Are we there yet?”

                                                                        “Are we there yet?”

This irritating refrain is still ringing in my ears after our 11-hour drive home from North Carolina yesterday. It was the same refrain Emily and I heard on the drive up to North Carolina last Sunday. And it is the refrain my parents heard from my sister and me decades ago. And I’m sure that it is a refrain that many of you have heard before during your own family adventures.

Julian and Madeleine weren’t impressed when I applauded them for asking such a theologically apt question on the eve of Advent. But the yearning cry of “Are we there yet?” is an apocalyptic question. It is an Advent question.

Our gospel lesson today is a brief snippet from the 24th chapter of Matthew, which contains Jesus’ lengthy response to his disciples’ question, “Tell us…what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” In other words, “If we are not there yet, when and how will be know when we are?” Will there be a “Welcome to the End of the Age” sign when we cross the line?

So, I think it is fair to say that the Church doesn’t ease us into the beginning of the new year. We are immediately thrust into the breadth and depth of the questions of the end times.

During the Middle Ages, when the Bubonic Plague killed an estimated 75-200 million people, Christians, like their Jewish and early Christian ancestors, began to interpret the calamities of the times as a signal that the end was near. Once again, the refrain of “Are we there yet” began to surface. As such, the season of Advent became the time when the Church focused their preaching and teaching on what became known as the Four Last Things: Death, Judgment, Heaven, and Hell.

The first of the Four Last Things – death - was an ever-present reality in the Middle Ages. Even before the plague, as populations grew in urban areas, there was a much higher infant mortality rate and a much shorter life expectancy. Illness, suffering, and death happened in homes, not in hospitals or nursing homes. The reality of death was something that people of all ages had to face. Folks couldn’t just decide to do what we do now and talk about uplifting things like faith, hope, joy, and peace. So, in the midst of such prolific suffering and death, Christians during the Middle Ages rightfully began to search for a way to reflect theologically on what was happening around them. The Church was the context for them to grapple with the meaning of this life and the next. For Christians, hopefully there was something better waiting for them than the misery that they experienced in their earthly lives.

Fast-forwarding to today, for 1st-world, post-modern Christians, there is much less interest or focus on the Four Last Things of death, judgment, heaven, and hell. One reason is that overall, we live much longer, healthier lives. Another reason is that for many of us, life here is pretty dang good. In our post-enlightenment context, for many people there is much less hope or expectation for a life other than the one we are experiencing right now.

What would be the benefit of having topics of death, judgment, heaven, and hell burning in our hearts and minds like they were for our forebears in the faith?

Perhaps the answer lies in Jesus’ response to his disciples’ question in today’s text. Theologian Stanley Hauerwas tells us that, “Jesus had earlier condemned the Pharisees and Sadducees for asking for a sign (Matt 16:1-4), but he now uses the disciples’ question to train them to know how to wait in a world in which some presume they can read the signs of the time. Jesus tells the disciples that this is exactly what they must NOT do. Their task is not to anticipate the end of time, but rather their task is to learn to endure even under persecution (Matt 24:13). All the disciples need to know, all we need to know, is that a new age has begun in Christ. Jesus is preparing his disciples for the long haul…Endurance is the way of the disciple between the time of Jesus and the proclamation of the good news of the kingdom throughout the world… Jesus’ name for such faithfulness is endurance.”[1]

Perhaps the season of Advent is calling us also into a space of watchfulness; perhaps we can hear the Church inviting us to be alert… to be awake… but not to be anxious about the day and time of our own death as well as that of the 2nd coming of Christ.

Stanley Hauerwas goes on to assert that, “We, along with the disciples, make a disastrous mistake, however, if we all allow our imaginations to be possessed by the image of apocalypse rather than by the one on whom those images are meant to focus our attention – that is, Jesus…Disciples are not in the game of prediction. Rather, they are called to be ready and prepared. Disciples, like Noah, are to build an ark even if it is not raining. The name given to that ark is the Church.”[2]

I’d assert that the same goes not only for the apocalypse, but also for our own death. We are not in the game of prediction. We are simply called to be ready and prepared to meet our own death, which none of us will avoid.

On the topic of anxiety about trying to predict the day and time of our own deaths, one of the great early Church fathers - John Chrysostom said, “If most people knew when they would die, they would exert themselves in that hour. But in order that they may exert themselves at all times, [God] does not specify either a general time or the particular time. He wants them vigilant in their readiness and always to be striving. For this reason, he also leaves the end of each person’s life uncertain.”

When I was on vacation up in North Carolina, I had the opportunity to go visit my uncle Jim in the hospital on Thanksgiving Day. He is in the ICU after having heart surgery a few weeks ago. Since his surgery, there have been several complications, and we have all been fervently praying for him to come through this ordeal.

When I think back on my aunt Sally, my cousin Anna and I praying over Jim, who is a retired Presbyterian minister, I now see that we were being held afloat by the ark that we call the Church. The medical professionals have language to describe Jim’s medical condition and outlook. But those explanations don’t provide us with ultimate meaning. Only the ark of the Church can give us the language to make meaning of things that matter as much as life and death. As I doused Jim’s head to remind him of his baptism, and as I read the psalms and prayers of the Church, I thought of the countless people my uncle Jim had done this for when he served a pastor of the ark that is called the Church. And I was confident that should Jim die in the days or weeks to come, he will meet his death with the blessed assurance of life everlasting.

As such, in the holy season of Advent, the Church invites us to focus on what really matters. Where are we headed with all of this? What are we doing here? Who or what are we waiting on? Is there a meaning to this life? Surely there must be more to Christianity than just being kind, generous, and behaving well. If so, what is it?

I can understand a hesitancy and reluctance for us to pull out our Advent wreaths with our children and grandchildren and tell them that we are going to focus on death, judgment, heaven, and hell this month. But I can’t say the same for adults. These themes are presented to us in our scriptures during Advent, and it is spiritual malpractice if we turn the other way.

So, back to the initial question: Are we there yet? This was the disciples’ question 2,000 years ago; this was the question of Christians during the Middle Ages; and this is our question today. Jesus’ answer was “yes and no.” In him, the kingdom of heaven had been inaugurated. But not yet wholly fulfilled.

And Jesus’ response to this important question about the day and time of our own death and well as the day and time of the consummation of salvation history is the same: “It’s not for us to know. Therefore, we are to navigate these times with patient, hope-filled endurance…a faithful, humble submission to “not knowing the day or time,” but believing that when it comes, we will be ready.”

[1] Hauerwas, Stanley. “Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible: Matthew.” P. 201-202.

[2] Hauerwas, Stanley. “Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible: Matthew.” P. 206.

Parables oftentimes hold up two extreme opposites to communicate a point. Last week, we looked at justice through the perspectives of an unjust judge and God. This week, we are looking at prayer in the temple through the perspectives of a tax collector and a Pharisee. As is usually the case, Jesus doesn’t employ much nuance in today’s parable. It is easy for us to hear this story and discern that we do not want to be like the self-righteous Pharisee, nor do we want to associate with anyone who acts like that. It is easy for us to discern that humility is better than arrogance, pride, or self-righteousness. So, beyond this helpful reminder, what else are we to make of this parable?

The irony of today’s parable is that it is the Tax Collector who is able to recognize the truth about himself as it pertains to his relationship with God and his neighbor. Meanwhile the Pharisee – who on the outside is doing all the right things in terms of living a holy life –is entirely out of touch with his own need for God’s grace, mercy, and forgiveness.

I recognize that most of us here today are not going to come to church presenting ourselves as outwardly desperate and troubled at the Tax Collector. And likely for good reason; while we may not be as holy and righteous as the Pharisee, we certainly couldn’t be as bad off as the Tax Collector, right?

But such self-assuredness is where we go astray. The minute that we believe that we are pretty much “ok” is the minute we have cast our lot with the Pharisee in today’s parable. And thus, we end up coming to worship to reinforce what we believe to be true about ourselves and our fellow Christians – “I’m ok, you’re ok, we’re all pretty much ok. So, let’s give thanks to God for making all of us ok. But let’s not forget to pray for those other people who are not ok.”

I wonder if, on a much more subtle and less offensive level, most of us – myself included - live and worship as if we’re the Pharisee in today’s parable. Many American Christians today have a high anthropology – meaning that we believe that we are essentially good people who from time-to-time might make some mistakes.

This sort of theology was articulated by German theologian Richard H. Niebuhr all the way back in 1937 when, in his work “The Kingdom of God in America, he described this misguided Christian worldview as believing that

“A God without wrath

brought [people] without sin

into a kingdom without judgment

through the ministrations of a Christ without a cross.”

It was as if Niebuhr was anticipating the birth to the therapeutic model of Christianity which arrived in the 1960’s and 70’s. In many mainline seminaries, there was a shift in the curriculum to train clergy to be, among many things, quasi-therapists. The pastoral focus of many clergy shifted to affirming people and making them feel comfortable, without inviting any sort of real transformation. In the Episcopal Church, this theological shift coincided with the transition to the 1979 Book of Common Prayer.

No please don’t get me wrong - I love the 1979 Prayer Book, and most of its revisions were timely, important, and necessary. But one thing we lost in the transition from the 1928 to the 1979 Prayer Books was a robust doctrine of sin.

I recently read a blog post about the decline in the Episcopal Church. And one person in the comments section pointed out that during the era of the 1928 Prayer Book, when she went to church, two profound things happened – she felt acutely aware of her sin, but she also felt a profound sense of God’s grace, mercy, and forgiveness. Compared to the worship of the 1979 Prayer Book, she said the entire worship service of the ’28 Prayer Book felt more cathartic. It took her both lower and higher. That is why some folks – myself included – prefer the Rite I liturgy of the ’79 Prayer Book, which retains some of the vestiges of the 1928 Prayer Book.

Whichever version of the Prayer Book you prefer, and whether you prefer Rite I or Rite II of the current Prayer Book, what is most important is for our liturgy to assist us in recognizing the truth about God and the truth about ourselves. In today’s parable, Jesus tells us that it was the Tax Collector who went home “justified.” Fleming Rutledge likes to use the word “rectified,” meaning “to put right” or, interestingly, in electronic terms, it means to be “converted.” This Tax Collector, who was “standing far off, not even able look up to heaven, and beating his breast and saying, `God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’” went home feeling the power of God’s grace, mercy, and forgiveness. Something profound happened to him that day in the temple. He was transformed. He went home justified by God.

Meanwhile, I imagine that the Pharisee, who didn’t appear to feel like he needed anything from God, went home feeling no different than the way he felt prior to worship. He was so sure of his own righteousness that he didn’t feel like he needed anything more from God. Perhaps he was like of lot of folks who seek to be affirmed and comforted for who they already are as opposed to seeking to be who God is inviting them to become.

A recent reflection on this parable in The Living Church Magazine points out that “There are many good reasons to attend the Sunday liturgy, but one which has been somewhat eclipsed in recent years is the importance of repentance and the acknowledgement of one’s transgressions.” The article declares that, “The beauty of God’s house,

the holiness of the temple,

the awesome wonders recalled…

[will] cast a blazing light upon sins known and unknown.”

The reflection goes on to say that “The church is a confessional, a humble reckoning with oneself before God. It is a step down. It is the lowest place. It is the bowed head and the beaten breast. Repentance is a broken and contrite heart, and a broken heart is an open door.”

This open door allows us to discern that, “All this is a gift. Thus, we pray, “I know, dear God, that I am just like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, even this tax collector.”

In a recent article for the Mockingbird newsletter, Todd Brewer points out that “…Thomas Cranmer, versed as he was in Martin Luther’s theology, believed that the church was … akin to a hospital, whose attendees might limp to the pews to find Good News. If church is like a hospital, and Christians more like wounded patients in need of care, then the preaching therein aims to provide more than mere information. Proclamation aims squarely at the those wounded by sin and the world, offering balm for the soul.”

Cranmer’s understanding of the church is one that I think we need to reclaim. The Tax Collector came to the Temple with a broken and contrite heart. He came seeking reconciliation with himself and with God; and he left with the healing balm of God’s grace, mercy, and forgiveness. He left justified.

God healed the broken, wounded, sin-sick soul of the Tax Collector because the Tax Collector had the humility and wisdom to ask for God’s mercy. God never leaves a contrite person to fend for him- or herself. God is lovingly waiting to receive the offering of our confession. And when God receives it, he will bless it, break it, and feed it back to us in the Body and Blood of his son Jesus Christ. And as we take Christ’s Body into our own, he dwells in us and we in him, and we are made whole again. We are able to go home justified. Thanks be to God.

Today is the day when we at Christ the King celebrate the largest ministry of our parish – the Tree House Episcopal Montessori School. This day is the culmination of Episcopal Schools’ week, where Episcopal churches and schools all over the country are acknowledging and celebrating our special relationship with one another.

When I was in seminary, an older priest told me that when discerning what sort of parish I might serve, I should, at all costs, avoid two types – ones with cemeteries and ones with parish day schools. In either case, there is simply too much potential for conflict.

Well, since I graduated from seminary, I have served three parishes – one with a historic cemetery and two with parish day schools. And in all three parishes, there were moments when I could hear that priest saying to me, “I told you so.” But I have loved serving at parishes that take on ministries that matter so much to people. It means a lot to me to be a part of things that are so important and meaningful. Because in my experience, the reward has far outweighed the challenges. And that has certainly been the case for me here at Christ the King and the Tree House Episcopal Montessori School.

The past four years, I’ve had the wonderful privilege of experiencing the Tree House not only as the Rector and School Chaplain, but also as a parent. This new perspective as a school parent has reinforced what I already believed to true about the unique and sacred ministry of Episcopal parish day schools. And it reinforced what I already believed to be true about the genius of Montessori education. It has been a true joy for Emily and me to watch both Julian and Madeleine thrive in such an incredible, unique learning environment.

Not too long ago, I received a weekly meditation email from the Rev’d David Madison, the Executive Director of the National Association of Episcopal Schools. In it, he was responding to a recent New York Times Op Ed piece addressing the question, “What is School For?” by musing on a more nuanced question: “What are Episcopal schools for?” Here is what he had to say:

1)    Episcopal schools are for creating life-long learners. We believe joyful learning begins with supporting curiosity, practicing intellectual openness, and inspiring wonder. We know that students learn best when they feel known, valued, and loved. Our schools give students a foundation for learning that lasts beyond their time on our campuses. 

This reminds me of the prayer we say in the Episcopal Church immediately after we baptize someone: “Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and persevere, a spirit to know and love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.”

And I have experienced first-hand how the Tree House is an environment that encourages life-long learning, because as Katie I lead chapel, we ourselves are continuing to see the stories of the Bible with new eyes.

And the teachers and staff are also life-long learners as they continue to broaden and deepen their knowledge of Montessori Method.

David Madison continued his reflection on what Episcopal Schools are for by saying:

2)    Episcopal schools are for cultivating reflection and prayer. We believe that students thrive by building confidence in religious inquiry and encouraging a love of the spiritual quest. We are not afraid to ask big questions. In fact, these inquiries are essential to our Episcopal identity. Through their journey in our schools, students develop a deeper relationship with a loving and liberating God. 

Katie and I lead Godly Play Chapel every Wednesday at school. This is one of the highlights of my week, as I get to sit on the floor and share the stories of the Bible with these curious, wonder-filled children. Godly Play is a Montessori-based Christian Education curriculum that was developed by Episcopal priest Dr. Jerome Berryman. As Madison says, we are not afraid to ask big questions. At the end of each Godly Play lesson, instead of telling the children the “moral of the story” so to speak, we instead ask them several “wondering” questions: “I wonder, what was the most important part of this story?” -or- “I wonder, where to you see yourself in this story…which part of it was just for you?”

By inviting the children to ponder these questions – to participate in “religious inquiry” - we are involving them in the learning process instead of just telling them things. And it is a joy to witness this process every week!

And lastly, Madison says that:

3)    Episcopal schools are for creating people for others. Moral development, grounded in grace and love of God, points young people toward service; a life guided by love for others. It reminds them (and us) that Jesus summarized the entirety of the law with two commands: Love God and love others. 

I have never witnessed a more kind, nurturing, loving environment than the Tree House Episcopal Montessori School. Again, I have experienced it first as the Rector and Chaplain, but now I am having the privilege of experiencing it as a parent. In a world that can be harsh and anything but loving, first Julian and now Madeleine and all of their peers are being formed in a Love that is far deeper than just the Golden Rule. They are being formed in a Love that originates from the God who created them and all their peers. And this God created them to live a life grounded in their love for Him and their love for others.

Madison concludes by observing that “schools exist for a variety of reasons. Episcopal schools, however, answer this question in a more unified way. Guided by our shared Episcopal identity, we are fortunate to be part of communities that are making a difference in the lives of young people each and every day.”

I love Madison’s use of the phrase “shared identity.” It truly comes back to one of the very first lessons we all learned in school – “sharing is caring.” Having an Episcopal Day School as part of the mission and ministry of Christ the King can be complex, challenging work. But as I mentioned earlier, things that truly matter are rarely easy. And when I was in seminary, I wasn’t hoping to find a parish that would be an “easy” one to serve. I have always wanted to be a part of places and things that truly and deeply matter to a wide variety of people; ministries that impact a wide range of people. And that is why I feel so blessed to be a part of this incredible shared ministry of Christ the King Episcopal Church and the Tree House Episcopal Montessori School. Thanks be to God!

 Today marks the fifth straight week we’ve heard a parable from Jesus in our Gospel lesson. Last week, I mentioned that when we hear a parable, we must be careful not to treat them allegorically, where we assign a direct one-to-one correlation to each character in the story. The danger in approaching parables this way is that we can hear one and conclude that it doesn’t apply to us. Given their ancient context, and Jesus’ tendency to use hyperbole to make a point, sometimes it can be difficult to find their relevance for us here and now.

Martin Luther wrote that “the entire Christian life is one of repentance and humility.” Today’s parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus is a good example of this. On the surface, I cannot directly relate to the experiences of the Rich Man or Lazarus. I am not nearly as wealthy as the Rich Man or as poor as Lazarus. Like Jesus alludes to in the parable, they are both “other” to me. The risk we run when we discover that “we” are not in the story, is that we then use the story as a means for self-righteously telling other people how they should live and act. And this lack of self-examination is exactly what Jesus condemns in most of his parables. So how might this parable be a call for you and me towards repentance and humility?

Most of the commentaries and sermons I have read and heard about this parable focus on how we should be more hospitable and generous to the poor in our midst. And this is especially the case when it is paired with today’s lessons from Amos and 1 Timothy. But we must be careful not to fall into the trap of letting today’s lessons steer us into a works-righteousness understanding of salvation. Our first call is to repentance, not works.

The prophet Amos was writing to his people in the southern kingdom of Judah. Today he would be accused of being unpatriotic because he was calling his own people to task. Rather than focusing on the sins of their enemies in the Northern Kingdom if Israel, Amos was holding up the mirror to his own flock. The sin Amos was drawing attention to in today’s passage was the sense of denial in which the people of Judah were living. While their country was headed towards ruin, the people in power were living the good life, lounging around on beds of ivory, eating the finest foods and drinking the finest wine out of bowls.

The call of the prophets was to hold a mirror up to their own people. It was to make the blind people see their need to repent – to turn back towards God. In this case, Amos was calling the people of Judah to not worry so much about what was wrong with their enemies to the North, but rather, what was wrong with them. The first word of today’s lesson is “alas,” but a better translation would be “woe,” meaning great sorrow or distress. As was the case with all the prophets, Amos was executed for telling the uncomfortable truth to his people. When he held the mirror up to them, they could not bear to face the truth of their sinful ways. So, they silenced him forever.

Both Amos and Jesus warn us about putting people into the categories of righteous vs. unrighteous. The people of Judah had fallen into the trap of believing that they were the righteous ones, not Israel. They had come to believe that they were all good and Israel was all bad. They had come to believe that God favored them and because of that, God couldn’t possibly have room in God’s kingdom for the Northern kingdom too.

On the surface, it appears that Jesus is drawing a clear distinction between the righteous and the unrighteous. But, as with most of his parables, the target audience is those who believe that they are the righteous ones. And as we have learned about the parables of Jesus, there is oftentimes if not always the element of surprise. Just prior to this parable, Jesus said to the Pharisees, “You are those who justify yourselves in the sight of others; but God knows your hearts; for what is prized by human beings is an abomination in the sight of God.”

But we must be careful not to sit back and think to ourselves, “Thanks be to God I’m not a Pharisee.” Then we become just that – a Pharisee. We become like the Pharisee who prayed, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector…”.  

What stirred Jesus up so much about the Pharisees wasn’t that they lived holy lives by adhering strictly to the Law. What angered Jesus was that they believed that by observing the Law so faithfully, they were righteous and deserving of God’s favor. And with their sense of righteousness came their belief that others were not. And so, they drew attention to what they believed were other peoples’ lack of right standing with God. And that is what angered Jesus, as well as the prophets like Amos who preceded him.  

What is interesting about the Rich Man once he ends up in Hades is that when he calls out to Abraham, saying “Have mercy on me,” he still hasn’t reached a point of true repentance. It seems to me that his cry for mercy isn’t an admission of his wrongdoing, but rather, a cry for a drink of water.

The bottom line is that, as Abraham mentions to the Rich Man, there is a great chasm between the righteous and the unrighteous. And that chasm has existed ever since the Fall of humankind. And no amount of righteous deeds, no amount of good behavior, and no amount of religious piety can bridge that gap between God and God’s people. We are all the people of Judah in our Old Testament lesson today. And we are all the Rich Man in desperate need of a cool drink of water. Our scripture lessons today have boldly held up a mirror to us. It is not about those other people. It is about us, and our desperate need for God’s mercy and grace. Thanks be to God that we are given that grace in Jesus Christ, who has bridged that chasm between God and humankind. The Righteous One came to die for the unrighteous. The Godly One came to die for the ungodly. Jesus Christ came to die for you and me so that we might have life, and have it abundantly. Thanks be to God!

The Rev’d Richard Gillespie Proctor

Christ the King Episcopal Church

15 Pentecost, Proper 20, Year C

September 18, 2022

Today’s parable from Luke’s gospel has historically been one of the most difficult ones to interpret. Scholars, preachers, and faithful readers of scripture alike have struggled to make sense of the Parable of the Dishonest Manager. Beth Quick reminds us that we are not to read parables as allegories, where each person and part of the story has a one-to-one relationship to something specific. Parables like today’s make it difficult to fit the pieces nicely into the puzzle.

Jesus told parables to communicate what God’s reign - the Kingdom of Heaven – is like. Again, Beth Quick says that parables “tell us something about how things are or will be when we do things on earth the way God means for us to.” When he was baptized by John, Jesus announced that the Kingdom of Heaven was near. So, we must remember to always frame Jesus’ public ministry within the proclamation of a new era of God’s reign on earth. And the parable of the Dishonest Manager is indeed a kingdom parable.

In today’s lesson, Jesus and his disciples are still on their journey to Jerusalem, and as they draw closer, you can feel Jesus’ intensity - and perhaps even anxiety - begin to rise. So, the parables we have been hearing the past few weeks have been preparing Jesus’ followers – then and now - for God’s reign on earth as it is in heaven. And for those of us in positions of earthly power and influence, the parables have perhaps been difficult to hear.

In the parable of the Dishonest Manager, Jesus is pointing out to his disciples that that they should be as shrewd at handling what has been entrusted to them as the rich man and the dishonest manager have been with what they’ve been given. In other words, I don’t think Jesus is saying that they too should be dishonest in their dealings with others. I think he is calling for his disciples then and now – the “children of the light” – to take the calling to follow Jesus as seriously as others take their worldly callings.

In prison and drug and alcohol recovery ministries, a common mentoring approach is to challenge the person seeking to turn their lives around is to be as shrewd, industrious, and persistent in making good choices as they were in making poor choices. In other words, most addicts simply find a way to get what they need. They will beg, borrow, and steal – and put their lives on the line - to get their next fix. And sometimes, the ingenuity they use to get drugs is quite impressive. So, when working with addicts, counselors would praise them for their persistence, creativity, and drive. But then they’d say that the addict now needs to use that same persistence, creativity, and drive to get and stay sober. And then they’d need to use it to get and hold a job, and to achieve and maintain stability in their lives. The shrewdness is there – it just needs to be re-channeled towards good, healthy choices instead of poor, dangerous choices.

Oftentimes, the parables deal with extremes, and that is a rhetorical device Jesus used so that he could effectively draw the listener in, and so that the impact of the story is significant. Most of us today do not live in the realm of the extreme like the characters in Jesus’ parables. We are all lost and wayward in some way or another, but not as outwardly or materially lost and wayward as the Prodigal Son. That being the case, we have to be careful not to hear these parables and think, “Wow, that is a great story. Thankfully it doesn’t apply to me. I’m not that lost, or that dishonest or that selfish. The power of the parables is that they are for all of us.

I think that today’s parable is a lesson first and foremost about wisely managing our resources – as individuals, as families, and as a church. Jesus calls us to be shrewd, industrious, creative, and driven with the resources with which we have been blessed. After all, our resources are really God’s, not ours. As scripture tells us, “All things come of thee O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.”

Speaking from personal experience, Emily and I took the Financial Peace University course several years ago and learned a lot about managing the resources with which we have been blessed. And once we began following the Financial Peace program, we were actually able to not only save more money, but more importantly, give more money to the church. Our incomes didn’t change – our priorities and habits changed. Our Financial Peace coach helped us be shrewd in the management of our income and expenses. And we found a way to make it happen, and I must say, it feels better than ever.

What I admire about the Financial Peace program is that the first budget priority is to give 10% of your income away – preferably to your church. And everything else flows from there. Again, it is about reordering your priorities and habits. One thing that ensures that Emily and I keep our financial commitment to the church is that we have our pledge on autopay through the church database. So, at the beginning of every month, the first thing that gets paid is our church pledge – even before our mortgage payment. We aren’t seeing what is leftover at the end of the month and then giving to the church. We are not tipping the church at the end of the year for a job well done. Our commitment is first to the church. And again, everything else flows from there.

And with that commitment, we are trusting that the vestry is also being shrewd managers of our money. Just as we are called as individuals and families to be wise and generous with our gifts, so too is the church called to do the same. We are, after all, Christ’s body in the world. We are representatives of Christ, and how we manage and share the gifts we’ve been given should reflect that. And I can confidently say that our vestry does exactly that.

So, what about the parable? How do my own personal financial management as well as the church’s financial management relate to today’s parable? Remember that parables “tell us something about how things are or will be when we do things on earth the way God means for us to.” Imagine our local parish, our local community, our state, our nation, and the world if every Christian made their church their first priority with their time and their financial resources. The effect of such gracious generosity would be astonishing. I may be naïve, but I truly believe that many of our local, national, and worldwide problems would be greatly diminished if Christians led the way in re-ordering our priorities as it relates to our financial resources. I am regularly amazed at what we have been able to accomplish here at Christ the King with only about 50% participation from our parishioners. Imagine the impact we could have if every household in our parish made an annual pledge to the mission and ministries of our church! And then imagine again if everybody tithed, which is giving back 10% of your income. Again, the effect of such gracious generosity would be astonishing.

The kingdom of heaven isn’t characterized by money or business or budgets. Whenever the kingdom is finally realized, I can assure you that there won’t be finance committee meetings being held. And we won’t be talking about money and budgets. That is because in the kingdom of heaven, everybody’s priority will be to offer gratitude and praise towards God. And everything will flow from there. Until the kingdom is fully realized, let us model kingdom living for the world, and with gratitude in our hearts, structure our sharing of our resources in a way that reflects our gratitude and love towards God, embodying our weekly remembrance of God’s Word for us in holy scripture, when we say,

“All things come of thee O Lord,

and of thine own have we given thee.”  

I think that self-awareness might be one of the most important characteristics of Christian discipleship. The more self-aware we are, the more open we will be to receiving and embracing the grace and mercy of God in Jesus Christ. If we believe that we are pretty much fine, why would we need God’s saving grace?

But the bottom line is – most people just aren’t that self-aware. Most of us assume that we are pretty good human beings, and that any blessings that we have received in life are for the most part well-deserved. And that line of thinking  is one of the greatest heresies of Christianity.

A few years ago– it was probably during Advent – I was having a conversation with a woman about the second coming of Christ and the Last Judgment. This woman told me that she believed that when she died and came face-to-face with her maker, God would add up her good deeds and bad deeds and decide on her salvation based on that. And guided by this understanding of Christianity, this lifelong Christian has lived a long life performing good deeds, being kind to others, and loving God and love her neighbor. And because of that, she is hopeful and confident that she has secured eternal life by having more good deeds than bad deeds on her ledger.

The good news part of that story is that this delightful person has lived a wonderful, selfless, service-oriented life that has impacted many people in a positive way for many decades. Her poor theology actually contributed to making the world a better place. Worse things could happen!

The bad news part of this story is that no matter how many good deeds she has done – no matter how kind, loving, selfless and service-oriented her life has been, the truth of the matter is, she still doesn’t deserve eternal life. That is bad news for her and for all of us. Because none of us – no matter how well we act and behave - are in and of ourselves worthy of God’s saving grace and mercy. There is no amount good behavior that will earn us salvation.

But the real Good News – the gospel Good News of this story - is that in terms of this person’s salvation – or any of ours for that matter –is that Jesus is the one who earned us our salvation. Jesus did it for us on the cross.

Jesus - the worthy one, died for the unworthy. Jesus - the godly one, died for the ungodly. Jesus - the sin-free one, died for sinners. And that indeed is the great Good News of Jesus Christ. That is the great Good News for all of us here today.

But until we are self-aware enough to recognize that it is we – it is you and I – who are the unworthy, ungodly, sinners who have received this grace-filled, merciful gift of salvation in Jesus Christ, we will go about our lives in a state of self-righteous ingratitude. We will go about our lives like the Pharisee went to the temple and prayed, “God, I thank thee that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, I give tithes of all that I get.”

Our scripture lessons today offer a corrective to the human tendency towards a high dose of self-righteousness mixed with a low dose of self-awareness. Psalm 51 – traditionally attributed as David’s contrite response to his infidelity with Bathsheba – does an excellent job of reminding us that it is God who is in control. It is God – and only God - who has the sufficient power, mercy, and grace to offer forgiveness to David and to “make things right.”

When speaking about “making things right” – or justification – the word that Episcopal priest Fleming Rutledge likes to use is “rectify.” In Psalm 51 David recognizes that there is nothing that he himself can do to rectify the situation. It is only through God’s “mercy, loving-kindness, and great compassion” that David can be made whole again.

David doesn’t fall prey to the common heresy of believing that he was basically a good guy who just made a poor decision. He didn’t approach God and say, “I know I made a mistake, but if you add up all of my good deeds they will still outweigh all of my bad ones. So, we’re good, right?”

No. David, in his gut-wrenching despair, acknowledges that he needs to be “wash[ed] through and through from [his] wickedness and cleanse[d] from his sin.” He recognizes that the breadth and depth of his fallenness is ontological and not behavioral. As such, he recognizes that “he has been wicked from [his] birth, [and] a sinner from my mother's womb.”

And through the beautiful poetry of this psalm, David – King David no less – is falling on his knees and pleading with God for mercy. Because David knows that even though he is the great warrior king, the great anointed one who God chose to lead God’s people, he is not capable of rectifying the situation; he is not capable of saving himself. Only God can do that. As such, I personally believe that Psalm 51 is one of the most important lessons for us in all of Holy Scripture.

The Apostle Paul is similar to King David in that they both have a very low anthropology. Fleming Rutledge speaks about having a low anthropology alongside a high Christology. That is the sort of theology that I look for these days in preachers, teachers, and leaders. It is no accident that the higher one’s anthropology – meaning the more one believes that human beings are inherently good - the lower one’s Christology usually ends up being. One who has a low Christology is one who sees Jesus primarily as a good teacher and prophet, who taught us great lessons for how to live our lives. For those with a low Christology, little emphasis is placed on the divine, salvific, messianic component of Jesus’ identity, life, and ministry. After all, if we are all basically good people, who needs Chirst to save us? Needless to say, the Apostle Paul had a very high Christology, and a very low anthropology.

In his letter to Timothy, Paul is reminding not only Timothy but all who read this letter that Paul was “formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence.” The only means through which Paul can write, teach, or preach with any credibility is solely due to Christ Jesus, “who… strengthened [him] and judged [him] faithful and appointed [him] to his service. Like David, Paul wasn’t “basically a good person who made some poor choices.” He – like all of us - was a sinner from birth and saved by his faithful response to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Paul says it well when he writes to Timothy, “The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners-- of whom I am the foremost. But for that very reason I received mercy, so that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display the utmost patience, making me an example to those who would come to believe in him for eternal life.” Indeed, through the grace of Jesus Christ, Paul finally achieved a healthy balance of theological and anthropological self-awareness. And as such, he was able to receive the gift of God’s amazing grace joyfully and humbly.

Today we were given the gift of two biblical heroes – King David and the Apostle Paul – embodying for us the importance of theological and anthropological self-awareness as it relates to our Christian discipleship. We cannot lead with our own selves and our own egos. We must humbly submit to God’s never-ending, relentlessly pursuing grace, love, and mercy.

After his conversion, the only thing that Paul ever boasted about was what Jesus did for him, not what he did for Jesus. Paul knew better than to place his everlasting hope on a scale of good deeds vs. bad deeds. Paul knew that it was only God who can save us from himself and from the evil that had invaded the world in which he lived.

For the self-righteous, “I’m really a good human being who might from time to time make a poor choice” type of person, these scripture lessons and this sermon likely will be received as bad news. Quite frankly, Christianity itself is bad news for this type of person. Because the self-righteous want to be able in command and control of their own destiny. And Christian discipleship is the exact opposite of that.

But for the humble, contrite, and self-aware sinner – for the ungodly person like me - this is the best news we could ever receive. This is news of hope for the hopeless. And without Christ, I am indeed a lost, hopeless sheep aimlessly bleating in the wilderness.

I place my hope is the words that Jesus said in today’s parable, “there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance…and [j]ust so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents."

So here in this Temple, I offer the prayer of the tax collector who beat his breast and cried out, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” May the heavens rejoice!

Our lessons today are about the cost of discipleship, which includes making sacrificial choices about establishing priorities in our lives. In our first lesson, Moses is addressing the Israelites as they are preparing to enter the long-awaited Promised Land after the forty-year journey in the wilderness. Moses urges his disciples to “choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him.” Moses reminds us that following God involves our own choice. And our faithful response will almost always require a sacrifice.

Our Psalm poetically presents the choices that God’s people have to make – the choice between a life of righteousness and wickedness. In the first Psalm of the psalter, right out of the gate, the message for God’s people is about the choices we will be presented with in our lives. The cost of discipleship involves making the right choice, even when it is difficult.

But it is our two lessons from the New Testament that give us an idea of what these difficult choices might actually look like in our day-to-day lives. Jesus doesn’t mince his words when he says, “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” And what might carrying the cross look like for Jesus’ followers? In one of his least beloved statements in all of the Gospels, Jesus says, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” Back then, and still today in some parts of the world, choosing Jesus had profound financial, familial, and social implications.

But I think that it is Paul’s letter to Philemon that might best demonstrate what sort of difficult choices we are faced with as followers of Jesus. Writing from prison, Paul is sending Philemon’s escaped slave, Onesimus, back to him. But Paul is urging Philemon to take Onesimus back as a free person of equal status. The grounds upon which Paul is making this request aren’t social or political; they are theological. Paul refers to Onesimus as “a beloved brother-- especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord.” As Paul wrote in his letter to the Galatians, in Christ “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” In other words, in Christ, all of the world’s labels and distinctions take a back seat to one’s baptismal identity. 

This letter tells us that Paul has some sort of authority over Philemon, but Paul says that he wants to place the decision of how to treat Onesimus in Philemon’s hands. Paul doesn’t want Philemon to feel forced into freeing Onesimus. Paul wants Philemon to choose based on his own conscious, informed by his own faith in Jesus Christ. But while Paul isn’t directly forcing Philemon to free Onesimus, he is certainly making a strong case when he says, “So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it. I say nothing about your owing me even your own self.”

If Philemon is astute in his faith, he should notice the rhetoric Paul is using. In other words, what Paul is saying to Philemon is what Jesus says on behalf of us to his Father in heaven– “If your people have wronged you in any way (and we have), or owe you anything (we do), charge it to my account. I will repay it.” And that is exactly what Jesus did for us on the cross. He took our debt and made it good...not because of who we are but because of who he is. So Paul is appealing to Philemon on these grounds. And now, Philemon has a tough choice to make. Paul has laid it out for him, and has appealed to their personal relationship which is grounded in their faith in Jesus Christ. If Christ was willing to take humanity’s sin upon him, and if Paul was willing to make good on Philemon’s debt to him, can Philemon do the same for Onesimus?

But Philemon’s story is our story as well. As followers of Jesus, we have difficult choices to make. Of course, when we hear Philemon’s story with our modern ears, there is no question in our minds as to what the right thing to do is in terms of slavery vs. freedom. I don’t think anybody here would find the choice difficult in terms of is it right or wrong to own another human being. But, the question becomes more difficult when we frame it in terms of finances. In the United States, during the era of chattel slavery, many slave owners came to believe that slavery was indeed an immoral institution. But they couldn’t bring themselves to act on it, and free their slaves, because it would result in financial ruin for them. The way the agricultural economy worked in the South, nobody would be able to compete and make a living if they all of the sudden had to pay their labor. The only way out would be to sell the family farm and start a new career and way of life.

Today, the choices we are faced with might be more subtle, but we still have choices to make. And these choices can affect our lives, finances, and relationships in such a way that they indeed become our cross to bear.

From the beginning of time – as early as the Garden of Eden - God’s people have had choices to make. That is our God-given free will. And oftentimes, the righteous choice will involve sacrifice. Jesus himself had such a choice to make, and he chose to suffer and die on the cross so that we might have life. As followers of Christ, the legacy that we leave will be based on the choices we make. As Moses said to the Israelites in the wilderness, let us choose life so that we and our descendants may live.

Sermon -Christ the King, Santa Rosa Beach, Florida -August 28, 2022            Mary Parmer

12th Sunday after Pentecost – “Entertaining Angels Unawares”

The Epistle - Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16

       Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it….”

Yesterday here at Christ the King I had the pleasure of facilitating an Invite Welcome Connect workshop with your vestry & lay leaders & what a gift to be invited here!  I’m so grateful & it is an honor to bring the sermon to you this morning.

The ministry of Invite Welcome Connect includes three vital essentials: 

Invite = Evangelism

Welcome = ministry of hospitality

Connect = ministry of belonging

In our Baptismal Covenant we are asked this question…

Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?  Proclaiming by word and example the good news of God in Christ is as good a definition of evangelism there is, and Episcopalians answer this question with a resounding “I will, with God’s help!” So why is it many Episcopalians find it so difficult to say the ‘E-word’, much less talk about their faith or invite someone to church?  The primary objective of Invite Welcome Connect is to help Episcopalians change this narrative….

INVITE is Evangelism – it’s about inviting people not only into a relationship with you and others in your congregation; it is inviting them into a relationship with God through Jesus. One of the most urgent and important things I emphasize in this work is that we must create a culture of evangelism in our churches, and it starts with modeling the very behavior we are asking of our parishioners. C.S. Lewis wrote “we must form people to be little Jesus Christs in the world”, and our leaders must lead the way, starting with our bishops and clergy, helping people move out of their comfort zones, willing to invite others to church…willing to share their faith story. Inviting someone to church through a personal invitation is the most effective and essential act of reaching out, and research tells us it continues to be the number one reason people come for a first-time visit to our churches. 

Past statistics from the Pew Research Center confirm that 86% of people say they would come to church if asked, and I tell people the average Episcopalian invites someone to church once every 37 years!

As I take the work of Invite Welcome Connect around the country I share my story of how I came to be in the Episcopal Church.  How I grew up in Natchez, MS, in a Southern Baptist home, went away to Miss State….got married....Fast forward 20 years….I’m in my early 40’s, divorced, single mom, still Southern Baptist…….and a woman with whom I sat on several boards called me one day out of the blue and invited me to go to church with her…to St. Mark’s Episcopal church…overwhelmed!!! Unbeknownst to her I was already seeing a therapist, who happened to be Episcopalian, and she had given me books….C.S.Lewis, Henri Nouwen’s Reaching Out, Joseph Campbell’s The Power of Myth……. Year later Young Life leader invited me to St. Stephen’s, a smaller church….…I became a confirmed Episcopalian. 

The deep truth of INVITE is Courage versus Fear. It takes courage to invite someone to church – it takes courage to share our faith stories with others… but the bottom line is that evangelism isn’t so much about offering something that’s ours to others so much as extending the invitation and getting out of the way, leaving the rest up to God and the Holy Spirit. If we believe in the truth of Jesus Christ…the Holy Spirit will EMPOWER us and give us the COURAGE to invite others to church….to share our faith journey….to discern our own individual giftedness.

MY FAVORITE SCRIPTURE…. 2 Timothy 1:7 (KJV) For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

Welcome is the ministry of hospitality & the deep truth of Welcome is Seeing the Other. 

Today’s Epistle speaks directly to this essential. 

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.    Welcoming the stranger is welcoming Jesus.  Jesus asks us to see one another in a new way, in the way of love, compassion, and forgiveness, and He modeled this for us, and we are called to do the same. We are called to really SEE every single person with whom we have contact on a daily basis, and also with every single person who walks into the doors of our churches. Welcome is one of the signs that a community is alive…A community which refuses to welcome – whether through fear, weariness, insecurity, a desire to cling to comfort, or just because it is fed up with visitors – is dying spiritually.

Yesterday I shared a deeply personal story of a time when my family was not welcomed in a church, a time when they desperately needed a faith community. So I can tell you that I know first-hand what it feels like to attend a church and not be welcomed nor seen.

I’ve taken this work into almost 70 dioceses, Canada, & the Episcopal Church in Europe in the last 10 years, and I’ve heard countless heartfelt, painful similar stories of people who’ve walked through the doors of Episcopal churches & who’ve left feeling as if they’ve been neither seen nor acknowledged. Truth be told, how many times have you entered a room of people in this church and you’ve spent time visiting with your friends & acquaintances instead of going over to the stranger in the room and introducing yourself? 

I believe that when people come through the doors of our churches the Holy Spirit brings them to us.  OUR WORK….YOUR WORK……is to create safe spaces of welcome for people to become vulnerable to the workings of God’s love. And, we are to do this for ourselves first, making sure we understand God’s call to us as both lay and ordained ministers.

CONNECT is the ministry of Belonging. This essential starts with offering a safe space where newcomers can share their stories of what brought them to church. Then through the holy gift of listening, we help them discern their giftedness and encourage them in their journey of faith. CONNECT is offering clear pathways to belonging where newcomers are guided in their journey of faith and into the life of the congregation, where new members are empowered and equipped to live into their baptismal covenant by offering their individual gifts and talents to God, and where we help them hear God’s call in their lives. 

The deep truth of CONNECT is the Sacred Act of Listening. When we relate to those around us by HEARING THEIR STORIES and then connecting them with others, we build the loving communities of faith that God intends for us. When newcomers come into our church, the last thing we need to do is to tell them all the things we can do for them. INSTEAD...we need to LISTEN to them….to hear their story….and find out what brought them here. 

CONNECT is all about relational ministry. We were created and we exist in the image of a relational God, and our spiritual and human connections are what give our life meaning. Neuroscience research confirms that we humans are hard-wired for connection, and that our nervous systems actually want us to connect with other human beings. So it should not be surprising to us that when people join our churches but do not find those relationships or connections so vital to their spiritual, mental, and emotional well-being, they go right out the back door in search of this deep longing!  

The ministry of Invite Welcome Connect is focused on transformation, and that transformation begins first in the heart of an individual, as you say yes to Jesus and yes to a deeper life of following him. Invite Welcome Connect simply offers a framework to assist clergy and lay leaders in that transformation.

Could it be that today’s readings are calling us to look deeply into our own hearts…

Do we really live into our Baptismal Covenant?

Do we see the people we encounter on a daily basis as Jesus sees them...in the way of loving kindness, compassion, and mercy…. 

Could it be that God is calling you out of your comfort zone….to have the courage to invite someone to church….to share your faith story...the courage to discern your own giftedness and then to use those gifts in the Body of Christ…

May this be our prayer today

May we ask God for courage, for faith not fear

May we Risk seeing and welcoming the Other

May we become intentional holy listeners

May the world see Christ in each of us – for that is our calling!

On this date in 1944, in Providence, R.I., Earl Thomas Richards, Jr. and Cathleen Bushnell Richards welcomed into this world a baby boy, Edward Thomas Richards, me. 

A few weeks later I was baptized in Grace Episcopal Church, also in Providence. Like most folks who get baptized that early, I don’t remember anything about it. However, I have a picture of me in a beautiful white dress and I have been told that I cried a bit when the priest doused me with the water.

My Dad was in and out of the Navy while I was growing up, so we moved around quite a bit. From Providence to Trumbull and then Milford, CT; back to Providence, then to Arlington, VA, to Willoughby on the Lake, OH and on to Indianapolis and then Carmel, IN. As I recall, by the time I was in the 7th grade, I was attending my 8th school. The one real constant in the vagabond life was going to church every Sunday. There were youth groups and youth choirs and then acolyting. I was confirmed a year earlier than was the custom, because I wanted so much to be an acolyte. Shortly after, my parent moved for the last time to Carmel and joined a brand new church which initially met in the cafeteria of the school. I was the first acolyte. 

All through junior high and high school I was an acoloyte and tithed at whatever jobs I had and gave the money to the church. I remember that some of it was used to buy a silver scallop shell to be used in baptisms. 

I went off to college and only graced the doors of church when I was home for vacations. In Ithaca, NY, there were far more interesting places to inhabit when not in class or studying. While in college I met a woman and we fell in love. We got married the fall after we graduated and before I started graduate school. We were married in the Episcopal church in Rumson, NJ, where she had grown up. (We both were cradle Episcopalians, a pretty rare pairing.)

After Graduate school I started working in New York City and we lived on the north Jersey shore and went to the church where we were married. I did a stint in the Army in the middle of this time of working in NYC and living in NJ. And during this time our first two children, Ted and Jan arrived.

Then in 1972, upset by the fact that my job was requiring a lot of travel, we decided to move to the great state of Maine. I had two job offers, both in banks, and took the one that was the smaller gross pay cut. I started work in September and in April of 1973, we bought a house in Gardiner, ME and the family joined me. There was an Episcopal church right around the corner from where we lived, but we never really felt welcomed or comfortable and the children cried and screamed when we took them to Sunday school. So we stopped going to church.

Fast forward to 1979 and I took a job in Brattleboro, VT and the family, which now included a 3rd child, Nathan, moved and spent 14 years there. Although my younger children, Nathan and then #4 Tracy attended a nursery school in the basement of the local Episcopal church, we never went upstairs. The years were spent raising our children, me working up the corporate ladder, including community services.

In 1992 I accepted a job in Carrollton, GA as the CFO of a small bank. And my family again moved with me, except for the older 2. Ted was in Boston working on a PhD and Jan was finishing college at SMU in Dallas. Part of the move to GA was that all the snow in VT was getting to be more than we wanted to deal with and part was for a better opportunity. 

In early 1995 I was fired from my position but given outplacement services. I ran around like a man possessed and found a job in Greenville, AL. I started work and when I called my wife and said it was time to come and look for a home in Greenville she informed me that she was not coming to Greenville. In my naivete. I asked her why she did not say that she did not like Greenville before I took the job. She replied that Greenville seemed like a nice place to live, but she was not going to live with me anymore and was instituting divorce proceedings. 

Those two blows nearly ended by life. I actually contemplated suicide, but thinking of my children prevented it. 

Now comes the Good News. I guy at work, like a good old Southern boy, asked me if I went to church. I said I hadn’t been in years. He asked that when I had been going to church where did I go. I said I was an Episcopalian. He said, funny, so was he. And asked me to come to church with him that Sunday. Having nothing else to do, I went and my life was never the same. Those folks welcomed me, nurtured me, got me involved in bible study, invited me to be part of a men’s prayer group, dragged me to Kairos prison ministry (I was not excited about going into a prison) and eventually sent me to Cursillo at Camp Beckwith, another life changing experience. The also invited me into their homes for dinner and fellowship. They literally saved my life. And while I had been absent from the church much had changed. There was a new Prayer Book (changed in 1979) and now the principal service was Holy Communion, not Morning Prayer.

After a year, I left Greenville to live with my mother in Panama City. She was in her mid 80s and not as strong as she once was. I started attending an Episcopal church in the area and approached the Rector and some of the lay leaders about becoming involved. I was told that all the positions were adequately filled, but if an opening came up they would see if I was interested. Six months later, my mother and I were attending a different Episcopal Church. There I was welcomed and brought in to the life of the parish. 

I found work with the local United Way and in a few years was the Chief Professional Officer (United Way for Exec. Dir.). But I was still involved in the church. I encouraged and took people to Cursillo (there is one coming up this fall if you are interested, Richard, Bryan Whitehead or I’d be happy to talk with you about it.) I was a lector, greeter, LEM, on the vestry and a delegate to the Diocesan Convention. 

I was in a men’s bible study group when one morning one of the men said to me, you need to go to prison with me. I said what kind of ministry was he doing, he said Kairos. I said, great, I did that when I lived in Alabama. He was shocked but got me involved and I still am.

I worked with a Spiritual Advisor who started talking to me about the Diaconate. She said I would be a great Deacon, but it was too bad that there were not Deacons in this diocese. Eventually she convinced me to talk with my priest about my calling so I did. He said it sounded like I was being called in that direction and repeated the part about no Deacons in the diocese. Then he went to the Diocesan Convention. The next Sunday morning he handed me a brochure about a new program being started in the diocese and said I should go to the informational session. I went, I applied, I was accepted, I studied and worked, and was ordained and here I am today, your Deacon. 

There are a several lessons in the story:

1, You never know how God is going to use you so be open when he calls.

2, When new people show up at church, welcome them and get them involved. There is a new program that Richard and your vestry are currently working on bring to CtK called Invite, Welcome and Connect. Jerry Morton put in an eloquent plug for it last Sunday. It is a great program and it is exactly what those folks in Greenville did to me all those years ago. I was Invited, Welcomed and Connected.

3, It is a good thing to invite folks to come to church. It really is very simple. And you have no idea what they may be going through, but this is a place of refuge and comfort and there is much here to offer.

4, Tell the Deacon to shut up and sit down he has said enough. 

5, If anyone wants to discuss my journey more deeply, please ask, I will be happy to talk with you. This is especially true if you see yourself in it.

Thanks for listening and may the God of peace and joy and believing be with us now and forever more.