YEAR B 2026 pentecost 6

Pentecost 6, 2024
Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15; 2:23-24
Psalm 130
2 Corinthians 8:7-15
Mark 5:21-43

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

So, the first thing we have to deal with this morning is that reading from the Wisdom of Solomon.  The book of the Wisdom of Solomon comes from what we call the “Apocrypha,” a word which means “hidden.”  Different denominations place different value on these books of the Apocrypha, and—true to form—the Episcopal Church splits the difference and takes a middle of the road approach.  In our catechism, on page 853 of the Book of Common Prayer, we read:

Q.     What is the Apocrypha?
    The Apocrypha is a collection of additional books written by people of the Old Covenant, and used in the Christian Church.

Which tells us . . . pretty much nothing.  However, in general, the books of the Apocrypha can be thought of as maybe, “optional.”  Interesting, possibly helpful, but not authoritative.

And the reason that’s important is because this reading today starts out with something that’s not really true.  As we heard, “God did not make death.”  Taken as a statement of fact, well, it’s not true.  Since the plants in Genesis have seeds, death is sort of baked in at the start.  Otherwise, these seeds would mean that all of creation would be smothered in plants if none of them died—which even my wife would not approve of.  But that’s all just an aside.  Because what I really want us to do is back up a verse from that reading, because it helps the passage make sense.

Starting at verse 12, that passage would read: Do not invite death by the error of your life, or bring on destruction by the works of your hands; because God did not make death, and he does not delight in the death of the living.  Which is an entirely different point, right?  Now the passage is telling us something about ourselves, which is, don’t live your life in such a way that you bring destruction on yourself and others.  Because God does not want you to die before your time.  

I just wanted to clear that up, because I personally find it jarring that the selected reading starts right off with the declarative statement, “God did not make death,” which as I said, is simply not true.  Right.  And speaking of death, let’s move on to today’s Gospel reading from Mark.

There is so much happening in this story!  You could write a whole book on just this little section of Mark.  By way of reminder, Mark’s gospel is thought to have been told by word of mouth before it was written down.  So, Mark is all action, immediately this and immediately that.  Matthew’s gospel, by contrast, begins with an extensive genealogy, which is fine . . . for a book.  But nobody would stick around to hear the story if Mark’s gospel started that way.  Mark is all action, all the time.  And typical of Mark’s gospel, today we have a story within another story.  Jesus is heading off to do one thing and is interrupted by another thing.

The interruption is helpful for a story that is being passed on by word of mouth, since people will want to stick around through the second story to hear how the first story ends.  But the story within a story is also a sign that the two stories are linked together.  And those connections are strengthened by things like the woman has been suffering for twelve years, and the little girl is twelve years old.  In verse 34 the woman is called “daughter,” and in verse 35 the little girl is called “daughter.”  It’s almost as if you can’t have one story without the other.  You need them both to get the whole picture.  What looks like two stories is actually one story.

So, let’s take a look.  Jairus, a leader of the synagogue comes to Jesus and begs him to heal his daughter.  This is a VIP asking for help from Jesus.  So, Jesus starts to walk with this VIP and a huge crowd comes along, including a woman who has been suffering from hemorrhages for 12 long years.  It’s important to note that in that culture at that time, women were uniformly looked down upon, and any person bleeding like that would be an outcast.  So this woman is the very opposite of a VIP.  No one wants her around.

But she has faith that if she can just touch Jesus’ robe she will be healed.  Which is some serious faith, right?  Also kind of bordering on superstition to our ears.  But she sneaks up, touches his robe, and immediately her bleeding stops!  Apparently not superstition at all!  At which point, she could have just slinked away all healed up with no one the wiser.  But immediately, Jesus stops and asks, “Who touched my clothes?”

Now, I think it’s important to ask ourselves how we hear this question from Jesus.  Is he saying, “What thief has dared to steal some of my precious power?!?”  Or is he saying, “Who is this person who has such beautiful faith and trust?”  I think it’s the latter—even though we might tend to think of it as the former.  Jesus senses that some of the healing power has gone out of him, which means that someone has been healed, and Jesus wants to meet her.

Now, again, she could have just kept on walking, all healed up, and ready for a new start on life.  I think that’s what I would have done, to be honest.  Just take the healing and go home to hide in my house.  But for some reason, her faith in Jesus is so strong that she trusts him enough to come back and confess.  She falls to her knees, confesses the whole thing.  Jesus tells her that her faith has made her well, and calls her “daughter.”  And in doing this—in referring to her as daughter—Jesus is welcoming her back into the community.  No longer an outcast, but part of the community.  Her faith has made her well and welcome.

And while he was still speaking, that is immediately, some people from Jairus’ house come to him and say that his daughter has died, and there is no need “to trouble the teacher any more.”  And if the story ended here, we might take the lesson that Jesus has come to save the outcasts, and will send the VIPs empty away.  That would still be a good story, because it would show us God’s concern for those we would rather reject and turn away.  It would remind us that God does not value status the way that we do.  But Jesus is not done yet.  Far from it!

Jesus says to Jairus, “Do not fear, only believe.”  Though the girl is lying in death, Jesus has not given up.  He takes just a few disciples inside the house, he tells the girl to get up, and immediately, she does!  And then comes my favorite part of the story.  It’s a little detail that gets missed in the midst all the drama.  But after Jesus brings her back to life, he tells them to give her something to eat.  Give her something to eat.

It’s not some spiritual misty miracle that he has done.  He has brought a real person back to life in the real world, and he immediately addresses her real needs.  Give her something to eat.  Saving a life is not enough; you must give them something to eat.  I have to say, there’s a message for us there in our post-Roe world.  Saving them is just the start.  Now give them something to eat!  Take care of them.  Immediately.  But I digress.

So, in this story within a story, we see Jesus doing what God has been doing since the creation of the world.  Welcoming the outcasts.  Feeding the hungry.  And bringing the dead back to life.  Loving the “unloveable,” caring about our physical needs, and bringing life out of death.

But there’s still more!  Jairus, the leader of the synagogue, he knows who Jesus is.  That’s why he comes and begs Jesus to heal his daughter.  He has faith that Jesus can do it.  And the woman with the hemorrhages—the absolute outcast—she believes that just touching the robe of Jesus will heal her.  She has the faith that it will happen.  But the little girl?  She doesn’t even know who Jesus is.  She does not come to Jesus in faith and belief.  She does not come to Jesus at all.  She’s . . . dead!  She can’t believe in anything.  She can’t ask for anything.  She is dead.

And Jesus comes to her all the same.  She is beyond believing, and Jesus comes to her anyway.

You’ve probably had times in your own life when you were beyond believing.  When you were emptied out of faith and dead inside.  And if you haven’t, well, you certainly will.  It happens to all of us.  The pressures and problems of life, the minefield of personal relationships, the struggle to make ends meet and care for our families.  Add to that the divisions these days over social and political issues.  These things can wear us down and put us beyond the reach of faith.  To a place where we doubt that God cares, and ask ourselves, “Why trouble the teacher any further?”

And in those moments, the times when we swear we cannot believe in anything, Jesus comes to us and says, “Little girl, get up.” 

And over and over we find that God still brings healing, still restores us to community, still brings concern for our physical needs, and still brings life out of death.  May God give us the strength to hear what Jesus says:  “Do not fear, only believe.”  And in those times when—like the little girl—we can’t even do that, Jesus comes to us all the same and says, “Get up.  Have something to eat,” the body of Christ, the bread of heaven.

Amen.

The Burial of Sarah Douglas

For Sarah Douglas
June 17, 2024
Isaiah 61:1-3
Revelation 21:2-7
John 6:37-40

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I think everyone in this room could tell stories of how special Sarah Douglas was in their lives.  I mean, that’s why we are all here today.  Because Sarah made a difference in our lives, just by knowing her.  Just by talking with her.  Just by feeling her gift of unconditional love.  Our lives have been made better because we knew Sarah Douglas.

There are people we meet in this life who just seem to know things.  Like someone who knows how to fix a sink, so you want them to fix the sink.  Or someone who knows how to plan an event, so you want them to plan your event.  Or someone who knows how to fly a plane.  And you definitely want for that person to be the one who is flying the plane!  Some people just know things, and we want them to tell us what they know.

Sarah Douglas intuitively held a deep faith and knowledge of God.  I personally learned so much from her because she was always ready to offer an encouraging word about God’s presence in our lives and in this world.  And it was a powerful thing to witness the depth of her faith, her trust in God’s goodness and grace.  To be quite honest, there were times when I thought maybe she should be flying this plane!  Because she was just so unwavering, no matter what happened.  Never have I met anyone who so fully trusted in Jesus, and who so fully knew where she was going in the end.

In the gospel reading we just heard, Jesus says,
Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away . . . And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. This is indeed the will of my Father, that all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life; and I will raise them up on the last day.

Sarah understood those words from Jesus, and she believed those words, and she trusted those words.  Long before I ever met her, Sarah Douglas knew where she was going when she died.  Because she knew it was the place she had been all along.  Which is safely in the palm of God’s hand.  She believed that, she knew that, she trusted in that.  Jesus had her, and Jesus still has her.

Jesus says ”Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away . . . And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day.”  Jesus loses nothing and no one.

Sarah Douglas was given to Jesus in Baptism, and Jesus held onto her.  Jesus never lost Sarah, and Jesus will never lose you.  And Jesus will raise all of us up on the last day.  Sarah believed that with all her heart.  May God give us the grace to believe it just as much as Sarah Douglas believed it.

Amen.

YEAR B 2024 pentecpst 4

Pentecost 4, 2024
Ezekiel 17:22-24
Psalm 92:1-4,11-14
2 Corinthians 5:6-17
Mark 4:26-34

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

These are some of my favorite parables in the whole New Testament.  My musical partner and I have written several songs about them, and I’ve preached on them many times.  So I might have said everything I have to say about this reading.  Which means, some parts of this sermon will sound familiar to long-time listeners.  Let’s think of it as a “refresher sermon.”  So let’s start here . . .

It’s no secret that my wife is an avid gardener.  In the darkest of winter, she starts planting seeds in our basement, watering and tending them daily, until by early spring there is a small army of seedlings ready to come out into the world.  I am well aware that this all doesn’t “just happen.”  We have to plan overnight trips around the seedlings’ schedule.  And once they’re in the ground, it all just keeps going and going, with beautiful flowers and tasty vegetables all coming up in their due season.  But it’s a lot of work on her part.  And don’t even get me started on the effort that goes into those dahlias!

But not all the plants work this way.  Some things just grow.  A few years ago, she planted one bronze fennel plant, and the next spring there were about a thousand mini fennels growing all over the bed.  And the other beds.  And in the crack in the driveway.  And every year she actively digs up the dandelions after they’re done blooming, and the next year there are just as many. The daisies cannot be contained, and the sunflowers from the dropped bird seed are going strong.  All these kinds of plants are just out there doing their thing, without any help from the Mother of Seedlings.

As I’ve now learned, there are different levels of involvement when it comes to growing things in one’s garden.  Sometimes raising plants means 24-hour-a-day involvement.  And sometimes raising plants means they’re going to grow whether or not we tend to or even notice them.  So, in today’s gospel lesson, we want to be careful that we don’t mistake the dahlias for the dandelions.

Jesus said, "The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself . . . .”  The kingdom of God is like someone blowing dandelion seeds across your lawn, see?  Scatter these seeds on the ground, go to sleep and get up, and presto!  Harvest time.  But, of course, that goes against our basic principles of how life works—at least to us.

We have convinced ourselves that anything worth having is worth working for, right?  If lawns were truly maintenance free, I don’t know if people would have lawns, to be honest.  All the while, a field of dandelions is actually quite beautiful.  But maybe the reason we hate dandelions is because there’s no pain, and therefore no gain.  We want to work for what we have so we can be proud of the results.  Dandelions don’t need us to raise them, so we don’t want them around.  We want to be able to point to the fruits of our labor, to be the ones responsible for the harvest when the time comes.  

But Jesus says, someone scatters seed on the ground, and sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows, and they do not know how. The earth produces of itself.  The farmer in the parable, the one sowing the seed, has nothing to do with this process at all.  She throws out the seeds and goes to bed.  Hear it again: The earth produces of itself.  This crop Jesus describes is going to grow, with or without her help.  All she has to do is show up at harvest time and cut it down.  And in our way of thinking, that just ain’t right, because plants are not free.

And then Jesus has the other example, one of my favorite parables: “The kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."

Now here’s one we can get behind, right?  Tiny little mustard seed grows into a big huge tree that brings shade to the whole neighborhood.  We often use this mustard seed analogy.  Fits with our thinking.  The Little Engine that Could kind of thing.  Underdogs, David and Goliath, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, it’s all the same . . . Don’t underestimate something just because it’s smaller than the others.  If you’ve ever seen my wife’s anger at squirrels and groundhogs, you know what I’m talking about.

We resonate with the idea of a tiny little seed growing up into a huge gigantic tree.  It just fits with all our stories of human endurance, and strength of character and stuff.  Incredible things can be done if we just put our minds to it.

However, what Jesus says about the mustard seed is nothing like that.  Jesus says, It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.

A mustard seed does not grow into a towering redwood.  It is a shrub.  Mustard is an aggressive sprawling species that takes root and spreads out in an ugly tangled mess.  A scraggly bunch of mustard shrubs coincidentally gives off the same bright yellow of the dandelion.  And they require just as much work when it comes to raising them.  One tiny seed and before you know it you’re the French’s Mustard Company.  The point is not that the little seed grows into a towering beauty of symmetrical tree-ness.  The point is that this tiny seed grows outward and covers everything.  It’s sprawl cannot be stopped.  The kingdom of God invades every aspect of every thing!

And, once again, there is no “raising” of the mustard shrubs.  Nobody can walk by in a couple months and say, “Look what I raised!”  The seed is planted and the planter no longer matters.  Plus, the seed in the parable is thrown on the ground!  Not even planted in the earth.  In neither of these cases is there any room for pride of accomplishment.  And that’s really the underlying point.  The kingdom of God is like this: YOU do not raise it.  YOU do not control it.  You do not do anything.  It happens in spite of you, when it comes right down to it.  The kingdom of God happens for your benefit, but is out of your control.  The kingdom of God is like a field full of dandelions.  The kingdom of God is like weeds, and fennel, and chipmunks.

And so what does that make us?  What is our part to play in this kingdom?  You know, what about us growing the kingdom of God here in Massillon?  Jesus said of the mustard seed, “when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."  You and I are making our nests in the shade; that’s what we’re doing.  We don’t plant it; we live in it.

The kingdom of God is all around us.  Growing while we sleep, invading every inch of creation.  And you and I are like little birds that build our nests in the shade God provides.  We don’t need to be out there planting mustard seeds.  We need to be inviting the other birds to come and rest in the shade.  Come into the kingdom of God and you will find rest for your souls.  The kingdom of God is beyond our power, totally out of control, and invading every inch of creation, just as God intended.  It cannot be stopped, no matter what we do.  Thanks be to God!

Amen.

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 3

Pentecost 3, 2024
Genesis 3:8-15
Psalm 130
2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1
Mark 3:20-35

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

You know how when someone is trying to tell you something, but you can’t stop thinking about something very strange they said a minute ago?  Something that worries you?

Here's one: Jesus says, “Whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin.”  Hard to hear anything after that, isn’t it?  Makes you wonder, “Have I blasphemed against the Holy Spirit?”  If Jesus says it’s the one unforgivable sin, then I definitely don’t want to be guilty of that!  Well I can tell you straight away that if you’re worried about this unforgivable sin, it means you are not guilty of it.  We do not come to faith on our own; we do not decide to follow Jesus.  No, the Holy Spirit calls us to faith, nudges us in the direction of God, gives us the desire to follow Jesus.  So, the very fact that you are hearing these words today tells you that you have not blasphemed against the Holy Spirit.  You don’t have to worry about this sin.  Now then, let’s talk about someone else’s sin . . .

In the first reading this morning, we heard the familiar story of Adam and Eve.  Or, at least part of it.  Adam and Eve have already disobeyed God by eating of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, and are now hiding from God in the garden.  And today’s reading starts with God finding them hiding in the closet with a blanket over their heads so God can’t find them.  (Although Adam hasn’t yet learned that hiding requires keeping your mouth shut when someone asks where you are.)  And then we get the first instance of what-aboutism, and throwing your companion under the bus, and kicking the dog.  You may think those are new concepts, but we have them right here in the first book of the Bible.  Adam blames Eve, Eve blames the serpent.

However, Adam is really swinging for the fences here when he says, “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit from the tree, and I ate.”  He blames both “the woman” and God.  As though, in the previous chapter, when God was creating everything, God had said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner . . . so that he has someone to blame when he messes things up.”  Adam hasn’t been with Eve for more that a few verses and he is already blaming God and her for his own mistake.

Anyway, then Eve blames the serpent, and the serpent is cursed forever for working against God’s plans.  And, you know who else worked against God’s plans?  The scribes in today’s Gospel reading; that’s who.  As we heard,  “the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, ‘He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons’.”  (This is the only time in Mark’s gospel where the name Beelzebul comes up, but that demon is sort of like the ruler of demons.)  So the scribes are saying that Jesus has the authority to cast out demons because he has The Biggest Demon.  They are saying Jesus can do good things because he’s so bad.  Which is silly, of course, and Jesus shows them that it doesn’t make sense by quoting Abraham Lincoln, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”  Or, wait.  That was Lincoln quoting Jesus.

But what really matters to them is that the crowds have gathered around Jesus, such that Jesus and his disciples could not even eat.  So the scribes come down to sow doubt into the people.  Clearly, everyone agrees that Jesus is actually healing people and casting out demons.  That’s why the crowds are there in the first place—because they believe.  So the scribes figure the way to get the crowds to abandon Jesus is to call into question the source of these miraculous deeds.  Good things are happening—as everyone can see—so their strategy is to get people to think Jesus is with satan, to undermine their faith in him, and to say that he is insane.  And the response to that from Jesus is, “Whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin.”  So, again, if you, personally, are not trying to align Jesus with satan, and undermine people’s faith in him, and say that Jesus is insane, and that God’s good deeds are actually caused by evil, then you are not guilty of the unforgivable sin.

Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness”  We get all distracted by the second part of the sentence, because it worries us.  Worries us needlessly, as I have already pointed out.  But the first part of that sentence is the good news.  The very good news!  And it’s even better than the translation we have.  Because in the Greek the phrase is, “all will be forgiven, the sins and the blasphemies which they might have blasphemed.”  All will be forgiven.  All.  That means even throwing your companion under the bus will be forgiven; even blaming God for giving you that companion to throw under the bus will be forgiven.  All will be forgiven.  Full stop.

And that sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it?  If everything will be forgiven, what is to prevent people from acting badly?  If all will be forgiven, why should I bother to be a law-abiding citizen?  And all I can say to that is, if the only thing keeping you from being a criminal and an absolute jerk is that you think you might not be forgiven . . . well, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.  

But, of course, we all know that civic and criminal law works that way.  Fear of punishment keeps us from doing things that will harm other people.  But God is not part of the Ohio Revised Code; when Jesus says, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms,” he’s not talking about heavenly jail cells.  And so hearing that all will be forgiven should be good news to us.  That’s the kind of thing that makes us crowd around Jesus such that Jesus and his disciples cannot even eat.  

And then we have that other uncomfortable part of today’s reading.  The part where Jesus seems to turn his back on his family.  His family sends word that they are outside, and Jesus asks, “Who are my brothers and sisters?”  And as we heard, “Looking at those who sat around him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother’.”  Is he speaking metaphorically when he calls those seated around him his family?  Well, of course he is.  He’s not renouncing his family.  He is enlarging it.  But here’s the important thing about that.

The people sitting around Jesus, just listening to him, are doing the will of God.  The people who accept his miraculous deeds of healing are his family.  On the other hand, the ones who say he is working with satan or that he is insane are not doing the will of God.  They are blaspheming the Holy Spirit, because they are denying who Jesus is.  They are saying that the goodness of God comes from evil.  The power to do good comes from being evil?  That is just . . . crazy talk!

Brass tacks:  If you want to do the will of God, sit near Jesus.  If you want to be part of Jesus’ family, embrace his words and healing.  Don’t try to call Jesus away from the people; don’t try to claim that good comes from evil.  Just sit and bask in the glow of Jesus.  Stay close to him.  And in that, you will be doing the will of God, and you will be called sisters and brothers, the family of Jesus.

Amen.

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 2

Pentecost 2, 2024
Deuteronomy 5:12-15
Psalm 81:1-10
2 Corinthians 4:5-12
Mark 2:23-3:6

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

“Observe the sabbath day and keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you.”  That’s how this morning’s first reading began.  You’re familiar with this command, I‘m sure.  It’s the third commandment . . . or the fourth, depending on whose system you follow.  Typically, for you and me, it just means that stores are sometimes closed on Sundays.  We kind of get the idea that God wants us to get some rest, and so we take Sundays off.  Unless of course you’re a priest, in which case that’s the only day you work . . .  am I right

We are disconnected by time and culture from the Jewish emphasis on the Sabbath, though.  The Ten Commandments were given to Moses on Mt. Sinai as a gift to the Hebrew people.  They lay out a list of ways that would set God’s people apart from their neighbors.  They are at the very center of Jewish identity.  They answer the question, “How do we know God loves us?”  Because God tells us not to steal—unlike our pagan neighbors.  Or, Because God tells us to rest on the sabbath, unlike those who follow false gods.  And the way to maintain that relationship and identity is through following the Law of Moses, because that’s what makes the Israelites different from those around them.  They share a new way of living in relationship with God.

So, in today’s Gospel reading, the Pharisees are critical of Jesus and his disciples for picking grain on the sabbath.  The Pharisees, as I have often told you, were not bad people.  They were, in fact, the good people.  Faithful Jews, doing their best to do what God commands.  As religious leaders, they were responsible for reminding people when they were in danger of violating God's commands.  Because, again, the Law is at the very center of Jewish identity.  For them, to work on the Sabbath isn’t like running a red light; it is more like treason.

And so, the Pharisees are right to criticize the disciples for working on the Sabbath, because they care.  And Jesus responds with the radical statement: “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath.”  And if you understand what he is saying, it changes everything.  Everything.  Because this sentence tears back the curtain and tells us why God gave the Israelites the Law: for the people’s benefit.  And it also reminds us of the crucial truth about God and the Law:  The Law was made for us; we were not made for the Law.

That sounds obvious, I know.  But I think we all secretly think it’s the other way around, even though we don’t realize it.  Somewhere along the way, we start walking through life assuming we will be punished because that’s how God wants things to be.  When things go badly, we figure we must have done something wrong to deserve it.  And, what’s worse, we have a hunch that God created the Law first, and then created people so they could exist solely to follow this collection of laws, and be punished when they don’t.

Which is like saying, my wife and I got married, and made up a bunch of rules.  But we didn’t have anyone to follow those rules, which made us sad.  So then one day we looked at each other and said, “We need someone to follow all these rule.  Let’s have a baby!”  But, of course, you don’t have children so that they can follow your rules.  The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath.  People come first, and the Law does not exist without people.

One of my favorite writers is Robert Capon.  His writings actually saved my faith, but that’s a story for another time.  In one of Robert Capon’s books, he talks about “Angels.”  And he doesn’t mean angels like you and I think of them, with wings and stuff, on the Hallmark cards.  He is using the word Angel as a metaphor.  He’s talking about the things that we put above human beings, and to which we’re willing to sacrifice those human beings.  And the problem is, these metaphorical Angels are usually good things, at least in the abstract.  Powerful Angels,  like Romance, and Patriotism, and Religion.  In theory, they’re all good things.  But when one of these Angels faces off with a human being, the Angel always wins, because that’s how we do.

In the story of Romeo and Juliet, two young lovers fall hopelessly in love against their parents’ wishes and they both end up dead.  And we love it!  What are mere people when weighed against the mighty force of the Angel of Romance?  But Romance was made for humankind, and not humankind for Romance.

When someone disagrees with me over whether athletes should stand or kneel before a football game, or fly a flag upside down outside their house, I can call in the mighty Angel of Patriotism, which will quickly steamroll right over any thoughtful conversation or respectful disagreement.  Patriotism is more valuable than mere human beings, it seems.  But Patriotism was made for humankind, and not humankind for Patriotism.

And Religion?  That’s probably the scariest Angel of them all, because that metaphorical Angel must be the one that God loves more than any human being, right?.  Religion is the Angel that will get heads chopped off over Prayer Book decisions in the 1500s, and have planes flown into buildings in New York City, and demand that accused witches be burned in Massachusetts.  Religion will crush people in a heartbeat, and if it’s our religion, then we’re all for it.  But Religion was made for people, and not people for Religion.  Or, as Jesus says, the Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath.  People come first; people have always come first, and the Law and these so-called Angels do not exist without people; they exist for people.

God created people long before God declared the sabbath.  And in case you have forgotten, God loves people.  All people.  Jesus laid down his life for people.  For you.  For me.  Jesus feeds the people in the scriptures and in the mystery of Holy Communion.  (Episcopal Priests are not allowed to celebrate communion by themselves, because the Sacraments exist for the people.)  The Holy Spirit calls us together into community so that we can support one another, and so that we can serve people together.  God gives us the promise of resurrection to new life, because God cares about people.

In the second part of today’s Gospel reading, Jesus heals a man with a withered hand.  Here is an opportunity for this man to have a new lease on life.  To be rehabilitated, to have a fresh start and a new beginning, to rejoin the community.  Jesus asks the Pharisees, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?” Which raises a whole new line of questioning.

It’s like he’s asking, “Can a soldier work the sabbath, but not a doctor?  Can a thief break into a home on the sabbath, but the police not chase them down?”  And what do the good, law-abiding, upstanding Pharisees say in response?  Nothing.  They are choosing the Law over a person, and they expect Jesus to do the same.  They are choosing the Sabbath over healing.  They are choosing an Angel over a person.  God gave them the gift of the Sabbath, and they have turned it into an idol of higher worth than another human being.

And in their anger, they begin to conspire to have Jesus killed.  That’s where the Angels always lead us: to wanting others dead because of our righteous moral outrage.  If you cross an Angel, you end up dead; but if you place an Angel above people, you also wind up dead.  These metaphorical Angels always lead to suffering and death.  While Jesus offers us healing and life, because the Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the Sabbath.  

May God give us the grace to always choose compassion over rules, to always choose people over Angels, and to always choose Jesus over everything.
Amen.

The Burial of JoAnn Ely

JoAnn Ely
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Psalm 23
Revelation 21:2-7
John 14:1-6

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I have to say, I laughed aloud when I read in JoAnn’s obituary that “she cared for her dogs as much as her friends.”  Every time I visited JoAnn at the Laurels, Jamie had his two dogs there with him.  And as Ann well knows, Emmet is my favorite dog in the whole world.  And it is so fitting that donations in her name should go to the Stark County Humane society.  In life and in death, JoAnn cares as much for her dogs as for her friends.

And it is a powerful statement that “her home was always open to those who needed a friend regardless of their age or situation.”  There is no greater gift we can give than shelter and food to someone in need.  There are lots of reasons not to do it though.  Concerns about safety or expenses, the fear of getting into the middle of someone else’s family strife.  The loss of privacy by suddenly having someone else in your home.  It is a great gift to offer food and shelter, but it does not come without risks and costs.  Opening up your home is sacrificial giving, when it comes right down to it.  You have to give something up in order to do it.

And speaking of offering lodging, in the gospel text we just heard, Jesus says, In my Father's house there are many dwelling places.  If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.

Jesus has prepared a place for JoAnn, which I sure hope includes her dogs.  And we know the way to that place—though we might not know that we know it.  In that reading we just heard, Jesus says, he is going to prepare a place for his disciples, and tells them “You know the way to the place where I am going."  And the disciples look at each other—probably with a very worried look—because they do not know what Jesus is talking about.  They don’t even know where he is going; how can they possibly know the way?

But Thomas speaks up.  The one we mistakenly call Doubting Thomas, in fact.  He says, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”  It’s a good question.  And one that we all might ask today.  Jesus has prepared a place for JoAnn, and Jesus tells us that we will see her again, because we know the way.  But we don’t even really know where JoAnn is going.  How can we know “the way?”

But Jesus answers our troubled hearts today the same way he answered Thomas that day: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”  Jesus is the Way.  The Way to where JoAnn is going.  The Way to where you and I are going.  Though we grieve, and though we mourn, and though we dearly miss our beloved JoAnn, do not let your hearts be troubled.  Because we know the Way, and JoAnn Ely knows the way, and is with him now.

Amen.