Author: arthancock

God’s Tribe: Neither Orange Nor Black

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When I was in elementary school, I was on the black team. You see, it was the practice that, when a child entered the school, they were placed on either the black team or the orange team.  Every child stayed on that team for the entire time that they were at the school.  So, I was on the black team for nine years, from kindergarten to eighth grade. Over the course of a given year, there were numerous athletic and academic competitions pitting the black team against the orange team.  Points were tallied over the course of the year, and flying beneath the American flag on the school flagpole was an orange or a black flag, indicating whichever team was ahead on points. Toward the end of the year, there was a grand athletic field day at which the black team and the orange team competed fiercely against one another. On the last day of school, all points were tallied and one team or the other was declared victorious.

As I look back on those years, I do so with some fondness, but also with concern. I have no doubt that the ones who designed the program did so with the intent of teaching healthy competition and cooperation in a spirit of fun. I believe they achieved their goals but unfortunately, with some unintended consequences. As I reflect on my elementary years, almost all of my friends happened to be on the black team, the same one as I.  How many friendships, I wonder, did I miss out on because I was placed on a different team?  Further, I believe that the system promulgated an “us versus them” mentality with which I have had to contend my entire life. Finally, the black versus orange program that was promoted so heavily in those early years contributed to an unhealthy absorption of the philosophy that competition was to be valued more highly than cooperation and that winning was the ultimate goal. 

If the black versus orange, us versus them, competition versus cooperation way of life were reserved only for our elementary years, that would be lamentable but not tragic.  Because, however, such ways of thinking, acting, and being have infused almost all of our adult human lives, it is nothing short of catastrophic. 

Tribalism is nothing new, of course. It features prominently in all of human history, may be found throughout the entire Bible, and continues in our own lives. The smallest tribal unit would be a biological family, but tribes are also formed on the basis of geographical, racial, economic, and political distinctions as well.  Undeniably, tribalism affords many real benefits for those in the tribe. Protection, emotional support, economic well-being are among many other benefits of being a member of the tribe. But at what cost?

An us versus them way of being almost always leads to violence. The Hebrew Bible is filled with stories of tribalism, and indeed, the ancient Israelites developed a theology based on it. They fervently believed that the God of the universe had chosen them to be God’s special people.  Whoever got in the way was to be opposed if not destroyed. There were certainly occasions when the Hebrew people repented of this fundamentally flawed notion, but even in our own day, we bear witness to the fact that tribalism is alive and well, in the nation of Israel, in our own nation, and in most nations of the world. The impact of rampant tribalism has led to immense suffering, fear, and death. Truly tragic.

While Jesus was born a Jew and, as such, was subject to tribalistic ways of thinking and being, his teachings clearly present a different way. In so many ways, Jesus teaches that the Kingdom of God is neither male nor female, neither Jew nor Gentile, neither rich nor poor, neither us nor them.  Jesus teaches that God is with all and for all, and love is the glue that holds the tribe together. When his disciples are concerned that a certain group of people not associated with Jesus were doing healing works in Jesus’ name, Jesus tells his disciples not to stop them, instructing, “whoever is not against us is for us. (Mark 9:40).” The apostle Paul, echoing the teachings of Jesus, proclaims, “there is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither slave nor free; there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus (Galatians 3:28).”  In other words, all are part of God’s tribe.  All are brothers and sisters, created in love, created for love.  

In the eyes and heart of God, Israel is not first, nor Palestine.  Democrat is not first, nor Republican.  America is not first, nor China.  Christian is not first, nor atheist. All are brothers and sisters.  The holy tribe of God: neither orange nor black.

~Father Art

Finding Ourselves Once Again

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There have been extended periods over the course of the last several years when I have felt disoriented.  Not physically disoriented so much as psychologically, emotionally, even spiritually.  It is the same sort of feeling that I have had when lost in a large city.  Amidst all the noise and commotion, I have found it hard to think. I’ve felt frightened, discouraged, lonely, even sad. 

Perhaps, my current sense of disorientation has resulted from the political chaos in our country.  Perhaps I have felt so turned around because the natural world that I love so much is in such crisis. Maybe I’ve absorbed too much of the legitimate life angst and worry from friends, family, and parishioners. Regardless of the cause, I’ve felt out of sorts, lost.  In the midst of all of this disorientation, I have found myself praying, “Who am I God?” and “Who are you?”.

I wonder if these soul-wrenching prayers of the lost are similar to those prayed by the ancient Israelites in their Babylonian exile. You see, in 587 B.C.E., the Babylonians forced many of the Jewish leaders from their home in Jerusalem into exile. This was such a blow, and the ancient Israelites were forced to reevaluate many of their beliefs about who their God was and what faithfulness to this God looked like. Eventually, the Jewish people were allowed to return to their homeland, and they did so with renewed commitment and a more evolved understanding of their identity as God’s people.

As challenging as this current period of time is, it affords us the opportunity to take stock of who we really believe God is, and by corollary, who we are as well. Is God truly a God of love, and if so, what does it mean for us, as God’s people, to reflect that love in our lives? Is it really true that God cares deeply for the poor, the marginalized, the dispossessed, the outcast, the foreigner?  If so, what does our understanding of who God cares about affect who we care about?  Is it true that God continues to work for justice and peace in the world, and if so, in what ways are we doing the same? If we have a confused notion of who God is, then our understanding of who we are will be distorted as well. 

In the Gospel of John, there’s an account of Jesus speaking to his disciples, giving them a particularly challenging set of teachings.  Upon hearing his words, the Bible says that “many of his disciples said, ‘This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?’… From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” Specifically addressing the twelve apostles, Jesus asks, “You do not want to leave too, do you?” To this, Peter answers, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:60-69)

Peter may have been disoriented about many things, but what he did understand was that Jesus held the key to Peter finding his way again.  Peter recommits to listening closely to the words of Jesus and to faithfully doing what Jesus asked him to do. Peter recommits to watching carefully the actions of Jesus and to imitating those same actions with his own life.

These are, indeed, challenging days for many of us. And yet, it is often when things are most difficult that we are given the best opportunity to evaluate what we really believe and whom we really choose to follow with our lives. Perhaps, these are times when we should reread the teachings of Jesus and recommit to radical lives of love.  By listening to Jesus, by repenting of ways in which our lives are not in accordance with the ways of Jesus, by committing ourselves once again to the Way of Love, and by walking that Way with humility and courage, we will return from our dark and lonely exile and find ourselves once again.

~Father Art

It Matters

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2024 was a chaotic and emotionally challenging year for so many of us in this nation. Being an election year, Americans were subjected to a constant onslaught of campaign speeches and interviews and rallies.  We elected a new president and other leaders in November, and many of us, perhaps most of us, were rather excited at the prospect of saying goodbye to 2024.  

2025, however, has started off just as chaotic and challenging. Despite who you support and where your political leanings may lie, the size and speed of the recent changes to our government has been overwhelming. It’s been hard to keep up with it all, and even well- meaning, good-hearted, community-minded folks have been tempted to just check out until the dust settles.

But we can’t do that because here’s the thing… the Way of Jesus is about love, and love almost always involves staying engaged.  Jesus’ teachings are adamant that truth and justice and compassion and mercy must be not only part of the conversation, but indeed, at the core of our behavior with and toward each other as well. If we, as God’s people, are not asking questions about whether our words, actions, and yes, policies are grounded in love, then we’re missing the point of Jesus’ teachings.  If we, who proclaim love for God are not advocating for and with the most vulnerable, then really, who will? We’ve got to stay in the game and do what we may to ensure truth and justice and real, authentic liberty, especially for the least among us.  We’ve got to keep stepping up to the plate and giving it our best.

On February 12, 1909, that’s what a group of folks did.  They stepped up to the plate.  They stood up for justice and peace and fairness and liberty for all.  They put their skin in the game. On this day in 1909, the NAACP was founded. It was an  interracial American organization created to work for the abolition of segregation and discrimination in housing, education, employment, voting, and transportation. As chaotic and challenging as their days were, those men and women stuck their necks out to oppose racism and ensure African Americans their constitutional rights. It wasn’t perfect.  There were and continue to be lots of ups and downs and plenty of mistakes. But over one hundred years later, these folks are still in the game, doing their best, to make the world a better place.

Now, I know most of you at St. John’s, and I know many of you rather well.  I think that part of the reason that you remain engaged in the work of the church is because you want to make the world a better place.  I truly am so grateful for your good hearts and willing spirits. But here’s the hard truth: the Way of Love is hard work. And it’s never over. And it’s never perfect. And it’s exhausting. And you and I will go to our graves with the job only partially completed.

My friends, the Way of Love that we are walking together may seem small and innocent.  You may feel that what you do as an ambassador for Christ makes no difference.  The work of Jesus that we do together may appear to others as naive or irrelevant. It’s true that you and I perhaps can’t do a whole lot about so much of what is going on in our nation and world right now. All of that is true.

But don’t let that keep you from faithfully walking the Way of Love. By continuing to show up and evaluate what is going on by filtering it through the lens of love, you are doing your part.  By continuing to show up and do whatever you can to be part of a just solution, you are doing your part.  By continuing to show up and stay in the game like those folks who founded the NAACP, you are doing your part.  By continuing to show up, our souls truly are nourished, and maybe, just maybe, the soul of this soul-sick world might become just a little better too.  I know you’re tired, but stay in the game.  Continue to show up.  Continue to speak up.  Continue to do your part for the cause of Love.  It matters.

~Father Art

They Are Us

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A Sermon from January 26, 2025

Imagine, if you will.  A crowd gathers for worship in a traditional setting.  They are following custom mostly, perhaps some come with the expectation that God might really show up this day and speak to them.  Most are there, however, because it’s just what you do.  Holy songs are sung; holy prayers are prayed, holy writings are read. Everything is happening according to script.  A preacher stands and delivers a sermon, an interpretation and application of the scriptures just read.  The sermon is not overly long, but it’s straight forward, to the point. The message is about a loving God, desiring abundance of life and bringing good news of freedom.  

Initially, those present embrace the message: hurray for our God! But then… but then, at the end, the preacher reminds the crowd that the whole point of that good news is mercy and compassion, not just for them, but also for foreigners.  And abruptly, it all begins to sour.  The adoring crowds turn on the preacher.  The preacher gets death threats, and then flees.

Am I, you might be wondering, speaking of the sermon given by Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde this past Tuesday in Washington National Cathedral?  Am I, you might be wondering, speaking about the vitriolic, vicious response to Bishop Budde’s sermon by so many in this troubled nation of ours, including from many religious leaders?  Am I, you may be wondering, referring to the threats of violence that she has received in the days since that sermon?

Nope.  I’m not.

I am speaking about Jesus in this morning’s Gospel of Luke.  He’s preaching in his hometown, in the synagogue. He does what preachers do. He reads the Scripture and interprets it for those particular people in that particular place. And it’s all going so well.  

Now, our lesson from Luke this morning ends conveniently at verse 21. But indulge me for one minute as I read the eight verses that follow.  Because truly what we read this morning can’t be understood properly without taking into consideration those verses as well.  It’s part two of Jesus’ sermon, and truly part one misses the whole point when separated from part 2.  Here it is:

22All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, ‘Is not this Joseph’s son?’ 23He said to them, ‘Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, “Doctor, cure yourself!” And you will say, “Do here also in your home town the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.” ’ 24And he said, ‘Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s home town. 25But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up for three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; 26yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. 27There were also many lepers* in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.’ 28When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. 29They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff.

What happened?  What went wrong? Well, it’s all that business about the widow at Zarephath in Sidon and the leper named Naaman the Syrian. You see, all the people gathered in the synagogue that day thought that Jesus’ sermon about the good news of God’s love, about freedom and all that jazz… they thought he was talking about them. They believed in God’s love alright, but they thought that God’s love was just for them. That God’s blessings were reserved just for them.  And when Jesus says, “oh, folks, you missed the point… God’s love is for everybody.  Sure, God’s love is for you, but it’s for the widow at Zarephath in Sidon too.  And it’s for Naaman, the Syrian, too. Well, it’s then that it all turns stinky.  

You see, guess what… that widow… that widow to whom the prophet Elijah comes and saves in those days of famine, she was a Gentile, not one of them.  And that Syrian leper, the one to whom the prophet Elisha comes and heals, out of all the other lepers, that Syrian by the name of Naaman… he was a Gentile too, not one of them. 

Here’s the deal… in part 2 of his sermon, Jesus has the audacity to make the outlandish claim that God’s love and God’s grace and God’s mercy and God’s compassion were for these folks too, these Gentiles, these foreigners.  And that, my friends, was just too much for the folks in that synagogue on that day in Jesus’ hometown to handle. They become enraged and want to kill him.  In fact, they try to. They take him up to the cliff above the town so they can throw him off. But somehow he escapes, at least for now.

So, here’s the truth: God loves you and me. God loves Christians and non-Christians.  God’s love extends to those with light skin and dark skin. God loves both the rich and the poor and those of us in the middle.  God loves folks who were born in this country, those who were born somewhere else but found a way to become citizens, those who are not citizens but have a piece of paper making it okay for them to be in this country, those who are here without that piece of paper.  God loves them all.  God loves straight folks and God loves gay and bi and trans folks.  God loves Ukrainians and Russians.  God loves Palestinians and Israelis.  God loves Republicans and Democrats and Independents.  Not to state the most obvious of obvious truths, but God so loved the whole wide world that he sent his son Jesus.  And that’s some friggin’ good news.

But listen to me now. That good news that God loves all. That’s actually some radical stuff that can get you into all sorts of trouble if you start talking about it or doing something about it.  Because what that means is that if we’re serious about loving God and loving the folks that God loves, which is pretty much the definition of what religion is all about, then there’s no us and them. We’re all siblings and all deserving of a place at God’s table. 

I understand that finding good solutions to issues such as immigration and abortion, dealing with climate change, international relations and all the rest… I get it that it’s hard work. I understand that intelligent people may disagree on the best way forward with these immense challenges. I understand that lively debate can and should ensue about how best to deal with these issues that affect all of us, but especially the weakest among us. 

But what I don’t get is how people who claim to follow in the way of Jesus seem so willing to quickly sacrifice the needs of them to protect the needs of us. I don’t understand how those who have heard the holy words that God’s good news for the poor, and release from captivity for those in bondage and sight for the blind, and freedom for the oppressed… I don’t understand how people of faith might interpret these words as applying only to us, and not to them also. And I don’t understand how any follower of Jesus might believe that sticking up for the weakest among us is appropriate only at certain times and places and not at all times and in all places.

My siblings in Christ Jesus, we are called at all times and in all places to advocate for the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized.  In our prayers, in our words, in our actions.  They are us.  Together with them, we are all God’s family. Jesus’ teachings couldn’t be more clear.  As we witnessed this week, however, to advocate for the poor and oppressed can be dangerous work. It can get you thrown off a cliff. It’s scary stuff, and we may be tempted to stay quiet about what God wants.  But, my friends, if it was Jesus’ work,  it’s our work too. God has anointed us as well, 

to bring good news to the poor.

to proclaim release to the captives

and recovery of sight to the blind,

to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

May God grant us steadfastness and courage for the days ahead.  Amen.

Art+

Sufficient Unity

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This past Tuesday, a National Prayer Service was held at Washington National Cathedral.  The service of worship was attended by leaders of many faith traditions, newly elected leaders of our nation, and others.  Our freshly inaugurated President and Vice-President were present. Bishop Mariann Budde was the preacher for the occasion and used the opportunity to address the need for unity in our nation. Using Jesus’ well-known parable that contrasts a house built on rock with that built on sand, Bishop Budde exhorted those present and, by extension, all of us, to do our part to work toward unity.

Bishop Budde stated that people of faith are not so naive as to think that unity is the same as uniformity. In a nation as diverse as the United States, it is to be expected that there will be differences of opinion on all manner of things. Indeed, the whole notion of democracy is that positive solutions to great challenges are discovered when we engage, dialogue, disagree, debate, compromise, and negotiate. It’s a slow, arduous process.  It’s a lot of work. 

Can we not, Bishop Budde asked, strive for a sufficient unity, one that will propel us forward as a nation, one that will afford all people the opportunity to live abundantly?  And can we not build this sufficient unity by respecting the dignity of every human being, speaking the truth in love, and finding some humility in our walk with each other and with God?

In the aftermath of the prayer service, Bishop Budde’s sermon went viral. Many acclaimed her courage in “taking it to the president.” Many others condemned her words, chastising her for having the audacity to confront President Trump in a sacred space and sacred service of worship. One Congressional Representative actually called upon Bishop Budde to be “added to the deportation list” for her words.  

Apparently, President Trump was not positively moved by her sermon either. On Truth Social, President Trump remarked, “Apart from her inappropriate statements, the service was a very boring and uninspiring one. She is not very good at her job! She and her church owe the public an apology!” 

My goodness. 

My own reaction to the sermon was that Bishop Budde did what all Christians are called upon to do: to speak the truth as she understands the truth. She was asked to preach, and she preached about a God of love who desires abundance of life for all people: democrats and republicans and independents, citizens and non-citizens, documented and undocumented, people who are straight, gay and trans.  Bishop Budde spoke of a God who calls upon humans to do justice and to love mercy and to walk humbly with each other and with God. She challenged all of us, including those newly elected, to be people of integrity, matching our prayers with our actions. And finding herself under the same roof as the most powerful human on the face of the earth, Bishop Budde used the occasion to ask President Trump to consider mercy when making the difficult decisions required of his office. 

I found her words to be squarely in line with all the words and actions of Jesus. Quite frankly, I found nothing that she said to be radical at all, at least not radical if one identifies as a Christian. I find myself in complete agreement with the one who commented, “If you’re a Christian and what Bishop Mariann Budde said offended you, then Christ isn’t the one you’re following.” I stand resolutely and humbly beside Mariann, my sister in Christ. 

My siblings in Christ, if we are to find a sufficient unity to hold our families, our faith communities, our nation and our world together, it seems that it’s not too much to ask that we heed the words of Bishop Budde:

to respect the dignity of every human being 

to speak truth, as we understand the truth, to one another

to find some humility in our walk with each other and with God

May God give us the grace to witness to Christ’s sacrificial love for the whole world, striving for a sufficient unity in both our words and actions. 

~Father Art

Imagine That

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As I was driving into church on Thursday morning, I had the opportunity to listen to a portion of President Jimmy Carter’s memorial service at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC.  As part of the service, Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood sang John Lennon’s classic song “Imagine.”

Most are familiar with this song.  Among the lyrics are:

Imagine there’s no heaven

It’s easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us, only sky…

Imagine there’s no countries

It isn’t hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion, too.

Predictably and almost immediately, reaction among many Christians was harsh. They were offended by the suggestion to “imagine there’s no heaven” or to “imagine… no religion too.” And because the National Cathedral is an Episcopal Church, there was plenty of strident criticism for those who would allow such music to be sung in church on such an august occasion. “Who,” some demanded, “chose that song to be sung at Jimmy Carter’s funeral?” 

Well, the answer to that question is: Jimmy Carter. Yes, the 39th President of the United States and Sunday School teacher requested that John Lennon’s Imagine be played at his funeral.  In fact, it was played at his wife Rosalynn’s funeral as well.  Apparently, it was one of Jimmy Carter’s favorite songs.

Quite frankly, the criticism launched by Christians at those who planned Carter’s funeral reminded me of the verbal assault that Jesus himself experienced from the pharisees, sadducees and scribes of his own day who became enraged when Jesus challenged the religious status quo.

You see, Jimmy Carter, like Jesus, believed that it wasn’t one’s words that mattered as much as one’s actions. Jimmy Carter, like Jesus, pledged his allegiance to God’s agenda of justice and mercy and compassion and love for all.  Jimmy Carter, like Jesus, believed that instead of focusing one’s life on the hereafter, one should do one’s best, right here and now, to do justice and to love mercy and to walk humbly with God. Jimmy Carter, like Jesus, tried to do the right thing despite the consequences to his own political and personal life.  And Jimmy Carter, like Jesus, wasn’t afraid to shake it up so that people might begin to see their lives and the world as does God.

Jimmy Carter was a good, not perfect man. He tried to walk the way of Jesus. With his life, he encouraged us to do the same.  Now, just imagine that.

~Father Art

Refiner’s Fire

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It has been about a month since the historic US election that resulted in Donald Trump being reelected to the presidency of the United States. For some of us, the election results are cause for celebration and hope; for others of us, shock or fear or sadness or despair. Whatever you may be feeling, it truly seems that we are at a moment in our nation’s history when we are having to figure out who we are, what we stand for, what we are willing to live and die for. It’s a soul-finding time for us and for our nation.  And it’s hard work.

About 15 years ago, my family experienced a house fire.  It was about this time of the year, and it was wicked cold outside. It was an electrical fire.  Apparently the fire started about 6pm and burned all night.  Despite the truly heroic efforts of the emergency workers, we lost pretty much everything.  But our family was safe and sound, and over the course of the next few months with the aid of so many kind people, we put our lives back together. 

As hard as those days were, when I look back on them, I feel that they were blessed; that we were blessed.  That house fire gave us the opportunity to start afresh; to jettison all the stuff that had glommed on to our lives and to start again.  And I’m not just talking about physical things.  We were given the gift of being able to look at our lives, who we were and what we were throwing our lives at, and to make some determinations about whether we wanted it to be like that moving forward or not.  It was a ton of work; but so worthwhile. As I look back, I think that it was during those months following the fire that our family rediscovered our soul.

Now, not everybody has the great good fortune of having a house fire to help you take a look at your life.  But the world kind of feels like it right now, doesn’t it?  Not just here in this country, but the whole world feels like it’s on fire right now.  And as awful as things may look and feel, I believe that there’s this glimmering treasure of our human soul that is waiting to be found way down deep. It may take awhile to burn through parts of who we have become to discover who we really are and who we truly want to be. Somewhere in that refiner’s fire, I find sparks of hope.  

Somewhere in that refiner’s fire lies the promise of finding our soul once again. The process is long and sometimes excruciatingly painful, but most assuredly in the end, there is pure gold, the stuff of life and love. The refiner’s fire is the Way of the Cross.  It is the Way of Jesus.  It is the Way of all those who follow in the steps of our Lord.

So, here we are, in this community that we call St. John in the Wilderness, day by day… doing justice, loving kindness, walking humbly, finding our soul.  

~Father Art

Three Lessons of the Blind Beggar

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A couple of days ago, some friends and I were reflecting on a passage from the Gospel of Luke (Luke 18:35-42).  The story is about a blind man in the city of Jericho who comes to Jesus seeking healing.  There are a few aspects of the story that I find helpful to me at this unique time in our lives.

The story goes like this: a blind man is sitting beside the roadside, spending his day begging.  As Jesus enters the city, there is a commotion, and the blind man wants to know what’s happening. When he is told that “Jesus of Nazareth” is passing by, the man starts proclaiming, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”  And then something really curious happens. Those “who led the way” rebuke the man and tell him to be quiet. To no avail.  The man continues shouting for Jesus to have mercy.

Now before I continue with the rest of the story, I need to stop for a couple of comments. First of all, while all in attendance (and the author himself) recognize Jesus as the phenom from Nazareth, it is seemingly only the blind beggar that acknowledges Jesus as “Son of David.” This was a Messianic title. When the blind man referred to Jesus as the Son of David, he meant that he understood Jesus to be the long-awaited Deliverer, the fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecies. Lesson #1 of the Blind Beggar: so often, it is those in greatest need who understand best who Jesus really is and what he can do for their lives.

Secondly, it is notable that those “who led the way” rebuke the man as he called out for Jesus. Who were these people?  Were they the disciples themselves or, perhaps, other leaders in the community? Whoever they were, they were confident that Jesus wouldn’t have time for the blind man or that Jesus should be about more important matters than a broken blind beggar. Lesson #2 of the Blind Beggar: so often, it is those who have been raised to leadership who misread what is truly important to the heart of God.

Continuing with the story… as Jesus hears the cries of the blind beggar, he stops. Whatever else Jesus has going on for that day, he recognizes that, at this moment, nothing is more important than engaging the blind man.  Jesus asks, “what do you want me to do for you?” The blind beggar responds, “I want to see,” and immediately the man’s sight is restored.  He praises God and joins with everybody else who is following Jesus on the way to Jerusalem.

I want to be like the blind beggar.  When I hear the voice of Jesus saying to me in my heart, “what do you want me to do for you,” I don’t want to respond by pointing out all the ways the world or others have let me down.  I want to respond simply and directly, asking Jesus to heal me, to restore me, to change me so that I may follow in his way with the rest of the faithful.

So many of us feel helpless and hopeless right now.  So many of us wish that the world might be different than it is. So many of our prayers are that God might heal the broken world or alter the ways and the wills of others. Those prayers are all well and good and appropriate. I am wondering, however, whether before saying those prayers, we might first look at the state of our own hearts and lives and ask Jesus to heal us.  That’s what the blind beggar does.  He starts with asking Jesus to fix him before following in the way of sacrificial love. Lesson #3 of the Blind Beggar: so often, it is those on the path of being healed who are most effective in helping God heal this beautiful but broken world.

~Father Art

He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands

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So, it’s official.  For all of you who have been waiting years for it to happen, just this past Tuesday it was announced… My Little Pony was inducted into the National Toy Hall of Fame! The pastel colored ponies, along with Transformers and the Phase 10 card game, after 7 times being a runner-up, finally made it to the winner’s circle.  My Little Pony even beat out the balloon for this top spot! Happiness, utter happiness, is what I am feeling in my heart! Well, perhaps not utter happiness, but at least a little lightness in my heart.  And I’ll take it.

I really need a little lightness in my heart right now because, quite frankly, so much in the world is rather grim.  We’ve just made it through a contentious election and our nation remains bitterly divided; there are wars in the Middle East and Europe; the effects of climate change are being manifest in violent floods and storms across the world; inflation is still high and people are struggling to make ends meet; the poor and homeless and mentally ill and disabled and undocumented immigrant and people of color are still being forgotten.  Ugh. 

So, thank you, My Little Pony, for a little bit of happiness that you have brought to my heart. I appreciate it.  But really, if I am to be honest, I want more.  I want more than a little happiness.  I want joy once again. And real joy is something that doesn’t come from the things of this world; it comes from God.

In his letter to the Philippian Church, St. Paul entreats the believers to “Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, rejoice.” This may not seem like a bold statement, but it really is.  You see, when Paul wrote those words, he was sitting in a prison cell.  And he was writing to a community of folks who, along with most other Christians at the time, were being persecuted from all sides.  In the midst of all that suffering, Paul has the chutzpah to claim that joy is the proper emotion to maintain in one’s heart. So, what’s up with that?  

Well, in contrast to happiness, joy runs deeper and stronger.  Joy is the quiet, confident assurance of God’s love and work in our lives and in the life of the world. Joy is the trust that God will not cut and run, that God is with us and for us no matter what, that when everything else is falling apart, God is about the business of putting it all back together. While happiness hinges on happenings, joy is rooted in the love of God through Christ. Joy is the deep-seated belief that all shall be well because God’s got the whole world in his hands.  Despite seemingly all evidence to the contrary, God’s got the whole world in his hands; he’s got the whole wide world in his hands.

This Sunday, all of us at St. John’s have the opportunity to respond to the proclamation that “God’s got the whole world in his hands.”  It is Pledge Sunday and we will be gathering up and offering to God our pledges for the new year. I can think of no better time than the present for the people of God to pledge their support to the work of God at St. John’s.  We will continue to be faithful, bold, and joyful proclaimers and doers of God’s will in these challenging days of our nation and world. I hope that you will join all of us, who, along with the believers in the early church of Philippi and countless Christians since, have committed to God’s work of reconciliation. My friends, he’s got the whole world in his hands; he’s got the whole wide world in his hands.  Trust in God and join in his work of life and love.

~Father Art

God Is Watching

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I have resisted making any comments on the 2024 presidential election until today, knowing that many of you are still processing what happened. I am too.  And like so many of you, my head and heart are replete with thought and emotion. Our parish family has a diverse set of political beliefs, and today, some of you are rejoicing at the outcome of the election and some are grieving or resigned or angry or afraid. I would dare say that all of us are joyous that this election season is over!

But now what?  What do we do now that the election dust has begun to settle?  How do we get on with our lives? Well, as people committed to following in the Way of Jesus, we pledge our allegiance and offer our lives ever again to the Reign of God. That’s what we do.  What that means is that the things that Jesus cares about become the same things that we care about; the things that hurt the heart of Jesus become the things that hurt our hearts too; the things that cause Jesus’ heart to sing become the things that cause our hearts to be joyful as well. To live in allegiance to the Reign of God is to adapt our lives to the ways that Jesus lived his life. It is to adopt Gospel values and align our lives with these values. That’s what we do.

As such, because Jesus loved God so fully, we strive to do the same.  And because Jesus clearly had a heart for those on the margins, for the poor and sick and lonely and broken, we do too.  We live out our allegiance to these Gospel values by speaking up and doing what we can to alleviate suffering. We show God that we take the Gospel seriously when we love those that the rest of the world tries to forget about.  

And we live out Gospel values by holding our elected leaders to do the same. Contrary to the campaign pitches of politicians, our first priority should not be “what is best for me,” but rather, “what is best for the least among us.” When our elected leaders work hard to establish laws and policies that benefit the poor and marginalized, we should reward them with our praise and our support.  When they do not, we should speak truth to power, raise a ruckus, march, protest, sign petitions, knock on doors, sometimes even civilly disobey.  And while we’re doing all of that, we should never resort to violence. Our allegiance, for God’s sake, is always to the Prince of Peace.

Our president-elect will be in my daily prayers.  I hope he will be in yours too.  He will have much to do to prove that he is worthy of the position of power entrusted to him by the people of this nation. My prayer is that he will be guided by God’s Spirit of truth and justice and mercy and compassion. My prayer is that he will grow a heart that aches for the lowliest among us and will do what he can to ease their burden and give them a shot at the abundant life that God dreams for all. My prayer is that he will see clearly the interconnectedness of all forms of life on this planet and commit himself to preserving and protecting what God has created and blessed.

The election is over.  We still must sort through our emotions, and we must get on with our lives.  So, my friends, breathe deeply, drink enough water, try to sleep, go for a walk, say your prayers, work for justice and peace. Be kind, for God’s sake.  You know what to do. Jesus told us, but more powerfully, he showed us. Just do that. And President-elect Trump, just do that. God is watching.

~Father Art