Folgen
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Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, CA 2E71
All Saints Day 11:00 a.m. Baptism
Sunday 3 November 2024
Daniel 12:1-3
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44
“See I am making all things new… I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end” (Rev. 21).
1. In three days there will be an election. We have heard about authoritarianism and the Deep State, that this might be the last election we will ever have. We have been told that the United States Department of Justice will seek retribution against political enemies, that doctors will be prosecuted for performing health procedures like abortions or gender transition therapies, that our own armies will be deployed against regular American citizens. We are afraid that our marriages will be declared invalid and that we will be singled out for persecution.
Candidates have said that America’s domestic enemies are more dangerous than our foreign ones. News broadcasters have told us that rather than protecting us from foreign dictators our political leaders admire them. We see signs that the meager efforts we are making to slow down climate change and species extinction may be undone. We have been told that the elections cannot be trusted, that immigrants are in some way unseen threats. We are reminded that the person we choose will alone have power to destroy life on earth by launching nuclear weapons.
There is so much more I could say about this but I don’t need to because we are all getting five text messages a day from politicians who act as if they know us, who talk as if they alone can save us.
In 1965, 70% of Americans said that religion is very important. In our time 45% of Americans agree with this statement. [i] Some may say that we are becoming less spiritual as a society. But one might argue instead that we are less likely to express our spirituality through religious institutions and more likely to invest other parts of our life with ultimate value.
The sociologist Max Weber (1865-1920) had a theory that the evolution of religious life has led us in the modern world to have seven “value spheres” that at times compete with each other. These include: religion, family, politics, economics, art, science and eroticism. Some thinkers today believe that as people participate less in religion they invest spiritual meaning in other spheres, particularly politics.
Philip Gorski writes, “the most important form of sacrality today is arguably “the political.” For the populist right, the sacred is most often “the nation,” or ”Christian nation” or “Hindu Civilization.” For the progressive left, the sacred is more often democracy or social justice... [N]ation and state, party and ideology, race and identity, have become sacred objects of devotion for many.” [ii]
Many of our most secular friends have become missionaries writing letters and visiting distant places trying to inspire people to vote. This makes sense since the political sphere has tremendous power to control taxation, wage nuclear war, curtail climate change, preserve democracy and balance inconceivable levels of wealth inequality.
2. In the time of Jesus the Romans mercilessly demanded that subject peoples worship the emperor as a god. The situation seemed hopeless. But according to the Gospel of John, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” John goes on, “the true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him… but to all who received him he gave power to become children of God” (Jn. 1). This light which shone in Jesus still shines today.
The purpose of the Gospel of John is to draw us into a new world, into life in God. He writes about seven signs. The first happens when Jesus turns water into wine at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. And the last occurs when Jesus returns to enemy territory in order to bring his friend Lazarus back from the dead.
Jesus narrowly escapes being stoned to death in Judea for saying that, “The Father and I are one” (Jn. 10). Then he gets a message from two sisters that “the one you love is ill.” Jesus’ friends can hardly believe it when he tells them that he is going back to the place where he was almost killed.
The name Lazarus means “God is my help.” Jesus feels so deeply moved by the grief of Lazarus’ sisters Martha and Mary that he himself weeps. Jesus knows that bringing his friend back to life will lead to his own death. And this is exactly what happens. Later, the authorities reason that Jesus must die because by raising the dead he will inspire the masses who will then provoke the Romans to destroy the temple and their whole culture. High Priest Caiaphas says, “it is better to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed” (Jn. 11).The pivotal moment occurs when Jesus says to Martha, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” The point of this is not that Martha’s believing has anything to do with her brother coming back to life. It is that Martha’s faith will help her to see the action of God that is already happening in Jesus.
3. And this is how faith is. We trust in God first and then we come to see the world in a completely new way. St. Augustine (354-430) was an African saint born in the fourth century. He calls this faith seeking understanding. We say yes and give our hearts to God. And then God opens our lives to the divine mystery.
St. Augustine helps me to understand these elections and Jesus’ invitation into a deeper reality. In 410 Rome was sacked. Pagans argued that this defeat happened because the gods were punishing the Romans for converting to Christianity. [iii] In response Augustine wrote his book The City of God.
In it Augustine describes two cities the earthly city and the city of God. These are not distinguished by jurisdiction or location. One is not on earth and the other in the skies. Instead, they are two fundamentally different ways of organizing human community. They are distinguished by their love. The earthly city revolves around love of self, the lust for power and domination.
The city of God is characterized by love of God and neighbor. Because God values human freedom we find ourselves in a shared territory that is occupied by citizens of both cities. Now is not a time for separating the wheat from the chaff, the sheep from the goats. We will not experience perfect justice, peace, goodness or beauty in this life. Politicians will always let us down.
In 418 Augustine puts this in another way when he writes to Boniface, the Roman general in charge of North Africa. Boniface wants to impose Christian practices with the sword. Augustine disagrees and writes, “We ought not to want to live ahead of time with only the saints and the righteous.” [iv] In other words we should not imagine that we will achieve the ideal in this world. Politics is the way that we live in the time we have now. We should expect disagreement, compromise, debate and be patient with those who disagree with us.
The message is simple on All Saint’s Day in San Francisco let politics have its place. But it should never become our god. Regardless of who is elected, our God is on the throne. Jesus, through his life and death ushers us into another reality. That light shines through our darkness.Last week after church I had lunch with our former bishop Bill Swing and Cricket Jones the wife of our longtime dean Alan Jones. Alan died in January and the three of us still look visibly upset when we talk about him together. Hesitantly I asked the two about their most powerful memories of Alan and Cricket’s wedding which took place in France at Chartres Cathedral.
Bishop Swing talked about drawers of vestments from the sixteenth century. Then Cricket described a moment from the service. She and Alan were perched on little chairs in front of the high altar. And as the bishop was going through the prayers she felt as if her little chair rose up into the air by four or five inches. And then she had a sense that all the saints who had ever been there were present with them. In her mind’s eye she could see them standing all around the apse on each other’s shoulders with such deep love. [v]
In three days there will be an election. But as we baptize children into the new life of Christ may the ones we love and all the saints be present with us. Let us have eyes to see that God is making all things new.
[i] “Forty-five percent of Americans say religion is "very important" in their life, with another 26% saying it is "fairly important" and 28% saying it's "not very important."
When Gallup first asked this question in 1965, 70% said religion was very important. That fell to 52% in a 1978 survey, but the percentage ticked up to nearly 60% between 1990 and 2005. Over the past 20 years, a declining share of Americans have said religion is important, dropping below 50% for the first time in 2019.” From, “How Religious Are Americans,” Gallup News, 29 March 2024. https://news.gallup.com/poll/358364/religious-americans.aspx
[ii] Robert Gorski, “Disenchantment of the World” or Fragmentation of the Sacred,” in Robert N. Bellah, Challenging Modernity (NY: Columbia University Press, 2024) 319.
[iii] In his book The City of God Augustine writes that rather than the gods protecting Rome, Rome protected her gods.
[iv] “At the heart of Augustine’s political wisdom is an awareness of what time it is. Late in his life, he counseled Boniface, a Roman general governing the precinct of Africa. In a letter from 418, Augustine addresses Boniface’s frustrations with uprisings and incursions by those who despise the Christian faith. Boniface thinks he knows what the kingdom of God is supposed to look like, and he’s tempted to impose it—to make the kingdom come. Augustine cautions the impatient ruler: “We ought not to want to live ahead of time with only the saints and the righteous.” Trying to “live ahead of time” means imagining we can achieve some ideal embodiment of justice—whether it’s utopia or the kingdom—by imposing our will. Politics, Augustine counsels, demands patience. Politics is the art of forging a life together in the now. The institutions of our republic and the practices of democracy are eroded precisely when we imagine that we can live ahead of time. Political liberalism is accumulated wisdom about how not to live ahead of time.” James K. A. Smith, “Wisdom from Augustine in an Election Year,” The Christian Century, November 2024. https://www.christiancentury.org/features/wisdom-augustine-election-year?check_logged_in=1
[v] The novelist Susanna Clarke in an interview with the New York Times says, ““I feel very strongly that if you could see the world as it really is, if you could get further beyond your ego and the sorts of ways in which we trap ourselves, if you could just see the world beyond, every moment would be miraculous.” https://www.nytimes.com/2024/10/25/books/susanna-clarke-strange-norrell-sequel-interview.html?campaign_id=69&emc=edit_bk_20241101&instance_id=138448&nl=books®i_id=13508633&segment_id=181999&user_id=f284507f51aad420f13c2727d615ae11
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The Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 25
Grace Cathedral, San Francisco
October 27, 2024
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Fehlende Folgen?
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Job 38:1-7, 34-41
Hebrews 5:1-10
Mark 10: 35-45
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Jesus delivers a hard truth to the young man seeking eternal life: “Sell everything, give the proceeds to the poor and then come follow me.” We shouldn’t be surprised. Jesus’s words are often sharp and difficult, designed to slice through our defenses, excuses and comfortable structures. Why? Because he wants to see us healed, whole and living like beloved community. And he knows the only way we’ll get to that dream is if we reckon with the truth in love.
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Holy God so often we feel cut off from you and one another. Help us find our way to healing and hope, so that we can become new again. Amen.
Strikingly beautiful, Maria had deep dark eyes and long black hair. Superficially she seemed jaded, a kind of rebel. But if you took the time to really know her, she had great intelligence, sensitivity and heart. During my junior year of high school we were close friends. She used to talk about what it felt like getting painfully lost in the shuffle after her parents split up, about her resentful mother being left with almost nothing.
In those days divorce was suddenly becoming far more widespread and our society was not prepared. We did not know how to cope with divorce in a humane and grace-filled way. Divorce deeply affects all of us. Perhaps you have gone through a divorce yourself, or maybe it was your parents, your children, a close friend or work colleague. In our society really poor people, the ones who are barely making it, are far more likely to get divorced than wealthy people.
Being truly part of the human family means understanding how hard it can be to sustain a relationship and how much pain we can suffer when it breaks down. Many of us also have an experience of new life and joy on the other side of this suffering.
What does Jesus offer as we try to understand this feature of the human condition? Many preachers shy away from this complex topic and I worry a little about putting words into Jesus’ mouth and a lot about saying something that inadvertently harms you. But I believe that Jesus offers practical and real good news. But like all communication his words need to be interpreted and this requires difficult work. It is worth it because this teaching will lead us to wholeness and new life.
The context matters. Jesus has been teaching his disciples about becoming “servants of all.” [1] In fact he says that the world completely misunderstands servanthood. In Imperial Rome but also today we tend to think of servants as lower, lesser, outsiders compelled to work for those who are greater than they are. We easily slip into thinking that the great ones are those who coerce and control others. But Jesus turns this idea on its head. He tells his friends that serving others, especially vulnerable people, is the key to a meaningful life. He says that the greatest one will be servant of all.
Some Pharisees come to Jesus. The name Pharisee in Aramaic means “the ones who are set apart.” [2] They care intensely about determining what and who is pure. They are right to fear Jesus because he undermines this whole project. For Jesus there is one human family and no one is impure or left out. The Pharisees ask Jesus, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” The narrator calls this question a trap. Whether Jesus says yes or no the Pharisees have a plan to condemn him.
Jesus understands that there is no right answer. He also knows what happened after King Herod and his former sister-in-law each divorced their spouses and married each other. John the Baptist criticized their marriage. And this led to his execution by Herod. Rather than trying to set a policy or law on divorce Jesus changes the question. Rather than asking if it is legal to divorce he asks us to consider what God wants for us.
During those times there were ethical disagreements concerning divorce. Some believed that the only justification for divorce was sexual infidelity. Others thought that a husband should be able to divorce his wife for pretty much any reason. According to the Book of Deuteronomy a man can write a certificate of divorce if his wife, “does not please him” or, “because he finds something objectionable about her” (Deut. 24:1-4).
This biblical passage puts all the power in the hands of the husband. It makes divorce the rule rather than an exception to be employed only after all other courses of action have failed. Most important this law endangers the most vulnerable people in society – women and children who could not own property and who depend for their well-being on the generosity of their husband and father. This actually describes the situation of my friend Maria.
Jesus hates just this kind of human suffering. You can almost hear him raise his voice as he says that the reason for a commandment permitting divorce is our “hardness of heart.” But note this. Jesus does not say Moses was wrong. Jesus does not say that the commandment permitting divorce should cease to be a law. Jesus is not forbidding divorce.
Instead he uses hyperbole to make a point. In our reading a few weeks ago Jesus said that, “if your eye causes you to sin, tear it out” (Mk. 9:47). Just as this is not a call for us to pluck out our eyes, Jesus describing remarriage as a kind of adultery does not mean that no one should ever get divorced. In every way Jesus says we are children of God and our actions have lasting effects on other children of God many of whom are far more vulnerable than we are.
Jesus is the same person who teaches us that the law was made for human beings not human beings for the law. Jesus’ point is not to shame people who have already suffered all the effects of a broken relationship. He is not trying to make people stay in a relationship that is abusive or in one that has clearly died. He is not trying to preserve relationships that continue to do damage to the people who are in them.
Instead Jesus is moving our attention from what the law permits to God’s dream for how our relationships could be. Describing this higher picture of marriage Jesus rejects the Pharisees’ approach which only sees the relationship from the perspective of the divorcing husband. In his words here Jesus treats women and men the same (he talks in equal terms about a man and a woman divorcing a spouse).
Jesus paints a picture of what love can become. He quotes the book of Genesis and talks about people leaving their families in order to be joined together. So often in my own life I think about the deep and miraculous truth that “the two shall become one flesh.” Adding to this Jesus says that, “what God has joined together, let no one separate.”
Let that sink in for a bit. Imagine two beings so united in purpose and affection that they become like one single entity. Imagine God as the source of our deepest relationships and actively at work in helping them to thrive.
I understand that marriage is not for everyone. Anyone entering into marriage needs to know that even in the best circumstances it can be hard work. Marriage involves renewing the relationship over and over again. Marriage requires wisdom, communication, perseverance, patience, courage, forgiveness and an openness to what is new and what cannot be controlled. It demands not just a commitment to the other person but to the relationship itself. To be strong a marriage requires a community of support like the one gathered here this morning.
Jesus wants us to know that there is more to life than feeling justified by the law and superior to another person. Jesus wants us to strive for goodness, to find the way that we are called to serve. But there are relationships that have become so broken that no matter how hard we try, they cannot be saved. Jesus speaks about this not because we have broken some rule and deserve to be punished, but because it is God’s nature to be present to help us when we are suffering. [3]
I began by sharing my fear of speaking about divorce with you today. I guess I really did not want to be misunderstood on this point. Jesus does not condemn people for being divorced. Fifty years ago Diane, my mother-in-law and one of the women I most admire, went through a divorce with my father-in-law. Because of this the church she grew up in utterly rejected her. For decades she never felt comfortable in a church and I did not talk to her about it. Some of you might remember that magical midnight Christmas mass ten years ago when she joined us.
Delayed by her flight, Diane hesitantly made her way down the center aisle to her pew. In all those years as family we had never worshiped together. In the middle of my sermon, preaching from this pulpit I immediately recognized her. I almost started crying tears of joy because she had come home – loved by God and by you the people who welcomed her.
Our reading today ends as Jesus’ disciples try to keep children from bothering him. Mark writes that Jesus feels “indignant” about this. He says, “Let the children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.” Mark writes, “And [Jesus] took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.”
This week I keep thinking of my high school friend Maria and Jesus taking her into his arms and blessing her. I imagine Jesus holding Diane with that smile from Christmas on her face and blessing her. And in my mind’s eye I see all the people who have suffered the effects of difficult marriages and divorce and he is reaching out to embrace and bless us.
[1] Matt Boulton, “One Flesh: Salt’s Commentary for the Twentieth Week after Pentecost, SALT, 1 October 2024. https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/2018/10/3/one-flesh-salts-lectionary-commentary-for-twentieth-week-after-pentecost
[2] “The appellation “Pharisee” is probably derived from the Aramaic word perishayya which means “the separated one.” Very likely the addresses of Mark’s story would not know that. But from previous narrative they have already learned that the Pharisees maintain a pollution system that separates the world into two realms of the clean and the unclean.” Herman Waetjen, A Reordering of Power: A Socio-Political Reading of Mark’s Gospel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1989) 165.
[3] Canon Edie Weller writes about this in a sermon. She says, “Jesus was a realist. He knew that there are times when we can’t reach or maintain the kind of relationship that God might dream for us. There are times and circumstances which lead to broken relationships, from which – as hard as we might work at it – we cannot recover. Jesus speaks about this not because the death of a marriage is more sinful or worse in some way than other experiences of human brokenness. Rather he speaks about this because he cares about us. God’s grief in the face of our irreconcilable differences stems not from our having broken the rules or failed a divine test, but from God’s response to our experience of such pain.
Edie B. Weller, “Sermon for Sunday October 7, 2018 Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost, Year B (Proper 22), St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Seattle, Washington. https://saintmarks.org/staff/the-rev-edie-weller/
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Genesis 28:10-17
Revelation 12:7-12
John 1:47-51
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What does vulnerability have to do with greatness? How is a defenseless child a portrait of God? Our reading from Mark's Gospel this week cuts hard against the grain of our obsessions with performance, perfection, achievement, and superiority. In likening the divine to a child, Jesus invites us to relinquish the deep fears we harbor around our own self-worth and value. At a cultural and political moment rife with harmful notions of "greatness," God lovingly offers us another way forward — a way of precarity and smallness. The question is: will we have the courage to receive it? -
“For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, and to forfeit his life?” (Mk. 7).
Proverbs 1:20-33
Psalm 19
James 3:1-12
Mark 8:27-38
What does it mean to lose our life in order to save it?
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“Looking up to heaven [Jesus] and said… “Ephatha,” that is, “Be opened” (Mk. 7).
The Very Rev. Dr. Malcolm Clemens Young, Dean
Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, CA 2E58
16 Pentecost (Proper 18B) 11:00 a.m. Eucharist Sunday
8 September 2024, Congregation Sunday
Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23
Psalm 125
James 2:1-10, (11-13), 14-17
Mark 7:24-37
How can we open ourselves to God? When we go beyond the way others experience us, beyond who we think we are, we will encounter God. Today I am going to offer two pictures of this openness the first from Mark’s story of the Syrophoenician mother and the second from the ancient Book of Proverbs.
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Song of Solomon 2:8-13
James 1:17-27
Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23
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“Once there were three baby owls: Sarah and Percy and Bill. They lived in a hole in the trunk of a tree with their Owl Mother…” [1] These are the first lines in the children’s picture book Owl Babies. One night the three children wake up and find that their mother has gone.
The older two siblings have theories about where their mother went and wavering confidence that she will return. The youngest one Bill just repeats “I want my mommy.” It is a simple story about growing up, about the difficult task of learning to become separate from our parents. Sweet Alexandra loved owls, animals, babies and the experience of childhood itself. This was her favorite story and the basis for her nickname “Owlexandra” or just plain “Owl.”
It is hard to move gracefully from being a child to adulthood. It is hard to leave behind our childhood especially when we are very well adapted to it. It is hard to care for children in this time of transition. It is hard to be a child, or the friend of a child, who is becoming an adult.
Stories help to guide us as we make our way. Alexandra loved stories like Frozen, Wicked, and Hamilton. Her mother is American and her father is from England so they read quite a variety of stories including those of the British author Enid Blyton (1897-1968). In Five on a Treasure Island the first book in the Famous Five series, Julian, Dick and Anne are on their way to spend their first summer away from their parents, at the seashore home of their uncle and aunt, and their cousin Georgina and her dog Timmy.
“The car suddenly topped a hill – and there was the shining blue sea, calm and smooth in the evening sun…” At the house they meet their aunt for the first time (and they “liked the look of her”). She says, “Welcome to Kirrin [Bay]… Hallo, all of you! It’s lovely to see you… There were kisses all round, and then the children went into the house. They liked it. It felt old and rather mysterious somehow, and the furniture was old and very beautiful.” [2]
These books are filled with secret passageways, hidden treasure, stolen goods, old maps, smugglers, spies and suspicious strangers. But ultimately bravery, perseverance, kindness and loyalty are always rewarded. In the end everything is perfectly resolved and clear. You know where everyone stands. There is no gray area or ambiguity.
You might say that real life is not like this and you would be right. Each of us is a mixture of good and bad. But we need each other to remind us to feed what is good in us every day so that we grow in kindness.
I love the way Alexandra’s parents talk about her as a “gift from God” and uniquely filled with Christmas magic. In London her older sibling asked Father Christmas (or Santa Claus) for a little sister and ten months later she arrived. Alexandra was an angel in our Christmas pageant right here where I am standing. At the age of three she fell in love with the realistic looking babies in the FAO Schwartz store window. She loved children and animals. The Marin Primary motto is “treasuring childhood” and Alexandra did. She participated in theater, sports like cross country. She made art including a painting based on the work of Keith Haring.
One of the greatest treasures in this Cathedral is a triptych that Keith Haring (1958-1990) finished only weeks before his death from AIDS. It shows a mother holding her baby surrounded by joyful angels.
Alexandra knew that the most important question for a child is not what do you want to be when you grow up. It is who do you want to be; or better how do you want to be. Alexandra was empathetic, a thoughtful caregiver who valued kindness above everything else.
This way of being matches the values of this Cathedral where it is not about who is in or out, who is good or evil, who is saved or damned. The style of faith here is not about condemning other people or other religions. It is not overly preoccupied with the sin which is so evident in the world, the cruelty and unkindness that lead to tragedies like a young person’s death.
Instead we believe that God loves everyone without exception. We hold a faith that arises chiefly out of gratitude, out of an experience of nature’s beauty and the simple pleasure of being kind and helping the people who travel along with us. Jesus says, “Blessed are the pure in heart… Blessed are the peacemakers” and we try to be people who build bridges and look for the best in others. We sing “All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all.” And in the midst of terrible tragedy we remember what a gift our life is.
At the end of the service my friend Luis will sing a poem by the sixteenth century Anglican priest George Herbert. It ends with these words. They are a kind of invitation to God. “Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart: Such a Joy, as none can move: Such a Love, as none can part: Such a Heart, as joys in love.” Love and joy – these are the qualities exemplified by God. They are the possibilities that we realize in our own life.
Jesus does not say much about what happens after we die, about what the poet Mary Oliver calls “that cottage of darkness.” But he does say over and over that God is like a loving parent, an Owl Mother if you will, who always returns, who cares for us as every day of our life as we face the struggles of maturing.
And I imagine heaven as like the opening of an Enid Blyton book, the beginning of summer when suddenly we come across “the shining blue sea, calm and smooth in the evening sun,” and we are welcomed with “kisses all round” into an old house and a new adventure. And we will see again our lovely Owl as a kind of angel filled with kindness and the magic of Christmas.
[1] “Once there were three baby owls: Sarah and Percy and Bill. They lived in a hole in the trunk of a tree with their Owl Mother. The hole had twigs and leaves and owl feathers in it. It was their house.” Martin Waddell, Illustrated by Patrick Benson, Owl Babies (Cambridge, MA: Candlewick Press, 1992).
[2] Enid Blyton, Five on a Treasure Island Illustrated by Ellen A. Soper (NY: Hatchette Children’s Books, 1997 originally published in 1942), 7-9.
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“We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God” (Jn. 6).
1 Kings 8:(1,6,10-11),22-30,41-43
Psalm 84
Ephesians 6:10-20
John 6:56-69
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1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14
Ephesians 5:15-20
John 6:51-58
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In the crypt of the basilica in Assisi, there is a shirt made out of hair that once adorned the mortal body of St. Clare. Each time I visited that Umbrian mecca of a kind of sainthood that remains admirable and replicable today—the decision of St. Francis and St. Clare to choose worldly poverty in exchange for spiritual richness—I found myself dwelling on that hair shirt relic. Legend has it that Clare was beautiful and possessed some of the most luxurious golden locks of hair ever seen in the region. And yet because of how she experienced God’s presence in her contemporary St. Francis, who threw off the mantle of his family wealth and stood naked and reborn in front of the local bishop while pledging himself to rebuild God’s church, Clare decided to devote her life to the same Christ—and cut off those golden locks as a sign of her own rebirth in the living God. There were several children of wealthy Italians who lived in the 1200’s, many of whom most likely loved their families and cared for the local populace in admirable ways. But we gather here today in the city of St. Francis, commemorating the feast day of St. Clare, because these two children of 13th century wealthy Italians re-presented the heart of our Christian faith by following Jesus in a radical and life-giving way that transformed their city, their country, and the wider world around them. They let go of what the world believed was necessary for life and incarnated the power of the gospel in their own lives through utter reliance on God and love and service of neighbor. Every time I saw that hair shirt of Clare’s in Assisi, it made me conscious of two things. The first is just how scratchy and awful such a penitential practice must have been. I’m not sure wearing a hair shirt is a practice that would lead me to greater consciousness and trust in Jesus, but I do know that it would lead one to a state of constant discomfort. And the second is that even if a shirt made out of hair—with resonances and reminders of the hair that Clare let go—isn’t the way that may lead me to complete reliance on Jesus, my life’s call is about finding out what will, and about letting only the light and love of God clothe me and flow through me for the continued transformation of the world. We come into the world through God’s grace, “from [our] mother’s wombs, [and so] we shall go [forth] again, naked as [we] came” as the author of Ecclesiastes reminds us. And yet somewhere between the “forceps and the stone” each of us has the opportunity to choose how we will ultimately use the precious gift of our lives. Will we live into the imperial story—that sees worldly wealth as the final goal of human effort and toil, and trample whomever and whatever stands between us and its accumulation? Or will we see the accidental and earned gifts of our lives as tools to employ in the pursuit of the gospel—a gospel that constantly reminds us that our fundamental wealth, security, and influence are found in God and in restored relationships with one another? I stand before you in this magnificent worship space called Grace Cathedral because previous generations of the faithful chose the latter over the former. And yet, just like us gathered here today, the majority of our ancestors struggled mightily with the dual pull of the world and the gospel on their lives. There is something beautiful and enviable about the extreme choices Clare and Francis made—to renounce all worldly possessions and give themselves entirely to God. Perhaps that is the way that lies before some of us gathered here today. But regardless of whether we go all in on the gospel in the exact way they did, each of us are called to go all in on the gospel in our time and in our own way. Whatever method or practice leads us there, all of us must be gravitating toward the realization of a beloved and restored community—on the micro and macro levels. Regardless of our liturgical preferences and proclivities, all of us must be about authentic forms of worship that connect the interior life of our churches with the exterior needs and hopes of our neighborhoods. And no matter the contours of the time in which we live, the specific oppositions we may face individually or communally, nor the strength of the temptation to conflate imperial religion with the living gospel, all of us are called to embrace our unique membership in the larger Body of Christ and become channels of blessing and healing in this precious life we share. My deepest prayer today is that God will grant me the grace to live this calling out among you as your bishop, and that God will likewise grant us all the grace to empower and support one another as we pursue this joyful and difficult work together. As we discern God’s vision together in the months and years ahead, may the same Spirit that guided our forebears Francis and Clare be manifest among us, and may we grow in trust of the one God who clothes us in righteousness, anoints our head with oil, and equips us with the tools we need to see the vision realized on earth as it is in heaven. To the All in All, who brings us unburdened, bare, and free into this life and brings us home one day in the same way, be all honor, glory, power and dominion, now and forevermore. Amen.
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“[B]e kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you” (Ephesians 4).
Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, CA 2E46
12 Pentecost (Proper 14) 11:00 a.m. Eucharist
Sunday 11 August 20241 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 130
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6-35, 41-51
“Why is life sacred? Because we experience it within ourselves as something we have neither posited nor willed, as something that passes through us without ourselves as its cause – we can only be and do anything whatsoever because we are carried by it.”
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“Dark and cheerless is the morn unaccompanied by thee; joyless is the day’s return till thy mercy’s beams I see, till they inward light impart, glad my eyes and warm my heart.”
Why practice religion? Last week a New York Times journalist asked me a question I frequently hear from my neighbors. “Is religion dying out?” People raising this topic often cite statistics showing a decline in religious participation. Indeed more people went to church in the 1950’s and 1960’s than at any other time in our country’s history. We were a much less diverse country in those days and we were facing the aftermath of the most destructive war in all history. Perhaps there is an ebb and flow when it comes to expressing our spirituality.
I always answer by saying that human beings are spiritual beings and we always will be. We are not going to evolve or grow out of religion. We will never stop asking questions like “where did I come from? How should I dedicate my time and energy? What happens after we die?” We are symbolic creatures who depend on constructing meaning for our social lives and for our individual survival. Despair kills us. The twentieth century philosopher Martin Heidegger (1889-1976) calls humans “Dasein” or “being.” He means we are the being for whom being (that is, our very existence), is a problem.Social scientists tell us that religious people are less depressed and lonely (they have more social connections). They are healthier and live longer. They report being happier. Columbia researcher Lisa Miller points out that children who have a positive active relationship to spirituality are 40% less likely to use and abuse substances, 60% less like to be depressed as teenagers and 80% less likely to have dangerous or unprotected sex.
This is probably not the reason to become religious. Religion is not about believing the unbelievable. At heart religions share something in common: the idea that you are not the center. Religions evolved with human beings who long for a connection to God and cannot be satisfied by anything else. I think we could spend a year talking about this but let me share two immediate responses to the question “why practice a religion,” one primarily from the head and the other from the heart.
1. Why religion? Because, “Be it life or death, we crave only reality.” Henry David Thoreau(1817-1862) wrote this in his book Walden in a section about our deep desire to fathom the depths of “opinion and prejudice, and tradition and delusion” so that we might reach the rock solid bottom “which we can call reality.” True religion involves opening to reality, becoming aware of the extraordinary mystery both of the world and our inner life.
Ed Yong wrote one of my favorite new books. It is called An Immense World: How Animal Senses Reveal the Hidden Realms around us. He begins by asking the reader to imagine an elephant in a room, not a metaphorical “weighty issue” sort of elephant but an actual elephant in a room the size of a high school gymnasium. Now imagine a mouse surrying in with a robin hopping along beside it. An owl sits on a beam and a bat hangs from the ceiling. A rattlesnake slithers on the floor. A spider rests in its web with a mosquito and a bumblebee sitting on a potted sunflower… and a woman named Rebecca who loves animals.
They are all in the same room, but they have entirely different sensory experiences of the same space. Certain animals can see ultraviolet shades that are invisible to us. Mosquitos smell carbon dioxide. Snakes sense infrared radiation coming from warm objects. Ticks detect body heat from thirteen feet away. The robin feels the earth’s magnetic field. Tiny insects make extraordinary sounds that vibrate through plants. When a fish swims it leaves behind a hydrodynamic wake, a “trail of swirling water.” Did you know that harbor seals can detect this with their whiskers and follow a herring from up to about 200 yards away? No one knew this before the year 2001.There are whole new forms of sensing the world that human beings are only just discovering. We can barely imagine the experience that other creatures are having. I love the word that describes this. It is Umwelt, the German word for environment. But in this case it means the perceptual world of each creature. The ability of our eyes to see details for instance makes us almost entirely unique among all animals other than eagles and vultures. Our Umwelt is predominantly visual one.
My point is that we encounter truth through symbols which lie deep in our subconscious and areshared in our culture. You might call this way of seeing a kind of unavoidable mythological Umwelt. Our Umwelt determines what we think about loyalty, family, economic growth, impurity, justice, identity, childhood, politics, duty, fairness and nationality. This worldviewdirects us as we try to live a good life.
Why religion? Because we are unfinished creatures made more complete by God and each other. Religion is a way of studying, interpreting, shaping and ultimately embodying values. Participating in religion means more consciously opening ourselves to other people. This includes the diverse people in this room but also those who came before us in history who loved God and wrote hymns, prayers and theologies. Together we pray and listen to the promptings of God’s spirit.
During the terrible years of apartheid in South Africa it was dangerous for Desmond Tutu to preach. But this did not stop him. He said “You are love.” “You are the body of Christ that receives the sacraments in order to become more fully the mystical embodiment of love.” God loves us so that we can love another.
2. Why religion? Because of our longing for God and God’s longing for us. Religion is how we meet God. It is how we receive help from beyond ourselves. In her memoir the historian Elaine Pagels writes about the way her rationalist parents dismissed religion as something only for uneducated people, as unscientific. But this also led them in an extreme way to avoid thinking or talking about suffering and death.
Mark Twain joked, “I know that everyone dies, but I always thought an exception would be made in my case.” This was how they existed and it left them unprepared for life.
Pagels describes having difficulty getting pregnant and then participating in a kind of fertility ritual. Sitting in a candlelit circle a thought entered her mind, “Are you willing to be a channel?” She answered “Yes!” and soon became pregnant. Her son Mark was born with a hole in his heart that had to be repaired by surgery when he was one year old.
The night before the surgery she was startled by an experience that could have been a dream although she felt like she was awake. An inhuman male presence came near threatening to kill her son. She wanted to run but stood her ground. The threatening presence returned twice more. The last time she felt like she could not stand another moment. She spoke the name, “Jesus Christ” and the dangerous being fled and she was no longer afraid.
Four years later Mark was in Kindergarten when one evening she went into his room to sing him to sleep. Instead he hugged her with his arms around her neck and said, “I’ll love you all my life, and all my death.” The next day at the doctor’s office when they were drawing blood he stiffened and his eyes rolled up. She sensed that the life had left his body, that their connection was breaking. And she lost consciousness.
Suddenly Pagels seemed, “to be in a brilliant place, vividly green with golden light.” Her husband came in and she felt as if she could feel her son’s presence there near the ceiling of the room. The cardiologist came in to say, “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but your son’s heart stopped and it is beating again.” Pagels had the impression that the boy had heard his parents talking and gone back to his body only to discover it couldn’t sustain his life.
The boy died and Pagels writes, “Strangely, I also sensed that he’d felt a burst of joy and relief to leave his exhausted body. Before that moment, I’d taken for granted what I’d learned, that death was the end, any thought of surviving death only fantasy. Although that may be true, what I experienced that day challenged that assumption. I was astonished, seeming to sense that Mark was all right, wherever he was, and that he was somewhere.”
The tragedy deepened terribly a year later when the one person Pagels’ depended on most, her beloved husband fell to his death in a climbing accident. Her parents did not visit when her son was born, or when he had open-heart surgery or when he died or for her husband’s funeral. They stayed away from suffering. She called it a “pattern of oblivion.”
Elaine Pagels studied ancient gnostic literature written after the Bible was finished. She quotesthe Gospel of Thomas which says, “the kingdom of God is within you, and outside of you. When you come to know yourselves then… you will know that you are children of God.”
Pagels concludes writing, “the kingdom of God is not an actual place… or an event expected in human time. Instead, it’s a state of being that we may enter when we come to know who we are, and come to know God as the source of our being… The “good news” is not only about Jesus, it’s about every one of us. While we ordinarily identify ourselves by specifying how we differ, in terms of gender, race, ethnicity… recognizing that we are “children of God” requires us to see how we are the same – members… of the same family… [T]he “image of God,” the divine light given in creation, is hidden deep within each one of us, linking our fragile, limited selves to their divine source.”
Why religion? Because in the face of the great mystery of our life we long for reality. We reach beyond our Umwelt to learn from each other. Why religion? Because beyond even the “pattern of oblivion” God meets us here where we receive help from beyond ourselves.
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We gather today to celebrate with great joy the 50th anniversary of the ordination of women in The Episcopal Church. And precisely because of our joy, we keep in mind the long road that led to this occasion, the unnumbered women and men who were told they were separating themselves from the church by faithfully challenging it. On the Feast of Mary Magdalene, we look to her example. The commission of Mary Magdalene — a woman and collaborator in ministry united to the great High Priest — shows us that what for nearly 2000 years had been impossible for the church was in every way a possibility, a choice for Jesus.
Eucharist, St. Mary Magdalene: Judith 9:1,11-14 • Psalm 42:1-7• 2 Corinthians 5:14-18 • John 20:11-18
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21 July 2024
2 Sameul 7:1-14a
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
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2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19
Ephesians 1:3-14
Mark 6:14-29
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Mark called it a Gospel, what he wove from sayings and parables of Jesus, scenes from Jesus’ ministry, and a Passion narrative. He set the Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan as the beginning and ended it with the women fleeing an empty tomb in fear, and charged all his scenes energetically with feeling-rich questions in conversations among Jesus, the apostles and all the other characters. The questions Mark gives hisGospel characters invite us to notice a wonder at the range of questions in our own lives. How might our heartfelt questions from the most wonderful to the most terrible, open us to curiosity, grace and hope?
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