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As I was saying… now that the Bishop has visited and a profoundly beautiful confirmation liturgy has become a wonderful memory, we gather back here to continue listening to the story that the Gospel of Mark has been telling us.  Unless you’ve noticed this before, the disciples seem to continue to draw the short stick and put themselves in a position of completely missing the point that Jesus has been teaching.

Let me get you caught up.  We’ve gone from, to quote the title of a surprisingly good movie, we’ve gone from Dumb to Dumber when it comes to the disciples.  They seem to be completely clueless to what Jesus has been doing and teaching.  The Gospel being proclaimed by Jesus just seems too messy, too disorganized and certainly too inclusive for their tastes.  After all, they’ve heard of the God of the Hebrew scriptures with all the violence, war and gnashing of teeth.  What’s up with Jesus’ gospel?

But let me relieve any sense of confusion we might have.  The God of the Old Testament is the same God of the Gospel, it’s just that Jesus has revealed God in God’s fullness.  To see Jesus is to see God and quite frankly, the Law and the Prophets revealed Jesus but there seems to have been a lot of confusion when it came to seeing the Gospel through the Law and Prophets. God is there but only from a distance.  Now, in the fullness of time, God completely reveals God’s self in the person of Jesus. So if you want to know what God is like, look at Jesus.

What is it that you see?  Or better who is it that you see?  I love Rachel Held Evans help here.  She says that we need to be careful to not “overlook one of the most central themes of Scripture itself: God stoops. From walking with Adam and Eve through the garden of Eden, to traveling with the liberated Hebrew slaves in a pillar of cloud and fire, to slipping into flesh and eating, laughing, suffering, healing, weeping, and dying among us as part of humanity, the God of Scripture stoops and stoops and stoops and stoops. At the heart of the gospel message is the story of a God who stoops to the point of death on a cross. Dignified or not, believable or not, ours is a God perpetually on bended knee, doing everything it takes to convince stubborn and petulant children that they are seen and loved. It is no more beneath God to speak to us using poetry, proverb, letters, and legend than it is for a mother to read storybooks to her daughter at bedtime. This is who God is. This is what God does.” Evans, Rachel Held. Inspired (pp. 11-12). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.

Maybe this helps us give the disciples a pass with their consistently clueless enjoinders that reveal a truth about human nature.  We want to be important, be considered as an insider and enjoy all the benefits that come from that: fame, perhaps wealth, significance and influence. To date me a bit, when I read these encounters that the disciples had with Jesus, I can hear, very quietly in my mind, some lyrics in the musical “Jesus Christ Superstar.” The scene I am thinking about happens at the Last Supper when the apostles break out into a catchy tune, singing, I quote “Always hoped that I’d be an Apostle. Knew that I would make it if I tried; Then when we retire we can write the gospels; So they’ll all talk about us when we’ve died.”  Now don’t get me wrong; I am not suggesting that Jesus Christ Superstar is accurate here, or it’s even good theology but I think this specific scene is spot on.  I mean if fame and renown isn’t the point of the struggles, they faced by following Jesus, what is?

OK… maybe they weren’t seeking money.  That’s us.  Money can bring us so much and if we sign on to follow the messiah, wouldn’t that be part of the deal?  No?  Well, how about prestige, fame, kudos, praise, distinction, success, honor, renown? Have I stepped on any toes yet? I mean if we’re honest, we can see the appeal that made this whole apostle-gig so attractive.  And in an almost redundant way, enter James and John from stage left.

I kind of feel sorry for them.  I mean couldn’t Mark just say “a couple of apostles came to Jesus and asked a question?”  But he didn’t. He specifically points out that James and John, nicknamed Sons of Thunder because of their strong, and I suspect, loud and boisterous ways, approached Jesus with a rather embarrassing and self-serving question.  “Teacher we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  If you are a parent, you’ve probably heard something similar. It’s part of the same genre that is spoken when you here a loud, crashing sound coming from the other room…. You know the room that has all those China and crystal memorabilia inherited from a long forgotten relative. You hear the crash and then a small, sheepish voice say “It wasn’t me; I didn’t break it.”

What I find a bit surprising in this exchange is the audacity of the disciples and Jesus’ reaction. “What is it you want me to do?” Jesus asked.  Then without hesitation, the disciples say, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at our left, in your glory.” Every time I hear this story, I am surprised that Jesus doesn’t just shake his head and walk away.  Instead with great patience and curiosity he encourages them to come clean with their request.  And to top it off, the disciples don’t pause but quickly make their request.

If you think about it a bit, it’s easy to see what these two brothers not only are asking Jesus, but we can even see that they feel entitled to them; after all these two guys, along with Peter are part of the inner sanctum; they have a special role to play where they are on the inside, next to Jesus’ power and glory. They are unique among the disciples.  Surely this isn’t too big of a request.

For this to make sense to us, we shouldn’t just dismiss this scene immediately and say to ourselves, “there they go again.” Look at how Jesus responds.  Or better, look at how he doesn’t respond. He does not just dismiss the two as having asked yet another dumb question.  Or laugh at them. No.  Jesus starts off with curiosity and then addresses them with compassion, not condemnation.

I don’t know about you, but I am reminded when, in a moment of fatigue and short-temper, I replied to a student once who asked a completely irrelevant question to me in the middle of an important lecture I was giving.  I said to this student, “there is no such thing as a stupid question.  There are only stupid people.”  I know I shouldn’t have said that, but I did say I was fatigued, right?

Jesus does none of that. Even though the two brothers were asking out of ignorance, immaturity and selfishness, Jesus doesn’t chastise them.  Look at this exchange in comparison to how Jesus responds to the Pharisees. There are no serpents or vipers or whitewashed tombs here. It’s fascinating that Jesus goes after the religious people but shows nothing but patience and compassion to those who don’t get it but know that they don’t. Really there is not much difference between the two types of people other than those who think they have it all figured out, the religious people, seem to be further away than those who know they don’t have it figured out.  There’s a truth here that we shouldn’t miss: you don’t have to have the right answers or even ask the right questions.  Just be honest.  Be honest with God and God responds to that by taking our immaturity and speaking right into it. You see, James and John just want to be close to Jesus.  They aren’t asking for anything more than to maintain a closeness to Jesus that they have already experienced. So when it is all said and done, they are ultimately asking, can they still maintain their role as part of the inner circle?  It was friendship they were after. They had it and wanted it to continue.  The Pharisees on the other hand, were not interested in friendship or even truth for that matter.  They wanted Jesus to stop doing what he was doing. 

I am not saying that James and John had pure intentions. Indeed, implicit in their request is a sense of entitlement.  After all they had given up so much; didn’t that count for anything. I can also hear in their request almost a demand that because they had given up so much, they were due for a fat paycheck.  In other words, what’s in it for us?

Listen, again, to how Jesus responds: “what is it you want me to do for you?” Again, we have heard to story so many times, that response doesn’t hit us like it should.  Jesus doesn’t reprimand them and say something like, “whoa. Hold on. You shouldn’t be asking me what I can do for you, you should be asking what you should be doing for me.” After all, he’s the Rabbi, the teacher.  Where do these students get off questioning the teacher?  You know what I’d say: “there’s no such thing as a stupid question, only stupid people.”  Yet Jesus even teaches amid asking a question.  He says them “I am here to serve. How can I serve you?” Not what we expected. But thankfully, it is what we get.

Serving.  That’s how it all began.  Remember “Jesus is the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father.” This Jesus enters the messiness of God’s own creation, red-faced and crying, as an innocent baby. Every time we expect thunder laced displays of power, we get rides on a donkey, washing dung-caked feet and being nailed to a cross. Even on the other side of the resurrection we still get a God who invites his frightened, agnostic friends to a fish fry on an abandoned beach. This is no power-hungry God who has to remind us that God is God and we are not.  Instead as Paul told the church in Phillipi, Jesus

⁶ who, though he was in the form of God,
    did not regard equality with God
    as something to be exploited,
⁷ but emptied himself,
    taking the form of a slave,
    being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
⁸     he humbled himself
    and became obedient to the point of death—
    even death on a cross.

⁹ Therefore God also highly exalted him
    and gave him the name
    that is above every name,
¹⁰ so that at the name of Jesus
    every knee should bend,
    in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
¹¹ and every tongue should confess
    that Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father.

This is not the stuff of Marvel Comics and superheroes who never pour themselves out or surrender their lives for loved ones.  Jesus is different than that as he empties himself of all privilege and then calls us to do the same.

It’s rather ironic that the other disciples were angry with the question that James and John asked.  You see, they all, except for John will abandon Jesus at crunch time.  Things didn’t turn out the way they had hoped.  So, once again, Jesus teaches:

So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them.
But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

In other words, to follow Jesus is to let go of privilege and entitlement.  There seems to be no room for either when we are busy serving others.

Who could have guessed it: the world is changing but not through the usual ways of power and conquest. It is changing, one person at a time through serving others, especially those who feel they don’t deserve it. That’s the way God has set it up to work. We have an important role to serve, and God has empowered us to make a difference.  As Archbishop Desmond Tutu, preaching at All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena, California, in 1999 said: “God, without us, will not; as we, without God, cannot.” Crossan, John Dominic. How to Read the Bible and Still Be a Christian (pp. 165-166). HarperOne. Kindle Edition

Good morning! If you have been with us the last couple of weeks, you know we are journeying through the Gospel of Mark at the very time Jesus is openly proclaiming what is about to happen to him as he heads toward Jerusalem

In today’s Gospel, another drama unfolds. This time Jesus addresses a couple of things, as well as having another brief encounter with a child. This time he tells us that we can only enter the Kingdom like a child; not earning it nor deserving it.

It was just too good to be true and many have spent about two thousand years trying to add a bunch of condemnation on top of the beautiful grace God offers.  Not only do the disciples struggle with the scandal of God’s love, the uncomfortable nature of God’s inclusive Kingdom but if we’re honest, we do too.  Or maybe it’s just me, but I want to keeping things orderly, everything in place, nothing too messy and unabashedly hope the Kingdom is made up with people that I might want to hang-out with on a Saturday night.

But Jesus has a different agenda and the call to discipleship, essentially makes demands on us to let go of what we’re comfortable with in order to embrace and be embraced by God’s plan to throw a party where no one is left out. But it’s a bit more problematic than just hearing that God refuses to be domesticated, but as always, people have trouble with Jesus because they thought they had this God-thing all figured out. It is a fact of discipleship that when we shape our life around Gospel principles, we too will be seen by some like we are going the wrong way around the buffet table at the Golden Corral. Living an outrageously loving Gospel life will rarely bring accolades.  Chances are we will be noticed, rejected, criticized and cast aside as irrelevant if we do. That’s sometimes a surprise but here’s the rub: a life well lived, one that makes a difference, is a life where we follow where Jesus led: to love and accept others and to celebrate that the realm of God is not restricted to those who serve on Church committees and are nominated for “religious person of the year” awards.  The Kingdom truly is a hodge-podge of unlikely people… you know, people just like you and me.

But let’s pause here for a moment. This is truly good news and one that in the challenging times we live, is often muted by louder voices.  There seems to be no shortage of preachers and writers and internet-posting people who proclaim a kingdom of judgement and condemnation and hate.  Evidently there must be good money to made by looking past Jesus’ teaching and ministry and substituting a more palatable theology and lifestyle, because there sure are a lot of people out there who eagerly reject God’s all-encompassing love for something that seems to be neater, never out of order, imminently more controllable notion of a judgmental, wrathful God. I am not sure what the motivation is behind such proclamation, but it’s been around for a very long time, and I am not sure it’s going anywhere.  But don’t let that be an excuse for not embracing and being embraced by the truth of God’s amazing grace. It’s called Gospel and it means Good News. And as a quick review, what does that even mean?

Rachel Held Evans reminds us that for “Matthew and Mark, the good news is that Jesus is the long-awaited Messiah sent to establish God’s reign on earth, not through conquest, power, and revenge, but through faithfulness, sacrifice, and unconditional love. The kingdom of heaven is not some far-off, future dream; it is here, among us, made real by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Jesus is what it looks like when God is king, when God’s will is done “on earth as it is in heaven.” To the Galilean children who annoyed the disciples by asking Jesus for a blessing, the good news is that Jesus is the kind of king who laughs at their jokes and tousles their hair.” (Evans, Rachel Held. Inspired (p. 149). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.) 

She gets it. This Kingdom is not some far-off dream but is present now, among us. It is here, right now, among us.  And while it sounds like it is being muted by those louder voices, it’s not. God’s Kingdom is both at hand and yet to come. The cool thing is that we get to be participants in helping that Kingdom breakthrough into our world by the way we love, accept and include all those with whom we come into contact, and …. wait for it… especially those who have been told their lives have no value.  

And this all comes to us, who have been waiting for some Good News in the age of Covid and the struggles of living in a time of great change, as more than just a breath of fresh air. Have you ever wondered why it seems like so much of life is lived swimming upstream? The current seems to be too strong to swim against yet maybe we have been straining too hard.  Maybe if we just let go and love others as we’ve been loved, all the hard work would cease.

I admit, that for some, this just doesn’t compute.  But that’s why we keep coming here, to listen to the stories, not just of the Gospel, but other stories that we share with one another.  Stories of lives changed, tragedies faced, losses experienced and God using others to support, love and embrace us, not just in ways that we are the same, but most especially in ways we are different.

Again to quote Rachel Held Evans the “good news is as epic as it gets, with universal theological implications, and yet the Bible tells it from the perspective of fishermen and farmers, pregnant ladies and squirmy kids. This story about the nature of God and God’s relationship to humanity smells like mud and manger hay and tastes like salt and wine. It is concerned, not simply with questions of eternity, but with paying taxes and filling bellies and addressing a woman’s chronic menstrual complications. It is the biggest story and the smallest story all at once—the great quest for the One Ring and the quiet friendship of Frodo and Sam.” (Evans, Rachel Held. Inspired (p. 150). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.) This is why I can say with both theological convictions and real-lived experiences, that there is not greater way to live one’s life that to be part of this Jesus movement, where our loving God is “always more ready to hear than we to pray, and to give more than we either desire or deserve: who pour[s] upon us the abundance of [God’s] mercy, forgiving us those things of which our conscience is afraid, and giving us those good things for which we are not worthy to ask, except through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ our Savior. Good news? There is none better.

Of course, there is more to the Gospel this morning, isn’t there!  If I just ended here, then the elephant in the room would probably step on someone and that could hurt.  And so, I won’t. But as in all things scripturally related, it’s important to have context, lest we take a small story and develop an entire theology around it.  To do so is both intellectually dishonest and theologically disastrous.  Oh, it’s not that that doesn’t happen and many of you in here may be able to attest to having been beaten up by an ill-preached sermon that perhaps sought to maintain order and peace but replaced the Gospel of love, acceptance and inclusion with one of judgement and condemnation and hate.  Mark 10 is a typical place where this might happen.

Let’s travel back to the story. The religious people listening to Jesus and watching how their theology and way of life were being threatened by this itinerant preacher, had decided to try eliminating the threat that he posed. We don’t have a record of the meeting that obviously had been called to lay out plans to either quiet Jesus by trying to highlight inconsistencies in his teaching or trip him up by forcing him to contradict the law and the prophets.  The scene this morning opens with Mark’s commentary that the Pharisees showed up one day to, “test him.”  That’s important.  They weren’t seeking the truth from Jesus, they wanted him to simply go away. I think that is pretty much one of the two reactions that Jesus still gets, in our day.  We either want him to go away, or we want him to go deeper.  He took one look at the Pharisees and chose to do just that, go deeper. And I for one, am thankful he did.

During the first century, when this whole story unfolded, the notion of divorce was not new. In fact, as Jesus reminded the Pharisees, the whole idea of divorce had originated with the law of Moses. But like so many things, the practice had run away from the intent and spirit of the law.

We probably wouldn’t even have this story recorded for us if the Pharisees had a true interest in what Jesus was teaching and living.  It seems like the favorite topic Jesus taught was about God’s realm, the Kingdom that he was ushering in.  They wanted to trip him up, so they weren’t listening. Held Evans beautifully explains that “the kingdom Jesus taught, is right here present yet hidden, immanent yet transcendent. It is at hand—among us and beyond us, now and not-yet. The kingdom of heaven, he said, belongs to the poor, the meek, the peacemakers, the merciful, and those who hunger and thirst for God. It advances not through power and might, but through missions of mercy, kindness, and humility. In this kingdom, many who are last will be first and many who are first will be last. The rich don’t usually get it, Jesus said, but children always do. This is a kingdom whose savior arrives not on a warhorse, but a donkey, not through triumph and conquest, but through death and resurrection. This kingdom is the only kingdom that will last. There is nothing Jesus talked about more than the kingdom. It is by far his favorite topic. “Jesus went through all the towns and villages,” Matthew reported, “teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness” (9:35). And yet you’d never know it from the way many modern Christians talk about the gospel. “Jesus came to die,” they often say, referring to a view of Christianity that reduces the gospel to a transaction, whereby God needed a spotless sacrifice to atone for the world’s sins and thus sacrificed Jesus on the cross so believers could go to heaven. In this view, Jesus basically shows up to post our bail. His life and teachings make for an interesting backstory but prove largely irrelevant to the work of salvation. Dallas Willard called it “the gospel of sin management.” Evans, Rachel Held. Inspired (series_title) (pp. 153-154). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.

But they wanted to trip him up, so they don’t ask questions about the Kingdom, only sin management.  And not surprisingly, they even mess that up.

To divorce a person in Jesus’ day, it’d help if you were a man, because a woman had virtually no chance to divorce her husband.  He could be abusive, an adulterer, a terrible person, father and/or husband and she couldn’t do a thing about it.  Divorce was out of reach.  But as far as a man, if he came home and was upset because his meal was cold and had to be microwaved, then he had grounds for divorce.  On top of that, in those days, a woman did not have her own identity and was seen merely as an economic possession of her husband.  This got crazy when it came to several things, but the Pharisees knew that if Jesus showed compassion by allowing divorce, then they had him right in the crosshairs and could show that he was a lawbreaker or a simple libertine, telling people it’s ok to live without moral restraint.  They had him.

Or so it seemed.  What Jesus does here is a game changer. Despite the cultural constraints placed on women, Jesus is saying they are valuable. Indeed in this beautiful scene women are made to be equal in value to men and both are invited to share in the realm of God that is breaking through amid the pain and suffering life often brings.

When we look at scenes like this one this morning, it is too easy to make assumptions that might lead us to believe that we have been excluded, put on the outside looking in.  That is not true. God’s love is always the context that we place our lives; even if life leaves us bruised. If we don’t go deeper than scratching the surface, the entire Gospel changes.  Unfortunately, that happens too often and the very people in need of drinking deeply from the chalice of God’s grace and love are left to sit outside on the curb.  So if that is you this morning, let me encourage to let go of those things in life that made you wonder if God loves you. He’s already proved that by setting us free by giving up his life for us; we didn’t deserve it but Jesus did it out of love.  In Jesus name.

And there have been some here who have experienced divorce. It’s too clever by half to make the gospel into a law, excluding those who don’t measure up. Too often people twist the truth of God’s love to hurt those who have gone through the pain of divorce. There are even some places that exclude those who have experienced divorce from receiving the sacrament. They very people who need to experience the grace found in Communion are left out. This is wrong.

Sometimes life is very messy and sometimes mistakes are made. God never abandons us. God’s love is always there. So if you have experienced divorce there is good news for you today. God has not rejected you. You are loved.

Last week we listened and watched the disciples interrupt Jesus important teaching on what he was about to face, crucifixion and death, with an adolescent argument that was nothing more than a quarrel about who was the teacher’s pet.  I said last week that I don’t think of any of us would have thought twice if Jesus would have just replaced all of them with a new set of disciples.  If they couldn’t get this elementary, basic understanding of Jesus ministry and destiny, how could they be trusted with the authority he was about to hand to them. If instead of listening and asking questions about what they didn’t understand yet, they broke out into a fight over who the most important disciple was.  We have heard the story so many times, it is easy to lose the shock of it all.  I’ve thought about this this week and think it may be similar to how we would feel if we were to show up to a seminary symposium expecting a deep discussion on how to interpret Jesus death on the cross in the 21^st century, only to witness a handful of ‘soon-to-be’ ordained leaders arguing about who was the fastest runner.  It made no sense then, nor does it now.  I mean some of them got a book in the Bible named after them, but none of them seem to understand the depth of the ministry they were witnessing unfold before them.

And now, almost on cue, comes this week’s Gospel. Once again, we hear something powerful that is going on, only to be interrupted by the disciples’ jealous rage.  Evidently someone is going around and casting out demons from folks, but since they don’t know who they are, what credentials they have, they are beside themselves that evidently someone is stealing their thunder.  After all, they are the ones who should be getting all the accolades.  They had all the appropriate credentials; they walked daily with Jesus, he had personally called them into a position of leadership, and someone had the audacity to circumvent the whole process.  I mean this exorcist was helping people, after all it’s more than just inconvenient to be possessed by a demon. Those who were possessed were barely hanging on.  There entire lives were in turmoil. Can you imagine? They couldn’t go to the places they used to go, because no telling what might happen.  Families were probably in disarray, old friendships destroyed and quite frankly, how can you even earn money enough to survive when a demon keeps speaking out from your own voice, and I suppose saying things that were awkward at best and completely inappropriate at worse.

And so, someone, we can only guess who it was, stepped up to help these unfortunate demon-possessed people. Mark’s gospel tells us that it was more than just one person, and we also hear that whoever it was, was truly helping.  Then, amid all of this drama, like the gang who couldn’t shoot straight, comes the disciples. We don’t know who said this, but whoever it was, I give them style points for completely missing the point.  I mean who cares who it is that is helping these poor unfortunate demon-possessed people, at least someone is doing the heavy lifting. But that doesn’t matter to the disciples.  What matters is that there is evidently a process.  There is the right way to do things and this guy isn’t even on the same team with the disciples.

Maybe you know this, but part of the issue here is that the disciples were not the crème de la crème, as far as disciples go.  You see even though these guys were all probably teenagers, they were not what we could call, the most sought-after group of disciples.  In the first century, the whole concept of having disciples was not something Jesus invented.  You may recall that John the Baptist had disciples, as did nearly every Rabbi that was an itinerant preacher like Jesus.  Disciples were chosen at a very young age and simply began following the Rabbi, learning alongside them.  Since Jesus’ disciples were already teenagers when they were called, we can accurately assume that they were not at the head of the class.  If they had been, they would not have been available. Indeed, we know the occupation of many of the disciples before they started following Jesus.  Andrew, Peter, James and John had been fisherman, while Matthew had been a tax collector, which shows he alone was certainly not qualified.  If they had been seen as having promise, by the time Jesus began his public ministry at 30 years of age, these guys would have been snatched up by another Rabbi. But they weren’t. They were fishing, collecting taxes and whatever else- so just look at these guys as not the elite but just regular, run of the mill young people without much a future.  Just sit with that for a second.  Maybe that helps explain why they keep messing up; to put into terms we might understand… they weren’t head to Princeton and Yale or Harvard or Stanford or the University of Kansas.  These guys either got their GEDs or dropped out of high school.  I don’t know if that surprises you but I know it helps me.  You see, too often we think God is seeking only the best and the brightest but that’s not who he chose for his disciples.  He chose regular guys.  And hang in there with me because we will eventually find that they never get it, all the way up to the crucifixion.  When they finally do understand, it will because God sent the Holy Spirit to guide them into all truth. And the same is true for us.  It is the Holy Spirit that reveals all things to us.  That is good news because it’s not about us.

Yet I understand the disciple’s angst. Here comes this interloper, completely removed from the mainstream of this Jesus movement, doing things that are helping people, granted, but without the normal guard rails in place that would keep him from wandering off the ranch and God only knows what would happen then. What if he messed up the liturgy; forgot the order things are supposed to go, said the wrong things and even, has bad theology! That is like a life-time Southern Baptist trying to preside at an Episcopal Eucharist. What are we to do?

So they go to the main man, Jesus, to report what they have heard. I am sure they suspected Jesus would put a kibosh on the whole thing… reign this guy in. But that isn’t what happens, is it.

Did you notice Jesus reply? “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us.”

To understand this, we need some context. It is at this point in the Gospel of Mark that Jesus is speaking openly of his arrest, trial and death. Perhaps you know this, but not only is Jesus openly teaching about his destiny, but physically he is making his way south to Jerusalem, where all the Holy Week stuff will take place. In other words, time is running out.

So, we’ve gone from the disciples arguing about who is the greatest to now, outrage that someone is doing their job, without proper credentials. Jesus is quite clear in his own mind, that he doesn’t have much time left to get these disciples, future leaders of this Jesus movement, up to speed. And so, he does the unexpected.

Instead of calling time out and taking everyone to a retreat at Camp Allen where he can explain this to them, one more time, he steps on the accelerator. You can almost feel Jesus’ impatience and frustration with the disciples. They are NOT grasping what he has been teaching. Time is short and what he is doing is incredibly important. He is teaching and living into Kingdom values where everyone is love, everyone is accepted, not just those who have cross all their Ts and dotted all their I-s. Jesus was ushering in a Kingdom of love, acceptance and inclusion and the disciples were expecting this movement to not be so messy; things just go better when they can be controlled. It appears that the disciples were completely off track, hoping that once the Kingdom comes in its fullness then they would be like a bouncer at a Texas Honky Tonk; deciding who’s in and who’s out. After all what would it look like if people who lived differently that us would be let in? What if they believed differently or worshiped in a way that no self-respecting person would?

It reminds me of a story that’s probably apocryphal but kind of sums this whole thing up into something that at least I can understand. It seems there was a man who accidentally wandered into his local Episcopal Church for a Sunday Eucharist. He got into his pew without reverencing, sung off key and kept dropping his Prayer Book and Hymnal. But what made it worse happened during the sermon. Every time the good Father looked up from his manuscript as he preached, this intrepid visitor was shaking his head in affirmation. Then he started murmuring and finally began shouting out to the priest: “That’s right. Preach it!” And then finally when the preacher paused he shouted: “Praise God. Preach!” The ushers, by this time very uncomfortable finally walked quietly toward the man who clearly didn’t understand how we did things and whispered in his ear: “Sir, we don’t Praise God in the Episcopal Church.

Whoops. Don’t get lost here because I believe Jesus is telling his followers something incredible: “don’t forget what is important.” He tells them: if they are not against us, then they are for us.”

Some might feel that the Gospel this morning is about condemnation, but it’s not. I mean there is a lot here about cutting hands and feet off, putting out eyes and an unquenchable fire. But what if Jesus isn’t condemning anyone but simply telling us what reality is. You see, left to our own devices we exclude and we judge. You see, left to our own devices we seem to say to God: “hey, you’re pretty busy, we’ll take it from here.”

Clearly Jesus didn’t and will not stand for that. He doesn’t need us to stand at the door and keep folks who don’t look like us, talk like us, or dare I say believe like us from entering. That’s not the Kingdom of God. Instead the Kingdom looks like Jesus: much more open, inclusive and hospitable that we’re comfortable with. Even through the disciples were so different from us, they reveal the reality of how we tend to operate, if we are left to our own.

But Jesus, if we’ll listen, keeps calling us back to the essence of the Gospel, the Kingdom or Realm of God that refuse to be tapped down but instead keeps breaking through. And in the Realm of God, the Kingdom, we find God at work through us, and around us and in us. You see it when you see mercy, kindness, justice, love, liberation, peacemaking, healing and all those Gospel values breaking into our world, into our lives and hearts, God is at work.

Let me draw your attention back to our opening prayer, the collect, that began our worship this morning: “O God, you declare your almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity: Grant us the fullness of your grace, that we, running to obtain your promises, may become partakers of your heavenly treasure;” God shows us God’s mercy and pity and turns the tables on us and asks us to do the same.

But if we’re honest, this is a challenge for us. Look at how the Israelites in our Old Testament reading this morning, grumble and weep because they are upset that God replaced their salad bar with manna. And in the Gospel, the disciples grumbled and wept that Jesus was acting like not self-respecting God ought to act. Acknowledging our struggle is a good beginning but also remember this:

We don’t need credentials and we don’t have to stand at the door of a Texas Honky-Tonk making decisions about who is in and who is out. Instead, we are called to welcome the stranger and the stranger they are, the more welcoming we become. We have experienced God’s love, goodness and mercy, not because we belong to the group of the most likely to succeed but because that is just what Jesus does. Maybe we already get this, but if not, now is the time to understand what it is that God calls us todo. We are called to share with all, those like us and those unlike us, goodness, mercy and justices. As it turns out, we should not try to hold on to it because if we do, it will dry up. But if we keep sharing it with all, love, goodness, and mercy will overflow into the places that are parched with hate, condemnation and exclusion.

So we share wha we have. And that justice and love will flow down like a river, and we will cry out with joy and gratitude. It’s not what we thought. But one day all humanity will be filled with God’s goodness and love; so, while we await that day, let us be about making our circle wider and widers. In Jesus name.

Good morning! Perhaps you can guess at this, but there is a certain amount of pressure when a new to a local parish priest steps up into the pulpit for the first time, clears her or his voice, and starts. There are no mulligans, no start overs, no mea culpas. It does help to prepare, of course but as they say, “one only gets one opportunity for a first impression.” So when I prayed about this, I kept hearing God say “just be yourself.” Considering the fact that being myself is perhaps my greatest gift, it sounded like good advice.

I am not going to bore you with a long, probably embellished autobiography, but I did want to point out something about my past. Thirty years and 2 ½ months ago, in a parish far, far away, I began my life as an ordained deacon and six months later, I was ordained a priest in that place. In either a weird coincidence, or what I like to call a God-incidence, that parish in Kenilworth Illinois was called, wait for it, the “Church of the Holy Comforter.” And now, three decades later, I do what I did then, trust in God, be myself and begin my ministry in a place called the “Church of the Holy Comforter.”

Holy Comforter to Holy Comforter. My life and ministry have been more than the two Holy Comforters, but I appreciate the symmetry. I come to you, God’s people in this place as your interim rector. That sounds rather ominous but it’s not. I have been called to walk with you, encourage you, challenge you, and help you prepare for the next chapter of the life of this place. I do so as a priest who has served only four parishes in those thirty years but has seen God do much over the years and through the miles stretching from Illinois to Kansas to Texas back to Kansas and now back to Texas. I want to thank your tremendous Vestry, staff and the Diocese of Texas for mutually discerning that our life together should begin and today our journey starts. We have much to do together but let me calm any anxiety that might exist. I am thrilled to begin our mutual ministry and know that God will do great things in our midst. Our jobs are to listen and, with grateful hearts, minister together to young and old, poor and rich, the friendless and the friendly, the lost and the found, the ill and the healthy, the big and the small, all sorts and conditions of people.

But today is not just about my life and ministry. It is about yours as well. I am aware that for some of you, you have seen much. The calling of a young rector ten years ago. The dreaming of a new church building and the heroic efforts to raise money to build it. There are stories told and untold; and then there was (and still is) the threats, fears and challenges of COVID. Even the word “zoom” appeared out of nowhere. And then Fr. Jimmy was called to another place and yet, here you are. Then, on top of all of that, here comes a priest from Katy TX, most recently transplanted back to the place where he grew up, Kansas. But now here I am standing before you. You see, you have been through much. I know it is almost a cliche to say that the only thing that is constant in life is change. But change brings its own challenges, and I am acutely aware that change is fine but like many I am tempted to say, “change is great. You go first.”

Did you listen to the collect we prayed to start the liturgy this morning? Let me repeat it in case you’ve forgotten: “Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure;” That helps me. We are asking God to help us to not be anxious because we are placed among things that are passing away. And how do we do that? We hold fast to those things that shall endure. That is the key. Things do change but not everything does. There are things eternal that never change. And through all the changes we hold fast to this truth: the church will never pass away. It is eternal. It is strong. It is unwavering.

The prophet Jeremiah (no relation to me by the way) wrote his entire book of Jeremiah during exile, both the period leading up to it and immediately afterward. It appeared during an important time pivotal in Israel’s history. Talk about change and the uneasiness of this time to the people to whom he wrote: there was an invasion of the Babylonians), the ransacking of the temple, the destruction of the city of Jerusalem, and the exile of many of its (elite) inhabitants, that left the people not only worried for their own survival, but also questioning their relationship with God—God’s providence and the status of God’s covenant with them. These times made COVID seem like a walk in the park. So what did Jeremiah write that would cause people to remember that there are some things that do not pass away; that despite all the evidence to the contrary, there was hope?

Much of Jeremiah is written in the form of a lament. On the surface we might think, of course they were lamenting. Look at all that was changing, all that was threatened, including their way of life, their way of worship. Lament seems to be their only possible response. Often, we see lament as a simple complaint… sort of a “why me God?” But it is much more than that and much more hopeful.

For Jeremiah, his lament focuses not just on the troubling changes he and Israel faced but most importantly on the promises of the covenant Israel had with God. It was that promise that kept hope alive. He knew God would not abandon him, nor Israel.

There is much to learn from him. For me, I love Jeremiah’s honesty. Because I learned a long time ago that nothing that is denied can be healed. But unless we skip over him, and many do since a cursory reading seems be too depressing, we can overlook the fact that God laments as well. God is not immune, nor removed from our struggles, our sense of loss.

From time to time I need to be reminded of this because I live among things that are passing away and anxiety just seems to be an automatic response. But God is present and God’s love never leaves us.

Oh, and by the way, you needed to be reminded of this as well because you too have a story; you as individuals and you as part of this church. In fact, if I were a betting man, I would bet that my presence in and of itself this morning, caused a bit of anxiety. It’s good to be honest about that but don’t lose focus that God is in charge at Holy Comforter, not me, not you, not the vestry, not the staff, and not even the Bishop! God is the head of the church and God will never abandon this place! But Jeremiah reminds us, it’s ok to be honest with your feelings (indeed it is crucial that we’re honest). It is through our honesty that we find hope. Because God cannot respond to false version of ourselves, our hearts, because our false selves don’t exist.

And that is the essence of the good news. Have you ever noticed that Jesus did not just offer people affirming words of hope, but he actually changed them! This is because he saw through the mirage we create of ourselves into our true hearts. And then, he changed them. And when we come to him, as the old hymn boldly proclaims: “Just as I am” then he moves and we leave such an encounter with hope and love and a future. Despite the fact that we live among things that are passing away. This is why Thomas Merton could say “Make ready for the Christ, whose smile like lightning, sets free the song of everlasting glory and that now sleeps- in our paper flesh.”

William Stafford helps me here. In his poem “The Way It Is” he wrote:

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
Things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold I you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

I read a reflection on Stafford’s poem that the Franciscan Priest Richard Rohr wrote. Rohr reminds us that in his poem, Stafford “did not tell [us] to not let go of the thread, but rather that ‘you don’t ever let go of the thread.’ And the reason is simple, we cannot because that thread has us. It has me, it has you, it has this place. Perhaps Stafford meant that the thread is God’s love. And love overcomes all and lasts for all eternity. Fear and anxiety and worry and doubt and all of those things that tend to fill our heart when we notice that we are living among things that are passing away get smaller and smaller and are finally replaced with hope, joy and a confidence in our amazing God.

But we need reminding. I don’t know about you, but I give God thanks that the disciples were clueless. Today’s Gospel is a classic example of how they just didn’t get it. By the way, this is one of the many reasons I believe that no one jumped in and changed the Gospel stories because if there was an editor at work, surely he or she would have edited out these moments when Jesus taught and the disciples either said the wrong thing or walked away with a confused and befuddled look. Jesus was teaching his disciples some hard but basic salvation history and Mark tells us that afterward they “did not understand what he was saying and (on top of this) were afraid to ask him (what in the world he was talking about).

Then the scene changes. We don’t have the complete dialogue recorded for us but evidently there was an argument. Don’t you love that? These guys were the hand-picked leaders of this emerging movement that would one day become the church and they were fighting among themselves. That’s bad enough but what were they fighting about? Even Jesus seemed to be surprised because he asked them what all the commotion was about. I’ll let Mark tell you again:

“But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another (about) who was the greatest.” You can’t make this stuff up. If I had been one of the disciples, I think I would have said, “he guys, when we publish this book about all these things with Jesus, could we just leave this part out?” But thankfully they didn’t and we find we have ourselves some colleagues who, like us, don’t always get it right.

Then Jesus did what he always seems to do. Before we get there, I want you to notice what he didn’t do. He didn’t sit them down and say to them “you guys don’t get, you’ll never get it and what I am doing is to continue on with all of you knuckleheads. You’re fired. No. He also didn’t berate them for their lack of faith, or confidence in him or anything even close to that. Instead, he sat down and beckoned to them to come sit close and listen to him. He then took this disastrous moment and transformed it into an opportunity to teach something so deep that now, some two thousand odd years later, we still often don’t get it.

The disciples were suffering from having learned lessons that the world teaches about power, authority, who’s on the top, who’s on the bottom, and how to respond to living in the middle of the anxiety that seems to quickly come to all of us living among things that are passing away. He took what they thought they knew and turned it all upside down (but in the Kingdom that is coming- right side up).

Our temptation is to take this story and see it through twenty-first century eyes. You see for us, when Jesus took child and used her as an object lesson to teach us we are to live our lives, we tend to think we are called to welcome the cute, the sweet little innocents of our world and by doing so, we welcome Jesus himself. But in the first century this isn’t how children were seen. Instead they were seen like adults, only without value, sophistication or “standing” of any kind. And Jesus set the whole mission of the church in front of him by saying in a sense “what the world rejects, you will not. What the world sees as worthless, you are to see as having great value.” So without belaboring the point let me ask, who are those people in our world? And what are we going to do to welcome them in our midst? I know that I probably shouldn’t go from preaching to meddling in my first sermon, but if we have anxiety, fear, worry who do you think we should seek to replace that with love, hope and peace? If you’re thinking Jesus, you’re tracking with me. And where do we find Jesus? In the very same place that Jesus told his disciples: among those the world suggests have no value, who are rejected.

As it turns out, I do not feel pressure this morning because, just as I suspected Jesus showed up. He called me here, indeed he called you here too, and our task, together, is to make God known to a world full of young and old, poor and rich, the friendless and the friendly, the lost and the found, the ill and the healthy, the big and the small, indeed, to all sorts and conditions of people. We will do this because we know that God is not hiding and wants us to be honest with all our feelings; and God wants to help all of us who are placed among things that are passing away that which shall prevail: God’s love.

In Jesus name.

When I took a sabbatical in 2017 for three months, I knew that I would end it with early retirement. I just couldn’t go on. My grief was overwhelming and I needed time to simply be…. be with my wife, my children, my grandchildren. I needed to grieve.

I did so. Over the next three years (actually about 3 1/2 years) I put my family as a priority; I put my grief as a priority. It was time well spent and I’ll always be grateful that I was able to do so. Now, as I look back, I know that what I did doesn’t happen often. Not many people get to prioritize like I did. We live in a dysfunctional world that is easily seen if one looks. Our society denies death, looks askance at those who openly grieve and finding a way through all of this is a challenge. But thanks to my wonderful family and Bishop C. Andrew Doyle I was able to do that.

My journey has been both difficult and incredible. My life and heart are healing. If the Church of the Holy Apostles in Katy would have allowed me to have a three year sabbatical I would now be able to return. Of course, I jest because they couldn’t have done that but there is some good news here.

The year of the pandemic (or the 18 months or so) is drawing to a close for those who have been vaccinated. I noticed the change when I began to receive invitations to “supply” at a couple of different parishes in the Diocese of West Missouri, where I am licensed to function as a priest. Not only that, but when I found myself behind the altar again, I realized it was time to reenter ministry in a local parish. This was both a surprising and delightful discovery.

I am currently in conversation with a couple of other dioceses about the possibility of stepping into a new phase of ministry, what is called “interim-ministry.” I can go into depth about this later but suffice it to say that interim ministry is incredibly important as a way that a parish goes through the transition from Rector (or vicar) to Rector. Years ago I thought this might be an incredible way to give back to the church and it now looks like that might happen. I am grateful to be at this point.

I have been through most of the training that the Interim Ministry Network made available to me a couple of years before I left full-time ministry. I am looking forward to the possibilities ahead. In the meantime, I rediscovered books that I had obtained to learn more about the sophistication of such ministry and look forward to diving in. If you read this, please put me on your prayer list as I engage in discussion with those in the dioceses who have reached out.

Blessings to you and until the next time, I remain,

Faithfully,

Darrel+

Richard Rohr states that there are three primary things that we have to let go of. First is the compulsion to be successful. Second is the compulsion to be right—even, and especially, to be theologically right…. Finally there is the compulsion to be powerful, to have everything under control. I’m convinced that these are the three demons Jesus faced in the wilderness. And so long as we haven’t looked these three demons in the face, we should presume that they’re still in charge. The demons have to be called by name, clearly, concretely, and practically, spelling out just how imperious and self-righteous we are.-

Rohr’s statement perfectly describes my struggles through the years. I was bitten by the bigger is better bug and worked hard to grow the numbers in the church. What if I would be known as the first Rector in the Episcopal Church that grew the very first Episcopal Mega Church. Don’t laugh. That is what motivated me. I made many decisions to support that possibility, even though I knew that it wasn’t likely to happen. There were too many things that worked against that possibility but that didn’t slow me down.

The Episcopal Church is a gift to humanity. Its historical and catholic context along with an apostolic connection is similar to the Roman Catholic and Orthodox Church but it differs from both in its progressive theology, largely speaking. Beyond theology, I still feel chills when I engage in the liturgy and sing the ancient (and theological dense) hymnody. The fact that it is small does not limit the significance it makes in the contemporary world. It was once referred to as the “Church of Presidents” and while it may no longer be able to claim such distinction, it arguably has a larger influence on culture than perhaps it should. It is not without its challenges but looking both backward and forward through them, the Church remains positioned to have an inordinate influence on both the larger church and society. With the demise of American evangelicalism the Episcopal Church will continue to offer a life giving and theologically progressive alternative, because of both its resilience and richness.

Despite this, I worked against the very things that make the Episcopal Church such a treasure. Without feeling called to do so, I worked to open up the Church to a larger population to which it usually appeals. I was not being malevolent but I had forgotten why I was attracted to it and suspected that it would grow if it looked more like the American evangelical church that seemed to be free of the growth restraints that I felt were holding the Episcopal Church back. I was wrong. My desire to see the growth was rooted in the very warnings that Richard Rohr made.

Christmas never lived up to its hype.  I was glued to the television, watching old movies, some animated some not, listening intently to the message being conveyed.  I loved those movies.  From “Christmas in Connecticut” to the most recent adaptation of Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol,” I watched carefully as the characters preached to me about what Christmas meant.  Or so I thought.  They did preach and they did tell me what Christmas was supposed to be, but as I looked around me, my world did not reflect the message. It rarely snowed, I never witnessed a “Christmas miracle” and frankly the presents under the tree usually left me feeling empty.  I suspect I could have joined the ranks of those who boldly proclaimed, “bah. Humbug!”

Thankfully, the idea of a kind of Victorian experience of Christmas has long left me.  I avoided having the disconnect continue to haunt me.  I simply began looking and listening a little closer.  There is much to be commended by the saccharin nature of expecting Christmas to meet ones needs for family, celebrations and parties, but in the long run, those type of experiences rarely satisfy.  Don’t get me wrong, I am a huge Bing Crosby fan; I love all those Home Alone movies and “A Christmas Story” still makes me chuckle.  But that’s not Christmas.

For years I have heard that Wal Mart and others have engaged on a “war on Christmas.” I am not completely sure but I think the war started when people replaced the greeting “Merry Christmas” with a generic greeting along the lines of “Happy Holidays.”  While I disagree that somehow the general greeting is part of a concerted effort to diminish the holidays, I mean Christmas, I do agree that our society has no clue what it is that Christmas celebrates.

The real war on Christmas centers around our attempts to be “all-in” on snow, and trees, and elves and a jolly old fellow, along with families gathering around the fireplace and singing Elvis Presley songs about being home for Christmas.  Sometime ago I watched a documentary on refugees from the Sudan.  In one scene, several of the young men were in a mall during Christmas.  As they watched Santa greeting all the children, one of them remarked in a rather exasperated tone, “well, I have never….”  Indeed.  The scene turned to the village from where they came, celebrating Christmas with dance and worship.  Take a bystander out of that mall where Santa was revered, place them among those dancing and worshipping in the Sudan, and I know we would hear that person say “well, I have never…”

Christmas is the feast of the Incarnation.  Christmas is the celebration that God condescended to become human.  Not only that, but God came as Emmanuel (God with us) through God’s birth as an infant, born to two refugee immigrants.  Unable to find room in the Inn, the child was born alongside animals in a cave; finding no bed to lay him in, his mother placed him in a manger that was used to feed the animals.  This is a ridiculous, amazing, unexpected and ultimately a cataclysmic story. It is the tale of God changing everything.  The very essence of what it means to be human was changed with God became human.  This has nothing to do with religion, snow, chestnuts roasting on an open fire and gifts exchanged under a tree.  

We are told that Christmas is best celebrated among family and friends.  The best Christmases, the story goes, is when we give the best presents to all those we love and eat and drink all of our favorite foods and beverages.  That sounds good but it misses the point completely.  Christmas is about God’s love and desire to show us that through the gift of God’s self.  This isn’t selling out to the “bah humbugs” that many might say during this year of Covid and quarantine but it is recognizing that the Victorian celebration for which so many seem to yearn is a poor, lonely, and empty substitute.

So I leave you with this: may the reality of God’s love, shown on that first Christmas and daily, even in the Age of Covid, fill you with all hope.  Merry Christmas.

Looking from the outside in, one might suspect that being an Episcopal Priest is a pretty good gig. Almost thirty years ago I thought that my life as an ordained minister would be all about presiding at the Eucharist, baptizing a bunch of babies, doing a handful of marriages and funerals and being invited to the Country Club by those in the parish who had the means to celebrate many occasions at the 19th hole restaurant, or whatever it would be called.

As I look back at those years, there was very little that happened that fit into those expectations. Instead, the parish (wherever it was, names changed but the dynamics remained the same) had many nice people who, if they could afford, did invite me to the Country Club. That happened over the course of the thirty years, about a dozen times. Oh there were baptisms, weddings and funerals but my calendar and inbox was full of other invitations and events. If you are not in that position, chances are you are not aware that there are many people in the church that are simply mean, self-centered and demanding. I suppose I have seen just about every possibility that can emerge around a complaint. I have deleted all those emails but I can recreate them without much effort. “Father, we need to talk about….” Early in my ministry it was usually at the end of a phone call and later after the internet expanded people’s ability to contact the parish priest about this or that problem, email was the preferred mode of communication. Some of those emails could have been called “essays” or short stories and a couple could have been easily expanded to become a sort of “novella.” What many shared in common was that the author of the email had a “serious” issue about something.

Usually these complaints were minor but not in the mind of the complainer. God forbid if a liturgical innovation had been introduced or yeast was discovered in the communion bread or the music chosen was either too difficult for the congregation or too theologically dense or when sung, the music team was just too loud. Or sometimes the complainant was angry that she had not known that an event had been scheduled and oh, by the way, this church does not do well with communication. This was despite the fact that the aformentioned event had been announced on several Sundays, had been sent out via email and published in both the bulletin and the newsletter. I guess each individual needed to be contacted to insure the communication had been successful.

I once had a member of the church email the staff everytime an error was made in the bulletin or online. Important stuff here. Jesus may not come again until we eliminate every typo wherever it’s found. Sometimes I received the complaint but it was not unusual for the entire staff to hear the news that we, once again, threatened the kingdom because of a spelling error.

Throughout the years, we tried everything to insure that the parish felt heard. As I look back on that, it was a mistake to try to eliminate the low level noise that seemed to predominate at every parish I served, no matter the size. As someone once said, the issue is never the issue. When one finally figures that out, a lot of energy can be transferred from the complainer to actually doing the work of ministry. Even now, a couple of years after I waved goodbye to active parish ministry, I know how life-giving real ministry can be. Preparing sermons, leading liturgy, writing Adult study curriculums, visiting people in the hospital and walking with people in their grief, their challenges, their triumphs is a big part in kingdom-building. Yet because of the energy that is demanded by the few, addressing issues that can never be solved, the real work of ministry is usually done with whatever energy is left after trying to put out little brush fires caused by complainers.

This leads me to reflect on what it must be like now for those in ordained parish work. Recently I read a tweet from someone that asked those who were not in parish ministry to pray for those who were. This person made it clear that ministry during the “Age of Covid” has only gotten more sidetracked. I can only imagine. Indeed when I read the tweet, I immediately knew who had been actively emailing the staff. I saw his face. I knew his complaints and I truly wished I could let the staff know that any energy spent on trying to solve the issue (God only knows what this person was complaining about and I prefer God would keep it to God’s self). The time spent dealing with the complainant is not worth it. Thank him for his email and go forth from there to do the ministry among those who so desperately need it.

It has been a blessing that I have been retired for a couple of years. When churches began to close during quarantines around the country, I knew what was coming. There is not a lot I can do to help those I once served other to pray for them. That is not insignificant. But I also know that many, many people serving parishes at the local level are struggling. My only suggestion is to find a way to simply let it go. It is not worth it. The energy spent is wasted. The complainers, well they are going to go right on complaining. Find someone you trust to talk to about it. Make sure that you are not ignoring something significant but know that chances are, whatever the complaint is, it cannot be fixed and only serves to distract you from the real work of ministry.

I feel blessed that I am now on the outside looking in. Although I feel compelled to help those who are probably barely hanging on. If that’s you, reach out to me. If nothing else, I can be an ear to listen and a ready “socially-distanced” hug to share. Kingdom work is exhilarating. Why waste time on the chronic complainers. Who knows maybe they will just mute themselves on Zoom and look for other places to muddy the waters.

Live and learn. In an attempt to make my posts a bit more user-friendly, I used to add a picture to the text. As it turns out, not all pictures are free. I received word that one of my pictures was copyrighted and am now in negotiations about how much to pay for that picture. Actually I deleted it but evidently I have to pay for having used it. The unfortunate thing is that I get zero (zilch, nada, nothing) dollars for this blog and now have to pay for a mistake that I am sure many have made. I guess it’s time to consider how to generate money from my blog to pay for my mistake.

In the meantime, my book awaits.

Until next time,

DP