Word Made Flesh

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
December 26, 2021

Christmas 1 

          “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God….. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.”  In John’s gospel, the story of Jesus begins with these words.  The story begins, not with Jesus’ birth, but with the words “In the beginning.”   John’s gospel takes us all the way back to creation, then spends the entirely of that gospel describing the way God’s grace and truth were revealed through Jesus.

          Into that story, the story that begins with creation and continues through the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, we will baptize Sofia and Anabella this morning.  In baptism, we are joined with the Word made Flesh in his death and resurrection.  Jesus’ story becomes our story and we become part of that story. Jesus’ miracles become our story.  Jesus’ teachings become our story.  That does not mean that we are capable of doing everything that Jesus did.  We certainly do not become Jesus in baptism.  But in baptism, Jesus’s story becomes part of the very fabric of our being.

How, then, do we live as people in whom the Word made flesh now dwells and through whom the grace and truth of God is revealed? 

          Our baptismal covenant, which we renew at every baptism, spells out for us some of the ways Jesus calls us to live as people who are joined with him through the waters of baptism.  Our baptismal covenant tells us that as people of grace and truth, we are to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread and in the prayers.   We commit to gathering for worship, prayer, and study so that we are strengthened for this life by connecting with God and each other in these ways.  When we make mistakes, we don’t run from God and the community of faith, but we turn from those mistakes and try again.  As people whose story is joined with that of Jesus, we seek and serve Christ, the word made flesh, in all people.  We proclaim the good news of God in Christ with both our words and our actions, taking care that our words and our actions send the same message.  And we respect the dignity of every human being.   Through these actions, we strive to live as people of grace and truth showing the world that the Word made Flesh continues to dwell among us.

          Into the fellowship of the Body of Christ, into the story of the Word made flesh, into the community of people who strive to live as people of grace and truth, we baptize Anabella and Sofia this morning.     Amen.

According to Plan

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
December 24, 2021

Christmas Eve

Back in the day when dresses came in large, well constructed boxes, my parents would save those boxes so that a few weeks before Christmas, my brother, sister, and I could fill one of the boxes with toys we no longer played with.  We were told that we needed to make room for the new toys we would receive on Christmas morning.  On the one hand, we rejoiced in the perceived promise that good things would happen on Christmas morning.  We did not know what, exactly, those good things would be, but we did want to be ready.  On the other hand, we were not such good sports about having to part with any of our toys.  I wish I could tell you that those toys were given to charity, but the reality is that Mom and Dad hid them away until some dark winter day in February when school was cancelled for snow and we were stuck in the house.  Then the box would be brought out and we would have toys to play with that we had long forgotten.  This was an act of self-defense on the part of my parents that brought them some sanity in the middle of a New Jersey winter.  However, the idea of making space for Christmas is at the heart of Advent, that season of making ready for the birth of Jesus.  So without even knowing it, Mom and Dad played right into the liturgical season of preparation.

I think about the practice and discipline of preparing for Christmas by making room for new toys when I hear the line in the Christmas story “And she gave birth to her first born son, and wrapped him in cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.”  There are many scholarly ideas in the commentaries about why there was no room in the inn, such as that Mary and Joseph had no money to pay for the inn and they certainly could not stay for free, or that if she gave birth in the inn the room would be ritually unpure according to the Jewish law, or the fact that Mary was pregnant, they weren’t married, and the innkeeper would have none of that.  Those theories serve to perpetuate stereotypes about our Jewish brothers and sisters and are inappropriate interpretations of the story.  The story tells us that everyone had to go to their hometowns to be registered for the census, so everyone was traveling, and the hotels were all booked.  I believe that, in an act of generosity, the innkeeper made room for Mary and Joseph to stay in the barn rather than turn them out in the street.

Over the last four weeks during the season of Advent, we have prepared for the birth of Jesus.  We may have done the spiritual equivalent of putting toys away to make room for new gifts as we made room for Jesus through the disciplines of prayer, giving, study, or even other acts of preparation such as cleaning, wrapping, cooking, or finding meaningful and thoughtful gifts for loved ones.   Our acts of love for others help us make room within ourselves for the birth of the Christ child.  We have done the work of preparing and making room, and now we have gathered to celebrate the birth of the Christ child. 

However, the beauty and promise of Christmas is not that Jesus will be born in our midst just the way we planned.  If we did not know that before, we are definitely learning it this year!  Mary and Joseph had certainly prepared for the birth of this child, but not for Jesus to be born in a stable while they were out of town.  The innkeeper had no idea that the Messiah would be born in his barn that night when he made space for Mary and Joseph.  The shepherds had prepared for their work tending sheep, but not for the heavens to open and the angels to sing.  We have prepared with gifts and meals, music and flowers.  But preparing for the birth of Jesus is not like preparing to make a lasagna where we go to the store, buy the ingredients, follow a recipe, and get the lasagna we expected.  We prepare, not because we know what to expect, but precisely because we do not know what to expect.  The Christmas story tells us that the promise of Christmas is that the Christ child is born in our midst even in the midst of unplanned, unexpected, and even unwanted circumstances.  The promise of Christmas is Emmanuel, God with us, always.  Our response to that promise is to be prepared to greet the Christ child even, or perhaps especially, when things do not go according to plan.                        Amen.

A Spirit of Loveliness and Sense of Unity

Charlotte Collins Reed
Bellwether Farm
December 10, 2021

Commissioning the Bishop Search Committee

Years ago, when I was interviewing with Christ Church Hudson where I now serve, I reached out to my friend John Ohmer for some advice. John had left a large, vibrant Episcopal Church in a suburb of Washington, D.C. to go to Falls Church Episcopal.  Falls Church had been ravaged by the conflict in the Episcopal Church in the early 2000’s and was a shadow of its former self, shrinking from a congregation of 2800 to about 27 people.   As I prepared to interview at Christ Church, also a church with a difficult past, I wanted to know what land mines I should be looking for.  What words should I use to ferret out unresolved issues, and what should I expect the search committee to say that would assure me that Christ Church Hudson had become I place I wanted to serve?  What metrics should I expect and what goals would be reasonable? 

I will never forget what John said to me.  His response was “You are looking for a spirit of loveliness and a sense of unity-not a desire for unity, but real unity.”  That’s it.  Nothing about land mines to watch for or metrics to expect. 

A spirit of loveliness and a sense of unity.  I thought about my friend’s words when I read the scripture passages we just heard, which you may have recognized come from the service for the consecration of a bishop.  We are-you are-looking for more than a skill set or metrics or goals in our next bishop, even though you are looking for those.  You are also looking for that spirit of loveliness, the spirit of God in that person, leading the person to proclaim good news, encouragement, to raise up those who are marginalized, a person who brings strangers and foreigners together at the table-although not to till our land and care for our flocks- and to be a person of joy and reconciliation. 

How do we recognize such a person?  The gifts of spiritual loveliness and unity do not fit easily on the Office of Transitional Ministries many forms and questions.  On a scale of 1-10, how much would you say the Spirit of God is resting on this individual?  That doesn’t really work.  But as my children used to say when they were taunting one another with various names, “It takes one to spot one.”  The way we discern such unquantifiable gifts in a person is to cultivate those same gifts in ourselves, both as individuals and as a community.  Then we can better see those gifts in others.

As you go about your work in the coming months to discern nominees for the 12^th Bishop of our Diocese, I encourage you, and I believe God calls you, not just to look for that spirit of loveliness and sense of unity in those you meet and to do the work described in your charge, but to be that spirit of loveliness and sense of unity for those you encounter along this journey.  Your work will bear amazing and perhaps surprising fruit.

                                                                                         Amen.

Mountains and Valleys

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
December 5, 2021

2 Advent C 

          My father kept meticulous baby books when my sister and I were born just 13 months apart.  The books are full of all the details of the world into which we were born.  Those details include things like who the President of the U.S. was, what the big news stories were, names of the most popular movies and TV shows, and other tidbits of information about the world into which we were born.  On the one hand, this seems like trivia.  But on the other hand, that information gives the context into which my parents brought their small humans into the world.

          Luke is doing a similar thing this morning when we are told that, in the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod was ruler of Galilee, and on and on until we get to Annas and Caiphas as the high priests, the word of God came to John.  On the one hand, my eyes tend to glaze over reading lists of names like that.  I’m looking for the verb.  Just tell me what happened!!  But on the other hand, Luke is telling us that at a very specific moment in time, a concrete, identifiable moment, the word of God came to John the Baptist in the wilderness.  What was John the Baptist doing in the wilderness at the moment the word of God came to him?  Who knows?  But that word sent him into all the region around the Jordan proclaiming a baptism for the repentance of sin and urging people to prepare the way of the Lord.

          The wilderness is a hugely important place in the Hebrew scriptures, a place where God is often encountered and usually in unexpected ways.  In the book of Exodus, Moses is out beyond the wilderness tending the flock of his father-in-law when God calls to him from a burning bush, changing the course of Moses’ life and Israelite history forever.  The Israelites are in the wilderness 40 years, following God in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, and encountering the power and love of God in a myriad of unique ways.  Isaiah (43) writes eloquently about the new thing God is about to do in the wilderness and the way the wilderness will burst into bloom, rejoice and be glad at God’s presence (Isaiah 35).   The examples go on and on of the ways God is experienced in the wilderness, so we should not be surprised when the word of God comes to John in the wilderness.

          What does the voice of God speaking through John the Baptist call the people to do?  John quotes Isaiah and calls them to “Prepare the way of the Lord.  Every valley shall be filled, every mountain and hill made low, the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth.”  That sounds like a LOT of work!  In fact, what John is asking of the people sounds impossible.  If we have to fill valleys and flatten mountains in order to prepare the way of the Lord, we may well have to remain unprepared.

          At the Family Table service at 9am last Sunday, the Bible study for the adults was on the gospel reading for that day, in which Jesus calls us to be alert to watch for the signs that he is returning.  One person in the Bible study said that he hears those words differently after almost two years of being on high alert all the time.  The words do not sound so exciting anymore and alertness fatigue is a real thing.  I think the same applies to the call to prepare.  We have a bit of preparation fatigue, having lived in the Covid wilderness since March 2020.  We have prepared by buying and wearing masks, and I know I have sampled a ridiculous number of masks to find the one that fits just right.  We have purchased extra toilet paper, Clorox wipes, and Tylenol in case of shortages or in case we become homebound.  We have prepared for food shortages, supply chain disruptions, for what we would do if we had to quarantine or if the economy goes south.  So the thought of having to prepare the way of the Lord by filling valleys or flattening mountains sounds a bit overwhelming this morning and we can easily write off the words of John the Baptism as a bit of scriptural hyperbole.

          However, I wonder if the words of Baruch can be helpful here.  Baruch calls us to a different kind of preparation, a way of preparing not by what we do but by who we are.  Baruch says to us “Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction and put on forever the beauty of the glory of God….for God will give you evermore the name “Righteous peace, Godly glory.”   Baruch is calling us to a way of living, of living as people of hope in what God is about to do, people who rejoice in the glory of God.  Yes, Baruch still says that God has ordered that every mountain be made low and the valleys be filled to make the ground level, but Baruch also says that God will lead Israel with joy, in the light of God’s glory, with the mercy and righteousness that come from him.  Perhaps the mountain that needs to be leveled is the mountain of despair and the valley that needs to be filled is the pit of hopelessness.  Perhaps preparing the way of God is to live such that our lives reflect the joy and hope of which Baruch speaks.  The good news is that we do not have to do this work alone.   The promise of Baruch is that God will lead us with joy in the light of God’s glory and we will go together.  We prepare by being the people God calls us to be, which will lead us to the work God calls us to do to prepare the way of the Lord.

          That the Word of God came to John in the wilderness should be no surprise.  The surprise, perhaps, is that God continues to break into the wilderness at specific moments in time and in concrete ways, whatever that wilderness might be, and even in that wilderness God calls us to be people of hope and expectation in what God is about to do.  As we await the birth of the Christ Child, the call of Advent is to prepare by living as people of great hope and deep expectation.   The promise of Advent is that God will lead us and that we go together.  There is nothing we have to do alone.  Then, we will be amazed at what happens, what mountains fall and what valleys are lifted, so that all flesh can see the salvation of God.

                                                                                      Amen.

Truth

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 21, 2021

Christ the King

          On June 3, 2020, in the aftermath of the murder of George Floyd, Christ Church joined with First Congregational Church and Temple Beth Sholom to lead a walk for justice and peace.  Peter Wiley, Rabbi Michael, and I put the walk together quickly, got the word out primarily through social media and word of mouth, and prepared for about 50 people to join us.  The pandemic was raging so masks and social distancing were required.  I, for one, had a good bit of anxiety about not creating a super-spreader event, but the need for our faith communities to respond in a peaceful way to such outrageous injustice took precedence.

          When the appointed time came, Michael, Peter and I quickly realized that we had underestimated the number of people who wanted to be part of this walk.  By the time we started in front of Christ Church, at least 100 people had gathered, and by the time we were at First Congregation just a few minutes later, the crowd had doubled.  The Hudson police arrived to block traffic so the crowd could move safely through the streets.  By the time we got to Temple Beth Sholom, the crowd was so large that we spread out all over the intersection and the connecting streets and I am sure most people could not hear a word of what was said.  But that did not seem to matter.  The looks of grief on the faces gathered and the sheer size of the silent crowd spoke a truth greater than words. 

          When we got to the Green and I could actually see everyone, I realized that Hudson had come out for this.  There were people from a whole variety of faith communities and none at all, different political persuasions, from many different backgrounds and some of different colors and ethnicities, and every age from babies to older adults.  We were all gathered in that moment to confront the ugly truth of systemic racism and embody a greater truth about hope and love.  In that moment, those two truths connected us together.

          Today, on Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday before Advent begins next week, we hear Pilate ask Jesus “Are you the King of the Jews?” And we hear Jesus reply “My kingdom is not from this world.”  Pilate and Jesus go back and forth about kingship until Jesus changes the subject and suddenly they are talking about truth.  I can hear the frustration in Pilate’s voice when he finally asks “What is truth?”

          This passage, which is also heard on Good Friday, pulls in themes from throughout John’s gospel.  In the very first chapter of the gospel, Nathaniel identifies Jesus as the King of Israel after Jesus says of Nathaniel “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”  Then, after Jesus feeds the 5000 and the people want to catch him and make him a king, Jesus withdraws to the mountains by himself.   Not interested.  This morning when Jesus says “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice” we are reminded both of Jesus’ statement that he is the way, the truth, and the life, as well as the passage where Jesus says “My sheep listen to my voice.  I know them and they follow me.”  Kingship and truth are themes that echo throughout John’s gospel.

          But what do kingship and truth have to do with how we are to be followers of Jesus?

          First, Jesus’ kingship is about relationship, not power or land.  Nathaniel recognizes Jesus as a king, not because of any earthly power, but because Jesus establishes a relationship with Nathaniel.  When Jesus speaks to his sheep, or his followers, they listen to his voice. Jesus knows them and they follow him.  They are in relationship.  When the people want to make Jesus a king after he feeds the 5000, he escapes to the mountains. He doesn’t want to be made a king just because he has miraculous powers.  Jesus feeds the 5000 because they are hungry, and he is their shepherd and they are his sheep.  Jesus wants to be in real relationship with them.  Pilate is talking about an earthly king with earthly kingly powers this morning.  Jesus is talking about a kingship that is rooted in relationship, a nurturing, loving relationship of service that will lay down his life for the life of the world. That relationship creates a kingdom that is not rooted in geography or power.  Jesus’ kingdom is not of this world.

          Secondly, Jesus tells Pilate and Jesus tells us that he came to testify to the truth and that those who belong to the truth listens to his voice. Jesus has already said to his disciples “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  In John’s gospel, Jesus is truth embodied.  His life and actions embody the truth of God’s love for the world, the truth of the relationship God wants to have with us.  Jesus’ truth also calls his disciples to love one another as Jesus loves them.  Jesus’ truth is about relationship.

          Christ the King Sunday reminds us that our lives as Christians embody our truth.  Our actions and words as followers of Jesus speak our truth to the world.  In the Episcopal Church, the baptismal covenant, which we renew at every baptism, spells out actions that embody our truth.  We promise in that covenant to be faithful in worship, to nurture our relationships with God and each other by coming together week after week, in good times and hard times, to be nourished.  We promised to repent and return when we fall into sin, to not break from our relationships with God and each other as if those relationships cannot be mended, but to believe that love will heal them.  We promise to proclaim the gospel, the love of God in Jesus, with our words and actions, and to seek and serve Christ in all people respecting the dignity of every human being. Every human being.  Rich, poor, every color of the rainbow, any faith or no faith, whatever their level of education, or political persuasion, or wherever they are on the gender spectrum.  Every human being.  Our relationship with God as reflected in our relationships with other people speaks our truth about our faith. 

           For a brief moment in June, 2020, in the midst of a time of turmoil, Hudson came together to embody the truth that love can triumph over fear and hope can conquer despair.  That was a powerful moment for those who attended.  On Christ the King Sunday, Jesus reminds us as his followers that the way we live our lives embodies our truth, and Jesus calls us to embody the truth of God’s love for us and for the whole human family. 

                                                                                      Amen.

         

Feast

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 7, 2021

All Saints

Don and I had been married about 2 years when we went to Colorado with Don’s parents to visit Grandma and Grandpa Stinnett.  A lot about that trip was a new experience for me.  For starters, there was the car trip itself.  I had never been on a two-day car trip before.  Then, there was farm life.  I grew up in the suburbs and in small cities.  Don’s grandparents were wheat farmers.  I will never forget Grandpa Stinnett’s voice-somewhere between disbelief and disdain, when he found out I had never ridden a horse.  “You are a city girl” were his exact words.  And then there were the meals.  My mom was a great cook, but she saved the really big meals for festive occasions.  Grandma Stinnett, on the other hand, was feeding men who worked in the field all day.  Every meal was a major food event that could have fed a football team.  Platters of chicken fried steak, bowls of mashed potatoes and vegetables, most of which were home grown, salads, breads, and dessert were on the table and while the selection varied from meal to meal, the quantity did not. I would run out of recipes in a week if I had to cook like that!  These meals were not for any particular celebration, although they were certainly prepared with plenty of love.  These meals had a purpose and that purpose was to nourish people to do the hard work of farming. 

Today is All Saints Day, one of the most beloved feast days in the Church.  We sing magnificent hymns, light candles as we remember our loved ones, and on this particular All Saints Day we hear what are, in my humble opinion, some of the greatest passages in all of Scripture.  On the day that we remember the lives of those who have gone before us, we hear God promise, in both Isaiah and Revelation, that the day will come when God will wipe away every tear from our eyes and God will swallow up death forever.  I long for that day.  And before God destroys death, God “will make for all people a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well aged wines strained clear.”  God will prepare a banquet for us, not unlike the banquet Grandma Stinnett created over and over again that brought all the workers together-although minus the well-aged wine, at least when Grandma was watching.  On All Saints Day, we are reminded that at God’s banquet table, both the one at this altar and the one to come, we are joined with all those who have gone before us for the feast that gathers us and makes us one.

But for what purpose does God create this meal?  To show God’s love for us? To gather all of human kind together? As a great celebration of the new thing God is about to do?  Or to nourish us for the work ahead? 

Today’s gospel reading contains my favorite line in all of scripture. After Jesus has raised Lazarus from the dead, and after Martha worries about the stench when the stone is removed from the tomb, and after Lazarus has come stumbling out with his hands and feet bound and his face covered, Jesus says to the startled onlookers “Unbind him and let him go.” 

“Unbind him and let him go.”  Jesus has just raised Lazarus from the dead.  But until Lazarus has been unbound, he might have been able to stumble out of the tomb, but he can’t do much else.  In order to be fully free, Lazarus must be unbound.  And apparently, unbinding is not in Jesus’ job description.  Resurrection is Jesus’ job.  Unbinding is the work that belongs to Jesus’ followers. Unbinding is the work of resurrection people who can see the new thing God is doing in their midst.

Unwrapping Lazarus sounds simple enough.  But Mary and Martha are being asked to touch a man who was dead just a few moments ago, a man whose stench they feared.  And if they unbind Lazarus, what might they be unleashing?  The man had been dead.  Now he was alive.  What new power might he now have?  Will he be the same brother they once had?  But we know they swallow their fear and unbind their brother because in a few verses later, Mary and Martha give a dinner party for Jesus, and Lazarus is at the table.  Unbound.

Unbind him and let him go.  When we think about the great saints of the Church, and perhaps the saints of our own lives, we see people who heard Jesus say “I do the work of resurrection.  You do the work of resurrection people.”   Those people stepped out of their comfort zones in faith to do things they could never have done on their own. Resurrection things.  Mary said to the angel “Let it be with me according to your word.”  Peter, despite his many failings, stepped forward to be the rock on which Jesus would build the church.  Mother Teresa worked with the poorest of the poor in Calcutta.  The list goes on and on.  All of these people believed that Jesus does the work of resurrection and we do the work of resurrection people who believe God is doing something new in our midst.  But the work of resurrection people is not always, or often, easy.  Being resurrection people in a world that fears the stench of death is hard work, for which we need real nourishment.  Living as resurrection people in a world that is so divided about so many things is a challenge on a good day and requires strength for the journey.  And so God draws us together and feeds us with the holy meal, a foretaste of the meal Isaiah describes, to nourish us for the hard work ahead.  Resurrection work.  Does God feed us because God loves us?  Yes.  Does God feed us so we can see the new things God is doing in our midst?  Yes.  And does God nourish us so we have the strength for the work ahead?  Absolutely.

The Saints of the Church and the saints in our own lives are those who have challenged us to be more than we think we can be, face what we think we cannot face, to live more fully than we think we can bear, and to give more generously than we think possible.  The Saints of God call us to see the resurrection work God is doing in our midst, and to trust that God will nourish us, as God nourished them, to do the work of resurrection people.

Amen.

Change the World

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
October 31, 2021

26 Proper B 

          Truth in preaching requires that I tell you that the following is a story I have told before.  But I believe it bears repeating.

          In 2019, I took the course Learning from London through Bexley Seabury Seminary where I served on the board at the time.  The course met in London and looked at a variety of churches, large and small, and the many different ways they found to be the church in their varied contexts.  This course was immensely helpful to me as we navigated how to be the church during a global pandemic. 

          On the Sunday during the course, I was assigned to worship at St. James, Piccadilly in London.  I was delighted by my assignment as I had been to St. James on a previous trip and this is the church where I would worship if I lived in London.  The church was quite full on this June Sunday, which was the first surprise.  The music was good and the sermon was quite fine.  But the big surprise came after the offertory when the priest invited the entire congregation to gather with her around the altar.  Clearly this was before Covid and social distancing.  About 200 people and a couple of dogs gathered around the altar in a completely disorganized mass of people.  Once the bread and wine had been blessed, I expected to be invited back to our seats to be called forward to receive communion.  But no.  Communion was going to be distributed to the mass of people gathered at the altar.  This looked to me like a recipe for chaos at best.  How was communion going to be distributed in a timely and efficient manner to a great crowd of people?  There were no ushers in sight to help and no movement toward forming a line.  And yet, the bread and the wine were distributed, everyone was fed, and the process was quite smooth.  Why?  Because each person was only concerned that everyone else be fed.  No one was concerned that they receive. They knew there was enough and their turn would come.  Every person’s primary concern was everyone else.

          I think about that experience when I hear the scribe ask Jesus “Which commandment is first of all?”  Jesus’ reply is “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.”  Jesus is quoting the Shema, the ancient Jewish prayer that comes from the book of Deuteronomy.   Perhaps because Jesus was simply asked about the greatest commandment, he does not include the rest of the words from Deuteronomy which are “Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”  In other words, make these words a part of the very fabric of your being.

          In the Diocese of Ohio, one of our taglines is Love God. Love your neighbor. Change the world.  The first two of those imperatives come directly from Jesus mouth this morning.  But change the world?  Seriously?  I believe that is a rather tall order whether for us as individuals or for us as a church.  How are we supposed to change the world?

          The vestry wrestled with a similar passage at our meeting Tuesday night.  Our Bible study passage was Philippians 4:8 “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”  This passage, too, is about how we treat our neighbor.  Our question was “how do we model these words in our church and in our community?”  Jesus and Paul are both telling us that how we live and treat each other matters.  The vestry talked about the negativity in our Hudson community and how hard and yet necessary it is to keep ourselves from getting sucked into that negativity.  Jesus does not call us to agree with everyone.  Jesus calls us to love God and love our neighbor as ourselves, to live in ways that are true, honorable, just, and pure.

          The reading from Ruth, in which Ruth pledges to stay with her mother-in-law Naomi, is an example of this kind of love.  Her words are beautiful “Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die—there will I be buried.”  Ruth’s love and devotion to Naomi actually does change the world.  By following Naomi, Ruth meets Boaz.  Ruth and Boaz have a son Obed.   Obed is the ancestor of Jesus. 

          Our Interfaith Election Day Prayer Vigil is one way we at Christ Church along with our brothers and sisters at Temple Beth Shalom and First Congregational Church are trying to live as people who love our neighbors as ourselves even when we disagree.  Our prayers at the gazebo on Tuesday are not for any particular result to the election, but for the peace and unity of our community so that we as the community of Hudson better model loving our neighbors as ourselves.  When we each work to love our neighbors, even those with whom we disagree, we may not change the world, but we will change our community.

          Love God.  Love your neighbor.  Change the world.  Perhaps “Change the world” is not a third imperative, but is what happens when we love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and love our neighbors as ourselves.  Perhaps “Change the world” is what happens when we all put the needs of others ahead of our own needs, wants, and desires.  Perhaps “Change the world” is what happens when we write the words of Jesus on our hearts, teach them to our children, and make them a part of the fabric of our being.  Perhaps the only way to change the world is to start with ourselves.

                                                                   Amen.

Blind

 Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
October 24, 2021

                                                     25 Proper B

If you have been in my office over the last two and a half years, which I realize hasn’t been easy thanks to Covid-19, you will know that I am madly in love with two small humans named Evelyn and Collins.  Photos of the two girls line the front of my desk, facing outward for anyone who enters my office to enjoy.  The girls are also in photos around my computer monitor where I can easily see them.  There are photos of them playing, photos when they were infants, photos with their great-grandfather, photos of the family, and on and on.  Feel free to drop by anytime and watch them grow up on my desk.

On Tuesday, when I returned from my trip to England, my hands were full when I entered my office and I was thinking about the many things I needed to do that day.  I was in the office early thanks to the gift of jet-lag so no one else was here yet.  When I went to turn my computer on I noticed that something was horribly wrong.  The photo of Evelyn that is by my computer was now a photo of an angry, wild orange cat!  This was not jet-lag.  This was a real photo of a cat.  Cats are not my favorite of God’s creatures-my apologies to all the cat lovers-and I am allergic to them, which made the photo all the more shocking.  There are only two people who have the kind of access to my locked office that would allow such a thing to happen.

When Mario-the organist- and Kathy-the Parish Administrator came in, I held up the photo and said “Do you know anything about this?”  They looked both guilty and puzzled simultaneously.  We all had a good laugh at their clever prank, then Kathy asked “Did you not see the rest of your photos?”  I had walked right past the long line of photos on my desk without noticing that every single one of them with two exceptions was now a photo of a cat.  A cat in a snow hat.  A cat wrapped like a burrito.  A cat in a tie.  A flying cat.  A puzzled cat.  And on and on.  I had been so focused on getting into my office, putting my things away, and getting on with my to-do list, that I had not noticed what my colleagues had done to the photos of my beloved granddaughters.  I was blind to the hysterical prank that was staring me in the face. 

The disciples are also focused on the work ahead this morning, and they don’t see much either.  They are headed to Jerusalem and were it not for a blind beggar named Bartimaeus, they would have passed right through Jericho.  When the blind man hears that Jesus is coming, he cries out “Jesus, Son of David! Have mercy on me!” The disciples try to hush the blind man but Jesus comes to a stop and says “Call him here.” And Jesus says to Bartimaeus “What do you want me to do for you?” 

“What do you want me to do for you?”  We heard those very words from Jesus last week when James and John approached Jesus and said “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  What James and John wanted Jesus to do for them was to grant them to sit, one at Jesus’ right hand and one at his left, in his glory.  Jesus cannot grant that request because it is not his to grant.  What Bartimaeus wants is to see again.  Apparently sight is Jesus’ to grant, because Jesus says “Go, your faith has made you well” and immediately Bartimaeus regains his sight and follows Jesus on the way.

What do we make of these two stories, which we hear on back to back Sundays?  In both stories Jesus asks “What do you want me to do for you?”  In one, Jesus’ very own followers are denied their request.  In the other, a blind man on the side of the road, an outcast, is granted his request.  And the underlying question is “how do we make sure we are among those for whom Jesus will grant our requests.”

There is a lovely passage in the book of Isaiah (59), a book Jesus knew well, in which the prophet describes darkness as a condition where justice is far from us, where righteousness does not reach us, where salvation is far from us, and truth is lacking.  Darkness is that place where the outcasts and the marginalized are invited to stay on the outskirts and remain on the margins.  Jesus could not grant the disciples’ request last Sunday to sit at Jesus’ right and left hand in glory because that request perpetuates their blindness to see the world as Jesus sees.  On the other hand, Bartimaeus knows he is blind and he asks Jesus to let him see.  There is the difference in the two stories.  Bartimaeus knows he is blind.  The disciples do not.  Jesus cannot grant a request that perpetuates darkness. 

The real question these stories raise is not “how do we make sure Jesus will grant our request.”  The real question is “what do we not see?”  What, or who, do we not see that Jesus does see?  Just as I did not know I missed the transformation of my photos until it was pointed out to me, I believe there are people and issues right in front of us that we do not see because we are so caught up in getting where we are going, or what we are doing, or because we choose not to look or because we are blind.  However, Jesus does see them.  There are people who feel they have no place in Hudson because of their color, religion, sexual orientation, or marital status, and we seek to include them.  We know that there are people in our community who need groceries at the end of the month, or help with rent or utilities, or Christmas presents, and we try to help.  We know that the needs of the larger community of Summit County are great, and we work to help through Open M, or the Domestic Violence Shelter, or Habitat for Humanity, or Family Promise.  But my guess is that there is injustice that we walk right past, not because we do not care, but because we cannot see.  Those of us who are white may be blind to the situation of people of color. Those of us who have much may be blind to the culture of poverty.  Those of us who are educated may be blind to what life is really like for an adult who cannot read.  But Jesus sees everything and wants to heal our blindness so that justice can be near us, righteousness can reach us, salvation is close and truth is abundant.  To sit at Jesus’ side in glory is not Jesus’ to grant.  But “Teacher, let me see” is a request Jesus can grant.  And the darkness will be lifted, we will see what Jesus sees, and we can be people of light.       

Amen.

Belonging

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
October 3, 2021

22 Proper B/Alexander Crummell 

          I would hazard a guess that none of us came to church this morning to hear Jesus talk about divorce.  Our gospel reading is perhaps one of the most difficult and painful gospel readings in our lectionary and evidence, once again, that I don't pick them-I just preach them.  We hear hard words from Jesus, ones we would rather not hear and ones that cause great pain.  The Episcopal Church takes the issues of marriage, divorce, and remarriage very seriously, but Jesus' words this morning are far more strict than church teaching.  Jesus' words are uncomfortable at best, and at worst leave people feeling alienated from the church and from the gospel.  Is making people feel marginalized and vulnerable what Jesus intends?  And for those who have never been divorced, can we just walk away from this passage, glad Jesus’ words do not apply to us?

          When the Pharisees ask Jesus “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” we do not have to guess the motive behind their question.  We are told that they are out to trap Jesus.  Jesus, as is typical, takes their question to another level.  He takes the conversation not back to the teaching in Deuteronomy that the Pharisees have in mind, but goes all the way back to the stories of creation.  Those stories remind us that we are all connected, not just those who are married.  Jesus' answer to the Pharisee's question about divorce becomes a teaching about all those places where hardness of heart separate us from each other, where the vulnerable are exploited and people are pushed to the margins of society.  And the vulnerable and the marginalized are exactly the people Jesus seeks to draw into the Kingdom of God.

          In the Episcopal Church, we honor the life of the Rev. Alexander Crummell, a brilliant, well-educated black man born in 1819 to a free black woman and a former slave.  While there is much to commend about Crummell’s life, and I encourage you to read about him, one thing in particular stands out to me.  Crummell’s desire and life’s work was to make a place where black people were fully welcome, a place where they could be connected with the world around them, and a place where they truly belonged.  In other words, Crummell sought to create a place where black people were neither vulnerable nor marginalized, a place that more closely mirrored the Kingdom of God than 19^th century America did. When Crummell discerned a call to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church, he was denied admission to General Seminary because of his color.  The message of the seminary was that he did not belong.  Eventually, Crummell studied for holy orders independently and was ordained in Massachusetts in 1842.  But when Crummell went to Philadelphia in search of a church to serve, he was told by the bishop that he could come to the diocese but that he would never be given a seat at the diocesan convention nor would any black church ever be seated there.  Crummell declined.  The message of the church was that Crummell did not belong.  And, of course, in these years even before the Civil War, the message of society was that black people did not fully belong in this country and could not call this place home in any real sense of the word.

          Because as a black man Crummell could not find a place to belong in his own country, or in his own church, Crummell went to Liberia where he worked for 20 years to form a country for free American blacks.  Part of his motive was to Christianize the African continent and part was to provide a place for free black Americans to have a place where they would belong, really and truly belong, a place they could call home.  The experiment did not work as well as Crummell hoped for a variety of reasons, so after 20 years, he returned to the US to work for civil rights here so that black people could find a real home and deep connections in their own country.  Among his many accomplishments, he founded the American Negro Academy to give 19^th century black intellectuals, of which there were many, a place that would support their scholarship unconditionally.  The original academy members included such well known people as W.E.B. Dubois and Paul Lawrence Dunbar.

          Both the reading from Job and Jesus’ words this morning point to the fundamental connections we all have as human beings.  Job would be cut off from his family, health, friends, and even his livestock.  He would be totally marginalized and vulnerable.  From that experience, he would learn the way that his connections with others and with creation are fundamental to his relationship with God.  Jesus points us to our connection with all of humankind when the Pharisees ask about divorce. Instead of getting a direct answer to their question, they are pointed back to creation.  Jesus’ words “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one put asunder” refer not only to marriage, but to the connection among all of humankind by virtue of our creation in the image of God.  I am reminded of the story in John’s gospel where the Pharisees and scribes come before Jesus with a woman caught in adultery and say “Now the law of Moses commands us to stone such a woman.  What do you say?”  And Jesus’ says “Let whoever is without sin cast the first stone.”  And one by one the woman’s accusers walked away.  And through out the gospels, the way Jesus treated sinners of all kinds, including adulterers, was to eat with them which is one of the most fundamental means of human connection.

          The life of Alexander Crummell calls us to recognize the deep connection between all humans, to tear down barriers that divide and disconnect, and to create a church and a society where everyone can fully belong and be completely at home, regardless of race, or gender orientation, or faith, or marital status.  Crummell’s life and the gospel call us to create a church and a society where no one is marginalized or vulnerable and everyone has a place of honor at the table.  Jesus’ words this morning apply to each and every one of us.

                                                          Amen.

         

Our Parable

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
September 26, 2021

21 Proper B 

          On July 15 of last year, the vestry met in the old Parish Hall, masked and a full 6 feet apart, to hear the report from our architects and construction manager and decide whether to proceed with our Building for Community construction project.  On the plus side, the cost of the project plus contingency funds had come in right at the amount we had in pledges, which was the goal.  Also, because of the pandemic, the building was not in use by our own or outside groups for the foreseeable future, making gutting the space less inconvenient.  On the negative side was the pandemic, economic uncertainty, questions about the availability of labor and supplies, and the general feeling that embarking on a major construction project in the midst of a global pandemic might not be the wisest course of action.

          After a few minutes of very amicable and respectful conversation, our vestry decided unanimously to step out in faith and forge ahead.  Fast forward to today, and after much hard work on the part of the project leadership, a few hiccups of varying degrees, and a lot of toil and labor on the part of many workers, we are here to celebrate, bless, and give thanks to God for our beautiful new and renovated spaces.  Who knew a church could be so excited about new restrooms? 

          While we may be excited, joyful, and grateful this morning, no one in our readings seems to share our joy.  In fact, Jesus and King Ahasuerus seem downright angry, and the writer of James must not be happy with the people to whom he is writing or he would not be telling them how to pray and what to do when someone wanders from the faith! 

          Jesus is angry with his disciples because they fail to see what God is doing in their midst.  John says to Jesus “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.”  The disciples cannot see God at work in anyone other than themselves, but earlier in this very chapter of Mark, the disciples themselves had failed to cast out a demon.  Jesus uses very strong language to get the disciples attention and express his anger at their narrow mindedness. 

          King Ahasuerus is also angry.  Furious, in fact.  The story of Esther is a great story, full of humor and plot twists, suspense and intrigue, along with no small amount of violence and other scenes that would disqualify the story for a PG rating, which a sermon must have.  However, at the end of the day, the King is furious because his own Prime Minister, Haman, has plotted to kill all of the Jewish people, of which the King’s wife, Esther, is one.  The King has Haman hung on gallows in a scene that is just about as grizzly as what Jesus says will happen to anyone who puts a stumbling block before a little one who believes in him. Ugh.

          Interestingly, nowhere in the book of Esther is God, the Torah, prayer, or worship mentioned.  The deliverance of the Jewish people in Persia is due strictly to the cunning and conniving of Esther, with some help from Mordecai.  The pairing of this story with Psalm 124 in the lectionary makes it clear that, in Hebrew thought, God gets the credit for delivering God's people every time they are delivered, which is why Esther is included in the Hebrew scriptures despite the lack of any reference to God.  Again, God is at work in the most unlikely of people.

          On a happier note, the writer of James describes the power of prayer, forgiveness, and reconciliation.  While the letter was likely written to people who needed to know these things because they were not practicing them, at least James is not hanging anyone on a gallows or amputating body parts!

          The disciples could not see God at work in the lives of unlikely people.  In the story of Esther, we see God working, unnamed and unmentioned, through the Persians, to liberate God’s people.  The people to whom James is written clearly needed to hear about the life of faith and God’s power to mend their lives.  Today, we have gathered to celebrate God’s work in our lives, moving us into the future, using us to make a gospel difference in our community and the world with the message of God’s love and forgiveness.  We are here today because people, this congregation, you, opened your hearts to what God might be doing in our midst, gave generously of both financial resources as well as time and talent, and took a bold step into the future by completing a fully pledged construction project during a pandemic.  The completion of this project is not an end in itself, but shows us what we can do, the difference we can make when we all give what we can of our time, talent, and treasure.  If we can do this, which we did, there is no end to what God can do through us.

          A faithful church is called to vision, to see what God is doing in our midst and calling us to do.  We are doing that this fall through our cottage conversations as we have done two other times over the past 5 years as no one person or group can do that visioning alone.  We are all called, each one of us, to be listening for what God is doing in our midst and calling us to do.  But visioning alone did not get us a renovated parish hall and new restrooms and will not move us into God’s future.  The commitment of the time, talent, and treasure-financial resources-of each of us is required for a vision to become a reality.  That commitment is just as important now if not more so than it was for the Building for Community project as we re-engage after the many months apart. Everyone in the parish will receive an invitation to a cottage conversation so that we can all dream together about our future.  And everyone will receive a pledge packet so that we can all work together to make our dreams a reality.  The vestry has already made their pledges for 2022 and together the leadership of the parish increased the total of their pledges by over 10 percent to help turn dreams into reality.

          Our readings today call us to see what God is doing in our midst, even when God is working in unlikely places and times, and through unlikely people.  Our Building for Community adventure is a parable for what we can accomplish when we vision together about what God is calling us to do and be and commit together to making that vision a reality.  Our celebration marks not the end of a project, but the beginning of a new season.  There is no end to the amazing and surprising things God can do in our midst when each of us offers our time, talent, and treasure and we all work together.                                                                 Amen.

Darkness

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
September 12, 2021

19 Proper B 

          The morning sky was a brilliant blue and I was looking forward to a meeting with some colleagues in a town about a 40-minute drive from home.  I was enjoying the day and mindlessly listening to my country station on the radio, when a voice broke in to announce that a small plane had hit the World Trade Center.  My first thought was that the weather in New York City must be pretty awful for a small plane to hit such a towering building.  But by the time I arrived at my meeting, clearly pilot error was not the problem, nor was the weather.  My colleagues and I quickly realized that we needed to head back to our respective churches and figure out what we should do.

          On the way back to the church, I stopped at the gas station and topped off my tank.  I ran by the bank to get enough cash to buy groceries and other necessities for a few weeks, and then went to the grocery store to stock up.  On the one hand, these were practical actions to care for my family in the face of great uncertainty about the future.  On the other hand, I will freely admit that I was acting on fear of the unknown, wanting to feel like I had some control over my life when everything seemed to be spinning out of control.  On a beautiful fall day and in an instant, our world had changed in fearful unimaginable ways.

          I felt much the same way in the days before Covid-19 shut down much of life.  I went to the gas station, the bank, and the grocery store so that Don and I would have what we needed in the event that stores closed, or supplies were disrupted, or we got sick.  And again, on the one hand, these were practical actions of preparation.  And on the other hand, fear of the unknown was driving a lot of my actions as life spun out of control.  All of a sudden, our world had changed again in fearful ways we had never imagined.

          The people for whom Mark’s gospel was originally written were also in a frightful situation.  When the gospel was written, the Romans were either about to destroy Jerusalem and the temple or had already done so.  Either way, military occupation was a fearsome reality and the Romans had little use for Jews or Christians.  The great hope of Christians was that Jesus would return and save his followers from the Romans, but that was not happening.  Where was Jesus when his followers so desperately needed him?

          This morning, we hear Jesus say to his disciples “Who do people say that I am?”  We are a little more than halfway through Mark’s gospel.  Jesus has been preaching, teaching, and healing his way through the cities and the countryside.  Who do people say that Jesus is?  Clearly the people hold Jesus in high esteem as they believe him to be John the Baptist, or Elijah, or one of the prophets, any one of whom would have had to return from the dead to be Jesus.  Then Jesus asks “But who do you say that I am?”  Peter replies “You are the Messiah.”  But instead of saying “Right answer!” Jesus commands the disciples to tell no one about him.

          Why?  Perhaps because Peter has the right title but the wrong identity.  When Peter identifies Jesus as the Messiah, perhaps Peter is thinking of someone who is going to right all wrongs, end Roman occupation, and restore Israel to her former glory.  But Jesus teaches his disciples that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, be killed, and after three days rise again.  Peter only hears the part about great suffering and being killed.  This is clearly not in Peter’s Messiah job description for he rebukes Jesus for even thinking such a thing.  Jesus replies with perhaps the harshest statement Jesus ever makes in the gospels.  “Get behind me Satan!  For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

          In times of darkness, whether after 9/11, or in the midst of a global pandemic, or in whatever personal or systemic darkness we might find ourselves, Jesus asks us “Who do you say that I am?”  We can all too easily think, like Peter, and like James and John who will soon ask to sit on the right and left hands of Jesus in glory, that if we are faithful in following Jesus, there should be no darkness.  But Jesus says “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”  In telling the disciples that he will undergo great suffering, and be killed, and after three days rise again, Jesus is telling the disciples and us, that as the Messiah, the anointed one of God, he will go through the challenges, through the darkness, even through death, and not around it, but that the darkness will not have the final word.  In telling the disciples, and us, to take up our cross and follow him, Jesus is telling us to take up our cross, the cross with which we were anointed in baptism, the cross of Christ and follow him.  Jesus will go first into the darkness, not around the darkness, and Jesus calls us to trust and follow where he leads.  Jesus never says following him will be easy, or painless, or risk-free. Jesus says “Those who want to save their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake and the sake of the gospel will save it.” 

          In the darkness, Jesus asks “Who do you say that I am?”  In the darkness, Jesus reminds us that there is no darkness he has not already encountered in his suffering and death, and that after three days he did rise again.  In the darkness, Jesus calls us to follow where he leads, which is through the darkness, not around it, and to remember that darkness, hatred and death did not have the final say.  Love, light, and life won, as Jesus said they would.  In the darkest of times, Jesus calls us to be people who follow Jesus, whose very lives demonstrate in all we say and do that even in the darkest of times, love, light and life have won.

                                                                             Amen.