Goodness and Mercy

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

May 12, 2019

4 Easter C

            I have some sympathy with those in the gospel reading this morning who say “"How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly."  In a week when we have seen yet another school shooting, which followed a week with a school shooting, in a world where a week without an act of violence against a school or a faith community seems rare, in our own congregation where we experienced great loss due to illness in the first months of the year, I can find myself saying to Jesus “If you are the Messiah, tell or show us plainly.”  The fourth Sunday of Easter is always Good Shepherd Sunday, when we hear a portion of John’s gospel in which Jesus’ followers are referred to as Jesus’ sheep, and Jesus is either directly or implicitly referred to as the Good Shepherd.  We hear the familiar and comforting words of Psalm 23 “The Lord is my shepherd.  I shall not want.”  How do we reconcile the Jesus the Good Shepherd and the promise of the 23^rd Psalm that goodness and mercy shall follow us all the days of our lives with such violence and deep sadness?  If you are the Messiah, Jesus, tell us plainly.

          In the reading from Acts, Tabitha, a beloved member of the Christian community, has died.  She was devoted to good works and charity.  Peter prays, then says to Tabitha’s dead body “Get up.”  And Tabitha does.  Peter has raised Tabitha from the dead.  Why Tabitha and not our loved ones?  Why Tabitha and not those who have died in schools, houses of worship, or countless other places as a result of gun violence? 

          I have come to believe that I ask the wrong question of the reading from Acts.  Tabitha was raised from the dead not because she was a better person than anyone else, or because she was more beloved, or did more acts of charity and kindness.  The main character in the story is not Tabitha, as dramatic as her story might be.  The main character is not even Peter, despite his powers of miraculous healing.  The main character is God.  Peter prays and connects himself with God, then says “Tabitha, get up.”  Peter does not do anything else.  He doesn’t touch her, or say any magic words, or take any action other than to pray.  God raises Tabitha from the dead through Peter.

          Jesus’ response in the gospel reading to those who question him is to point to the works Jesus has done. Jesus has healed the blind, fed the 5000, healed a lame man, and turned water into wine. To those who oppose him, Jesus wonders aloud how much more they need to see if those actions are not convincing.  This passage reflects the tensions between the Jews and the Christians in the late first century or early second century.  There is no reason for us to reflect those tensions, however, and Jesus is probably just as impatient with me as he was with those in the gospel lesson.  To me, and to others with the same question these days, Jesus says "I have run toward tragedy, not away from it. I have put my own life at risk to help others and lost my life. I have comforted scared children and given teachers courage.  I have held those who weep and given courage to survivors to go on.  What more do you need to see?" Just a few verses before our gospel lesson this morning, still in the Good Shepherd section of John’s gospel, Jesus also says, quite clearly, "I have other sheep who do not belong to this fold." Not all the sheep look, act, or believe just like us. But some way, some how, all human beings can demonstrate the compassion and care of Jesus whether they belong to this fold or another, and in that goodness and mercy, the Good Shepherd is hard at work.

          For the sheep who hear Jesus’ voice and have chosen to follow Jesus, Jesus always refers to sheep in the plural. Jesus says "I know them...I give them eternal life...no one will snatch them out of my hand." Sheep are meant to be in community, in relationship, with each other. No one sheep is meant to navigate life alone. We navigate life together, and by doing so, we know the power of something more than ourselves in our midst. We know the Good Shepherd.  In the very existence of that community and through that support, the Good Shepherd is known, the Good Shepherd’s voice is heard, and goodness and mercy are felt.

In the well known words of 23rd psalm, we hear the Psalmist say "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For you are with me." Knowing Jesus as the Good Shepherd is not a guarantee that no harm will come to us or those we love. Knowing Jesus as the Good Shepherd means that, even in the valley of the shadow of death, we are not alone.   The question to ask is not “Why doesn’t God raise my loved one from the dead, or prevent senseless and deadly gun violence?”  The question to ask is how can we attach ourselves to Jesus the Good Shepherd the way that Peter attached himself to God, allowing Jesus to work through us to prevent senseless death, to bring comfort and hope to the grieving, and to make Jesus known through acts of goodness and mercy.   The question is not why the Good Shepherd has not done what we need and want him to.  The question is how we can be what the Good Shepherd needs and wants us to be and do so that the world will know deep and lasting goodness and mercy.

                                                                             Amen.

Ananias

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Episcopal Church

May 5, 2019

3 Easter C

As many of you know, I spent one week each summer for 15 years serving as the chaplain to 4^th and 5^th graders at Procter Camp, the Episcopal Church camp in the Diocese of Southern Ohio.  Every year I looked forward to spending a week with the children, hearing their stories and their questions, leading worship, doing a little teaching, hanging out with the great camp staff and rejoicing that they were in charge and I was not.

But the real reason I served for so many years is this.  We send our children to all kinds of camps in the summer-from sports camps, to music camps, to foreign language camps and everything in between. The point of these camps is to spend some intensive time learning the skills they need to be better soccer players or violinists or German language speakers or whatever.  When they come home, they come back to weekly or daily practices, rehearsals, and lessons.  Church camp serves exactly the same purpose.  With the guidance of the camp staff, kids spend a week practicing their ability to live as Christians in the world all day every day.  How do we deal with bullies, as Christians?  How do we share limited resources, as Christians?  How do we settle disagreements as Christians?  At the end of the week, the kids go home to continue to practice, just as they do soccer or tennis or their other activities and skills.

Our scripture readings this morning are all about dramatic experiences of the risen Christ.  Saul encounters the Risen Christ on the road to Damascus and will become the person who takes the gospel to all of the known world.  The writer of Revelation has a tremendous vision in which the elders sing a new song, and they sing together with all the angels in a choir thousands of voices strong.  And the disciples experience the risen Christ through a miraculous haul of fish and breakfast with Jesus on the beach.

Dramatic experiences of the Risen Christ do happen, but they do not happen to all of us.  So, for those of us who have not had such an experience, where do we fit in these stories?  As I puzzled over these stories this week, one thing became abundantly clear to me.  In each story, the main character is God.  The stories are about God’s work in the lives of Saul, the writer of Revelation, and Peter and the disciples.  If we have not had that sort of dramatic conversion experience, the reason is not because we are inferior Christians who don’t deserve that sort of experience, or superior Christians because we don’t need that kind of experience.  The reason is simply because God has chosen to work a different way in our lives.

There is another human character, however, in the story from Acts who deserves our attention.  Ananias was minding his own business when the Lord calls his name in a vision: “Ananias!”  To which Ananias replies “Here I am, Lord.”  “Here I am, Lord.”  Where have we heard that before?  Where would any first century Christian familiar with the Hebrew Bible have heard that before?  In the book of Genesis, God calls “Abraham” and when Abraham replies “Here I am” God sends Abraham off to offer his  son as a burnt offering in a horrifying story that tests Abraham’s faith but in the end does not actually require the life of Isaac.  In the book of Exodus, God calls out to Moses “Moses!” and Moses replies “Here I am.”  God tells Moses that he is being sent to deliver the Hebrew people from bondage in Egypt.  In I Samuel, God calls out to Samuel in the night “Samuel!” and Samuel replied “Here I am.”  God tells Samuel of God’s plan to punish the house of Eli for their iniquity because Eli’s sons were blaspheming God.  And finally, in the call of Isaiah, the prophet does not hear his name called, but when God asks “Whom shall I send and who shall go for us” and Isaiah replies “Here I am.”  God sends Isaiah to proclaim God’s judgement on the people. 

So when those early Christians, familiar with the Hebrew scriptures, heard Ananias say “Here I am,” they probably feared the worst.  God was not calling Ananias to tell him he won the lottery.  Whenever God called someone’s name and they responded “Here I am” that person was going to be asked to do something very difficult.  And indeed, God asks something difficult of Ananias.  God tells Ananias to go and lay hands on Saul of Tarsus so that he might regain his sight.  Ananias knew all about Saul, and from Ananias’ perspective, a Saul without sight who was neither eating nor drinking was to be preferred.  But God is insistent.  So, through the ministry of Ananias, Saul’s sight is restored, and much to Ananias’ great surprise, Saul is baptized, and he begins to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues saying “This is the Son of God.”

Without the ministry of Ananias, Saul’s threats and murder against the disciples might have been stopped, but his conversion would not have happened.  Saul needed someone, some person, to be the hands and voice that made the experience of risen Christ life changing and real.  God chose, once again, to work through an ordinary person, just like God worked through Abraham, Moses, Samuel, and Isaiah to make the word of God known to a broken world.

I believe that is where we fit into the story.  God may or may not have chosen to work in our lives through a dramatic conversion.  But God does choose to work through ordinary people like Ananias and you and me to be the hands and voices that make the presence of the Risen Christ known in the world.  We are called to be the ones who notice the light, who see the stranger feeding the hungry, who recognize the longing and the experience of something beyond ourselves and name the Risen Christ in our midst for those around us. I believe that church camp in the summer helps our children and youth develop and practice the skills to do just that, and when they return, the job of each one of us is to provide them with an environment in which they see such actions modeled and have a place to practice themselves.  This is why Anna Sutterisch, the diocesan intern for formation, will talk with all of us about Bellwether Camp at the end of the service and not just the children, youth, and their parents.  Anna will talk with all of us because we are all called to be a community of faith that where Christian formation is nurtured so that each of us is able to hear God call our name, respond “Here I am, Lord,” and be the voice and hands of Jesus in the world.

Amen.

"Love Heals"

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 21, 2019

Easter Sunday

          Thistle Farms was founded by Becca Stephens, an Episcopal priest, in Nashville, Tennessee.  Thistle Farms provides women who are survivors of trafficking, prostitution, and addiction a second chance to build a healthy life.  The women are provided a safe place to live, meaningful work, and the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual support they need to survive and thrive.  Thistle Farms is built on the premise that, and I quote, “Love is the most powerful force in the world because love has the power to heal.”  

          There is a country music song based on the work of Thistle Farms.  The song is written and sung by Alison Kraus and Becca Stephen’s son, Levi Hammon.  The song is called “Love heals.”  The whole piece is both moving and profound, but the words to the refrain are especially poignant:

“Oh I've never seen a broken heart

Once shattered and torn apart

That could not come back together

And I've never known a life so heavy

Couldn't stand on legs unsteady

And one day run light as a feather

Baby here's the deal

Love heals.”

          This morning, the women who had come with Jesus from Galilee arrive at the tomb with their spices, expecting to anoint the dead body of Jesus.  They had heard the crowds scream “Crucify him” when Jesus had done nothing to deserve death.  They had watched as Jesus was crucified and then they heard him promise the criminal crucified with him that today, he would be with Jesus in paradise.  The women had followed as the dead body of Jesus was taken down from the cross and placed in a tomb.  Their hearts are shattered and torn apart having witnessed the gruesome death of their loved one.  I imagine their legs were none too steady as they made their way to the tomb. 

What the women find at the tomb makes no sense.  The women had watched as Jesus’ body was placed in the tomb so they are perplexed when the tomb is empty.  Perplexity turns to fear when they are greeted by two men in dazzling white who ask “Why do you seek the living among the dead?” Then the men say “Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”

          Surprisingly, we are not told of any great joy or excitement when the women remember Jesus’ words and realize that those words have come true.  The women do not run from the tomb to tell the others. We are simply told that, upon returning from the tomb, the women told the eleven and all the rest what they had been told.  No one but Peter even believes them.  And after Peter runs to the tomb and is amazed by what has happened, he simply goes home. 

Once the women tell the eleven and all the rest what they have seen, we don’t hear from them again in Luke’s gospel.  But they were the first to see the empty tomb, to ponder the words “Why do you seek the living among the dead” and to tell the others that Jesus’ own words about his crucifixion and resurrection have become reality.  I wonder if the implications of this new reality took a while to sink in.  I wonder if it was in the telling of the story that the words became real to the women and the reality of resurrection life began to set in. 

          What is the reality of resurrection life?  What is this reality that we are called to profess with our lips and proclaim with our lives? 

First, resurrection life brings us face to face with the tomb that had held captive the result of fear, hatred, and death.  The women were willing to look that tomb in the eye and confront the results of the powers of evil.  Resurrection life admits that fear, hatred, and death are real.  Our Lenten journey has given us opportunity to face whatever tomb holds us captive and separates us from knowing fully the love of God.  The women of Thistle Farms recognize the tombs that hold them captive as they begin to rebuild their lives. 

Secondly, Resurrection life calls us forward into new life.  Even if we are perplexed by the enormity of the empty tomb and, like the women, do not find joy right away, the empty tomb promises new life.  Life would never go back to the way it was for Jesus’ disciples before they began to follow Jesus.  We see that in the reading from Acts.  Peter does not go back to fishing.  Resurrection life transforms Peter into the great leader and dynamic preacher we see in the reading from Acts this morning.  Resurrection life calls us forward as well, as year after year we enter the story of the women and find the tomb of fear, hatred, and death empty.  Whether as individuals, families, or as a church, God does not call us backwards to be what we once were. God calls us forward to be the people God intends us to be now.  The resurrection love of Thistle Farms transforms the lives of women, not into what they were before, or a better version of what they were before, but into the new people God is calling them to be. 

          Lastly, Resurrection life proclaims that the tomb that once held the result of fear, hate, and death is now the tomb that holds only the resurrection love of God.   The resurrection is God’s love saying to us that in the face of fear, joy wins.  In the face of death, life wins. And in the face of hate, love wins.  And, as Thistle Farms proclaims, love heals.  The outrageous promise of Easter, in a nutshell, is that when we feel shattered and torn apart, and we are standing on legs unsteady, resurrection love heals.  Love healed the broken hearts of the women who had come to anoint Jesus’ body.  Love heals the women at Thistle Farms.  And love heals us.  The empty tomb proclaims that love and life have won, forever. 

                                                                             Amen.

Parades

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 14, 2019

Palm Sunday

          The Memorial Parade has become something of a tradition at Christ Church-if we define a tradition as anything we have done more than once!  Our original goal in joining the parade was to increase our visibility in Hudson, which we certainly achieved with a huge float holding a likeness of our three buildings, a bagpiper or two and drums, dozens of us in Christ Church T-shirts riding or walking, and a large “God Loves You, No Exceptions” sign.  The mood of the parade is joyful as we pass by thousands of Hudsonites along the parade route, waving and enjoying the day.

          Being in the parade is obviously about more than just getting from Acme to the cemetery and being noticed.  First, being in a parade is about being part of something larger than oneself.  When we are part of the Memorial Parade, we are claiming our spot as part of the larger Hudson community as well as part of a nation recognizing those who gave the last full measure of devotion for their country.  The float itself connects us with historic Hudson and our place on the Green reminds people that our iconic Chapel is also vibrant congregation.  

Secondly, a lot of us have on identical Christ Church t-shirts, even though we don’t all look alike or believe exactly the same thing.   We are not all the same age or have the same political affiliation.  There is unity in our diversity.  In the parade, we both experience and proclaim that unity.

Lastly, our sign proclaims our common belief that God loves you, no exceptions.  This message tells people a bit about who we are and what we stand for as Christ Church Episcopal as we walk together up Main Street. 

          We join another parade this morning as Jesus makes his way into Jerusalem. Just as the Memorial Day parade is not just about being seen while getting from Acme to the cemetery, the Palm Sunday parade is about more than just getting Jesus from the Mount of Olives to Jerusalem.  The pieces and parts of this parade also tell us something about both the participants in the parade and who we are called to be as followers of the One who leads the parade.

          First, Jesus sends two of his disciples ahead to find a colt that has never been ridden.  The colt doesn’t just show up-preparation is required.  But what strikes me here is the obedience of the two disciples.  Jesus’ request is admittedly odd.  The disciples are to fetch a colt that is not theirs and has never been ridden, saying to anyone who asks “The Lord needs it.”’  We’d all do that.  Right?  I, for one, would be wondering who I can call to post bail.  But the disciples trust Jesus and do as he asks.'

          Secondly, once the disciples arrive with the colt, they put their cloaks on the animal and help Jesus onto the colt.  The people spread their cloaks along the road for Jesus and the colt, as if to roll out a red carpet.  The image is of a powerful king entering the city on a mighty war horse, except Jesus is on a colt picking his way into the city over the cloaks of the people that adorn the path.  This is a humble king entering a city with no weapons, unprotected and vulnerable. 

          Lastly, a whole multitude of disciples praise God joyfully with a loud voice “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord.  Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heaven.”  These words echo the words of the angels at Jesus’ birth: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.”  The multitude of disciples realizes that they are part of something much larger than themselves, even if they are not sure what that is. Then some of the Pharisees say to Jesus “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.”  And Jesus replies “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”  The parade is part of something so much larger than the human mind can comprehend, that even the stones will praise God.

          Obedience, humility, and submitting to something larger than the human mind can comprehend.  These are the themes of the Palm Sunday parade-the parade that takes us into the heart of Holy Week and the passion and resurrection of Jesus.  These are the themes we are called to listen for as we enter the story both today and in the week ahead.  These are the themes we are called to embrace with our lives as we follow the one who entered Jerusalem this day to give his life for the life of the world.

                                                                             Amen.

Now

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 7, 2019

5 Lent C

Bernice Cain was a parishioner at St. James Episcopal Church, in Piqua, Ohio.  She died many years ago and she very generously left her farm to the church.  A farm is a lovely gift, but what on earth was the church to do with it? Vestry meetings were very interesting as we considered the possibilities. We could keep the farm and continue to lease the land to the person currently farming there, but that would make the church a farm owner and we were not at all sure that the church was called to be a farm owner. We could turn the farm into a retreat center and host a variety of groups there but staffing the retreat center would be a challenge. We could sell the property, but there were some restrictions on the use of the land that might make that difficult. What were we to do with this most generous, even extravagant gift that would honor Bernice’s generosity and not create a burden for the church for generations to come?

In the end, the farmer leasing the property wanted to purchase the land and continue to farm in the place where he had already invested so much time and energy. This was a win-win, for sure. The land would continue to be farmed and the church would not own it. But now we had a new challenge-what to do with the significant amount of money from the sale of the land. More interesting vestry meetings followed as some people thought the money should be saved, some thought it should be given away, some thought the money should be spent on much needed repairs to the building, and other vestry members had other ideas. When the church had just enough money to pay the bills, there was no reason to talk about what needs we might meet with a windfall of cash. Now that there was some money, more needs emerged than there was money to fix.

This gift of a farm seems a bit like the gift of costly perfume that Mary used to anoint Jesus’ feet this morning. What was the appropriate use of a such an extravagant gift that, in Mary’s case was worth about a year’s wages for a laborer? Should the money have been given to the poor, even if Judas’ motive was not so pure? Or was Mary’s use of the costly perfume to anoint Jesus’ feet a way of honoring Jesus?  Jesus had just raised Mary’s brother Lazarus from the dead after all. Or does this anointing point to a new future as we know, even if the disciples did not, that Jesus will not be available for anointing after burial. Should the value of the perfume be used to reduce scarcity or to create abundance? That is the same question that the church in Piqua wrestled with as they worked to discern the most faithful use of the money they had inherited.

However, in the beginning of the conversations about what to do with the money, I think people in Piqua secretly, or in some cases quite openly, hoped that the money would allow the church to go back to the glory days of large families, full pews, and a budget that would more than meet basic expenses. The temptation was, and often is, to look to the past to define what we should be doing in the present or what our goal should be for the future. If we just had enough money, people, resources, time, energy, or whatever, to be the way we used to be, then all would be well. Our reading from Isaiah nips that attitude right in the bud. This morning we hear God say "Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing. Do you not perceive it?" Now, this is the same God who continually self-identifies as "the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob" and "the God who brought you out of bondage in Egypt and into the Land of Promise." The very passage we heard this morning begins by recalling the way God brought the Israelites out of Egypt by making a path in the mighty waters. So, why does God say "Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old" when God has just reminded us of those exact things?

I don’t think God really wants any of us to forget what God has done in the past, either in Scripture, or in the history of the church, or in our own lives. But God clearly does not want us to cling to the past as if God only acted in the past. God does not want the Israelites to look back at their Exodus from Egypt and think "Wasn’t that a great thing God did!" God wants the Israelites to look back at the Exodus and think "If God can do that, I wonder what God is doing now!" God says "I am about to do a new thing. Do you not perceive it?" If we let God’s past actions keep us from seeing what God is doing now, we are worshiping the past, not God.

As we move toward Holy Week, we are tempted to think that our observances of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, his last supper with his disciples, his arrest, trial, and crucifixion, and even his resurrection are simply reminders of what God has done in the past. And we do remember, year after year, what God has done for us in the events of Holy Week and Easter. But just when we get too caught up in celebrating what God has done for us in the past, we hear God say "I am about to do a new thing. Do you not perceive it?" As we move into Holy Week, we are called to wonder "What new thing is God doing in our midst now?”  Are our hearts and eyes open to see what God is doing now?

In the end, the church in Piqua decided to bank half the money for what new thing God might be calling them to do, and use the other half of the money for some renovations and repairs to the building that would make the parish hall accessible to all people and create more fellowship opportunities, expand the food pantry to serve more people, and paint the inside of the church so that the building would look less shabby and more welcoming. Those were good decisions that really did bring some growth and energy to the church as new things began to happen in the renovated space and new ideas for ministry began to emerge. God calls us to remember what God has done, not so that we can repeat the past, but so that we can see what new thing God is doing in our midst, now.

                                                          Amen.

Nurture

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 24, 2019

3 Lent C

Just a week ago, 50 faithful Muslims were massacred in two houses of worship in Christchurch, New Zealand.  This week, major flooding has both killed hundreds of people in Zimbabwe and left large parts of Nebraska, Iowa, and Wisconsin underwater.  Do you think that because these people suffered in this way, they were worse sinners than other people?

Jesus is asked these very questions this morning when he is approached by some people who tell him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices.  Jesus himself raises the issue of the 18 people who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them.  While there is no historical evidence that either of these events actually occurred, nonetheless they raise the issue of why bad things happen to good people, which is a very common question, and a question many of us hold in our hearts these days.  In fact, Jesus assumes that is the people's question.  "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than everyone else?"  Jesus' answer to his own question is a bit unsettling.  "No, I tell you, but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."

If Jesus has just stopped with "No, I tell you," that would have been an incomplete, but satisfactory answer.  While the answer would not tell us why bad things happen to innocent people, at least we would know that the sin of the victims was not responsible for the disaster.  But Jesus does not stop there.  He goes on to say "but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did."  How do those ominous words answer the question of who is to blame for such disasters?

To further complicate matters, Jesus then tells the people a parable about a fig tree that does not produce fruit.  The absentee owner of the fig tree wants to cut it down.  Land is precious and should not be wasted on trees that do not produce.  But the gardener wants to fertilize the tree and give it one more chance to grow and produce fruit.  What does the fig tree have to do with the people's perceived question about whether the Galileans suffered because they were worse sinners than anyone else?  Will God really chop us down if we do not produce the fruit we are called to bear?

Jesus' talk about repenting, perishing and cutting down fig trees is harsh.  But what happens if we hear the gospel reading through the lens of the reading from Exodus?  In that story, Moses is beyond the wilderness when he encounters God in a burning bush. What does God say to Moses?  God does not say "See the suffering of my people in Egypt?  Such suffering is punishment for their sins."  No, God says "I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey."  God has heard the cries of those who suffer and has compassion on them.  God is going to bring them to a land flowing with milk and honey.  Does this sound like a God who would cause towers to fall on people, or gunshots to destroy their lives?

When we hear the parable of the fig tree through the lens of the story from Exodus, we hear not judgement but compassion and second chances.  The fig tree was not cut down after one year of bearing no fruit, nor after two years.  Only after three years, was cutting down the tree even being considered.  Who would have held out hope for three years that a barren tree would all of a sudden start producing fruit? Even then, the gardener wants to dig around it and give it more fertilizer, giving the tree every possible chance to produce.  The Hebrew Scriptures are full of images of God as the gardener-from Genesis 2 where God plants a garden in Eden, to references to God planting the Hebrew people in the Promised land in the book of Exodus, God is often the One doing the gardening. The God who heard the cries of the people in Egypt and led them through the wilderness and into the land of milk and honey is a God who tries and tries to get us to bear fruit, who, when others would completely give up,  provides more nurture and more fertilizer before finally calling a dead tree a dead tree.

Jesus' one word answer to the question of whether the victims of such tragedies are worse sinners that others is the word "no."  Our God is a god of grace and mercy whose desire for us is a land of milk and honey.  Lent begins on Ash Wednesday with the clear message that life is short and fragile as we are anointed with ashes and the words "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."  Jesus' call to repent is the call to make right our relationship with God and our relationships with other people and not procrastinate in doing so. The parable of the fig tree tells us that God provides us with nurture and care to help us bear the fruit we are called to bear.  When taken together, Jesus calls us to repent of those things that prevent us from being nurtured and bearing fruit and to believe and trust in the God who calls us to fullness of life.

Amen.

Janet Greer

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 23, 2019

Janet Greer

          What is wrong with this picture?  We have a full church, the choir, glorious music, uplifting scripture readings, beautiful flowers, and a lovely reception awaiting us after the service.  What is wrong, of course, is that the guest of honor is not here, at least not physically.  But if Janet were here, she would have baked at least 6 dozen homemade cookies for the reception, taken a complete meal to the bereaved, made some soup from scratch to put in the freezer for a meal on another day, and written one of her lovely notes to express her love and concern.  In the middle of doing all of that, Janet would have realized that the food crate in the coat closet was full and she would have made a delivery to the Hudson Food Pantry.  For Janet, as has been said many times, food is love.

          Food is love.  We are not talking about cheap comfort food here.  For Janet, authentic food is genuine love.  Janet knew the capacity of a good meal shared around a table to build community.   Janet loved to cook for people and to create the kind of space around a meal where people could talk, laugh or cry, and share their lives.  Janet also worked tirelessly to make sure less fortunate people had access to food so they could create meals for their own families, participating in any outreach ministry she could that provided food to those who are hungry.  Janet knew the power of community to sustain people in good times and in hard times, and she had a gift for making community happen.  In the gospel reading, Jesus told us that the greatest commandment is to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength.  Then Jesus said that the second commandment is to love your neighbor as yourself.  Janet poured her love of God and her neighbor into the world through food.  Today, we gather together in this place, a community of people who have come together from all over the country.  Many of us do not know each other.  Yet we are bound together today to share this very simple meal at this table, in this place Janet loved so much and where she shared so many meals.  Janet has once again created community as we share food and stories, laugh and cry together and  celebrate the life of our loving, gracious Janet.

          Food is love.  Janet also knew that food nourishes our souls, and our souls hurt today.  We gather to celebrate her life, but we also gather to share our grief and acknowledge the deep hole her death leaves in our hearts.  We gather to pray for each other and hold each other in our grief.  Scripture tells us that Jesus wept at the tomb of his friend Lazarus, so we have no shame in shedding our own tears at the death of a loved one.  Janet did not just make meals for those who were celebrating, or those who were hungry.  Janet also made meals for those who were hurting.  One of the last things Janet did was to make a meal and take that meal to another family who was hurting.  Janet was not naïve. Janet did not think that any meal, no matter how well prepared, how delicious, how healthy, or how much chocolate was involved, would heal a broken heart.  But Janet knew that a good meal could make people feel loved, and that love has the power to heal.  So feel the love around you.  Let that love sink into your hearts.  Let the love of Janet surround you and the love of God comfort you.  The reading from Romans reminds us that nothing, neither death nor life nor angels nor archangels nor anything in heaven or on earth, not even cancer or grief can separate us from the love of God.  Janet and I exchanged a lot of scripture through text messages over the last two years, but we also exchanged some more secular and perhaps less reverent text messages.  One of the more secular messages was a quote from Christopher Robin to Pooh, and I think Janet would say these words to you today “Promise me you will always remember that you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”  You are brave enough, strong enough, and wise enough to meet the weeks and months to come because between God’s love and Janet’s love you have the bravery, strength, and wisdom that you need.

          Food is love.  Lastly, Janet knew that food nourishes and nurtures our bodies.  Our problem today is with the body and the fact that our bodies do not last forever, no matter how well they are nourished.  And yet, as Christians we know that we are more than just our body.  We proclaim that death is not the end of life; that, in Jesus, we have been given eternal life.  Death does not separate us from the love of God.  Death brings us closer to God as we enter God’s eternal presence.  In her baptism all those years ago, Janet was united with Jesus in his death and resurrection.  In her death on February 28, she was joined with Jesus in new life, in the place Jesus prepared for her, in that place where there is no pain or grief, and God’s love is everywhere.  Janet lived her life as an expression of God’s love for the world.  Now she lives in that place where God’s love will nourish and strengthen her for all eternity.

                                                                             Amen.