Tips to Travel By

 

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

January 3, 2021

2 Christmas B 

          Last week, I spent some time writing my report for our annual meeting, which happens right here on Zoom two weeks from today.  Our annual meeting is a time to look at the year that has gone by as well as look to the future as we pass a budget for the year and elect new vestry members and delegates to our diocesan convention.  Thinking about the year that has gone by was not so difficult.  There were lots of challenges and together we figured a way around or though most of them.  Thinking about the year to come was different, however.  This time last year, we thought we knew what the year ahead looked like.  We thought we had plans and goals and ways to make those happen.  Ha!  At least this year, we know we don’t know exactly how the year will go down, when we will get to regather and open our new space, how long we will need to wear these uncomfortable yet lifesaving masks, or when we can sing again.  What we do know, however, is that the future will look different from the past, not just because life will have changed, but because God always calls us forward into new life, never backwards into old ways.

          This morning, the magi from the east are looking for Jesus, the child born king of the Jews, so they can pay him homage.  At the end of the day, I believe that we, too, are looking for Jesus as we look to a new future.  As a church that promises in baptism to seek and serve Christ in all people, the end goal of all that we do, is to recognize Jesus in our midst.  I believe the story of the Magi and their travels gives us some tips on how we are to travel forward into our new reality. 

First, the magi have travelled from the east to pay homage to the child born king of the Jews. Why? Because they saw his star at its rising.  The child is not their king, yet they were willing to follow a star and travel a great distance to pay him homage.  Travel was dirty, slow and exhausting in those days, under the best of circumstances. Nothing about it was convenient.  So right away, we know that the magi must have a sense of adventure that sets them off to follow a star to find a king.

          Secondly, the magi were willing to take a risk. They were following a star for a thousand miles or so to find a baby.  That sounds a lot like looking for a needle in a haystack to me and the risk of failure seems high.  Also, if the magi knew enough to follow a star to find a king that was not their king, then they likely knew enough to know that asking around in Jerusalem for the child born king of the Jews was going to provoke some fear in the current king.  As Yoda, my favorite philosopher, says “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate.  Hate leads to suffering.”  Yoda could have been thinking about King Herod with those words.  The magi’s’ risk pays off as they find the child they have come to see.  They were not afraid but trusted the guidance of the star to lead them to the child. 

          Thirdly, the magi traveled together.  Tradition tells us that there were three magi as three gifts are mentioned.  But no where are we told that exactly three magi showed up.  Likely they had many traveling companions, perhaps caravans that carried supplies for the journey.  But the magi spoke and acted as one body, following the star together, inquiring about the child together, going to meet with Herod together, setting off to Bethlehem together, experiencing overwhelming joy together, and offering their gifts together.  Then, warned in a dream not to return to Herod, together they went home by another road.  Wherever God was guiding them, they went together.

          A sense of adventure, a willingness to take risks, and their commitment to travel together got the magi to the baby Jesus.  The most important piece of the story, however, is what they do when they finally arrive at the house and find Mary and Jesus.  The magi kneel down, pay him homage, and give him gifts fit for a king.  When they find Jesus, they ask him for nothing, giving no thought to what Jesus might be able to do for them.  Instead, they offer him themselves in their homage and their wealth in their gifts.  They are not the least bit concerned with the effort they have put into getting there or how they will get home.  Their focus is completely on the child.

          As we stand on the cusp of this new year, a year that holds a lot of both promise and uncertainty, a year that calls us to let go of the past and look to the future, the story of the magi gives us some tips to travel by.  We are called to a sense of adventure as we discover the new life into which God calls us.  Our travels may be dirty, slow, exhausting and inconvenient, too, but that is the price of adventure.  We are called to take some risks and try new things, knowing that not everything we try will be successful, but failure does not mean that we have not been faithful.  We are called to travel this journey together, just as we have traveled many prior journeys together, looking out for each other and looking for the way forward together.  But primarily, the story reminds us that in all that we do, we are looking for Jesus, and how we are called to pay Christ homage in all people.  As we look to a future with beautifully renovated buildings, a future in which progress will no doubt come more slowly than we would like, and a future with perhaps more unknowns than knowns, the story of the magi calls us to keep our focus on what we can offer Jesus, together. 

                                                                   Amen.

 

The Story Holds

 

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

December 24, 2020

 

Christmas Eve 

          Advent 2004 was brutal in the parish I was serving at the time.  In the course of the first three weeks of Advent, we lost three beloved parishioners.  The last was a 10 year old child who was killed in a freak accident with her horse.  Week after week we did exactly what we would do here.  The Altar Guild set up the altar, changing the hangings from Advent blue to resurrection white and back to Advent blue, setting out the silver eucharistic vessels in place of the simpler Advent ones, and preparing the church. Advent greens were replaced with flowers, which were replaced with greens for Sunday.  The ushers and greeters prepared to welcome people from the community and beyond.  The reception committee stepped forward week after week to put on an appropriate funeral spread for all of the guests.  The choir came together and sang, acolytes stepped up, and Saturday after Saturday the church rose to the occasion, all the while also preparing for Christmas.

          As luck would have it, the same Christmas about a foot of snow fell on December 23, complicating preparations and making us wonder if we would even be able to have Christmas Eve services.  That year, for some reason that completely escapes me, we thought it would be a nice touch to have live animals in the children’s Christmas pageant, which also happened on Christmas Eve.  We had llamas, sheep, dogs, and I forget what else all lined up.  That sounded like a great idea back in September when we planned the pageant. 

          We arrived at Christmas Eve that year sad, broken, angry, frustrated, tired, and all the other feelings that come with great grief.  The person who plowed our parking lot was diligent and had plowed every couple of hours during the snowstorm to stay ahead of the accumulation, so we had parking.  The streets were sort of clear, passable at least.  And to our amazement, people-and animals- showed up.  Exhausted, grieving people made their way to the church, which took some effort given the snow.  I think we all wanted to know that someway, somehow, the story of the baby in the manger meant something, that God had really been born in our midst, and we were not alone.

          And here’s what happened.  In the midst of our grief over our deep loses, our frustration with uncooperative weather, our fatigue from trying to balance way too many events and feelings, the Christ child was born.  We experienced the Christ Child in the joy of the children and the patience of the animals, the magic of the music, the light of the candles, the presence of each other, and the story that is the same year after year.  The angels sang, the shepherds traveled, and Mary and Joseph marveled.  We heard the words of Isaiah “For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace.” And there was peace in our broken hearts that night.  In the midst of a very difficult season, the Christmas story held.

          I have been thinking about that Christmas 16 years ago a lot lately.  This night we gather, not in person as we long for, but on Zoom and Facebook live in the midst of a very difficult season.  Perhaps we wonder if the Christ Child can actually be born virtually.  We grieve the losses of the past year, whether of loved ones or a way of life or freedoms we once took for granted.  We are frustrated and sad that we cannot be with our loved ones this holiday season the way that we long to do.  And we are sick and tired of masks and social distancing.  And yet, despite all of our grief, frustrations, and fatigue, the Christ Child is born in our midst.  Mary and Joseph make their very inconvenient journey to Bethlehem as we endure the inconveniences of a pandemic and trying to worship together on Zoom and Facebook Live.  The angels are singing this night through the hymns we hear and sing.  The shepherds travel to Bethlehem to see the baby Jesus and to tell Mary and Joseph all that had been told them just as we hear the ancient story once again.  Mary and Joseph ponder in their hearts all that has happened just as we look into our hearts to find the Christ Child in our midst.  And, through our candles, the light of Christ shines in the darkness. 

          The good news of Christmas is not that the Christ Child is born in our midst when everything is convenient and perfect.  The good news of Christmas is that Christ is born in our midst when the world looks dark and scary to proclaim that there is a light that shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot put the light out.  The good new of Christmas is that the story of the birth of Jesus holds, even when tested in the darkest and most trying of times.  The good news of Christmas is that in the birth of this tiny child, God is most certainly with us, both this night and always.

                                                                             Amen.

 

Longing

 Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

November 29, 2020

1 Advent B 

          At Compline and Conversation a couple of weeks ago, the conversation prompt was “What are you waiting for?”  The intent of my question was for us to think about that for which we long and try to put words to those longings.  However, one person in the group understood the question to mean “What is holding you up?”  Waiting as longing vs. waiting as stalling is interesting to think about as we enter this Advent season of waiting and anticipation.

          What most of us were longing for that night, in one way or another, was a return to life as we knew it in February.  We are waiting to be able to hug, to have time with family and friends, or to leave the house and run an errand with no thought to germs. We long to sing together and make or hear live music, and to worship and pray together in the same physical space. We long for the time when the rising loss of life and health does not dominate our lives and the news each day. The list went on and on of the specific things we long for these days and we find ourselves growing impatient with the delay.

          The Hebrew people are also waiting for life to go back to normal and growing impatient in today’s reading from Isaiah.  The people long for the life their ancestors knew before the Hebrew people were exiled in Babylon in 586 BC.  The people spent 50 years in exile before returning to the Promised Land which was now a burned out wasteland.  The people long for the glory days when Israel was a military power and the temple in Jerusalem that Solomon built was a place of worship fit for God.  They long for God to come down to earth and do something about their current situation the same way God acted decisively in the past, leading them out of bondage in Egypt and out of exile in Babylon.  “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,” or a bit more politely in the words of the Psalm “Restore us, O God of hosts.  Show us the light of your countenance and we shall be saved.”

          The community to which the gospel of Mark was written is also waiting.  The early church had been waiting for Jesus’ return ever since Pentecost and Jesus’ ascent into heaven.  Mark was written around 70 AD.  Jerusalem had fallen to the Romans and the second temple, the one that was rebuilt after the Hebrew people returned from exile in Babylon, lay in ruins.  Life as the people knew it had come to an end and they waited with all their hearts for Jesus to return and save them from the Romans.  Jesus points to the darkness of those days and that suffering in this morning’s reading and tells the people that when they see that darkness and that cosmic suffering, they will know that the Son of Man is near, at the very gates.  Jesus’ followers are to keep awake-four times Jesus says this-so they are not asleep when Jesus arrives.  Be awake, be ready, for God is about to act.

          We enter Advent today, in the midst of Thanksgiving weekend, at a time when the news feels almost apocalyptically bad.  While a vaccine appears to be a light at the end of the tunnel, much darkness and suffering appear to stand between now and the mass distribution of that vaccine.  While certainly we wait for specific things-such as an end to mask wearing, or the ability to sing safely together, or see family, and most importantly the end to the loss of health and life caused by the virus-the whole of that for which we wait feels like more than the sum of the parts, and in that way I find myself identifying with both the Hebrew people in the reading from Isaiah and the followers of Jesus in Mark’s gospel.  The Hebrew people wanted God to come down and do something.  Jesus told his followers that the Son of Man will send out his angels and gather his elect from the four winds.  We want God to do something as well, preferably something dramatic and powerful that will stop the virus once and for all.  The Hebrew people wanted life to return to the way it was, but they knew that was not really going to happen.  God calls us forward, not backwards.  Likewise, Jesus’ followers in Mark’s gospel were waiting for Jesus to return and do something new, create something new.  But in both cases, the people did not know what that forward, that new thing, would look like. I can relate to that.   We don’t know what the new normal will be when it arrives or even how we will recognize a new normal.  Lastly, in both cases, the Hebrew people and Jesus’ followers trusted that God was about to do something, and they knew that God would act because God had acted on their behalf in the past.

          In the midst of this pandemic that has turned life upside down in so very many ways, Advent calls us to trust that God will act and at the very same time to watch, to keep alert, for what God is already doing in our midst.  And God is doing much-working through health care providers and first responders to care for the sick and the dying, using the skills of researchers and public health departments to find ways to keep people safe, helping us find new ways to connect and be together, providing us friends and family along with God’s abiding spirit to help keep spirits up.  And when we get discouraged, and the journey seems too long, the apostle Paul promises us in the reading from 1 Corinthians that God has already given us strength for this journey and assures us of God’s faithfulness as we wait…for God to act in our midst, for the Christ Child, and for whatever the future holds. 

          Waiting as longing vs. waiting as stalling.  Advent calls us to name our deep longing for God to come among us while being attentive to the ways God is active in our midst now.  Advent waiting is not idle waiting but active waiting, calling us to look now, to stay awake to God’s action now, to watch for the signs of God’s presence now.   Advent calls us to see what God is doing now and trust that what ever the future holds, God will meet us there. That is the promise of the Christ Child for which we wait, after all.  Emmanuel, God with us.

                                                                                      Amen.

         

Jesus

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 22, 2020

Christ the King 

One of my favorite family memories is a meal we had with Don’s parents over the Christmas holidays some years ago.  After dinner we sat around the table for a long while during which Don’s father, Fred, regaled us with stories about his adventures hitchhiking around northwest Arkansas and around the country in the 1940’s.  He met some great folks and some very shady characters and rode with people of a great variety of driving skills.  I am truly amazed and grateful that he lived to marry Don’s mom!  While hitch hiking is no longer a primary means of transportation as it might have been in the 1940’s, I do have a friend who picks up hitch hikers.  My friend is about my size, 10 years younger, and obviously way more adventuresome than I.  When she told me about picking up hitchhikers, my pastoral response was to tell her that she is an idiot.  Her honest reply was "What if the person is really Jesus and this is a test?  I don't want to fail."  My concerned response was "What if it's not Jesus?"  This is not the 1940’s after all!

 Of course, theologically, my friend is more correct than I.  In the baptismal covenant we are asked if we will seek and serve Christ in all people.  And we say with conviction "We will, with God's help."  We believe that Christ is in all people.  Period.  Christ may be more obviously present in some people than others, or more obscure in some people than others.  But Christ is there.  Today is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday in the church year, and we are Christ Church Episcopal.  So on this day we at Christ Church are especially called to think about our identity as people who seek and serve Christ in all people, no matter how obscure or well-hidden Christ might seem to be.

Our belief that we are called to seek and serve Christ in all people comes straight out of Jesus' words this morning.  This morning, we watch as Jesus separates the sheep from the goats.  The sheep are those who have fed, clothed, visited, and cared for Jesus.  The goats are those who have not.  When the sheep are surprised to find that they have served Jesus, Jesus tells them that whenever they have served the least of these who are members of his family, they have served Jesus.  When the goats are surprised, shocked even, to learn that they have failed to serve Jesus, they are told that when they failed to serve the least of these, they failed to serve Jesus.

At Christ Church, we think about serving Jesus when we serve lunch at Open M, or dinner at Family Promise, or build houses with Habitat for Humanity, or paint houses with First Serve, or knit caps for school children in impoverished areas of Akron, or collect yams, or laundry detergent or gift cards for those in need.  This Christmas, we will serve Jesus by supporting the Peter Maurin Center in Akron which serves those who live under bridges and on the streets in Akron, help that is especially vital this year since overnight shelters for the homeless cannot open because of the pandemic.  We serve Jesus in each other as we make phone calls and send notes to check in with each other, pray together and for each other, and support each other in countless ways during the pandemic and always. We want to serve Jesus well, and remembering that we serve Jesus also reminds us that we are connected to those we serve, no matter how different we might appear to be.

But here's the catch: In our parable this morning, the sheep had fed the hungry and visited the sick without knowing that they were serving Jesus.  They were as surprised as anyone when Jesus said "Come you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundations of the world."  They were not serving the hungry and the sick because they thought they were serving Jesus or in order to earn their way into the Kingdom, or to pass a test for that matter.  They were serving for some other reason.

The idea that people of faith should serve others is hardly something new with Jesus.  Matthew's gospel was written to a largely Jewish audience.  The Hebrew scriptures are full of admonitions to live with mercy and kindness, not just to people of like faith, but to all people.  Over and over again in Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy, we hear the command to show hospitality to foreigners for the Hebrew people were once strangers in the land of Egypt.  The Hebrew people and the stranger were connected by the common experience of being in a foreign land.  The prophet Micah sums up the Hebrew teaching with the words "What does the Lord require? That you do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God."  In the reading from Ezekiel, we hear God model the very behavior God expects of God's faithful people.  "I will seek the lost and I will bring back the strayed.  I will bind up the injured and I will strengthen the weak."  Acts of mercy and kindness are part of the identity of the Hebrew people because they are the people of the God of mercy and kindness.

The sheep we hear about this morning are sheep simply because they live as the people of God they were created to be.  Acts of mercy and kindness were part of the identity of the sheep because they belong to the God of mercy and kindness.  The sheep were completely surprised to find that they had served Jesus.   Jesus says in Matthew's gospel "I have come not to abolish the law but to fulfill it" so for Christians, belonging to God through Christ means living out the same acts of mercy and kindness.  Then, to our surprise, we realize that we have served Jesus.

At Christ Church, serving others is what we do simply because we belong to God.  In living out that identity, we do meet Jesus.  In meeting Jesus, we realize that we are connected to the whole human family.  My friend who picks up hitch hikers is correct, even if her judgement might be questionable.  The hitchhiker is Jesus.  But there is no test we are trying to pass to earn our way into the Kingdom.  We are already there.  And God assumes we will live like the Kingdom people we are and find a just and merciful way to help people in need of transportation, or medical care, or education, food, shelter, clothing, or love and acceptance.  The challenge of Christ the King Sunday is to live into our identity as children of God by the way we live our lives and allow ourselves to be surprised by the many ways we encounter Jesus along the way.  By doing so, we will make the Kingdom of God a more present reality in our current time.

Amen.

Immeasurable Love

 

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

November 15, 2020

28 Proper A 

          Many years ago, in the Diocese of Southern Ohio, I participated in a pick-up choir for the Eucharist at Diocesan Convention.  Because this was a pick-up choir with one rehearsal the night before, I assumed a) that the piece would be easy, and b) that the ability to read music was not required.  I cannot read music, but I can generally follow along, so I figured I was up to singing in a pick-up choir.  Was I ever wrong!  I do not remember what the piece was, but simple was by no means an accurate description.  And the ability to read music was assumed as if everyone on the planet knows what the notes sound like without hearing them.  But since there was no graceful way to bow out, or flee, I did my best and tried to pretend I had some clue what to sing.  But at the peace, after the pick-up choir had sung, Bishop Thompson came up to me, winked and said, and I quote “Keep your day job.”

          So, I can find myself a little defensive when I hear the parable of the talents.  Sometimes we have to do what we can with what little talent we have and make the best of a less than optimal situation.  On the surface, the parable of the talents rewards those who have much and punishes those who have little and are afraid to lose what little they have.  On the surface, Jesus seems to be offering advice to Finance Committees everywhere to invest for growth not just for savings.

          But Jesus is not a financial advisor, and as I have said many times, when Jesus looks to be giving common sense advice, we need to look deeper.  Jesus is not a common sense savior.  Plus, the parable ends with the words for which Matthew is famous “throw him into outer darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” This happened to the person who was not dressed for the wedding banquet a few weeks ago, and we can assume that something similar happened to the foolish bridesmaids last week.  This is another clue that Jesus is giving neither financial nor common sense advice.

          So what is Jesus up to this morning in yet another tricky little parable?  A man has entrusted his property to three of his servants, giving one person 5 talents, another 3 talents, and yet another 1 talent.  Two of the servants double the master’s money while he is away, and when the master returns, the servants hear the blessed words “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.”  But when the  person who received one talent comes forward, that servant says to the master “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow….so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” And the servant returns the single talent to the master at which point the servant is cast into utter darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

          This parable raises a lot of questions.  First, how does the last servant know the master is harsh?  There is nothing in the parable from the master except generosity and joy until the master gets to the servant who failed to use his one talent to produce anything more.  Secondly, the third servant is very bold to speak to the master the way he does if the servant is so very afraid of the master.  And thirdly, what might the master have done had the first two slaves risked the talents they received on some big venture that failed and they had nothing to return to the master?  Would they, too, have ended up in the outer darkness?  And the big question: where is the good news in this parable?

          I believe the meaning of the parable hinges on the line “so I was afraid.”  Through out the gospels, the opposite of faith is not doubt, but fear.  The first two servants acted on faith, both faith in their master that they would not be punished if they tried and failed, and faith in their abilities to use what they were given to make more.  They were invited to enter into the joy of the master.  I honestly do not think the master would have been angry with them had they tried and failed.  The third servant acted in fear of the master and thus in fear of the servant’s own abilities.  That servant ended up in outer darkness.

          I wonder if we might think of the talents as the immeasurable love of God.   Some days we may feel like we have been given a full measure and rush out in faith and joy to share that love and grow the Kingdom of God.  Other days, such as in the midst of a pandemic, or deep national division, or racial injustice or whatever personal challenges we face, we may feel like we have a smaller measure, even if though the reality is that the love of God is immeasurable and we each have been given God’s love in abundance.  However we might be feeling, whatever challenges we face, we are called to act in faith, not fear, and share that love and be a blessing to the world, not bury God’s love in the ground because we feel we have so little.  Jesus also says in this same gospel “No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”  The message is the same.  The love of God has been poured into our hearts to be shared so that we can be a blessing to the world and make the Kingdom of God a present reality on earth.

          The Good News in this parable is that, as humans, we are loved immeasurably by God, and as humans who follow Jesus, we have not only a call, but a responsibility to step out in faith and make that love known in the world, even and especially when times are hard.  God loves humankind too much to let us simply bury that love in the ground to be dug up and returned someday.  We can get hung up on what happened to the poor servant who acted in fear and was cast into outer darkness, or we can be people of love, taking a risk and stepping out in faith, so that one day we will hear God say to everyone “Enter into the joy of your master.”

                                                                             Amen.

Persistence

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
November 8, 2020

 

27 Proper A 

          Our baby granddaughter Collins was 6 months old on Friday.  She loves music and singing, being held and playing with her toys, and is generally a delightful baby, although her parents could use a bit more sleep.  But Collins’ most striking characteristic is her persistence.  In addition to her persistence in making her needs known, Collins has been trying to crawl for about a month now.  She has advanced from a pretty impressive plank, to getting herself on her hands and knees, to rocking back and forth in a way that sends her backwards, to lunging herself forward so that she does a face plant on the blanket.  She practices this All The Time and for longer at a time than I thought babies could concentrate.  When she wakes up in her crib, we can see her on the monitor trying to get those hands and knees going.  When she is playing on the floor, she spends the time on her hands and knees, back and forth, back and forth, trying to get those hands and knees to do what she wants them to.  Obviously, this is not always successful and never graceful.  After 20 or 30 minutes, she does get tired, but after a cuddle and a song or two, or maybe a nap, she is ready to go again.  Even though she is a bit young, we all wish she would finally master the art of crawling to reward her persistence and her practice and end her frustration!

          This morning, we hear Jesus’ parable about the wise and foolish bridesmaids.  On the surface, the parable sounds like a call to spend all of our time awake, watching for Jesus.  But this is a tricky little parable.  Even though Jesus ends the parable with the words “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour,” I am not sure the parable is really about keeping our eyes open 24/7.  Both the wise and the foolish bridesmaids fell asleep, so perhaps the parable is really about something else.

          What separates the wise and the foolish bridesmaids is that the wise bridesmaids took flasks of oil with them while the foolish bridesmaids took no oil.  When the bridegroom was delayed, all ten bridesmaids became drowsy and fell asleep.  They all awoke to a shout that the bridegroom had arrived, but the 5 foolish bridesmaids could not go out to greet the bridegroom because they had no oil, and the wise bridesmaids refused to share lest they run out of oil.  Clearly this is not a parable about abundance and generosity!  When the bridegroom arrives at midnight, and the bridesmaids awake, the foolish ones are sent off to the dealers to buy more oil.  At midnight.  In the first century.  I’m not sure you can buy oil at midnight in Hudson, Ohio in 2020.  So the parable must not be about common sense, but then none of Jesus’ parables are.  But the 5 foolish bridesmaids do find oil, and return, only to find the door to the banquet hall shut, and the bridegroom refuses to let them in.  Clearly this parable is not about gracious hospitality, either.

          So what is this parable about?  The faith of the early church and the faith of the church now is rooted in the belief that Jesus will return.  In our reading from 1 Thessalonians, the very early Christians worried about what would happen to those who died before Jesus returned, as his return was thought to be imminent.  Paul’s answer is to reassure the Thessalonians that those who have died in Christ will rise first when Jesus returns. When we, in the 21^st century, celebrate the Eucharist, we affirm the faith of the church and say “Christ has died. Christ is risen.  Christ will come again.”  Around the time that the gospel of Matthew was written, likely toward the end of the first century, the early Christians were struggling with Jesus’ delay.  Some believed that perhaps Jesus had returned and they missed him.  Some gave up the belief all together.  And many struggled with how to wait until Jesus finally returned. 

          In the parable, what was needed for a successful wait was oil in the bridesmaids’ lamps.  Those with oil were ready when the bridegroom appeared with no advance notice and the wedding banquet began.  What do we need in our lamps for a successful wait?  In the big picture, we do still wait for Jesus to return.  Some of us may wonder if Jesus has returned and we missed him, or if Jesus returns in our midst and our eyes are not open to see him, or if the church has been wrong all along about Jesus’ return.  But the faith of the church in Jesus’ return has not changed.  “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.”  What is the oil that we need in our lamps as we wait?

          I believe that the oil we need is a dogged persistence and determined practice that parallels that of baby Collins.  Rather than crawling, however, we are called to persist and practice what our baptismal covenant calls  seeking and serving Christ in all people.  All people, all the time.  I believe that if we practice seeking and serving Christ in all people, we will recognize Jesus when he returns in all his glory.  We don’t have to agree with everyone, want them as a best friend, or even have lunch with them.  But we are called to seek and serve Christ in them.  The process will not always be graceful and we may not always succeed.  But we are called to persistence and practice as we do the work of seeking and serving Christ in those who are a different color, faith, ethnicity, political persuasion, socio-economic background, gender orientation, or anything else from ourselves.  If Jesus is in our midst, which I believe he is, we will recognize him if we are seeking and serving him in all people.  If our lamps are full of persistence and practice, we will succeed at all the other waitings we do, like waiting for the pandemic to end, or the votes to be counted, or a diagnosis to come, or a special day to arrive, and we will make a gospel difference in the world while we wait.  And I believe that if we have spent this time before Jesus arrives with our lamps full of persistence and the practice of seeking and serving Christ in all people, not only will we recognize Jesus when he returns, but Jesus will be more likely to recognize us at the door to the great wedding banquet.

                                                                                            Amen

Together

 Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

November 1, 2020

All Saints’ Day 

          My grandmother was a conservative, Rite 1, Morning Prayer Episcopalian.  She was tall, slim, and had sort of strawberry blonde hair, at least when she was younger.  She was not much of a cook, likely because she really didn’t enjoy eating.  So, you could say that she and I had very little in common.  And, in fact, we were not even related biologically.  She was my grandfather’s second wife, not the mother of my father.   But she and my grandfather had married 10 years before I was born so we never made any distinction between this grandmother and our other two biological grandmothers. Her grandmother name was Ninny, our childhood redaction of Elinor, and we adored her.  She let us cook in her kitchen, tried to teach us to sew which was an epic fail despite her patient efforts, and spoiled us rotten.  Even as adults, when some of our differences might have mattered, they did not.  We went hunting for Queen Anne’s lace together, spent hours of time talking at the kitchen table, and shared an unconditional love that went way beyond our differences. 

          Today is All Saints’ Day, the day we remember those who have gone before us and left a mark on our lives.  We will hear, because we cannot sing, some of the greatest hymns of the church.  We will remember our loved ones in our prayers.  We will hear the names of our loved ones spoken out loud as we are reminded that those who have gone before us join us when we pray.  All Saints’ is a beloved feast day of the church, I think in part because on All Saints’ Day we feel connected with both our loved ones who have gone before us and with each other.  On All Saints’ Day, we experience the communion of saints in our song, in our prayers, in the candles and flowers, and in our memories.

          But All Saints’ Day is not just about looking back and remembering, as powerful as those memories are.  Our All Saints’ scripture readings all call us forward, into being our very best selves and making the Kingdom of God a present reality on earth.  The reading from Revelation gives us a vision of the Kingdom of God in which people from all tribes and peoples and languages will be one multitude despite their differences.  They will be united in their praise of God and look to the day when there will be no more hunger or thirst, or any scorching heat, and God will wipe away the tear from every eye.  The reading from 1 John reminds us that what we are now, even as children of God, is not all that we will ever be.  What we will be has not yet been revealed.  We are called into being even more than we already are as children of God, which is hard to imagine.  And the gospel reading from Matthew tells us that those who are poor in spirit, who mourn, are meek, who hunger and thirst for righteousness, are merciful, pure in heart, are peacemakers, or are persecuted for righteousness sake are blessed.  That does not mean that they are happy, or that these characteristics are necessarily good things.  What Jesus is telling us is that they are blessed, which means we experience something of the kingdom of God in them. 

          What I believe we experience in the beatitudes are people who know their dependence on God and others.  Those who mourn rely on God and others to be comforted.  Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness shall be filled-by God and other people.  Peacemakers rely on God and others in their quest for peace. They cannot do that work alone.  And on and on.  In the Kingdom of God there are no lone rangers. 

          On this particular All Saints’ Day, we stand on the cusp of what is perhaps an unprecedented week.  Covid-19 numbers are escalating in our county, our state, our country, and around the world.  Tuesday is Election Day with unprecedented division and fears of violence and upheaval in the aftermath among those on both sides.  In the midst of whatever anxiety we might feel, whatever the source, All Saints’ Day calls us to remember three things.  First, as the body of Christ, and even as the human race, we are one body despite our differences.  The one multitude the reading from Revelation describes has people from all tribes, people, languages, which means all political parties, theological persuasions, faiths, and anything else that divides us.  When we recognize that we are one body, we realize that what we do affects everyone else, and their hurt or suffering affects us.  Secondly, All Saints’ calls us into being our very best selves.  As Christians who identify as Episcopalians, we are our best selves when we keep the promises we make in our baptismal covenant, which include seeking and serving Christ in all people, working for justice and peace, and respecting the dignity of every human being.  1 John tells us that we are God’s children now and that what we will be has not yet been revealed, which is beyond our imaginations.  We are called to live into that reality.  And thirdly, All Saints’ Day and the beatitudes call us to remember our dependence on God and each other.  There is nothing we must do alone.

Whatever the outcome of the election, whatever the situation with Covid or anything else that divides us, there will be an abundance of gospel work that needs to be done.  There are hungry people to feed, homeless people to shelter, grieving people to comfort, justice and peace to work for, divisions to heal, and in the midst of it all, gospel news to proclaim.    The saints of God point us to a reality rooted in peace and justice, love and life and call us forward to work for that reality.  But we can only get there together.  As a friend of mine says “Alone we can go faster, but together we can go further.”  When there is a long way to go, a lot of healing that needs to happen, and a lot of work that needs to be done, we at Christ Church know we need to go together.  In the midst of our memories, our prayers, beautiful music and flowers, our smiles and our tears this day, All Saints’ Day calls us forward to be our very best selves and to work as one body across our differences to make the Kingdom of God a more present reality on earth.     

Amen