Sermons

Today is the beginning of a new church year: the first
Sunday of Advent. Of course, during this season of Advent, we are awaiting the
birth of our Savior, Jesus coming into this world to make tangible for us God’s
mercy and love. Also, this season is a reminder to us that we are always
awaiting Christ’s second coming, “the Son of Man coming in clouds with great
power and glory.” Jesus Christ will return marking the completion, the fruition
of the Kingdom of God on earth. The readings for this first Sunday of Advent
focus on the second coming, a day of judgment. Christ will “…gather his
elect…from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.” We don’t know what this
day will look like, what will happen, or what will come next. We don’t know the
when, though some have made predictions.

Back in the 1800’s, the Millerites, followers of a farmer
named William Miller, decided that the world would end on April 23, 1843, based
somehow on an interpretation of Scripture. Many gave away their possessions. When
the day arrived and Jesus didn’t, the group disbanded. More recently, scientist
Richard Noone decided that May 5, 2000 would be the day that the alignment of
the planets and the thickness of the Antarctic ice mass would lead to global
icy destruction. In 2006, minister Ronald Weinland, self-described as the
end-time prophet of God, proclaimed the second coming would happen by the end
of 2008. We don’t know the-when and that is precisely how it is laid out in
Scripture. Jesus is not telling us when. Rather, we are being encouraged to
live as though Christ’s return is imminent.

When the Gospels were written, people did expect Christ to return
any day. We just heard in the Gospel of Mark, “Truly I tell you, this
generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.” Now,
it’s been 2,000 years. It’s easy to see how most of us have moved on from this prospect
of completion – not in any way a part our everyday awareness. But, what if it
was? What if we lived our everyday lives expecting Christ’s imminent return?

In the passage from Isaiah this morning, the people are
crying out to God, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so
that the mountains would quake at your presence.” Do you hear the desire for
God in these words? This Scripture passage is set in the time after the Israelites
have returned from being in exile in Babylonia, but while the temple in
Jerusalem still lies in ruins. They are trying to cope with the devastation. They
cry out to God, “Please come.” The passage concludes with the people acknowledging
their dependence on God. “O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you
are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” In other words, we know we
need you. This passage points to the power in weakness because when we acknowledge
our dependence on God, our need for God, we open ourselves to God inspiring our
lives; we open ourselves to God’s desire for our lives.

I love the metaphor of the clay and the potter. I read an
article about pottery explaining the time and patience it takes to craft a
piece of pottery (https://en.vogue.me/culture/therapeutic-pottery/).
A ceramicist covered in the article says, “It’s taught me a lot about letting
go a bit and not expecting perfection.” God, our potter, has infinite patience
with our imperfections, actively waiting for us, always ready to inspire us as
we are able to open are hearts to God. In this season of Advent, we are
encouraged to be actively waiting for God, full of expectation for the gift of
God living among us.

Just as God has infinite patience, so we need to be patient
in crafting our relationship with God through prayer. “Leo Tolstoy tells the
story of three hermits who lived on an island. Their prayer [to God] of
intimacy and love was simple like they were simple: ‘We are three; you are
three; have mercy on us. Amen.’ Miracles sometimes happened when they prayed in
this way. The bishop, however, hearing about the hermits, decided that they
needed guidance in proper prayer, and so he went to their small island. After
instructing the monks, the bishop set sail for the mainland, pleased to have
enlightened the souls of such simple men. Suddenly, off the stern of the ship
he saw a huge ball of light skimming across the ocean. It got closer and closer
until he could see that it was the three hermits running on top of the water. Once
on board the ship they said to the bishop, ‘We are sorry, but we have forgotten
some of your teaching. Would you please instruct us again?’ The bishop shook
his head and replied meekly, ‘Forget everything I have taught you and continue
to pray in your old way’” (Richard J. Foster, Prayer: Finding the Heart’s
True Home, New York; HarperCollins Publishers, 1992, p. 80).

There is no right or wrong way to pray and there are no
quick paths to developing our relationship with God. We need to give time to
our prayer life. Advent lends itself to contemplative prayer, sitting quietly
and simply being present to God. Desiring God is a part of our nature. But, we
have to make the space to recognize our connection to the Divine. When sitting
quietly before God, we are acknowledging our dependence on God, our need for
God. We are desiring God to be our Savior, our source of comfort, mercy and
inspiration – our perfect Love.

We don’t know when the Second Coming will happen, what it
will look like, or what will come next. But, we know it will be Good News. As
we heard in the Gospel passage, “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as
its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is
near.” If we live thinking that the Second Coming might happen at any time,
might we be inspired to focus on developing our relationship with God, so that we
come to that day without regret for what we squandered – time, talent,
treasure, relationships, priorities – but rather we come to that day with
hearts filled with joy for the love coming among us. After all, in that moment,
it will be crystal clear what actually matters in life. Amen.

For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my
sheep and will sort them out.

On this day, we gather in time on a threshold: the last
Sunday of the Church year, the feast of Christ the King. We end today what we
began a year ago on the first Sunday of Advent 2022, and we prepare to begin
again next week on the first Sunday of Advent 2023. In this last year, we have
walked through the story of salvation. We heard the prophets call us to
repentance and then celebrated the birth of God into this world in the person
of Jesus. We heard stories about Jesus healing the sick and even raising the
dead. This past spring, we walked with Jesus through the week of his Passion-
Holy Week- that lead to his death and then resurrection and then ascension. We
celebrated the arrival of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, and all summer and
fall, we have continued to hear about the love of God made known to us in Jesus
that still lives and moves in our hearts through the Holy Spirit. And today, on
the last day of our journey, before we begin again, we celebrate Christ the
King. It is a feast that ends our journey and begins a new one. The feast acts
as a threshold to bridge us from what was to what will be.

But lest we are tempted to think that the Kingdom of God,
ruled by Christ the King himself, looks like a familiar earthly Kingdom with
all the trappings of a royal court, an army, a castle, crowns, fine robes, and
power, we are given stories today in our texts that include sheep and goats. Kind
of startling, isn’t it? On a day when we celebrate the Kingdom of God and the
reign of Christ, the Church gives us barn animals.

In Ezekiel, we hear that God will search for God’s own sheep
and will sort them out-- sort here meaning that God will count the sheep, see
who is missing, and check on sheep that might need special attention. “I will
bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the
weak.” God will also not only sort and help the sheep, God will also supply all
of the needs of the sheep. “I will feed them with good pasture. There they
shall lie down.” God’s promise here is that God’s sheep will live from a place
of abundance. And then my favorite part- “I will feed them with justice.” God’s
will make things right. God will rescue the sheep from all harm. “I will save
my flock, and they shall no longer be ravaged.”

If we turn to the Gospel, we hear Jesus using sheep and
goats to further talk about God’s will and work in the world. He tells us that
those who give of themselves to take care of the least among us- the hungry,
thirsty, sick, imprisoned, estranged- will be rewarded with eternal life. And
in a dramatic act, Christ the King, will separate the sheep from the goats. He
will separate those who helped and those who didn’t. (Something to note here:
there are only two options. Either we help those in need or we don’t. Jesus
doesn’t give us an option to be passive. Either we are serving him by serving
others or we aren’t. These words can be tough to hear. Brandon reminded us in
his sermon last week of the risky business of discipleship. Jesus doesn’t mince
words here about our work as his disciples.)

But this parsing out is not a condemnation- even if Jesus’s
words here are pointed and may feel harsh. This parsing out is an invitation
to dream about a different kind of Kingdom, one very different from the kingdoms
of this world- a Kingdom that is reimagined. If we look closely enough, these
texts about sheep and goats- barn animals- are actually perfect assignments for
today’s feast of Christ the King. Jesus is not giving us a list of who’s in and
who’s out- who makes the cut and who doesn’t. Jesus is rather giving us a list
of the citizens of the Kingdom of God- who the people are that make up the rule
and reign of God. He is telling us what the Kingdom of God looks like and who
the Kingdom of God looks like. And in stern words, Jesus tells us that the Kingdom
of God is made up of folk who took the time to feed the hungry, quench the
thirst of the thirsty, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned, and heal the
sick.

In this invitation to dream, to hope for a new world in
which all are fed and clothed and healed, Jesus asks us “Who among you are
hungry? Thirsty? Naked? Imprisoned? Sick?” He is asking us to take care of
these people, yes, but he is also inviting us to ask ourselves who else is
hungry and thirsty? Perhaps hungry and thirsty for justice and peace and an end
to war and conflict. Who else is naked? Perhaps the unhoused in need of a home,
house, to cover their life and provide them with safety and security. Who else
is imprisoned? Perhaps a prisoner to addiction because addiction to something
external is the only way they know how to cope with the pain this cruel world
has dealt them. Who else is sick? Perhaps those with little or no access to
healthcare, victims of a system that often only serves those who can afford
care.

Today, we will baptize Chloe into the Body of Christ, the
Church. And in this act of baptism, we will invite Chloe into this dreaming
with us about what is possible in the Kingdom of God. Chloe’s parents and
godparents, affirmed by our support, will take vows on her behalf to make sure
she is raised up in the faith and joins in on God’s work already happening
around us in the world. Into this imagined Kingdom that is not fully here, but
to which we continue to strive and work toward, we baptize Chloe.

And here is the good news—it is by taking care of Christ by
taking care of the most vulnerable, the sheep, we have eternal life. We
experience an encounter with Jesus in the eye of the hungry, in the handshake
of the thirsty, in meaningful conversation with the lonely, in the liberation
of the prisoner. This imagining rests on the threshold of a feast- a feast that
leads into our hope: the season of Advent, a season of preparation as we wait
for the coming of Jesus at Christmas. For we are not left to imagine this
Kingdom into being on our own. Jesus walks with us. We are not left to building
this Kingdom on our own. Jesus picks up the hammer and nails and invites us to
dream and work this Kingdom into being alongside him.

Lauren Dockery, our Director of Children & Youth Ministries, preached at our celebration of the Holy Eucharist on the Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost.

The Rev. Patricia Rose preached at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist on All Saints' Sunday.

Well, here we are, once again: the Pharisees are plotting to
entrap Jesus. Last week, Brandon preached on the passage earlier in the Gospel
of Matthew, where the Pharisees ask Jesus, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the
emperor, or not?” Jesus replies, “Give to the emperor the things that are the
emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” The passage concluded, “When
they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.” In the
intervening passage between last Sunday and today, the Sadducees take their
turn at trying to entrap Jesus. The Sadducees were a priestly sect that did not
believe in resurrection. They propose a scenario to Jesus. What if there are
seven brothers, each dies childless, each leaves his widow to the next brother.
In the resurrection, of the seven brothers, whose wife will she be? Jesus tells
them that not only do they not understand Scripture, they don’t understand the
power of God. I’ll leave the interpretation of this passage for another day. But,
just know that when Jesus tells the Sadducees, “God is not God of the dead, but
of the living,” the Sadducees are astounded.

Today, we hear the verses following the Seven Brothers story.
Jesus has silenced the Sadducees and now the Pharisees are trying again. Jesus
stumps them with a line of questioning about the Messiah being both the son of
David and the one that David calls Lord. “The Messiah is both in the line of
David and transcends his lineage” (Tim Beach-Verhey, Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 4, p. 216). The passage
concludes, “No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone
dare to ask him any more questions.” First, last week, the Pharisees were
amazed. Then, the Sadducees were astounded. Now, the Pharisees are speechless
and done asking questions. Jesus has made his point. He is saying, “Listen to me.
I speak with ultimate knowledge and authority. I am offering you Good News. Love
your neighbor as yourself.” It’s not a new message for Jesus’ antagonists, nor for
his followers. The Old Testament passage this morning from Leviticus ends with
these words: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself; I am the Lord.” God’s
loving message is as old as time. We are not fully loving God if we are not
loving what God loves. God wants us to know that the path forward to healing
this broken world is loving our neighbor as our self.

We can be overwhelmed by the divisiveness in Washington –
the lack of moral character – the thirst for power that voids all desire to
collaborate in decision-making. We can be overwhelmed by the wars in the Holy
Land and Ukraine, the animosity, the depravity. Yet, we need to remind
ourselves that living in the light of Christ has always been countercultural. The
arc of the moral universe is long. Just as Paul encouraged the Thessalonians to
remain faithful, we encourage one another to live as we are meant to live,
cultivating the Kingdom of God, trusting that when we love our neighbor as
ourselves, the seeds will grow, however long it might take to come to fruition.

I am serving on the Board of Trustees for Bexley Seabury Seminary.
I was at a Board meeting a couple of weeks ago. Bishop Doug Sparks, Bishop of the
Diocese of Northern Indiana, who is the President of the Board, told a story
from his childhood. He is a twin. When he and his sister were four years old,
their father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and was placed in an
institution where he lived for the next ten years until his death. Doug and his
sister attended a Catholic School. He remembers the sadness and trauma of being
teased about not having a Dad. Of course, his Dad couldn’t show up for any of those
parent-child events at school. One day, when Doug and his sister were in 3^rd
grade, the priest came into the classroom and announced that he was taking Doug
and his sister to see their Dad. Bishop Sparks talked about how amazing that
moment was for him, the moment the priest named his Dad in front of the whole
classroom. He made his Dad known. That’s how we love as Christ loves us. Upholding
the dignity of every human being. Even more broadly, putting ourselves in the
other person’s shoes. Always remembering that a person’s life experiences is
the context for their beliefs and actions today.

Loving our neighbor as our self is not always easy. We have
different personalities, different perspectives - at times strikingly different
points of view. We come together in this faith community to support one
another. We come together for forgiveness, renewal, refreshment, and inspiration
to live our everyday lives in the light of Christ. Well, I do need to shake my
head just a bit that after nine months of raising money to support the Walking
in Love Capital Campaign, and just one week after a wonderful celebration of a
successful campaign, I now have the privilege of kicking off the Annual
Campaign. Just as a reminder, a capital campaign focuses on the longer-term
needs of the church. With the proceeds of the Walking in Love Campaign, we will
be able to address major infrastructure needs that come around once every 20,
50, or even 100 years. In addition, we will grow the church’s endowment funds to
ensure the long-term health of the parish by generating investment income that
will sustain the ministries of the parish for generations to come.

Though annually, we receive investment income from the
endowment, and we have a few other sources of other income, 70% of our annual
budget comes from our annual pledges. Our pledges ensure that worship, music, pastoral
care, education, outreach, and fellowship will continue to thrive throughout
the coming year. This is a pivotal year for us at St. Paul’s because we are
losing two of our largest pledges due to life transitions, which amount to more
than 10% of total pledges. I ask that you prayerfully consider your annual
pledge this year to help us cover our annual operating needs: all ministries
and programs, clergy and staff salaries, outreach to our community and the
wider world, facility maintenance and utilities, and Diocesan and wider church
support. We come here seeking God, desiring to understand how to live our lives
with God, how to live as we are meant to live, loving our neighbor as our self.
Living in gratitude for God’s love in our lives, we give to support the
ministries, which nourish us individually and as a community. As always, I am
so grateful for your gifts of time, talent, and treasure, and so grateful to be
on this journey with you. Amen.

When I was in high school, a teacher once accused me of being “obsequious.” Having not yet encountered this word in my SAT prep, I was forced to look it up in the dictionary (which, in the pre-smartphone age, meant I had to find an actual dictionary). You can imagine my indignation upon learning that an “obsequious” person relies on excessive flattery to ingratiate themselves with someone important. In other words, my teacher had used a fancy word to call me a kiss-up! Adding insult to injury, I learned that an “obsequious” person is, by definition, insincere. Disingenuous. Which is to say, it’s a perfect word to describe Jesus’ rivals in the passage we just heard. These obsequious opponents greet Jesus with words of fawning, insincere flattery. “Teacher,” they say to Jesus, “we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth.” But their true intention is to entrap Jesus. Their words are full of praise, but their hearts are full of malice.

In our Gospel passages the last few weeks, this tension between Jesus and his adversaries has been building. Remember, today’s scene takes place only days after the events of Palm Sunday. When Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey and was greeted with cries of “hosanna,” as the crowds proclaimed him the long-awaited Jewish Messiah. From there, Jesus moves to the Temple, where we find him today – at the very center of Jewish religious life and power. Teaching and telling parables, about a kingdom where the last will be first, and the first will be last. Understandably, those in positions of power are starting to feel threatened. So threatened, in fact, that an unlikely alliance has formed between the Pharisees (the religious elite), and the Herodians (friends of the emperor). Opposition to Jesus, it seems, turns enemies into friends. In only a matter of days, they will arrest Jesus and put him to death. But today, they test Jesus with cunning words in the form of this question: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

If he answers “yes,” Jesus will appear sympathetic to the Roman Empire. That would alienate his Jewish followers, who are the victims of Roman oppression. If he says “no,” he’ll expose himself to charges of sedition. And that would give the Roman authorities a reason to arrest him. Jesus appears to be trapped. Except, Jesus refuses to play by his questioners’ rules. He declines to answer yes or no, and instead asks them a question: “Whose head and title is found on coin used to pay the tax?” “The emperor’s,” they reply. “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s,” Jesus says, “and to God the things that are God’s.”

Jesus successfully evades their trick question. But what does his answer mean for us? For a long time, Jesus’ answer has been used to justify the separation of our lives into two distinct spheres: the civic realm and the spiritual realm. By calling us to “render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God,” Jesus clarifies the relationship between obedience to the state and obedience to God. Many argue that his response suggests you and I have a dual allegiance: “to the teaching and commands of God, on the one hand…and to the government…on the other."

But if I’m honest, I find this interpretation deeply unsatisfying. It’s too simple and tidy. And Jesus was neither of these things. If we cling too tightly to a separation between our civic and spiritual lives, we deny God’s claim on the entirety of our lives. It’s true, we live now as citizens of an earthly kingdom governed by earthly laws. But as citizens of God’s kingdom first, our work is to bear the fruit of his kingdom even now, during our sojourn on earth. And this is a timely topic for us today, as we are weeks away from an election. And in that election, I trust that we, as people of faith, will cast our votes in a way that reflects our most authentic understanding of how best to love God and our neighbors, which is our highest spiritual calling.

Our participation in civic systems is not removed from our spiritual lives or divorced from the convictions of our faith. It is a place where we can become instruments of God’s peace, God’s justice, God’s righteousness, and God’s love. We see this clearly in our work with Greater Cleveland Congregations, where we work alongside other communities of faith for positive social change, often through engagement with those in positions of political power.

So, if this passage is not about bifurcating our spiritual and civic lives, what is its message for us today? Well, let’s go back to where we started – with Jesus’ obsequious opponents. Before Jesus even attempts to respond to their question, he calls out their hypocrisy, as he does over and over throughout the gospels, particularly in his ongoing disputes with the Pharisees. Contrary to a common misperception, Jesus is not here or elsewhere criticizing the Pharisees for their religious beliefs. Jesus was a faithful Jew and no doubt had great sympathy for the Pharisee’s devotion to Torah and its teachings. He condemned them not for their beliefs, but for their hypocrisy. For their false righteousness. For their false persona. For coming to him under the false pretense of being concerned about matters of faith when they just wanted to get rid of Jesus and preserve their own power. The intentions of the Pharisee’s hearts did not match the faith they professed.

Jesus calls us to different way of living. He calls us lives of integrity. Lives of authenticity. Lives of wholeness. Jesus denied any claim on that coin because it bore the image of Caeser. Instead, Jesus claims us as the currency of his kingdom because we bear the image of God. We are God’s currency of peace, justice, and love, in a world torn asunder by the evil fruits of war, hatred, and violence. Indeed, we are gathered here today to be nourished by God’s Word and sacrament to cultivate lives of faith that lead to good works. May we leave here today, renewed for the work of building God’s kingdom on earth. Amen.

The Rev. Patricia preached at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist on the Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost.

“The one who judges us most finally will be the one who loves us most fully," Frederick Buechner.
Frederick Buechner, the beloved writer and theologian, gets us started this morning with our reflection on Scripture. “The one who judges us most finally will be the one who loves us most fully.”

“O God: Grant us the fullness of your grace, that we, running to obtain your promises, may become partakers of your heavenly treasure.”

These words from today’s opening Collect are prayed every year on this Sunday. It’s one of my favorite collects in the entire Prayer Book because I love the imagery of running to obtain God’s promises. And friends, let me tell you, I am not a runner. At all. But, abundant and eternal life in the Kingdom of God? Heavenly treasure? I’d like to think these are promises I’d be willing to run after.



I’ve been thinking a lot about God’s promises lately because in just the last week at St. Paul’s, we held three funeral services. Three beloved members of the St. Paul’s community – George Shook, Gary Mitchener, and Bob Emmet – were celebrated and commended to God’s eternal safekeeping from this sacred space. Even if you did not have the privilege to know these men during their lifetimes, we are all impacted by their deaths as members with them of the Body of Christ. The grief that accompanies their loss, and the joy at their entrance into the nearer presence of God, are present with us in this moment in the life of St. Paul’s.



Funerals are powerful reminders to us of God’s promises. The burial liturgy of our Prayer Book finds all its meaning in the hopeful promise of resurrection to eternal life. It reminds those of us still on our earthly pilgrimage that Jesus has conquered death forever, which frees us to live with confidence and boldness now. We are emboldened to embrace the abundant life that Jesus promises us even now, in this life. Most of us think of eternal life in terms of time: as life that never ends. And, indeed, it is that. But eternal life, as it is described in scripture, refers not only to never-ending life with God on the other side of the grave. Eternal life refers also to a quality of life that is available to us even now. A participation in God’s divine life that is available to us in this life, through Jesus. In the gospel of John, Jesus says, “This is eternal life, that [you] may know…the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom [he] has sent.” Each Sunday celebration of the Holy Eucharist is an opportunity to renew our commitment to know Jesus and to seek this eternal life. Each Sunday we are invited to live deeper lives of faith. To live as more intentional followers of Jesus. To make an honest appraisal of our lives and consider whether we are running or simply ambling along on our journey of faith.



Today is a particularly good Sunday to consider this, because it is the last Sunday of our Capital Campaign. And as this critical chapter in our communal life comes to an end, we are reminded of the incredible generosity of this community. It’s a powerful testament to this generosity that we’ve raised almost six million dollars, and this moment in our lives together is indeed something to celebrate. It’s also a moment to renew our commitment to living lives rooted in Jesus and seeking the kingdom of God. To live more deeply into our baptismal vows to follow Jesus as Lord, to proclaim the Good News of God in Christ, to love our neighbor, and to work for justice and peace.



Indeed, today’s Gospel passage points us to this choice. In it, Jesus tells us a parable about two sons whose father sends them to work in his vineyard. The first son refuses to heed his father’s command, but in the end, he changes his mind and goes to work in the vineyard. The second son responds favorably to his father’s command but then never follows through. As far as the parables of Jesus go, this is a blessedly simple one. The first son says the wrong thing but does the right thing; the second son says the right thing, but his actions fall short of his words. The moral of the parable can be summarized rather succinctly with this common expression: actions speak louder than words.



When Jesus told this parable, he was speaking to the Pharisees and religious leaders. The insiders. The people who were adjacent to wealth and power. People, let’s be honest, who are more like us than we might care to admit. So, we would do well to hear Jesus’ parable as not only an invitation, but also a warning. As we steward this wealth we have so quickly amassed, we should ask: will we be like the son who talks the talk, but doesn’t walk the walk, or will we go to labor in the vineyard with renewed fervor? Will we embrace the values of Jesus’ kingdom not only with our lips, but in our lives? Will we, the stewards of great wealth, confront social and economic inequities and other injustices and do our part to build the kingdom of God? Will we say yes to God’s promise of eternal life? Faithful stewardship of our financial resources is the ongoing, never-ending work of the faith community. Fortifying our buildings and replenishing our endowment is something we do first and foremost so we can participate in God’s mission. So the question our Gospel poses to us this morning is this: which son will we be?

The Rev. Patricia Rose preached at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist on the Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost.

This past week, as I am sure many of you heard or read in the news, the Catholic Diocese of Cleveland rolled out a new policy on “Issues of Sexuality and Gender Identity.” In short, this policy forbids gender diversity and expression in diocesan schools and parishes and very explicitly denies LGBTQ people as authentic expressions of God’s creation. While this is hardly a new teaching in this religious tradition, the new policy is more explicit, and has, in the words of the Plain-Dealer headline, “pushed [our] region into a growing debate among the nation’s Catholics over LGBTQ issues.” I want to acknowledge that I know this policy is painful for members of our own community, particularly those who have children in parochial schools. It’s also disheartening for all of us who care about Christian witness in the world. Our witness at St. Paul’s and in The Episcopal Church proclaims the innate dignity and worth of LGBTQ+ people as created in God’s image. And in these moments, it can feel like our witness is being drowned out by louder, higher profile voices.

As people of faith, the tough question we might ask ourselves is this: Why does God allow these messages to be proclaimed? Why does God permit voices that deny the very personhood of God’s precious creation? Particularly when these messages have real, tragic consequences, including an increase in depression and self-harm among young people? Put another way: If God is control of our lives and the events of human history, why does God – the God of love – allow people to speak oppressive messages in his name?

I don’t have a simple answer for you, but I suggest our reading from Genesis has something to say in response to these questions. I invite you to listen again to the words that Joseph spoke to his brothers in this morning’s passage: “Even though you [my brothers] intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good…” With these words, Joseph declares that God has taken the evil actions of his brothers and used them to achieve God’s purposes. To better understand how God has done that, we need to know more about Joseph’s story because this morning’s passage comes at the end of a long, colorful saga.

You may remember, either from the Bible or Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical, that Joseph was one of the 12 sons of Jacob, the great patriarch of Israel. And many years earlier, Joseph’s brothers, in an act of jealousy and hatred, sold him into slavery. But God rescued Joseph from slavery and made him a prominent official of the Pharoah. And in this position, Joseph used his power to rescue the people of Israel by feeding them during a great famine. And now, all these years later, these brothers have been reunited. And, in a highly emotional, dramatic moment, they have been reconciled to each other.

In today’s passage, Joseph weeps over the sin of his brothers, but he offers them forgiveness, and even promises to care for them and their families. In the end, their flagrant disregard for their brother’s life did not have the final word. Their hateful intention for Joseph’s life could not prevent God from using Joseph to preserve a great nation. “Even though [they] intended to do harm to [him], God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people…”

Joseph’s words point to a concept in theology known as providence. Providence is the belief that God has a grand plan for the world and for each one of our lives. Providence declares that by God’s power and sovereignty, God is actively at work in human affairs every day. Providence is the belief that God orders all things and that the events of human history somehow fit together to accomplish God’s glorious purpose. What makes this complicated, of course, is we still must account for the harmful and evil events our world. If God is a loving God, and God is in control, we naturally wonder why these things need to happen at all. If we had more time this morning, we’d now turn our attention to topics such as sin and free will, but suffice it to say, this tension is not easily to resolve. God’s ways are simply beyond our understanding. But Jospeh’s statement – “Even though you intended to harm me, God intended it for good” – suggests that God can and does take the evil perpetuated by sinful humans to achieve good. Scripture’s message to us this morning, quite simply, is that God can always, in the end, wrestle good out of bad. And in that – God’s providence – we can put our hope.

So back to this policy that has Cleveland in the headlines. It would be easy for us to turn this into quarreling between Christians of different dominations. I want to be clear that my point in focusing us on this policy is not to encourage an “us” versus “them” debate. St. Paul warns us in today’s passage from Romans not to “pass judgment on [our] brother or sister,” reminding us that judgment is in the hands of God. I was grateful for the words of our Bishop Anne Jolly this week who, when commenting on the policy, said this: “While this news…has a deep emotional and real impact in our communities, I personally prefer to make statements about who we are and what we believe rather than pitting us AGAINST someone or something." Which is to say that our response, rather than a condemnation of the messenger, should be to love larger and louder. In response to a message that seeks to deny the innate goodness of God’s creation, we should be inspired to preach our message of inclusion, wholehearted embrace, and unconditional love with voices more resounding, as we affirm the diversity of the human family in all its forms.

Bishop Anne went on to say, “Our hearts break when people are hurt by the church, marginalized by the church, and told they are not worthy of God’s love as they are." So let us continue to preach love and put our trust in the God of resurrection. Because it is in the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ that we see most clearly and most profoundly that God can indeed transform the evil, death-dealing ways of humanity into a proclamation of good news. Amen.

The Constitution of the United States is in the news quite a
bit these days – what it says, what it means. Let me offer just a few
highlights from our government’s charter. “We the People of the United States,
in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic
Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and
secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and
establish this Constitution for the United States of America. … All legislative
Powers herein granted shall be vested in a Congress of the United States. … The
executive Power shall be vested in the President of the United States of
America. … The judicial Power of the United States, shall be vested in one
supreme Court, and in such inferior Courts as the Congress may from time to
time ordain and establish. … This Constitution and the Laws of the United
States shall be the supreme Law of the Land.” We have a binding document in the
pursuit of a perfect Union. Yet, as we know all too well, laws are-violated. In
fact, laws are more-effectively-violated by those who have power, exposing the limits
of laws. Our hope for justice, for freedom, for safety, for prosperity is
carrying out these laws of the land in the context of Christ’s love. As we hear
in Romans this morning, “Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is
the fulfilling of the law.” In the Gospel passage, Jesus tells us, “…whatever
you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will
be loosed in heaven.” Christ’s love inspires right enactment of law. Love is no
small matter. Christ’s love – I’m focusing not on the sentimental love for
those who are dear to us, but the selfless love for those with whom we differ
in any number of ways - Christ’s love is our hope for a perfect Union.

The Church has an important mission: working with God to
transform the world in the light of Christ. Jesus tells us that all
commandments are-summed up in these words: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Loving
our neighbor - friend, colleague, stranger - is vital to a just society, and,
yet, loving is not a simple task. You have to watch the news only for a short
time to know that we, as a society, have a whole lot of work to do in learning
how to love one another. And, we can be real with our selves individually. For
our own well being, let’s stop long enough to reflect on our own behaviors and recognize
that we come up against disagreement regularly in our everyday lives. Animosity
has creeped into our culture. Let’s be aware of our emotions, so that we can be
deliberate in listening, and learning and collaborating and caring; so that we
are deliberate in loving.

And, so,
we come together in this faith community to support one another in deliberate
loving, to inspire one another to live the lives we are meant to live, in
relationship with one another, in the light of Christ. We are-invited to cast
off the yoke of individualism and enter into a profound commitment to others, a
discipleship of fellowship. This fellowship will not always be easy. At times,
we will disagree. At times, we will be offended. But, our faith does not
prioritize right vs. wrong. Our faith prioritizes relationship. So, here, in
this faith community, we commit ourselves to forgiveness and reconciliation, so
that we keep our hearts open to one another, so we can faithfully collaborate in
ministry. Life is challenging for any number of reasons. And, at this point in
time, we have an added layer of divisiveness pervading our culture. We are
frustrated. We are disappointed. We are tired. The rest you are looking for is
in Christ. The hope you are looking for is in Christ. A discipleship of
fellowship in the light of Christ is life-giving.

We learn
about God’s covenant with God’s people, God’s promise of love, throughout
Scripture. We hear in Isaiah (54:10): “For the mountains may depart and the
hills be removed, but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my
covenant of peace shall not be removed, says the Lord.” Every Sunday, in
Eucharist, we receive the “Blood of the New Covenant.” We enter into Christ’s
covenant, who forgives our sins and offers us new life. Covenant is deeply
rooted in our faith. As we kick off a new program year, let us enter into
covenant with one another to create a discipleship of fellowship.

I offer five elements for our covenantal life together. First,
let us worship together, and as much as possible, in person. There is synergy
in coming together. Relationships among us deepen as we recognize our common desire
to love God, and our dependence on one another. We are supporting and inspiring
one another on our faith journeys. Second, let us assume the best in one
another and trust that we can be authentically ourselves with each other. Every-one-of-us
is-loved by God in our uniqueness. Third, let us forgive one another. We all
need forgiveness. God forgives us, and so we forgive. Fourth, let us give
ourselves to this community, sharing with each other our talents and resources.
“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Luke 12:34). Fifth, in
gratitude for being-nurtured in our faith, let us share Christ’s love in the
world. Worshipping, trusting, forgiving, sharing, loving.

Loving is no small matter and not a simple task. Let us
remember these words from John’s Gospel (15:11), when Jesus is urging us to
abide in his love. Jesus says, “I have said these things to you so that my joy
may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” Discipleship does ask something of us, being
deliberate in loving. Within a discipleship of fellowship, we share the
journey, we lighten the load for another, we inspire one another, and come to
the joy that is God’s peace. Through a discipleship of fellowship, we bear
witness to the world of Christ’s love. What a respite from the divisiveness. What
a gift to the world. Amen.

This past Monday, I went for a long, meditative walk around the grounds of St. Paul’s. I savored each of our gardens in all their splendor. I paused at each memorial tree and read the names of the beloved departed in whose memory they had been planted. I lingered in the memorial garden to honor those who have been laid to rest there. I meditated in the courtyard, at the statue of St. Francis, also erected in loving memory of a parishioner. I perused the exhibit in the South Wing that tells the story of our 175-year history. As I came back out onto the lawn, I beheld the majestic stone belltower soaring high above the neighborhood. And in that moment – in a most profound way – I felt the weight of St. Paul’s legacy.

My Monday evening stroll was inspired by these words we just heard from the prophet Isaiah: “Look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug.” With these words, Isaiah calls us to remember our history. To remember our ancestors. To remember where we have come from. “The rock from which [we] were hewn and the quarry from which [we] were dug.” Isaiah first spoke these words to the Jewish people living in exile. To a people whose present condition made it hard to see their future. To a people most likely convinced that God had forgotten them. Isaiah implored this captive people to hold firm in their faith by looking back at their history. To their ancestors, Abraham, and Sarah: a once-hopeless, elderly, barren couple who miraculously conceived a child, and gave birth to a great nation. Isaiah wanted to remind these weary exiles that their origin story pointed to a promise – a promise that they would one day be numerous and prosperous again.