Weekly Lessons and Sermon
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be always
acceptable in your sight, oh Lord our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
acceptable in your sight, oh Lord our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
This sums up Mthr Portia's experience. Presiding Bishop Michael Curry narrates.
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“Jesus said, ‘Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever
welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.’” Just so we get this straight: whoever welcomes you, welcomes Jesus, and whoever welcomes your friend or neighbor or family member, or work colleague, or elected official, or mother in law, or next door neighbor, or chatty seat companion on an airplane, or vendor at the state fair, or grocery checker, or barber, or the UPS driver, or the kid who hit your new car with a soccer ball… and so on and so forth…. Welcomes God? We could have fun with this! But would there ever be an end to such a list of those who are welcome? If there is an end to such a list of who is welcome, what does this mean? And if not, well- what does that mean? Whoever welcomes you welcomes me. And whoever welcomes any one of us welcomes Jesus, welcomes God. The message we hear in today’s Gospel was important enough to Jesus, And to the early church, that some variation of this theme shows up in each gospel: and often more than once. Also in Matthew’s gospel, from chapter 18: “whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.” And from chapter 25: “The king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these… you did it to me.” Mark includes similar verses. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus declares that “Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.” In John’s gospel, in true poetic style, Jesus declares in chapter 13 “Very truly, I tell you, whoever receives one whom I send receives me; and whoever receives me receives him who sent me.” There are numerous other examples and variations throughout the New Testament. The bottom line emphasis seems to be on inclusion, reciprocity, welcome and doing for others—all those things it takes to build up community: To include the stranger as neighbor. Clearly, Jesus and the early disciples and apostles put a high value on welcoming. Pause for a moment, and think about all of our present day drama: About division, exclusion, keeping people separated, and kicking people out. This kind of thinking goes against the teaching of Jesus who talked so very much about welcome, inclusion, and hospitality. Such an understanding of hospitality, of the obligation of welcome, dates back to well before the time of Jesus. It was a matter of survival and community health which translated into the religious understanding of what God wants of us. Where and how do we experience such welcome today? “Jesus said, ‘Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.’” Is this what we hear? Or do we hear, instead, words of separation, words of breaking relationship, and words of opposition. So many of the ugly attitudes playing out on the world stage and in the evening news have spilled over into our popular culture. Today’s gospel lesson reminds us that of our need to witness to welcoming others, And thereby welcoming Jesus and the one who sent him. This Sunday falls between two other occasions marked on the Church calendar: the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul last week and our celebration of American Independence on the Fourth of July on Tuesday. It is important to note this for a number of reasons. First, think about Peter and Paul. They did not agree on many things, didn’t get along at all, and finally went their separate ways in the proclamation of the Gospel. Peter insisted that the early believers must follow Jewish ways, must be circumcised, must hold to the Law. Paul’s vision led him to distant lands proclaiming faith in a risen Christ and urging believers to conform their lives to that faith. What they had in common, though, was the conviction that God had visited humanity in Jesus, and that Jesus had brought something new and remarkable to humankind demonstrated in a way to live, a way to relate and a way to witness to God’s love. And they both understood that the welcome of God was an invitation to a place in God’s kingdom. As we celebrate this Fourth of July, and as we sing God Bless America, and as we roast hot dogs and hamburgers and marvel at fireworks and the good ol’ red, white and blue, let us also ask ourselves what Jesus meant in telling us over and over again, “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me” We may believe differently about the details of faith, as Peter and Paul certainly did and as Christians are wont to do. We may understand civic responsibility differently; Americans have always held a variety of opinions on things. But for us as Christian Americans or American Christians, the question of the day growing out of this gospel text asks: What does it mean to welcome, and how do we do that? What does it look like in our churches, in our neighborhoods, in our national policies, in our very attitudes? For we are Christians first, as citizens of God’s kingdom, living that faith in an American context of privilege and challenge. Jesus didn’t say that we have to agree on everything, but he pretty clearly told us to be welcoming. Like Peter and Paul, we won’t all agree on everything. And as Americans, we will stand proudly to celebrate on the Fourth. When we put all that together, one possible outcome is that we may have to agree to disagree on some aspects of American policy as we live our Christian faith in daily practice. Christian people are called to be welcoming, for in welcoming others we welcome God. Can we at least agree on that? As the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews reminds us, when we welcome strangers, we may be entertaining angels unaware. AMEN.
Recording is sideways today, but the message is straight on! Enjoy!
“Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples,
And gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, And to cure every disease and every sickness. And these are the names of the twelve apostles…” Wait a minute! Something’s happening here, something important. But it goes by so fast you may not even have noticed it. In the first sentence, they’re “disciples” Then, suddenly, they’re “apostles.” What happened? Even if you caught the change, You may not have paid much attention: “disciples,” “apostles,” What’s the difference? They’re just interchangeable names for the same twelve guys, aren’t they? What’s the big deal? All over the country at this time of year, There are young people (And not so young) Making the same kind of transition. The papers these past weeks are full of reports of commencement speeches, Lists of graduates, Pictures of young people with mortarboards on their heads: And parties to celebrate their change in status. One minute they’re students, still in training, Still learning the ropes and the rules, Learning the formulas and logarithms, Then comes the moment of graduation-- Diplomas in hand, shifting tassels from one side to another, grinning for pictures with proud parents-- And suddenly, they’re somebody else. something else: No longer students, but graduates, Ready to go out into the world to practice what they’ve been learning for these many years. They’re no longer “disciples”-- Students, learning the disciplines of their craft or trade or profession. They are, in effect “apostles,” People being “sent out” into the world to do what they’ve been “discipled” to do. That is what “apostle” means: Someone who is “sent out.” This passage from Matthew marks the moment when the followers gathered around Jesus “graduated,” When Jesus seems to have decided that they knew enough, Were formed, and shaped, and changed enough, To be sent out to share the mission and ministry with him. Unlike our contemporary graduates, It wasn’t that they’d completed a nice, tidy set course, With the required numbers of credit hours and proficiency exams. Discipleship isn’t as easily marked out and measured as that. It was more a matter of Jesus deciding that he’d taught them about all he could, at least for the moment. And he knew that the world needed their ministry. For several chapters before this story, Jesus had been traveling around, Healing and teaching, and the crowds were building. More and more people kept coming, with their pain and their need and their troubles. As he looks on them, he can see the great need-- Far more than he alone can reach. And so it was time to add some helpers-- “to send out laborers into the Lord’s harvest.” So Jesus called his closest followers, And passed on to them some of his power-- The power to name and overcome evil, The power to heal and reconcile, The power granted to him by His Father, the living God. And then he sent them out-- “Apostled” them-- With these instructions: “As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons…Proclaim the Good News, ‘The kingdom of God has come near.’…It is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.” And off they went, to do the work in his name, as disciples become apostles. Did they do it perfectly? Not at all. The Gospels and the book of Acts tells us over and over again of the ways they missed the mark, Dropped the ball, Fell over their own feet. They couldn’t understand the parables, didn’t know what he meant when he predicted his own death, slept when Jesus told them to stay awake, they even deserted him at the end of his life: and then barely recognized him when he was resurrected. One of them even sold him to the enemy: And YET-- And yet… There is a church around the world today, Witnessing in every nation to the Good News of God in Christ. The sun never sets on the Christian hope, The faith that proclaims the good news even in the darkest hour. All because the disciples, Imperfect as they were, Answered the challenge of Jesus to be sent out to proclaim the good news: That “The Kingdom of God has come near.” Our baptismal promises include the promise that “we will, with God’s help, proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.” That’s because we too, are apostles. It’s not just a term for those first twelve guys. And sometimes, We’re content to be disciples. Safely gathered around our Lord, shutting out the world: Sitting contently and safely in our churches. But we’re APOSTLES. And to be an apostle, is to risk, to venture, To step out: To be SENT out: To proclaim the Good News of God in Christ. And those first twelve followers of Jesus weren’t too different from us. They weren’t eager to go out there, Outside the comfort of the close circle around Jesus. And like the first apostles, We won’t be perfect. We’ll make mistakes, miss opportunities, Betray our Lord. But our Lord is endlessly forgiving, And he keeps sending us back out into the world in his name. The first apostles, our forebears in the faith, turned the world upside down, in the power of God. You can too. Go out from this place: As a Christian graduate. And be an apostle. And imperfect, Forgiven, and loved, apostle. Amen.
One thing that I love about the Bible:
Is that it reminds us that human suffering is nothing new. People are just people. And they’ve always been so. Our hardships are not unique to our times. Wars, hunger, natural disasters, Illness, pain, and loss… All of it is nothing new. Yet when we’re in it: We sometimes feel as if we are alone in our pain: As it’s weight seems crushing. But then we read today’s Gospel story. Where TWO suffering people, Come to Jesus. And we hear a man’s cry: His begging, pleading pain-filled words: “Jesus! My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.” And a woman: With nothing else left: Except to hope that if she could only touch Jesus’ clothes, she would be made well. And when we read all of that, We are reminded that we live in a world that has always had profound tragedy. That our experiences are not unique: That throughout the history of time: People have begged and pleaded in pain and sorrow. And yet: Through it all: All the suffering and grief: All of the destruction, plagues, illnesses, and starvation: Human beings continue to multiply and survive. And the people continue to need God. Listen to the words of the Psalmist in the last verse of today’s Psalm: God says to us: “Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall honor me.” We know that suffering and pain is real. We don’t need to look around for it. Far too often, it’s right in front of our eyes. But to cry out for the Lord: Calling on him in the day of trouble, might take away some of our fears. Fear is, after all: The result of having no one greater than ourselves to look to. Waiting on the Lord: Has the potential to take away that fear. The inevitability of suffering and grief, Destruction, plagues, illness and starvation: Would cause anyone to be afraid: Unless we wait on the Lord: Crying out to the lord: Knowing that even in our weeping, God will deliver us. Look at the people who wait for Jesus in today’s Gospel story. It’s actually THREE stories in one. First, the calling of Matthew the tax collector: Then, a story about a grieving father and his dying daughter, Sandwiched by a sick woman longing for relief. This was during a time in Jesus’ ministry when Jesus was highly popular. Hundreds of people were following him around everywhere that he went. At the beginning of these stories, Jesus is walking along, on his way to dinner. And the leader of the synagogue barges in begging for the healing of his dead daughter. Jesus immediately gets up and follows the father: But is then bombarded with others: who are in need of healing, and words of hope. People who are sick and need to be healed: People like us today: who are longing for a way out of the pain, grief and suffering of the human world, And probably some people who are just plain curious. A stooped woman approaches and touches his cloak. It’s not a big deal. Jesus is surrounded by hundreds of people: And so she is sure that nobody would notice. And yet, she is so desperate, that she is convinced that the touch alone will heal her. And it does. In another version of this story, Jesus stops and says, “Who touched my cloak?” Because he could feel the power leaving him, and healing her. And Jesus says to her: “Take heart, daughter, your faith has made you well.” There was something about that woman’s incredible faith: Her total conviction that after years of suffering, TWELVE years, in fact: She had finally found the cure in Jesus. And the energy of that faith was more powerful than all of the shoving and pulling of the crowd. One single touch of utter faith calls forth the creative power of God, And healing occurs. And all of this happens super quick: While Jesus is rushing to meet another person’s need. The connection of Jesus to the source of life and love, To God the father: Is so intense and unbroken, That it’s like electricity. Jairus: the father of the dying girl, Plugs into that power and receives hope. The sick woman plugs into it and receives healing: Nothing else matters, And nothing interferes with Jesus’ purpose. Fame doesn’t distract him. Physical exhaustion doesn’t hinder him: The clamoring crowd, with its multitude of desires doesn’t get in the way. Two people with very specific needs have reached out to him. Two people , crying out to God. In the following scene in the little girl’s room: Death has already arrived. The mourners have gathered. The Gospel writer tells us that there Jesus “saw flute players and a crowd making a commotion.” Why is the father still bringing Jesus to the house when he has been informed that his child is dead? What good can the healer do now? Why doesn’t he just leave Jesus to attend to the hundreds of others in the crowd? Because a grieving father never gives up. A grieving father cries out to the Lord. And as he usually does: Jesus turns it all upside down. He turns to the grief-stricken father and says: “Go away, for the girl is not dead but sleeping.” And they laugh at him. So Jesus goes in, Takes the little girl by the hand, And she gets up. Jesus seems to be the only one who is free from the terrible bondage of fear: Over and over again, he commands all who follow him to not be afraid. Because unlike the Psalmist, Jesus doesn’t need to cry out to God to extinguish his fear. Because Jesus is the Lord himself, Longing for us to believe, To wait for him, And possibly touch the corner of his cloak. There’s a whole lot of fear in our world today. Fear of disease, Fear of “the other” Fear of losing a job, Fear of people with guns. Fears of not succeeding. Fears that are never-ending. But our psalmist today has an answer for us: Call upon God in the day of trouble. Trust. Depend. Know that the one who brought us to new life, Has the power to wipe our fears away. To hold us in our grief. To be near to us in the day of trouble and sorrow. So cry out to God: And touch his garment. Amen.
Have you ever heard the old joke about the woman who cuts off the ends of her beef roasts?
Thinking that cutting of the ends makes the roast better, you learn that the woman really just cut off the ends because her mom always did. Turns out: HER MOM cut the ends of the roast because that was the only way she could get it to fit in her small oven pan. What if: There was a baking pan big enough to accept the roast just the way it is? Well… This is what Pentecost: and the birthday of the church is all about. The sending of the Holy spirit: Which allows for a big enough roasting pan: To encompass everyone: just the way that they are. Or to use another image: The church, inspired by the loving care of the holy spirit: Is a big giant umbrella. I want to share with you today an excellent childrens book, that illustrates this. Not that the book looks at the big umbrella as the church: But we can certainly see the similarities. This book is called, “The Big Umbrella” written by Amy June Bates. By the front door… There is an umbrella. It is big. It is a big, friendly umbrella. It likes to help. It likes to spread its arms wide. It loves to give shelter. It loves to gather people in. It doesn’t matter if you are tall. Or hairy. Or plaid. It doesn’t matter how many legs you have. Some people worry that there won’t be enough room under the big umbrella. But the amazing thing is… There is. There is always room. I hope you can see, How the umbrella is like the church. Or at least: How the church SHOULD be like the umbrella. Welcoming everyone in: Nomatter what they look like: No matter how big or small. No matter where they come from. And this is one of the primary messages of Pentecost: A day that teaches us to celebrate diversity: And all of our differences. On that first Pentecostal day, The Bible tells us that God’s Holy Spirit visited the disciples in a special way. The rush of a mighty wind blew the timid disciples right out of their upper room and into the middle of a very diverse crowd of people. In fact, the Spirit gave these people from many different lands: Who spoke many different languages: The ability to understand the message of Jesus and the love of God. The message of Pentecost is that God loes variety: And sends a variety of gifts to all different kinds of people so that God’s presence can be known everywhere there are people. There’s room under the big umbrella. No matter where we come from, What we look like, or what language we speak. In fact: BEFORE that first Pentecost: Before the sending of the Holy Spirit: The message of Jesus was fairly limited. Sure the disciples, and close friends of Jesus knew all about it. But they were also hidden away in the upper room. The followers of Jesus were limited by language barriers: Unable to share the Gospel to those who spoke different languages. But those limits were broken when the Holy Spirit pounded through the upper room in a wild rush of wind: Opening the doors: Spreading the big umbrella over the entire world. “Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.” In the Gospel of John, we hear Jesus’ prayer: The prayer that he prayed the night before he died. Kind of an interesting reading to hear on this seventh Sunday of Easter. But then again: There’s a reason for that: Because it brings us full circle. On the night before he was arrested: Jesus prayed a prayer for his disciples: A prayer for everyone who would believe in him: A prayer for us: A prayer for the world. To be one: Just as Jesus and the Father are one. To be one. To be one with all people. To put aside our differences: To be in loving community: To end the fighting: To end all wars: To be one. This is a big prayer. An astonishing prayer. A prayer that seems almost impossible. We might be tempted to say, “Who are you kidding, Jesus?” “It didn’t happen in your time: What makes you think it could ever happen in ours?” But Jesus told his followers that they should be one in this world: in their culture and their time. It goes along with Jesus always reminding the disciples, and all of us: That the Kingdom of Heaven is here – not something that will come in the next world. But to be one right now. Right here. Its an echo of Jesus’ teachings on eternity: The past, the now, the future: All of it: In its fullness. That they all may be one. It’s not just about “later.” It’s not just something to wish for, long for, or hope for in heaven. And what’s cool about Jesus: Is that he ALWAYS talks about these things in positive statements: As his dream for the world: Not as a “yeah right” Not something sarcastic: But something that he believes is actually possible. Something that he believes is actually REAL. It’s as if Jesus is saying to God: “This is my wish: This is my dream: That those who believe would be one: just as you and I are one.” He says it as if he expects it to happen. He says it as if he thinks we understand what he’s talking about. But Jesus knows what he’s talking about. Whether WE know what Jesus is talking about is an entirely different thing. And maybe that’s just the thing. Maybe we just don’t know what “unity” means When Churches throughout the centuries have battled, and split off from one another repeatedly. That’s not being one. When the human obsession with being right consistently puts up roadblocks against Jesus’ prayer. That’s not being one. But how can we even understand the image that Jesus gives us: About our own unity as the mirror of Jesus and the father being one? That’s pretty hard to understand. That’s pretty hard to fully know: It’s one of those things: Like the peace of God which passes ALL understanding. Beyond our comprehension. Beyond our understanding. But that’s no free ticket to give up. To let the seeming impossibility of unity and one-ness make us quit. So we have to look for the oneness. It is our call and our duty: To seek it in God and in each other. And Oneness with God means being at one with all of God’s gifts: Cultures, peoples, nations: And every single bit of our own human existence. The joys and the sorrows. The fears and the strengths. To tear apart one bit of our gift is to put a tear in the beauty of oneness with God: And oneness with each other. I’m thrilled that we’re back to receiving communion together in a semi-circle (rather than in a single file line) It’s a great image of our “one-ness.” But please remember: That “one-ness” doesn’t mean “the same.” Being the same, is not the basis of unity. Just like Jesus and the Father are not “the same.” Love is the basis of unity: and nothing else. Being the same: is not unity. When St. Paul said that there was no more male or female, Jew or Greek. He didn’t mean that men and women would be morphed into some other form of human being: Or that Jews and Greeks would become one new nationality. He meant that each of us: In our uniqueness would look with love on all the other creatures of God. He meant that we would see beauty in the gifts that others have, Instead of being jealous of another’s gifts: Or thinking that our gifts are better than someone elses. He meant that: All of the gifts matter: And all of them are necessary for us to all be one. He meant that we should join together to build the Kingdom of God: The Kingdom of God that IS among us. This kind of love is hard. Our human nature makes it hard. Our culture makes it hard. If we take Jesus’ words seriously, we’ll hear that the outpouring love that IS God: Is there for all of us. In all of its different ways: And we’ll strive to let it guide our words and actions. I know that you’ve heard me say a lot of this before. But I’ll say it again and again. That not all of us are called to do the same things: Even though we are “one”. We need it all: We need everyone: We need priests: And we need lay readers. We need activists: And we need people to pray silently at home. We need teachers, And we need listeners. We need the young, And we need the old. Oneness: Is all of it taken together. Pooling our gifts together. And praying together: Praying that God might open our minds and hearts: Relinquishing some of our own needs to be in control: Or our own sense of whats “right.” Praying to receive new knowledge. Asking God to change our minds when its needed. And to be tolerant and hospitable to others: Not only for their sake: But for ours. Because we might learn something from those who come with new knowledge and ideas. And This is our heritage. This is who we are: as Christians: The ones who are striving to be “one” With God and one another: In old ways, and in new ways. Amen. In today’s Gospel reading,
Jesus says: “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. “ “In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live.” This is one of Jesus’ most beautiful promises. The promise that we will be taken care of: Never orphaned, or left alone. God promises to take care of us. And this isn’t anything new. Throughout all of human history-- God has promised to take care of His people. And over and over again, God sends others to help with that mission. Noah built an arc. Moses climbed a mountain. Isaiah brought a prophesy of hope. Jesus was born in a barn. Died on the Cross. And was gloriously resurrected. After his resurrection: Jesus Returned to Earth, Before eventually ascending to the Father, And finally sending us the Holy Spirit. That’s what this Gospel reading talks about: Jesus’ ascension into heaven, and the sending of the Holy Spirit to continue to take care of us. What’s funny is that in John’s Gospel, Jesus is talking about this even before his arrest and death: Not after his resurrection. Today, we’re still in the Easter season, But our Gospel reading transports us back to Holy Week: To the time right before Jesus’ death: And even then, Jesus promised the post-Easter sending of the Holy Spirit. According to John, Jesus’ final words before his arrest point to his ascension into heaven, And ultimately Pentecost: The sending of the Spirit. Following his death, When Jesus is resurrected, He’s first resurrected to earth: He lives on the earth, Spends time with his friends, And he prepares them for the future: The future where even Jesus had to leave this earth. Where even Jesus had to ascend to the Father. Even after dying, And resurrecting: Even after all that: Jesus still had to leave this earth. And still. Still that’s not the end of the story. Death wasn’t the end. Resurrection wasn’t the end. Even the ascension into heaven wasn’t the end. Still, that’s not the end of God’s earthly care for us. Because even after Jesus leaves, He sends his Holy Spirit: His holy spirit upon the earth to care for-- Nurture-- Watch over-- And fill the souls and bodies of God’s people. Promising to never leave us orphaned. Jesus said that you will know the Holy Spirit, Because he abides with you. And is IN YOU. IN YOU. God never leaves us. The risen Christ dwells in us: As the spirit of truth. We talked about this last week: When we made our own holy water: And put it in the “stoop” at the entrance to the sanctuary. We talked about dipping our fingers in the holy water as a reminder of this dwelling of Jesus within us. The spirit living within us. We receive this spirit at baptism, And that same spirit continues to transform us into the body of the risen Christ in the world. Because of God, Because of that spirit dwelling within us, We are never alone. We are never left as orphans. And seriously: We need to understand that God is not up in the clouds. Not Distant-- Not Far Away-- Not Looking Down-- But God is really and truly-- Always WITH YOU. IN YOU. Before moving to Wisconsin: I spent seven years as a church camp director at an amazing place called Thunderhead Episcopal Center. One of my primary tasks, Was writing the program for each summer camp: Putting together the actual lessons and learning that kids would experience at camp. A number of years ago, I wrote a camp program that focused on God working through popular music. God Working: The Holy Spirit MOVING, Through top forty radio. I know it sounds kind of crazy, But the idea of God living—dwelling within us is kind of crazy too: Sometimes even hard to believe. And of course, there are some songs: That are clearly not God. But at the same time, there are songs that point to God: To God living and moving in the world. We explored some of those songs at camp that summer, One of them was Pharell Williams’ “Because I’m happy.” And there was one in particular that relates to today’s Gospel reading. The popular country group, called Lady A Had a great song in 2013 called, “Compass.” The chorus of the song proclaims: let your heart, sweet heart Be your compass when you're lost And you should follow it wherever it may go. When it's all said and done You can walk instead of run 'Cause no matter what you'll never be alone. THIS is what Jesus is talking about. No matter what, when it’s all said and done, You will never be alone. Because God is with you. IN YOU. To be your compass when you’re lost. With you wherever you go. And I don’t mean this to sound cute and adorable. Because it’s actually pretty serious business. So serious, So amazing, That it seems kind of crazy: Kind of hard to believe: Beyond anything we can imagine or comprehend. Our opening collect today speaks to this directly. To remind us that God dwelling in our hearts is not cute. It’s not trite. It’s real. Completely and utterly real. The collect says, “O God, You have prepared for those who love you such good things as surpass our understanding.” God has prepared for us, Things that are beyond our understanding. Beyond our knowledge. Beyond our imagination. Beyond anything we could ever hope or dream for. The collect continues: “Pour into our hearts such love towards you, That we, loving you in all things and above all things, May obtain your promises, Which exceed all that we can desire;” God makes promises that EXCEED all that we can desire. (I love that: EXCEED: PAST, BEYOND, MORE THAN) Exceeding all that we can even DESIRE. So much so: That we can’t even fully know what those promises are. Because it’s beyond anything than we could ever want. More amazing than anything we can ever hope for. So surely: We are not alone. Surely: We are never orphans. Surely, we shall never be dead. Because the promises that God makes us. The presence that God consistently brings to us: Dwelling within is, Is bigger than all that-- Including anything else we can ever ask for or imagine. Amen. Today's sermon was a discussion on Holy Water, and its importance in reminding us of our baptisms. We talked about holy water also reminding us that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. We installed our own holy water stoop (which is a little bowl on the wall holding holy water.) We then made the holy water--with the reminder that a priest can't make holy water alone! A priest MUST have someone else present in order for the water to be made holy. We also filled tiny jars for people to take their own holy water home. These jars will continue to be available for people, and so will the holy water in our stoop at the entrance of the sanctuary!
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