Jamie Parsley's Blog

 November 9, 2025

Luke 20.27-38

+ As most of you know, I have beenon a reading binge for over a year now.

I am averaging about five books amonth.

Reading has been my lifeline—or maybeI should say my escape—from some of the realities of our world.

If it’s been my escape though Ihave to say: it’s been failing me.

The realities are still creeping inand I’m still having to face them and speak out against them and fight therealities of them.  

Still, my reading adventure hasbeen interesting.

And lately I have been findingmyself reading some of the theologians who have influenced me over the years.

I re-read my Paul Tillich.

I’ve re-read Dietrich Bonhoeffer(who continues to speak quite effectively to us right here and right now in ourcurrent situation)

I have re-read Thomas Merton andDorothee Solle (who I truly love) and the liberation theologians.

I have re-read the desert mothersand fathers.

And some new thinkers too.

I recently recommended to StephanieGarcia (who jokes with me about my lack of belief in an eternal hell) a book Iread called The Gospel of Inclusion by Bishop Carlton Pearson.

There’s even a Netflix film about thisbook called, Come Sunday.

It’s about his realization that hecannot believe in Hell any longer and how his church reacted to thisrealization.

It’s an alright film, but I thinkmore important than anything, it does open up a conversation about why people really,really WANT to believe in hell, even when they are presented with the optionthat it might not exist—certainly in the way we have popularly believed.

Another one of the theologians Ihave been re-reading is none other than the late great, John Shelby Spong, theformer Episcopal Bishop of Newark, New Jersey.

One of the first books of his Iread in my twenties was a book called Resurrection: Myth or Reality?

 I don’t think I’m giving the end away bysaying that Bishop Spong’s answer to that question was: Myth.

Bishop Spong believed that therewas no resurrection—rather that whatever resurrection one believed in waspurely metaphorical.

Yes, Jesus died on the cross.

Yes, he lives on among those of whobelieve in him.

But there was no bodilyresurrection, according to Spong.

In fact, in this book, Spongasserts his belief that Jesus’ body was probably taken down from the cross andgiven to the dogs to feed on.

The tomb is empty, Spong said.

But not because of any supernaturalevents.

The tomb is empty and Jesus is nothere because he was never there in the first place.

It’s an interesting read.

And I find that I still don’t agreewith Spong on many points, including the fact that I don’t believe Jesus’ bodywas thrown to dogs after he died.

And Bishop Spong would’ve been allright with that disagreement (which is why I like Bishop Spong).

But the issue of resurrection isstill an interesting one, and one we usually don’t give a lot of thought tooutside of the Easter season.

Certainly the Sadducees in ourGospel reading today viewed the Resurrection of the body in a different way ofunderstanding the resurrection.  

Now, to give them credit, the Sadduceeswere smooth and they were smart.

They knew how to present a slyargument without being blatant.

You can hear the condescension andsarcasm in their question.

And they did believe that bybringing up the resurrection, they would show Jesus to be the fool and thecharlatan.

For the Sadducees, the resurrection of the body was a fairy tale.

It was something gullible peoplehoped in.

It was absurd and ridiculous.

And so they present this questionto Jesus, which is actually a very good question.

It is a question many of us ask aswell, especially any of us who have been affected by divorce or death of aspouse and remarriage.

In the resurrection, whose spouse willwe be?

My mother, who had a very messyfirst marriage before she married my father, would often ponder this.

In fact, she would be blunt andsay, “When I see Roger [he first husband] in heaven, I hope he stays far awayfrom me!”

I always gave her credit that shebelieved Roger would actually be IN heaven, to which she would just roll hereyes and say, “it not up to me.”

Jesus, in response to this, in thatway Jesus does, flips their argument back around on them.

Jesus lays out a heaven in whichthere is no longer a need for things like marriage.

In heaven we will all be likeangels.

He then lays out this amazing statement,

God, he says, is not the God of thedead, but a God of the living.

Jesus' God is the God of Abraham and Isaacand Jacob, who, he implies, are not dead at all, but alive.

Present tense.

This particular scripture has been meaningfulto me after reading Eric Metaxas biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

For all my issues with Metaxas himselfwhich I’m not going to get into this morning, there is a passage in that bookthat references this scripture that just blew me away when I read it.

In a paragraph referencing the assassinationof Reinhard Heydrich, the notorious SS monster who essentially orchestrated thefinal solution on the Jews, we hear this,

“At the end of May [1942], the albinostoat [I love that word “stoat”] had been ambushed by Czech resistance fighterswhile he was riding in his open-topped Mercedes [in Prague]. Eight days later,the architect of the Final Solution fell into the hands of the God of Abraham,Issac and Jacob.”

Our God is a living God.

And, according to Jesus, somehow,in some way, we go on.

For him, that is what resurrection is.

Christians—in our typical way—have overthe centuries went to extremes to explain and define what resurrection is.

And they have made it one of the definingbeliefs we must have to be saved.

Essentially, to be resurrected wemust first believe in resurrection.

Hmmm. I don’t hear Jesus telling usthat anywhere here…

But, us Christians love to justsqueeze the nuances out of everything!

I once had a former parishioner—a cradleEpiscopalian—who later joined the Eastern Orthodox Church over his belief thatthe Episcopal Church had lost its way regarding belief in the Resurrection.

He refused to receive Communionfrom priests whom he knew did not believe in an orthodox understanding of theResurrection of Jesus.

In fact, one of the first questionshe would ask a new priest when he would meet them is: So what do you believeregarding the Resurrection?

I luckily passed that test, but notwithout a good deal of spiritual searching and struggling and some verbalnuances of my own.

But, the fact this morning is this:what do we believe about the resurrection?

Certainly we profess our collectivefaith in the Resurrection every Sunday in the Creed.

But have we really thought aboutit?

Well, of course,  one of the best places to look when we areour examining our faith is, of course, our trust Catechism, found in the backof the Book of Common Prayer.

So, let’s take a looksee at whatthe Prayer Book says about the resurrection.

If you will take your trusty old prayerbooks and turn to page 862.

There we find that question,

“What do we mean by the resurrection of the body?”

 

The answer is: We mean that God will raise us from death in the fullness of our being, that we may live with Christ in the communion of the saints.

 

I love that definition ofresurrection.

God will raise us up in thefullness of our being.

Wow!

That is beautiful!

And that is something I can agreewith and believe wholeheartedly in.

Now, what that means specificallyis not easy.

And, you know?

I don’t want it to be.

I don’t want to examine that answertoo closely.

I just want to kind of bask in theglow of the beauty of those words

God will raise us up to thefullness of our being.

Isn’t that our goal after all?

To live into the fullness of ourbeing?

Isn’t that what trans people, and lesbianand gay and asexual and bisexual and straight people have been striving to do allalong?

Live into the fullness of theirbeing?

Isn’t that what all of us as living,breathing, searching, questioning, doubting human beings are striving for?

To live into the fullness of ourbeing?

We don’t need to squeeze themeaning out of those words, as we are apt to do.

Because if we do, we will lose the purityand beauty of that statement.

 When we start becoming too specific, we startlosing something of the beauty of our faith.

We lose the purity and the poetryof our faith.

When we start trying to examine tooclosely how the resurrection will happen and when it will happen and how a pileof bones or cremated remains or a body destroyed in the sea can be resurrectedinto another body, bit by bit, we find ourselves derailed.

What we do know, however is that what the resurrection promises is being raisingup in the fullness of our being by our living God.  

The whole basis of what Jesus isgetting at in today’s Gospel, in this discourse on marriage, is that theresurrection is not, as the great Anglican theologian Reginald Fuller, said, “aprolongation of our present life, but a new mode of existence.”

It’s not an extension of thisworld.

It’s something…different.

We will still be us, it seems from what Jesus is saying, but we will be living intothat fullness of our being—with a different understanding of what it means tobe alive.

Issues like marriage and divorceand remarriage will no longer be an issue.

Now some of us might despair atthat fact.

We want to know that when we awakeinto the fullness of our being, into that resurrected life, we will have ourfamilies there, our spouses and our loved ones.

I have no doubt that our loved oneswill be there, but it seems that it will be different than here.

We will have a truly fulfilled andcomplete relationship with all of our loved ones, and also with those who wemay not have loved.

What this leads us to is, at thesame time, a glimpse of the freedom that we will gain at the resurrection.

Just as some things such as marriage will no longer be an issue, all thoseother issues we are dealing with now in our lives and in the church will alsono longer be with us.

The issues that divide us as a country,as a church, as a community, will all be done away with at the resurrection.

And these bodies too will be done away with as well.

These bodies that will fail us andbetray us—these bodies that will die on us and be buried or be burned will nolonger be a part of who we are anymore.

We will, at the resurrection, bemade whole and complete and perfect by our living God, the God of ourforebearers.

The reason we know this is because the God we serve—the God we have gatheredtogether to worship this morning, is not a God of the dying bodies we have withus now.

The God we serve and worship is aGod of the living.

When Jesus identifies God as theGod of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob, he is saying thatAbraham, Isaac and Jacob are alive and that their God is the God of the living.

So, Resurrection is important tous.

It is VITAL to us.

It is important to us because whenwe long for and strive to live into the fullness of our being, we are living theresurrected life.

Resurrection is essential to ourfaith, because in it we have met and faced death.

Death no longer has control over us.

It longer has any power in ourlives.

The power and strength of death hasbeen defeated in the resurrection.

In the resurrection, we have thealmost audacious ability to say, at the grave, that power-packed word of life:Alleluia.

Praise God!

Praise the living God of the Living!

For our God is not a God of thedead, but of the living.

So, let us live into the fullnessof our being.

Let us live into the resurrectedlife that is our inheritance and our legacy.

And only in life—in this precious,beautiful and wonderful life, given to us by our God—can we fully and trulyserve our living God.

 

 

November 2,2025

+ Yesterday—November1—was, of course,  All Saints Day.

It is one of the mostvery important days in the Church.

It is the day inwhich we commemorate all the saints who now dwell with God in heaven.

It is a beautifulfeast.

And we, here at St.Stephen’s, have been celebrating this feast day for a few weeks already.

We celebrated severalnew saints.

Well, kinda newsaints.

New saints to us,anyway.

Over these last fewweeks we have been burying the ashes of several individuals whose ashes wereunclaimed, some for over 40 years.

(Your priest has beenbusy digging graves over these past weeks—something they do not teach a priestto do in seminary).

And today, we will doit again.

After our Eucharisttoday, we will process out at the end of the service to our memorial garden,and we will bury the ashes of George Smith.

George died onFebruary 19, 1984.

1984.

Just think about thatfor a moment.

I’m going to read youhis obituary

 

 

From theFargo Forum,Tues,. Feb. 21, 1984

  George E. Smith

 George E. Smith, 62, 839 23rdAve. S., Moorhead, died Sunday.

 Mr. Smith was born Jan. 29, 1922,at Brantford, Ont, and received a master's degree from the University ofBritish Columbia. He was assistant professor of education at the University ofVictoria and at Moorhead State University from 1968 to 1980. He marriedRosemary N. June 12, 1967, at Seattle.

 He is survived by his wife; twosons and two daughters, three who lived in Bellevue, Wash., and a another wholived in Seattle.

 

It seems Rosemary moved shortly afterhis death to Tacoma without claiming his ashes.

 

There appears to have been nofuneral, no memorial service for him.

 

(until today—41 years later)

 

Just cremated.

 

And 41 years on a shelf at KorsmoFuneral Home.

 

He was just kind of forgotten.

 

Until now.   

 Now he isone of our own.

He alongwith Thomas (a homeless man who also died in 1984), Baby Matthew  (who died inDecember 1986) and Kimberly  (who died in 2023 and whose ashes were buriedlast Wednesday), are now a part of our community.

And areminder that we are all part of the community of saints in this world and the next.

We Episcopalians dothese things well.

We do funerals well,we do commemorating our deceased loved ones well.

We celebrate thesaints—those who are both well-known saints and those saints who might only beknown to a few—very well as Episcopalians.

And when anyone fromSt. Stephen’s dies, or when anyone close to someone at St. Stephen’s dies, youwill always receive an email with a request for prayer.

And the request forprayer will usually begin with these words:

“The prayers of St.Stephen’s are requested for the repose of the soul of …so-and-so.”

Occasionally, someonewill ask me about that prayer request.

Someone will ask,

Why do we prayfor the dead?

Why do we prayfor the repose of their souls?

After all,they’ve lived their lives in this world and wherever they’re going, they’rethere long before a prayer request goes out.

It’s a good question.

The fact is, we DOpray for our dead.

We always have—asAnglicans and as Episcopalians.

You will hear us asEpiscopalians make the petition for prayer when someone dies that you won’thear in the Lutheran Church, or the Methodist Church or the PresbyterianChurch.

Praying in such a wayfor people who have passed has always been a part of our Anglican tradition,and will continue to be a part of ourtradition.

And I can tell you,I  like that idea of praying for thosewho have died.

But, I want tostress, that although we and Roman Catholics both pray for our dead,  we don’t pray for people have died for thesame reasons Roman Catholics do.

In other words, wedon’t pray to free them from some sort of mythical purgatory, as though ourprayers could somehow change God’s mind.

I want to stress thatour prayers do NOT change God’s mind!

Rather, we pray forour deceased loved ones in the same way we pray for our living loved ones.

We pray for them toconnect, through God, with them.

We pray to rememberthem and to wish them peace.

Still, that might notbe good enough answer for some (and that’s all right).

So…let’s hear whatthe Book of Common Prayer says about it.

And, yes, the Book ofCommon Prayer does address this very issue directly.

I am going to haveyou pick up your Prayer Books and look in the back, to the Catechism.

There, on page 862 you get the very important question:

Why do we prayfor the dead?

The answer (andit’s very good answer): “We pray for them, because we still hold them in ourlove, and because we trust that in God's presence those who have chosen toserve [God] will grow in [God’s] love, until they see [God] as [God] is.”

That is a greatanswer!

We pray thatthose who have chosen to serve God will grow in God’s love.

So,essentially, just because we die, it does not seem to mean that we stop growingin God’s love and presence.

I think that iswonderful and beautiful.

And certainlyworthy of our prayers.

But even more so thanthis definition, I think that, because we are uncertain of exactly what happensto us when we die, there is nothing wrong with praying for those who havecrossed into that mystery we call “the nearer Presence of God.”

After all, they arestill our family and friends.

 

We still love them!

They are still partof who we are.

Now, I know that thisidea of praying for those who have died makes some of us very uncomfortable.

And I understand why.

I understand that it flies in the face of some of our more Protestantupbringings.

This is exactly whatthe other Reformers rebelled against and “freed” us from.

But, even they neverdid away with this wonderful All Saints Feast we are celebrating this morning.

This morning we are commemorating and remembering those people in our lives whohave helped us, in various way, to know God.

As you probably haveguessed from the week-long commemoration we do here at St. Stephen’s regardingthe Feast of All Saints, I really do love this feast.

With the death of many of my own loved ones in these last few years, this Feasthas taken on particular significance for me.

What this feast showsme is what you have heard me preach in many funeral sermons again and again.

I truly, without adoubt, believe that what separates those of us who are alive here on earth,from those who are now in the “nearer presence of God” is truly a very thinone.

And to commemoratethem and to remember them is a good thing for all us.

Now, I do understand, as I said before, that all this talk of saints makes someof us a bit uncomfortable.

But…I do want us tothink long and hard about the saints we have known in our lives.

And we have all knownsaints in our lives.

We have known thosepeople who have shown us, by their example, by their goodness, that God worksthrough us.

And I want us to atleast realize that God still works through us even after we have departed fromthis mortal coil.

Ministry in one formor the other, can continue, even following our deaths.

Our witness hasfollowers of Jesus can continue on.

Hopefully, we canstill, even after our deaths, do good and work toward furthering the Kingdom ofGod by the example we have left behind.

For me, the saints—those people who have gone before us—aren’t gone.

They haven’t justdisappeared.

They haven’t justfloated away and dissipated like clouds out of our midst.

No, rather they arehere with us, still.

In these last fewyears, after losing so many people in my family and among close friends, Ithink I have felt their presence most keenly many times, but often times most keenlyhere at this altar when we are gathered together for the Eucharist then at anyother time.

I have felt them herewith us.

And in those momentswhen I have, I know in ways I never have before, how thin that veil is betweenus and “them.”

You can see why Ilove this feast.

It not only gives usconsolation in this moment, separated as we are from our loved ones, but italso gives us hope.

We know, in momentslike this, where we are headed.

We know what awaitsus.

No, we don’t know itin detail.

We’re not sayingthere are streets paved in gold or puffy clouds with chubby little babyangels floating around.

We don’t have a clearvision of that place.

But we do sense it.

We do feel it.

We know it’s there,just beyond our vision, just out of reach and out of focus.

And “they” are allthere, waiting for us.

They—all the angels,all the saints, all our departed loved ones.

And so too are Thomas and Baby Matthew and Kim Meissner and George.

So, this morning—andalways—we should rejoice in this fellowship we have with them.

We should rejoice asthe saints we are and we should rejoice with the saints that have gone beforeus.

In our collect thismorning, we prayed that “we may come to those ineffably joys that you haveprepared for those who truly love you.”

Those ineffably joysawait us.

They are there, juston the other side of that thin veil.

We too will live withthem in that place of unimaginable joy and light.

WE are all the saintsof God, here and now.

And that is a reasonto rejoice this morning.

 

 

 

October 26, 2025

 

Psalm 84; Luke 18.9-14

+ Well, we have a new bishop.

 

A bishop we have been praying for every Sunday and every Wednesdayfor the last several months.

 

And here we are.

 

I, for one, am very happy.

 

I think Shay Craig is just exactly what this diocese needs at thistime.

 

And as I shared with our delegates yesterday at Prairie Knights atStanding Rock:

 

This is a new era in our diocese.

 

A much anticipated era for us Progressive Christians in thisdiocese.

 

Shay, I hope, is the answer to the prayer many of us have beenpraying for.

 

For 36 years our Diocese has been known as a very conservativediocese.

 

And for those of us who labored here, who endured policies andnot-so-wonderful treatment for our convictions, for our beliefs and foresight,those 36 years were hard ones.

 

This December it will be 10 years since St. Stephen’s soughtDelegated Episcopal Pastoral Oversight (or DEPO)  so that we could make sure all people—especiallyour LGBTQ loved ones—were able to have the marriage rites of the Church.

 

As many of us know, the days that followed were often dark days.

 

We felt, at times, alone in this Diocese

 

We endured being the odd ducks for our stance.

 

We endured shunning and downright negativeness for that stand wemade.

 

In those dark days, many of us hoped and longed for a time whenwhat we stood for would be the norm.

 

In fact, there were times when the Psalm for today spoke directly tous:

 

Those who go through thedesolate valley will find it a place of springs, *
for the early rains have covered it with pools of water.

They will climb from height to height, *
and the God of gods will be revealed in Zion.

 

Thanks to our provisional bishops and now with the election ofShay, that

hope, I believe, is being realized.

 

Infact, it warmed my heart and the hearts of many of us at Convention that inBishop-elect Craig’s first address to the Diocese, she began by expressing herappreciation for St. Stephen’s and all we stand for.

 

I don’t know about you, but I felt that all we have stood for andspoke out for and fought for was most definitely validated in some way withthose words.

 

We have much to rejoice about today and in these coming months.

 

Now, I know you have heard me expound mightily from this pulpit inthe past about my frustrations with the diocese.

 

In fact, as most of you know, for several years I simply stepped backfrom diocesan involvement.

 

Not only was I frustrated but I was realizing that my frustrationwas making me into a toxic element in this diocese.

 

As can often happen, especially when we express our anger atthings instead of keeping quiet, but then just live in that anger.  

 

There were times, as many of you heard, when I felt that ourefforts in this diocese were for naught.

 

I believe the phrase I used was: “I feel like we’re rearrangingdeck chairs on the Titanic.”

 

And I wasn’t alone.

 

I was talking to another priest of this diocese at convention whoexpressed that same feeling to me.

 

But over these last several months, I have stepped back into diocesaninvolvement.

 

As you know, I was a part of the Nominating Committee (along withDan Rice).

 

I was part of the Transition Committee (along with John Baird).

 

And on Friday I was elected to a three-year term to the StandingCommittee.

 

I will say in all honesty that I am excited to once again beserving in the diocese.

 

The future is looking more brighter than it did before—at least inthis moment.

 

And I truly do believe and hope that things can be done to revitalizeand renew our diocese.

 

Of course, if we think a new bishop can magically do that for us,we will be disappointed.

 

It is not the new Bishop’s sole job to do that anymore than it isthe Rector’s sole job to do that in a parish.

 

It is out job. Together.

 

And an innovative, committed leader can help lead us to do thatwork.

 

But with the energy that a new visionary bishop brings to the diocese,we can be rejuvenated and well.

 

We can be motivated to step up and help.

 

We can actually do some of the things that we have been hoping todo before this and simply could not.

 

As I said, this is the dawn of a new era in our diocese.

 

And we should celebrate that fact.

 

But that change begins with us.

 

Each of us.

 

For me, it began when I recognized my own toxicity and worked hardto move beyond it.

 

 

It also helped that I made a real and true effort to actually startedpraying for the diocese in a concentrated way.

 

Prayer is the key.

 

Not controlling prayer.

 

Rather, prayer that allows us to surrender to God’s will.

 

Prayer that allows God’s Spirit to truly work in our midst.

 

Prayer that opens ourselves up so that the Spirit can actuallywork through us.

 

That’s essentially what’s happening in today’s Gospel reading.

 

In our story we find the Pharisee.

 

A Pharisee, as you probably can guess, was a very righteousperson.

 

They belonged to an ultra-orthodox sect of Judaism that placedutmost importance on a strict observance of the Law of Moses—the Torah.

 

The Pharisee is not praying for any change in himself.

 

He arrogantly brags to God about how wonderful and great he is incomparison to others.

 

 The tax collector—someonewho was ritually unclean according the Law of Moses— however, prays thatwonderful, pure prayer

 

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

 

It’s not eloquent.

 

It’s not fancy.

 

But it’s honest.

 

And it cuts right to heart of it all.

 

To me, in my humble opinion, that is the most perfect prayer anyof us can pray.

 

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

 

It’s a prayer I have held very, very dear for so long.

 

And it is a prayer that had never let me down once.

 

Prayers for mercy are probably one of the purest and most honestprayers we can make.

 

And what I love even more about this parable is the fact that theprayer of the Pharisee isn’t even necessarily a bad prayer in and of itself.

 

I mean, there’s an honesty in it as well.

 

The Pharisee is the religious one, after all.

 

He is the one who is doing right according to organized religion.  

 

He is doing what Pharisees do; he is doing the “right” thing; heis filling his prayer with thanksgiving to God.  

 

In fact, every morning, the Pharisee, like all orthodox Jewish meneven to this day, prayed a series of “morning blessings.”

 

These morning blessings include petitions like

 

“Blessed are you, Lord God, King of the Universe, who made me ason of Israel.”

 

“Blessed are you, Lord God, King of the Universe, who did not makeme a slave.”

 

And this petition:

 

“Blessed are you, Lord God, King of the Universe, who did not makeme a woman.”

 

So, this prayer we hear the Pharisee pray in our story thismorning is very much in line with the prayers he would’ve prayed each morning.

 

Again, we should be clear: we should all thank God for all thegood things God grants us.

 

The problem arises in the fact that the prayer is so horriblyself-righteous and self-indulgent that it manages to cancel out the rightnessof the prayer.

 

The arrogance of the prayer essentially renders it null and void.

 

The tax collector’s prayer however is so pure.

 

It is simple and straight-to-the-point.

 

This is the kind of prayer Jesus again and again holds up as anideal form of prayer.

 

And sometimes it’s just enough of a prayer that it can actuallykill off a bit of that toxicity we have allowed to fester within us.

 

Sometimes it’s enough of a prayer that it can soften our heartsand open our spirits to God’s love and lights.

 

Sometimes it’s enough of a prayer that it can actually change usin a positive way to do the work God is calling us to do.

 

As we being this new era in the Diocese together, let us do justthat.

 

Let us do the work God is calling us to do with our hearts and ourminds open.

 

Truly open.

 

God, have mercy on all of us

 

Let us look forward to a potentially bright future with true hopeand true joy.

 

And let us be willing and able to work hard alongside our newbishop to make this potentially bright future the reality we have be longingfor and praying for.

 

May God bless and have mercy on the Diocese of North Dakota as webeing this new era.

 

May God bless and have mercy on Bishop-elect Shay Craig as sheleads us forward into this new era.

 

May God bless and have mercy on St. Stephen’s as we continue to liveout our visionary ministry.   

 

And may God bless and have mercy on each of us as we heed ourcalling from God’s Holy Spirit to do the work we need to do to renew and reviveour diocese today and in the days to come.

 

May we truly rejoice to find the desolate valley renewed into aplace of springs as we climb from height to height, finding that God is beingrevealed to us here in our midst.

 

Amen.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 18, 2025

 

Genesis 32.22-31; Luke 18.1-8

+ Last week in my sermon, I mentioned a word.

 

Ekphrasis.

 

Ekphrasis was a word I recently heard about from a colleague ofmine Concordia College in which an artist responds artistically to a piece ofvisual art.

 

For example writing a poem about a painting or a photograph.

 

That is ekphrasis.

 

Well, we’re going to use another form of ekphrasis today, in whichwe are going to look at this.

 

This very famous piece of art.

 

This of course is Dore’s very famous etching of Jacob wrestlingwith the angel—the same story we just heard in our reading from the Hebrew scriptures. 

 

Most of us know this well.

 

We have seen this countless times.

 

And for most of us, THIS is the image we have in our heads when wethink of Jacob wrestling with the angel

 

It’s compelling for us because it is detailed.

 

And, it’s compelling because we can relate.

 

When we see this, we see ourselves in it.

 

It is a story we often personalize.

 

More importantly, it’s a story we know.

 

Let’s face it.

 

We’ve been there.

 

We have done it.

 

We too have wrestled with God.

 

We too have struggled with God.

 

We have too have had those late night shouting matches with theangel.

 

And in almost every situation when we have done it, we have comeway limping.

 

There’s a similar midrashic story you have heard me share manytimes.

 

But I love this story as much as I love the story of Jacob and theangel.

 

I’m sharing it again this morning, because it sorts of echoes ourreading from Genesis today, which is another story I love.

 

In this story, there was once a very wealthy king.

 

He was a good king, who loved God dearly.

 

One evening, he was walking in his beautiful garden, admiring thetrees and the flowers and the plants.

 

And as he did so, as the joy and beauty of it all came upon him,he found himself singing psalms to God.

 

The psalms just seemed to well up from within him.

 

Suddenly, an angel appeared to him.

 

It was a mighty, beautiful angel and the King was amazed.

 

He was so excited that an angel of all things appeared to him!

 

Just as he was about to exclaim his joy at the angel, the angelraised its hand and struck him hard across the face.

 

It actually knocked the King off his feet and threw him into thedirt and mud.

 

The King was shocked.

 

He had never been struck before!

 

And he was confused.

 

As he looked up from the mud, his clothes torn, the angel’s hand-printon his  face, wracked with pain, hecried, “Angel, why did you strike me? What did I do wrong? Here I was singingGod’s praises in this beautiful garden and then you struck me! Why would you dosuch a thing?”

 

The angel replied, “Of course, you can sing God’s praises as youwander about in your beautiful garden, dressed in fine clothes, with joy andhappiness in your heart. That’s easy. But now, try. Try to sing God’s praisesafter you’ve been struck across the face by an angel.”

 

We’ve been there too.

 

We know what it feels like to be struck down when we have beenmost happy.

 

I am of the opinion that we haven’t earned our stripes asbelievers in God and followers of Jesus unless we have the limp, or the handprint of the angel upon our cheeks.

 

Unless we’ve emerged from that struggle, bleeding and limping, westill live in some kind of halcyon understanding of God.

 

Because what this struggle is really about is aboutdeconstruction.

 

It is about facing God for who God really is and not the God wehave created for ourselves.

 

Our wrestling with the angel is about being forced to see that Godis not that sweet bearded man in the sky on a throne giving good things to goodpeople who do good and meting out pain and punishment on bad people who do bad.

 

God, as you have heard me say a million times, is NOT Santa Clausin the sky not is God a genie granting us wishes.

 

Let me tell you, wrestling with God and being slapped by God quicklydestroys those human-made images of God quickly.

 

The God we know and struggle with and come way from limping is somuch more than any of that.

 

And sometimes the realization of that is what truly causes us tolimp and bleed.

 

As you have heard me say a million times, God answers all prayer.

 

But the answer is one of three things.

 

Whata re they?

 

Yes

 

No 

 

Or not yet.

 

And often our struggle with God involves accepting whatever theanswer is to that prayer.

 

 And in our limping awayfrom our struggle we realize that maybe we have been praying about the wrongthing.

 

Our Gospel reading is a prime example of that.

 

What does the widow in Jesus’ parable pray?

 

“Grant me justice against my opponent,” she prays.

 

This also a truly interesting story.

 

This widow, who would not take no for an answer, persisted.

 

She too struggled with the angel.

 

This widow, who, in that time and place without a man in her lifewas in bad shape, was demanded to be heard.

 

This widow who had been taken advantage of (someone cheated her ofher rightful inheritance) did not let discouragement stop her.

 

This widow prayed day and night.

 

She struggled.

 

She wrestled.

 

She lashed out and shook her fists at God and others.

 

And what happened?

 

God heard her and answered her.

 

And the answer was “yes.”

 

God turned the hearts of the unjust.

 

That, definitely, speaks to us right now.

 

That is what we should be praying for right now in this country.

 

See, God is definitely speaking loudly here to us through thisscripture.

 

We could pray that those we despise are destroyed and burned toash.

 

We could pray that destruction is brought upon those we fightagainst.

 

But the answer is usually (hopefully) no.

 

However, maybe what we should be praying for is justice, not onlyagainst our opponents.

 

We should be praying for justice in all things.

 

In all ways.

 

We definitely should be praying for justice in this country andthis world.

 

Please, God, turn the hearts of the unjust! And grant us justice!

 

The scriptural definition of “justice” is “to make right.”

 

So, to seek justice from God means that something went wrong inthe process, and we long for “rightness.”

 

We too need to be praying hard, over and over again, for justice.

 

We too need to keep struggling.

 

We need to keep wrestling with God in the garden.

 

We need to shake our fists and stop believing in a god made in ourown image, with our own limitations and biases.

 

Because the fact is, God—the real God, the living God—loves us.

 

Even when we are wrestling with God.

 

Even in those moments of engagement, just like in the Dorepainting, God loves us.

 

And knows us.

 

And knows our very prayers before we ask.

 

The struggle, if we notice, is about us.

 

The angel could end that battle at any moment.

 

But chooses not to.

 

The struggle itself is important.

 

It is vital.

 

It is what sometimes needs to happen for us to realize we havecreated expectations for ourselves that are not God’s expectations.

 

We sometimes need to struggle to realize that we not in control ofanything.

 

Sometimes we need the struggle—and the limp, and the slap—toremind ourselves that there is something planned far beyond our understanding.

 

Sometimes we need to stop trying to control the situation and theworld.

 

And God.

 

Because we’re not going to win on that one.

 

And sometimes we have to simply believe that God does know us.

 

That God knows best for us, even when it seems like God does not.

 

Sometimes we simply have to lean into God’s love instead offighting it and controlling it.

 

 

Maybe then, our struggles will be seen as less of a battle.

 

Maybe we will see it less as a fight, head to head.

 

Rather, maybe we can see all of this as something so much more.

 

Maybe we can see it instead as . . .

 

…an embrace. 

 

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 12, 2025

Luke17:11-19

 

+Do you ever find yourself obsessing over a word.

 

Sometimes,it seems, there are certain words that just get stuck in your brain.  

 

Maybeit’s just me.

 

Maybeit’s just a poet thing.

 

But,I do find myself obsessing over words on occasion.

 

Oftenthere are words I find myself examining like a little jewel, turning it aroundand weighing it and considering it like it’s a brand new word.

 

Afew weeks ago, Cathy McMullen and I gave a talk at the NDSU Memorial Union atthe display for the 75th anniversary for the Institute for RegionalStudies.

 

Oneof our colleagues from Concordia College, Scott Olsen, was there, and during thequestion and answer period, Scott brought up a word that I had never heardbefore.

 

Theword was ekphrasis.

 

Abeautiful Greek word.

 

Ekphrasis.

 

Ekmeaning “out” (or we could say “recourse”)

 

Phrasismeaning “tell”

 

Totell out essentially.

 

Ekphrasisis then a literary device used to describe in a written way visual art.

 

Inother words, it is what we do when we write a poem or an essay or a story abouta visual piece of art like a panting or a photograph or a sculpture.

 

Inother words, it means writing about visual art in a literary way.

 

Asin writing a poem about a visual piece of art.

 

Itwas a great word.

 

Andit has been jumbling around in my head ever since.

 

Anotherone of those words I’ve recently enjoyed re-examining is the word “Mercy.”

 

It’sa beautiful word!

 

Itflows!

 

AndI love the fact that, in French, the word for “Thank you” is “merci.”

 

Mercyis something we tend to overlook.

 

Certainlyin regard to others.

 

Butlet me tell you, it is not something we overlook when it comes to us.

 

Tobe on the receiving end of mercy is a wonderful thing!

 

Mercyis like a fresh wonderful breeze on our face, especially if it is something weare being granted after a hardship in our lives.

 

Mercyis not something we think of too often in our lives, certainly not on a dailybasis.

 

Butfor Jesus and those Jewish people of his time, mercy was an important part oftheir understanding of the world and their relationship with God.

 

Tomorrow,at sundown, the week-long Jewish feast of Sukkot ends

 

Sukkotis an important feast in Judaism.

 

Itis also called “The feast of Booths,” which refers to the tents the Israeliteslived in during their 40 years in the desert.

 

Infact, in some Jewish homes, a tent is often set up during this high holy day asa commemoration of the feast.

 

Onthe Feast of Sukkot, the “Great Hallel” is prayed.

 

Hallelmeans “praise,” and refers to the group of psalms recited at the time of thenew moon, as well on feasts like Sukkot, which commemorates the period of timethe Tribe of Israel spent in the desert on their way to the Promised Land.

 

“Hallel”is the refrain from Psalm 136 that says,

“forGod’s mercy endures forever.”

 

Itis believed that Jesus himself would have sang the Great Hallael with hisdisciples when they went to the Mount of Olives after the Last Supper on thenight before his death.

 

Now,mercy in this context, means more than just forgiveness or some kind ofreprieve

 

Mercyalso means, in a Jewish understanding of the word, such things as God’senduring love for Israel and the mercy that goes with that love.

 

Mercyalso means, in this context, behaving in a particular way.

 

Itmeans being ethical and being faithful to God’s will.

 

Mercy.

 

It’san incredible word.

 

Andit is so packed with meaning and substance!

 

Andit’s one that I think sums up so many of the prayers we pray.

Certainly,the prayers I pray.

Inthose moments in which I am overwhelmed or exhausted or anxious or simply don’tknow what to pray, I often find myself just praying, Please, God, have mercy onme, or on the person for whom I’m praying.

Today,in our Gospel reading, we find that word, Mercy, in a very prevalent place.

Infact the petition the leper makes to Jesus is a powerful one.

“Jesus,Master, have mercy on me!”

Andwhat does Jesus do?

Hedoes just that.

Hehas mercy on him. 

And,by doing so, Jesus sets the tone for us as well.

Justas Jesus showed mercy, so should we show mercy again and again in our ownlives.

Wesee, in our Gospel reading today, mercy in action.

Andit is a truly wonderful thing! 

Theselepers are healed.

But,before we lose track of this story, let’s take a little deeper look at what isexactly happening.

Now,first of all, we need to be clear about who lepers were in that day.

Lepers,as we all know, were unclean.

Butthey were worse than that.

Theywere contagiously unclean.

Andtheir disease was considered a very severe punishment for something.

Sinof course.

Butwhose sin?

Theirown sin?

Orthe sins of their parents?

Orgrandparents?

Probablyall of it together.

So,to even engage these lepers was a huge deal.

Itmeant that to engage them meant to engage their sin in some way.

But,the real interesting aspect of this story is one that you might not havenoticed.

Thelepers themselves are interesting.

Thereare, of course, ten of them.

Ninelepers who were, it seems, children of Israel.

Andone Samaritan leper.

Nowa Samaritan, for good Jews like Jesus, would have been a double curse.

Itwas bad enough being a leper.

Butto be a Samaritan leper was much worse.

Samaritans,as we also know, were also considered unclean enemies.

Theydidn’t worship God in the same way that good, orthodox Jews worshipped God.

Good,orthodox Jews worshipped God in the Temple in Jerusalem.

Samaritanshowever had turned away from the Temple in Jerusalem.

Andthey didn’t follow the Judaic Law that Jews of Jesus’ time strived to follow.

Butthe lepers, knowing who they are and what they are, do the “right” thing(according to Judaic law).

Againand again, throughout the story they do the right thing.

Theyfirst of all stand far off from Jesus and the others.

That’swhat contagious (unclean) people do.

Andwhen they are healed, the nine again do the right thing.

Theyheed Jesus’ words and, like good Jews, they head off to the priest to bedeclared clean.

Accordingto the Law, it was the priest who would examine them and declare them “clean”by Judaic Law.

Butthey do one “wrong” thing before they do so.

Didyou notice what thing they didn’t do?

Beforeheading off to the priest, they don’t first thank Jesus.

Onlythe Samaritan stays.

Andthe reason he stays is because, as a Samaritan, he wouldn’t need to approachthe Jewish priest.

So,he turns back.

Andhe engages this Jesus who healed him.

Hecomes back, praising God and bowing down in gratitude before Jesus.

Afterall, it is through Jesus that God has worked this amazing miracle!

ButJesus does not care about this homage.

Heis irritated by the fact the others did not come back.

Still,despite his irritation, if you notice, his mercy remained.

Thoseungrateful lepers—along with the Samaritan—remain healed.

Despitetheir ingratitude, they are still healed.

Thatis how mercy works.

Theinteresting thing for us is, we are not always so good at mercy.

Weare good as being vindictive, especially to those who have wronged us.

Weare very good as seeking to make others’ lives as miserable as our lives are attimes.

Ifsomeone wrongs us, what do we want to do?

Wewant to get revenge.

Wewant to “show them.”

Afterall, THAT is what they deserve, we rationalize.

But,that is not the way of Jesus.

Ifwe follow Jesus, revenge and vindictive behavior is not the way to act.

Ifwe are followers of Jesus, the only option we have toward those who havewronged us is…mercy.

St

ill,even then, we are not so good at mercy, especially mercy to those who haveturned away from us and walked away after we have done something good for them.

 

Ithurts when someone is an ingrate to us.

 

Ithurts when people snub us or ignore us or return our goodness withindifference.

 

Inthose cases, the last thing in the world we are thinking of is mercy for them.

 

Ofcourse, none of us are Jesus.

 

BecauseJesus was—and is—a master at mercy.

 

Andbecause he is, we, as followers of Jesus, are challenged.

 

Ifthe one we follow shows mercy, we know it is our job to do so as well.

 

Nomatter what.

 

Nomatter if those to whom we show mercy ignore us and walk away from us.

 

Nomatter if they show no gratitude to us.

 

Nomatter if they snub us or turn their backs to us or ignore us.

 

Ourjob is not to concern ourselves with such things.

 

Ourjob, as followers of Jesus, is simply to show mercy again and again and again.

 

Andto seek mercy again and again and again.

 

Havemercy on me, we should pray to God on a regular basis.

 

God,have mercy on me.

 

Please,God,  have mercy on me.

 

Please,God, have mercy on my loved ones.

 

Please,God, have mercy on St. Stephen’s.

 

Please,God, have mercy on our country. 

 

Please,God, have mercy on our planet.

 

Thisis our deepest prayer.

 

Thisis the prayer of our heart.

 

Thisis the prayer we pray when  our voicesand our minds no longer function perfectly.

 

Thisis the prayer that keeps on praying with every heartbeat within us.

 

Andby praying this prayer, by living this prayer, by reflecting this prayer toothers, we will know.

 

Wewill know—beyond a shadow of doubt—that we too can get up.

 

Wetoo can go our way.

 

Wetoo can know that, yes, truly our faith has made us well.

 

Amen. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                  The Memorial Service for

Brooke Ann Wilson

(Feb.20, 1976-Sept 20, 2025)

BethlehemLutheran Church

Fargo,ND

 

+ For those of you who might not know me, I have known Ann andher family for over 25 years.

In those 25 years, I have become very close with this family.

Ann is like a sister to me.

Her sons are like nephews to me.

And Brooke was like a niece to me.

I didn’t know Brooke as well as I did the rest of her family.

By the time I got to know her family, she was married and wasliving in Kentucky.

But every time I saw her, we were family to each other.

In fact, the last time she was in Fargo, she wanted to get togetherfor lunch.

And I have thought a lot about that last lunch at the Tavernin these last few weeks.

How I never in a million years would’ve thought that would bethe last time I would ever see Brooke.

And how sobering and shocking that realization is to me.

So, I’m just going to say it:

I will say it bluntly.

I will say it honestly.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want to be here today doing this.

None of us do.

We shouldn’t be here today.

We shouldn’t be here on this Saturday morning, gathered togetherin this church, saying goodbye to Brooke of all people.

In these days since we all heard the news, Ann and I talkedquite a bit.

And one of the things I kept repeating over and over again is,“this is so unreal.”

It’s SO unreal.

THIS is unreal.

I don’t understand any of this.

 I know people expectPriests and Pastors to have some kind of answer to things like this.

But the fact is: we oftentimes don’t.

And today, and over these last few weeks, I can definitely sayI don’t have anything close to an answer.

I don’t know why this happened.

Why Brooke of all people was taken so quickly.

I will never understand.

At least on this side of the veil.

But I’ll say what you all have been saying no doubt...

….there should’ve been more.

There was so much life ahead of her.

In addition to all the other feelings I have been feeling—shock,disbelief, gut-wrenching pain, I am also feeling a weird kind of anger.

Not at God or at any thing in particular.

Just a general anger.

Anger at death.

Anger at this situation.

Anger at the unfairness of this all.

And it is unfair.

This should not have happened to someone like Brooke.

Not yet.

Not this soon.

This should not have happened to Brooke or to her children orto her parents or to her brothers or to all Brooke’s family and friends.

And that makes me very angry!

I’m really angry that there wasn’t more time.

I’m angry that it’s  sounfair.

And we could leave just it there.

We could just be angry and frustrated and helpless.

But, we—those of who have faith, who believe there is more tothis life and this world—we don’t just get to leave it there.

For those of us who have faith—for us, even in the face ofthis gut-wrenching pain we feel today, even in the face of our frustration andanger and sadness, we know…

…we know that this goodbye today is only a temporary goodbye.

We believe in a God of love.

We believe in a God who knows us and loves and who only wantsthe very best for us.

And because we believe in that God, we know that this—all ofthis—is not the end of the story.

 All that we knew andloved about Brooke is not gone for good.

It is not ashes.

Is not grief.

It is not loss.

Everything that Brooke was to those who knew her and loved herand who are now left to her miss her is not lost forever.

All we loved, all that was good and gracious in Brooke—allthat was fierce and strong and amazing and beautiful and kind in her—is notlost.

It lives on.

It lives on with all of you who experienced that kindness andgenerosity and love from Brooke in this life.

And for those of us who have faith, faith in more than thisworld, we know that somehow, it will all be made right.

I don’t claim to know how.

I don’t claim to know for certain what awaits us in the nextworld.

But I do believe that all that is good and gracious and lovingin Brooke now dwells in a place of light and beauty and life unending.

And I do believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that you will seeher again.

And on that day every tear will truly be wiped from our faces.

And there will be no more tears.

And it will be beautiful.

We will all miss her so much.

And that’s all right.

This is the price we pay forlove.

The more we love, the more painwe will feel when the one we love dies.

But today, even amidst of oursadness and loss and pain and shock, we take comfort in the fact that herstrength, her dignity, her beauty  liveson in her children and in her parents and in her brothers and in all of who knewher and loved her.

And we can even, in our sadness andloss, rejoice, this morning.

We can rejoice in the fact that sheis there in that place of light and beauty and unending life in this moment.

Still, that doesn’t make it anyeasier for those of us who are left behind left behind.

For those of us who cling to our faith, we know that ourfaith truly can and does sustain us in these moments.

Our faith is a faiththat promises us, despite our frustration and sadness and anger and pain, somehow,in some amazing way, it all does work out in the end.

 

It is a faith thatpromises us that although we can’t fully understand things now, we will oneday.

 

And that when we do,it will be beautiful.

 

So, today, althoughwe might be tempted to give into our sadness, we really cannot.

 

Yes, we are sad andovercome with sorrow for this temporary separation.

 

But we are notdespairing.

 

Because we know that itwill all be well.

 

It will all be well.

 

Death has not swallowed that up.

I will miss Brooke.

We will all miss her and will feelher loss for a long time to come.

But, on this day in which we bidher this temporary goodbye, let us also be thankful.

Let us be thankful that God hasbeen gracious to let us know her and to love her.

Let us be thankful for all she wasto us—a caring and loving presence in our lives.

Let us be thankfulthat even in these moments, we can still cling to hope and know that we willnot, in the end, be defeated.

 

And, most of all,  let us be grateful for all that love and thecare Brooke has given us in our own lives.

Let us cling to that love, and holdit close to us—now and always.

Into paradise may the angels leadyou, Brooke.

At your coming may the martyrsreceive you, and bring you into the holy city Jerusalem.

Amen.

 

 

 

October 5, 2025

 

Luke 17.5-10

+ I always joke that in my time as your priest here at St. Stephen’s , I havefelt  like I have been pastor of threedifferent parishes.

 

By that, I mean, I mean St. Stephen’s has transformed into somethingvery different than it was let’s say 20 years ago.

 

As I thought about that, I found myself pondering what St.Stephen’s means to me.

 

I was thinking about the fact that one thing I am very proud ofhere is that when we say we are truly welcoming and inclusive.

 

We welcome everyone and we include everyone, even people who mightnot believe the same things about certain issues.

 

There truly is a wide spectrum of belief here at St. Stephen’s.

 

We encompass many people and beliefs here.

 

And I love that!

 

And, even people who don’t believe, or don’t know what theybelieve, are always welcome here.

 

Andincluded.

 

Thatincludes even atheists.

 

Ilove atheists, as many of you know.

 

AndI don’t mean, by saying that, that I love them because of some intent toconvert them.

 

No.

 

Mylove for atheists has simply to do with the fact that I “get” them.

 

Iunderstand them.

 

Iappreciate them.

 

AndI have lots of atheists in my life!

 

Agnosticsand atheists have always intrigued me.

 

Infact, as many of you know, I was an agnostic, verging on atheism, once a longtime ago in my life.

 

Asyou have heard me say many times, I still consider myself an agnostic to alarge extent.

 

Nowto be clear, agnosticism and atheism are two similar though different aspectsof belief or disbelief.

 

Anagnostic—gnostic meaning knowledge, an “a” in front of it negates that word, sono knowledge of God—is simply someone who doesn’t know if God exists or not.

 

Anatheist—a theist is a person who believes in a god, an “a” in front of itnegates it, so a person who does not believe a god—in someone who simply doesnot or cannot believe.

 

Youhave heard me say often that we are all agnostics, to some extent.

 

Thereare things about our faith we simply—and honestly—don’t know.

 

That’snot a bad thing.

 

It’sactually a very good thing.

 

Ouragnosticism keeps us on our toes.  

 

Ithink agnosticism is an honest response.

 

Butatheism is interesting and certainly honest too, in this sense.

 

WheneverI ask an atheist what kind of God they don’t believe in, and they tell me, I,quite honestly, have to agree.

 

Whenatheists tell me they don’t believe in some white-bearded man seated on athrone in some far-off, cloud filled kingdom like some cut-out, some magic manliving in the sky from Monte Python’sSearch for the Holy Grail, then, I have to say, “I don’t believe in thatGod either.”

 

Iam an atheist in regard to that God—that idolatrous god made in our own image.

 

Ifthat’s what an atheist is, then count me in.

 

DorotheeSoelle, one of my all-time favorite theologians, one described herself as “atheistwho believes.”

 

AndI think many of “get” that statement.

 

Butthe God I do believe in—the God of mystery, the God of wonder and faith andlove—now, that God is a God I can serve and worship.

 

Andthis God of mystery and love that I serve has, I believe, reached out to us,here in the muck of our lives.

 

Andhas done so in the person of Jesus.

 

Certainlythat is not some distant, strange, human-made God.

 

Ratherit is a close, loving, God, a God who knows us and is with us.

 

Butthere are issues with such a belief.

 

Believingin a God of mystery means we now have work cut out for us in cultivating ourfaith in that God of mystery.

 

“Increaseour faith!” the apostles petition Jesus in today’s Gospel.

 

Andtwo thousand years later, we—Jesus’ disciples now—are still asking him toessentially do that for us as well.  

 

It’san honest prayer.  

 

Wewant our faith increased.

 

Wewant to believe more fully than we do.

 

Wewant to believe in a way that will eliminate doubt, because doubt isso…uncertain.

 

Doubtis a sometimes frightening place to explore.

 

Andwe are afraid that with little faith and a lot of doubt, doubt will win out.

 

Weare crying out—like those first apostles—for more than we have.

 

ButJesus—in that way that Jesus does—turns it all back on us.  

 

Hetells us that we shouldn’t be worrying about increasing our faith.  

 

Weshould rather be concerned about the mustard seed of faith that we have rightnow.

 

Thinkof that for a moment.  

 

Thinkof what a mustard seed really is.  

 

It’sone of the smallest things we can see.

 

It’sa minuscule thing.

 

It’sthe size of a period at the end of a sentence or a dot on a lower-case I (12point font).  

 

It’sjust that small.

 

Jesustells us that with that little bit of faith—that small amount of real faith—wecan tell a mulberry tree, “be uprooted and planted in the sea.”  

 

Inother words, those of us who are afraid that a whole lot of doubt can overwhelmthat little bit of faith have nothing to worry about.  

 

Becauseeven a little bit of faith—even a mustard seed of faith—is more powerful thanan ocean of doubt.  

 

Alittle seed of faith is the most powerful thing in the world, because that tinyamount of faith will drive us and push us and motivate us to do incrediblethings.  

 

Anddoing those things, spurred on and nourished by that little bit of faith, does make a difference in the world.

 

Evenif we have 99% doubt and 1% faith, that 1% wins out over the rest, again andagain.

We are going to doubt.

 

Weare going to sometimes gaze into that void and have a hard time seeing, forcertain—without any doubt—that God truly is there.  

 

Weall doubt.

 

Andthat’s all right to do.

 

Butif we still go on loving, if we still go on serving, if we still go on tryingto bring the sacred and holy into our midst and into this world even in theface of that 99% of doubt, that is our mustard seed of faith at work.

 

Thatis what it means to be a Christian.  

 

Thatis what loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves does.

 

Itfurthers the Kingdom of God in our midst, even when we might be doubting thatthere is even a Kingdom of God.

Now, yes, I understand that it’s weird to hear a priest get up here and saythat atheists and agnostics and other doubters can teach us lessons aboutfaith.

 

Butthey can.

 

Ithink God does work in that way sometimes.

 

Ihave no doubt that God can increase our faith by any means necessary, evendespite our doubts.

 

Ihave no doubt that God can work even in the mustard-sized faith found deepwithin someone who is an atheist or agnostic.

 

Andif God can do that in the life and example of an atheist, imagine what God cando in our lives—in us, who are committed Christians who stand up every Sundayin church and profess our faith in the Creed we are about to recite together.

So, let us cultivate that mustard-sized faith inside us.

 

Let’snot fret over how small it is.  

 

Let’snot worry about weighing it on the scale against the doubt in our lives.  

 

Let’snot despair over how miniscule it is.  

 

Let’snot fear doubt.

 

Ithink a lot of Christians do, in fact, fear doubt.

 

Letus not be scared of our natural agnosticism.

 

Rather,let us realize that even that mustard seed of faith within us can do incrediblethings in our lives and in the lives of those around us.  

 

Andin doing those small things, we all arebringing the Kingdom of God into our midst.

 

Amen.

 

 

 

 

September 28, 2025

 

Luke 16.19-31

 

+ Well, I just gotta say:

 

It’s good to see all of you made it.

 

All of you survived yet another Rapture this past week.

 

So, either it didn’t happen, or we’ve all been left behind.

 

Shucks!

 

But, just in case you haven’t had enough of all that talk aboutthe end times and heaven and hell and who gets in and who doesn’t, we get thisparable this morning.

 

Ok.. . .I  weirdly love theparable we heard today.

 

I think I might be one of the very few people who do actually loveit.

 

For some, it’s just so weird and…well, bizarre.

 

It’s such an interesting story.

 

There’s just so much good stuff, right under the surface of it.

 

So, let’s take a look at it.

 

In it, we find Lazarus.  

 

Now, if you notice,  it’s the only time in Jesus’parables that we find someone given a name—and the name, nonetheless, of one ofJesus’ dearest friends.  In most of Jesus’ parables, the maincharacter is simply referred to as the Good Samaritan or the ProdigalSon.  

 

But here we have Lazarus.  

 

And the name actually carries some meaning.  

 

It means “God has helped me.”

 

Now the “rich man” in this story is not given a name by Jesus, buttradition has given him the name Dives, or “Rich Man”

 

Between these two characters we see such ajuxtaposition.  

 

We have the worldly man who loves his possessions and is definedby what he owns.  

 

And we have Lazarus who is poor, who seems to get sicker and hungrierall the time.

 

In fact, his name almost seems like a cruel joke.  

 

It doesn’t seem like God has helped Lazarus at all.

 

The Rich Man sees Lazarus, is aware of Lazarus, but despite hiswealth, despite all he has, despite, even his apparent happiness in his life,he can not even deign to give to poor Lazarus a scrap of food from all that hehas.

 

Traditionally of course, we have seen them as a very fat Rich Man,in fine clothing and a haughty look and a skinny, wasted Lazarus, covered insores, which I think must be fairly accurate to what Jesus hoped toconvey.  

 

They are opposite, mirror images of each other.  

 

But there are some subtle undercurrents to this story.  

 

Lazarus is not without friends or mercy in his life. In fact, itseems that maybe God really IS helping him. 

 

He is not quite the destitute person we think he is.

 

First of all, we find him laid out by the Rich Man’sgate.  

 

Someone must’ve put him there, in hopes that Rich Man would helphim. Someone cared for Lazarus, and that’s important to remember.

 

Second of all, we find these dogs who came to lick hissores.  

 

The presence of dogs is an interesting one.

 

Are they just wild dogs that roam the streets, or are they theRich Man’s watch dogs?

 

New Testament theologian Kenneth Bailey has mentioned that dogsaliva was believed by people at this time to have curative powers. (We nowknow that is definitely NOT the case)   

 

So, even the dogs are not necessarily a curse upon Lazarus but apossible blessing in disguise.

 

Finally, when Lazarus dies, God receives him into paradise.

 

In fact, as we hear, “angels carried him to be with Abraham.”

 

The Rich Man dies and goes to Hades—or the underworld.  

 

Lazarus goes up.

 

Dives goes down.

 

He literally dives.

 

The Rich Man, in the throes of his torment, cries out to Lazarus.

 

And Lazarus, if you notice, doesn’t ignore him or turn his back onhim, despite the fact that the Rich Man did just that to Lazarus.

 

Lazarus does not even scold him.  

 

It almost seems that Lazarus might almost be willing to go backand tell the Rich Man’s friends if only the gulf between them was not so wide.

 

There really is a beauty to this story and a lesson for us that ismore than just the bad man gets punished while the good man gets rewarded.

 

And it is also not really about heaven and hell either.

 

I get a lot of people who, when they hear that I do not believe inan eternal hell, remind me of this parable.

 

I, in turn, remind them that it is a parable .

 

It is a story that Jesus is telling.

 

He is not talking about literal people here.

 

And he is not talking about literal places.

 

Like it the Rapture, It is poetry and poetic imagery.

 

And that is vital to remember.

 

What we find is that, by the world’s standards, by the standardsof those who are defined by the material aspects of this life, Lazarus was theloser before he died and the Rich Man was the winner, even despite hiscallousness.

 

And the same could be said of us as well.  It mightseem, at moments, as though we are being punished by the things that happen tous.  

 

It is too easy to pound our chests and throw dirt and ashes in theair and to cry out in despair and curse God when bad things happen.  

 

It is much harder to recognize that while we are there, at thegate outside the Rich Man’s house, lying in the dirt, covered in sores, thatthere are people who care, that there are gentle, soothing signs of affection,even from dogs.  

 

Actually, there have been times when I have been soothed more bydogs than humans.

 

And it is hard sometimes in those moments to see that God toocares.

 

I have done that.

 

But the fact remains, Paradise awaits us.

 

That place to which Lazarus was taken by angels awaits us and, forthose of us striving and struggling through this life, we can truly cling tothat hope.

 

For those of us still struggling, we can set our eyes on theprize, so to speak and move forward.  

 

We can work toward that place, rather than “diving” like Diveshimself, into the pit of destruction he essentially created for himself.

 

In a real sense, the Rich Man was weighed down by his wealth,especially when he refused to share it, and he ended up wallowing in the mireof his own close-mindedness and self-centeredness.

 

What happens to this Rich Man?

 

Well, the chickens came home to roost.

 

The rich man, the narcissist, full of hubris and pride, full ofarrogance and selfishness and self-centeredness.

 

The rich man, who did not care for the poor, who ignored theneedy, who cared only for himself,

 

The rich man who boasted and blew smoke and walked around with hispuffed-out chest,

 

The rich man fell, as all such people we find will fall.

 

Scripture again and again tells us such people will fall.

 

History again and again tells us such people will fall.

 

The chickens ALWAYS come home to roost.

 

Though sometimes they so agonizingly slow.

 

The moral of this parable is this: let us not be like the richman.  

 

Let us not follow that slippery, dangerous slope to destruction.

 

But for those of us who, in the midst of our struggles, can stillfind those glimmers of light in the midst of the gloom, we are not weigheddown.  

 

We are freed in ways we never knew we could be.  

 

We are lifted up and given true freedom.

 

We are Lazarus.

 

God has truly helped us.

 

And God continuous to help us again and again.

 

And when God does help us, it is then that we see most clearly God’samazing love, grace and mercy.

 

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

September 20,2025

 

Amos8.4-7;1 Timothy 2.1-7; Luke 16.1-13

 

+This past Wednesday at our Wednesday night Eucharist, we celebrated one of ourvery favorite saints on her feast day.

 

St.Hildegard of Bingen.

 

Sandybrought her beautiful icon of St Hildegard.

 

Wejoyously rang our bell named after her.

 

Andwe celebrated Hildegard in all her defiant, independent brilliance!

 

Oh,how we love St. Hildegard!

 

Welove her because she was something else!

 

Shewas a defiant force. 

 

Andshe was one of the first feminists.

 

Infact, we love St. Hildegard so much that we even named our bell after her.

 

St.Hildegard was a German Benedictine nun, a mystic.

 

Shewas also a great musician, which is also another reason why she is the namesakefor our bell.

 

Butthe real reasons she was chosen as the patron saint of our bell is because shewas quite the force to be reckoned with.

 

Andlet me tell you, St. Hildegard would’ve loved St. Stephen’s and all it standsfor.

 

Shewould fit in very well here.

 

Ata time when women were not expected to speak out, to challenge, to standup—well, Hildegard most definitely did that.

 

Shewas an Abbess, she was in charge of a large monastery of women, and as such sheheld a lot of authority.

 

Anabbess essentially had as much authority in her monastery as a Bishop had in theirdiocese.

 

Sheeven was able to have a crosier—the curved shepherd’s crook—that is normallyreserved for a bishop.

 

Andshe definitely put Bishops and kings in their place.

 

Thereis a very famous story that when the emperor, Fredrick Barbarossa supportedthree of the anti-popes who were ruling in Avignon at that time, she wrote hima letter.

 

Mydear Emperor,

 

Youmust take care of how you act.

Isee you are acting like a child!!

Youlive an insane, absurd life before God.

Thereis still time, before your judgment comes.

 

Yourstruly,

Hildegard.

 

(Thatcould be written to certain leaders—I won’t mention any names—right now!)

 

 

Thatis quite the amazing thing for a woman to have done in her day.

 

Evenmore amazing is that the emperor heeded her letter.

 

Andas a result of that letter, she was invited by the Emperor to hold court in hispalace.

 

By“judgement” here, Hildegard is making one thing clear in her letter.

 

Thereare consequences to our actions.

 

AndGod is paying attention.

 

Forus, we could say it in a different way.

 

Ifyou know me for any period of time, you will hear me say one phrase over andover again, at least regarding our actions.

 

Andlet me tell you, this phrase has often felt like ashes in my mouth!

 

Thatphrase is  “The chickens always come hometo roost.”

 

Andit’s true.

 

Thatphrase was made famous in the last 60 years or so by Malcom X, who said, followingthe assassination of JFK in 1963, (this quote is actually from the film, MalcomX)

 

 

“I don't thinkanybody here would deny that when you send chickens out in the morning fromyour barnyard, those chickens will return that evening to your barnyard, notyour neighbor's barnyard. I think this is a prime example of the devil'schickens coming back home to roost. That the chickens that he sent out, theviolence that he's perpetrated …. I think this same violence has come back toclaim one of their own. Now, being an old farm boy myself, chickens coming hometo roost never made me sad. ln fact, it's only made me glad.”

 

Oneof the things so many of us have had to deal with in our lives are people whohave not treated us well, who have been horrible to us, who have betrayed usand turned against us.

 

It’shappened to me, and I know it’s happened to many of you.

 

Itis one of the hardest things to have to deal with, especially when it issomeone we cared for or loved or respected.

 

Inthose instances, let’s face it, sometimes it’s very true.

 

“Thechickens do come home to roost.” 

 

Orat least, we hope they do.

 

Essentiallywhat this means is that what goes around, comes around.

 

Wereap what we sow.

 

Thereare consequences to our actions.

 

AndI believe that to be very true.

 

Andnot just for others, who do those things to us.

 

Butfor us, as well.

 

Whenwe do something bad, when we treat others badly, when gossip about people, ortrash people behind their backs, who disrespect people in any way, we thinkthose things don’t hurt anything.

 

Andmaybe that’s true.

 

Maybeit will never hurt them.

 

Maybeit will never get back to them.

 

But,we realize, it always, always hurts us.

 

Andwhen we throw negative things out there, we often have to deal with theunpleasant consequences of those actions.

 

Iknow because I’ve been there.

 

I’vedone it.

 

AndI’ve paid the price for it.

 

Butthere is also a flip side to that.

 

Andthere is a kind of weird, cosmic justice at work.

 

Now,for us followers of Jesus, such concepts of “karma” might not make as muchsense.

 

Buttoday, we get a sense, in our scriptures readings, of a kind of, dare I say,Christian karma.

 

Jesus’comments in today’s Gospel are very difficult for us to wrap our minds around.

 

Butprobably the words that speak most clearly to us are those words, “Whoever isfaithful in a very little is faithful in much.”

 

Essentially,Jesus is telling us this simple fact: what you do matters.

 

Thereare consequences to our actions.

 

Thereare consequences in this world.

 

Andthere are consequences in our relation to God.

 

Howwe treat each other as followers of Jesus and how we treat others who might notbe followers of Jesus.

 

Howwe treat people who might not have the same color skin as we do, or who are adifferent gender than us, or how we treat someone who are a different sexualorientation or sexual identity from our own.

 

Whatwe do to those people who are different than us matters.

 

Itmatters to them.

 

And,let me tell you, it definitely matters to God.

 

Wehave few options, as followers of Jesus, when it comes to being faithful.

 

Wemust be faithful.

 

Faithfulyes in a little way that brings about great faithfulness.

 

So,logic would tell us, any increase of faithfulness will bring about even greaterfaithfulness.

 

Faithfulnessin this sense means being righteous.

 

Andrighteousness means being right before God.

 

Jesusis saying to us that the consequences are the same if we choose the right pathor the wrong path.

 

Alittle bit of right will reap much right.

 

But  a little bit of wrong, reaps muchwrong.

 

Jesusis not walking that wrong path, and if we are his followers, then we are notfollowing him when we step onto that wrong path.  

 

Wrongfulnessis not our purpose as followers of Jesus.  

 

Wecannot follow Jesus and willfully—mindfully—practice wrongfulness.

 

Ifwe do, let me tell you, the chickens come home to roost.

 

Wemust strive—again and again—in being faithful.

 

Faithfulto God.

 

Faithfulto one another.

 

Faithfulto those who need us.

 

Faithfulto those who need someone.

 

Beingfaithful takes work.

 

Whenwe see wrong—and we’re seeing a whole lot wrong right now in our world!—our jobin cultivating faithfulness means counteracting wrongfulness.

 

Ifthere are actions and reactions to things, our reaction to wrongfulness shouldbe faithfulness and righteousness.

 

Nowthat seems hard.

 

And,you know what, it is.

 

Butit is NOT impossible.  

 

Whatwe do, does matter.

 

Itmatters to us.

 

Itmatters to others.

 

Andit matters to God.

 

Wemust strive to be good.

 

Hildegardwould say the same thing to us.

 

Shewould wave her finger at us and say, “Do good! God—who loves you!— iswatching!”

 

Thosegood actions are actions each of us as followers of Jesus are also called tocultivate and live into.

 

AsChristians, we are called to not only to ignore or avoid wrongfulness.

 

Weare called to confront it and to counter it.

 

Hildegarddid it when she wrote to Emperor Frederick Barbarossa.

 

Andwe too should do it.

 

Weare called to offer faithfulness in the face of wrongfulness.

 

So,let us do just that in all aspects of our lives.  

 

Letus offer kindness and generosity and hope and truth and forgiveness and  joyand love and goodness, again and again and again whenever we are confrontedwith all those forces of wrongfulness.

 

Letus offer light in the face of darkness.  

 

Letus strive, again and again, to do good, even in small ways.

 

Forin doing so, we will be faithful in much.

 

“Forsurely I will not forget any of their deeds,” God says in our reading from Amostoday.

 

Whatwe do matters.

 

Goddoes not forget the good we do in this world.

 

Weshould rejoice in that fact.

 

Goddoes not forget the good we do. 

 

Whatwe do makes a difference in our lives and in the lives of those around us.

 

Solet us, as faithful followers of Jesus, strive, always to truly “leada…peaceable life in all godliness and dignity.”

 

Amen.

 

 

September14, 2025

 

John 10: 11-16

 

+ I always say this:

 

If you come into church and see redparaments—the red altar frontal, the red hangings, the red chasuble—beprepared.

 

We are commemorating something not sopleasant.

 

Well, except for Pentecost.

 

Then, we celebrate the Holy Spirit.

 

But usually when we have the red up, itmeans we’re dealing with martyrs.

 

This morning, we have the red on.

 

But, no, we’re not commemorating amartyr.

 

But, still, sadly, we are commemoratingsomething not that pleasant either.

 

This morning we are commemoratingprobably the one most important symbols of who we are as Christians.

 

We are commemorating the Holy Cross.

 

The late, great Father John-Julian ofthe Episcopal religious order, the Order of Julian or Norwich, writes aboutthis very important feast in his wonderful book, Stars in a Dark World,which we use regularly at our Wednesday evening Eucharist. 

 

He writes:

 

“It is noteworthy, I think, to see thatthe Church celebrate the Exaltation of the Holy Cross not with the penitentialpurple of Lent or the mortal black of Good Friday, but with the brilliantpassion red of celebration and honor! And the propers of this feast do notdwell on the bloody death of Christ but rather upon the wonder of the utterlyholy [instrument], because the executioner’s instrument has been exalted as themeans of the salvation of the world. The salvic resurrection of Christtransformed the gross and ugly Cross of death into the most enduring symbol oflife and hope.”

 

Now, we probably don’t really thinkabout the Cross as an object too often.

 

We find of take it for granted.

 

We see it every Sunday.

 

We see them on the churches we passevery day.

 

We probably wear the around our necksor hang them on the walls of our homes.

 

For us, of course, the Cross is morethan just two pieces of wood bound together.

 

For us the Cross is our symbol.

And more than that.

 

We have essentially been branded withthe cross.

 

Each of us were marked by the Cross inour baptism.

 

And as a result, it is ingrained intoour very souls.

 

We make the cross very nice and pretty.

 

But we sometimes forget that it was, inits day, a symbol of execution and death.

 

You will notice today that we have thisblack, hand-made cross in front of the altar.

 

This cross was made by my fatherfifteen years ago last April.

 

He made it for me to use at our GoodFriday liturgy.

 

Well, if you follow me on social media,you will have seen my post about the fact that fifteen years ago today—on thefeast of the Holy Cross—my father died very suddenly.

 

Some of you remember that time in thelife of your priest.

 

And you’ll also remember how it came inthe middle of a string of deaths in our parish—I think we had seven that monthalone.

 

I always thought it was apt that myfather made the cross we use for Good Friday during his last Holy Week and thatsame year he would die on the feast of Holy Cross.

 

It’s especially apt, since my fatherknew a few thing about bearing crosses in his own life.

 

He knew how to endure hardships anddifficulties.

 

And I am grateful he taught me thatlesson in my own life.

 

For me this feast day takes on so muchmeaning, but so too does the cross itself.

 

This symbol of death and degradationhas been given to us and we are told to bear it with all the strength anddignity we can muster, just as Jesus did.

 

I’ve shared this quote with you before,but I love this saying by Blessed Charles Grafton, the Bishop of Fond Du Lac,Wisconsin.

 

He said that our job as Christians isto “preach the Cross from the Cross.”

 

By that, I think, he meant that weshould preach the cross from our own imperfection, our own limitation, our ownbrokenness.

 

And doing so is not easy.

 

It is not easy to preach about thissymbol of death when we are surrounded by such death and violence.

 

 

In our Gospel reading for today, wehear Jesus say to us,

 

“Walk while you have the light, so thatthe darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not knowwhere you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so thatyou may become children of light.”  

 

Those words resonate for us.

 

We have often felt as though we havebeen overtaken by darkness.

 

Certainly recently.

 

I know most of us here this morning followedthe events that happened this week in Utah.

 

It was ugly.

 

And that event just proved to all of ushow divided we are, how broken we are.

 

In the day or so that followed, I likemany of us had to endure some brutal reality about our country, and someterrible ugliness.

 

And it would be easy to counter suchhatred with hatred.

 

But the fact is: countering hate withhate isn’t the answer.

 

It never is.

 

Countering hate with hate only leads toeven more hate—more negative energy, more conflict—in our world.

 

Besides, we as Christians, are neveronce called to hate.

 

What are we called to do?

 

We are called again and again to. . .love.

 

Even to love those we find despicable.

 

Even those who are hatemongers.

 

And racists.

 

Even those who want to blame others fortheir pain, for the consequences of their own actions.

 

Even those who want to wage war againstothers.

 

Loving them, I want to be clear, is notthe same as accepting their hatred.

 

Loving them simply means counteractingtheir hatred.

 

Our empathy is a defiant act again thelack of empathy from others.

 

And it is vitally important as well torecognize that most of the hatred and fear and paranoia going on right nowstems from the fact that we are all suffering.

 

We are all enduring our own pains, ourown struggles.

 

And when we are suffering, we oftentime act out in anger and fear and hatred.

 

But to take up the cross is to not lethatred and fear win out.

 

Taking up the cross means we take upour love—we carry our love—even despite our own pain and suffering.

 

We must be children of light in thisoftentimes dark place.

 

And in doing so, in the end, we know,love will transform hatred and fear and suffering.

 

FatherJohn-Julian wrote,

 “In asense, the Cross underwent the first transformation of the Resurrection; andthat same transformation has been part of the salvation offered by theCrucified and Resurrected One. Pain and death became resurrection andexaltation—and that has never changed. The sign of the Christian’s salvation isnot some giddy, mindless, low-cost bliss, but rather an entry into the deeperparts of the reality of pain and death [and I would add, fear], soaked, as wasthe Holy Cross, with the blood of sacrifice and finally emerged, brought by Godon the other side, resurrected, exalted whole, and in heaven.”

 Just asthe cross was transformed from an instrument of pain and suffering and deathinto a symbol of love and eternal life and resurrection, taking up our crossand carrying it transforms our own pains, our own sufferings, our own fearsinto life and love and strength.

 If wetake the crosses we’ve been given to bear and embrace them, rather than runningaway from them, we find that fear has no control over us.

 If webecome children of light, the darkness will not overtake us.

 Hatredhas no control over us.

 Death hasno control over us.

 The Crossdestroys fear and pain and hatred and death.

 The Crossshatters hatred and pain and death into a million pieces.

 And whenwe do fear, we know we have a place to go to for shelter.

 When fearencroaches into our lives—when fear comes riding roughshod through ourlives—all we have to do is go to the Cross and embrace it.

 Andthere, we will find our fears destroyed.

 Becauseof the Cross, we are taken care of by our God, who truly does love us.  

 Becauseof the Cross, we know, all will, somehow, in some way, be well.

 Throughthe Cross, we must pass to find ourselves, once and for all time, face-to-facewith God and with each other.

 Face toface even with those others who are so caught up in their ideologies of hateand fear.

 Face toface even with those others who are trapped in their suffering.   

 So, letus do as Jesus tells us to.

 Let us bechildren of light.

 Let ustake up our cross and follow him.

 He knowsthe way forward through these dark and frightening times.

 He is thelight that shines in the dark, leading us forward.

 He knowsthat the only way to maneuver through these times is with love and empathy andunderstanding.

 It iswith non-violence and peace and a clear vision of the way forward.

 This isour only option, after all.

 Becausejust look at the alternative.

 Hatred?

 Fear?

 Division?

 Anger?

 Thosesimply isn’t an option for us who follow Jesus.

 Let usbear our crosses patiently and without fear.

 Let uscontinue to preach the cross from the cross.

 If we do,we too will be following the way of Jesus.

 Afterall, the Way of Jesus doesn’t end at the Cross.

 Ratherthe Way of Jesus ends on the other side of the cross.

 And thatis our truly destination.

 Amen.