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A Change of Heart
September 8, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – September 2, 2018 – Proper 17, Year B: John 6:51-58 Mark 7:1-23

Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, 2they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them….5So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” 6He said to them, “Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,

‘This people honors me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me;
7in vain do they worship me,
teaching human precepts as doctrines.’

8You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”

14Then he called the crowd again and said to them, “Listen to me, all of you, and understand: 15there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.”21For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, 22adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. 23All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.” (Mark 7:1-23)

Ugh. This gospel passage is a hard one, actually it’s a is a tricky one, isn’t it? Just as this passage gets rolling, just as the blame is finding a focused place to land, just as I and perhaps the crowd in this passage are becoming sure that “if only the pharisees would change their ways everything would be OK” and the anti-Pharisee movement is gaining momentum, Jesus changes direction. And that shift is a hard one, I actually sort of feel it in my gut. About half-way through this passage, Jesus makes a hard shift from speaking about the Pharisees as hypocrites to implicating us all. And so I think this passage is inviting us, all of us, to take a much needed pause.

Because dang it, I want to say it’s their fault! I really do. Here is Jesus who has come into this world with a profound message of forgiveness and love, mercy, and peace, and the Pharisees stand up try so very hard to interrupt that amazing grace at every turn. Passage after passage, after hungry people are fed, and they’re on the brink of widespread celebration, the Pharisees say things like, “Why didn’t you wash your hands?” Really? They’re actually looking for ways to restrain the grace.

Passage after passage when hurting people are healed and the lame are just beginning to dance, the Pharisees interrupt the whole scene by asking, “Why did you heal them on the Sabbath?” And I want to scream. They use religious law as a means by which to limit Shalom.

Throughout the gospels Jesus offers mercy and the Pharisees find a reason to stifle it. He opens a a door and they insist using religious reasons on keeping it closed. Jesus embodies a wide-embrace and the Pharisees justify their distance from that other. There is abundance offered and they emphasize a reason not to share. And I can hardly stand it.

And so this morning, I want to stand up and cheer Jesus on as he exposes their pattern:

“Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,

‘This people honors me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me;
7in vain do they worship me,
teaching human precepts as doctrines.’

8You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”

To that I want to say “Hah, finally, they are getting put in their place!”And then sit down, smugly. And so I admit to appreciating passages like this one, perhaps a little too much. The passages where Jesus lets them have it. That time Jesus calls them a brood of vipers? Just for the record, I like that one too.

But here’s the thing, and why this passage is so very hard: I have my patterns too. Hence the call to pause. One of my patterns is that they so very quickly become a “they,” and it can all fester in that place inside of me that is in the grand scheme, in the kingdom scheme not a good place at all. Because it can come out it harmful ways.

The Pharisees are an easy target on which to hang the woes of this world. And I can go on for hours about how I think this connects with our world today. Trust me I have an internal list of who falls into the Pharisee camp these days. But as I said, I have my patterns too and one of them is that I can come pretty close to convincing myself that if only the Pharisees changed their ways, everything would be OK.

And while this gospel is challenging those who lean toward the Pharisaic end of things to take a hard an honest look at themselves, there is challenge in this for us all. This is a hard passage for everyone. Notice that while Jesus is shouting in a very focused way for about three verses at “them” he then invites “the entire crowd” and for four verses says things like, “Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.”

And so while Jesus is telling the Pharisees to let go of purity codes as a means by which to discern who is worthy and unworthy of holiness, he’s telling all of us that what comes out of us matters. And what comes out of us shapes whether or not we are able to love that neighbor; it shapes our experience of the kingdom of God.

How we speak to that person who is hurting matters. And how we speak to that person whom we perceive to be inhibiting wholeness matters. How we speak to that person who has never been welcomed to the table matters. And how we speak to those whom we perceive to have had too much control over who is welcomed at that table matters too. Jesus is telling the Pharisees to celebrate the wide embrace, the hospitality, the feast, to which they are also invited. And the same is true for us if for no other reason than the table and the experiences of wholeness and so much else that is a means by which the kingdom is proclaimed has come for us all – them too.

And so we are to seek a way that is genuinely reflective of the mercy, forgiveness and love of Christ in every direction. In every direction outside and inside of ourselves. In every direction politically, religiously, neighborly and otherwise too. We need to carry the awareness that what comes out of us can do harm.

But what comes out of can also do good. What comes out of us can do love.

And this is so very hard today because the lines have been drawn and it’s so very easy to fall into patterns that do not invite this embracing Shalom which is the peace of God, that one that “passes all understanding.” We go so easily now to, “It’s their fault,” but this gospel reminds us that that is never the whole story. We can’t find one category of people who are entirely responsible for the woes of the world and that approach has in itself led to some of the most heinous acts every done.

I think this week we’ve celebrated voices in our country who have attempted this approach certainly imperfectly, but at times with strength and with grace. John McCain. Aretha Franklin. R-E-S-P-E-C-T all around, please.

What comes out of us no matter who we are matters. Created in the image of God we have power and we let it go when this becomes of matter of simply placing blame. We pick it up when we learn to speak with strength that is fueled and tempered with compassion, compassion frankly for all.

This passage invites us to pause, perhaps every day. To pause and re-center ourselves as they say to seek a way that is genuinely reflective of the mercy, forgiveness and love of Christ. As hard as this passage is, the good news is that this way of grace is open to us all. Everyday. We have the power to do harm, and sometimes we do. And we have the power to do love, and sometimes we do. Our work is to keep it heavily weighted in the direction of mercy, forgiveness, peace.

May we be a people willing to acknowledge the ways in we have said things, or done things or perpetuated patterns that hurt others. And may we be a people willing to receive forgiveness and to help make change, even in ourselves.

Amen.

Bread and Bette
September 8, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – August 19, 2018 – Proper 15, Year B: John 6:51-58

I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” So Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” (John 6:51-58)

“I am the living bread that came down from heaven,” Jesus said. Which makes this the fourth of five weeks we’re hearing about bread, and the third of four weeks in a row that comes directly from the gospel of John, chapter 6: “Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh. … Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me.”

Last week the oldest member of Grace Episcopal Church, Holland passed away. And I’m going to tell you a bit about her, because it pertains to bread. Trust me on that. I promise to bring it around.

Bette Comport, age 95, died very peacefully last Sunday at Holland Hospital after being sick for only a few of days. In a way that very few, (but Bette Comport among them) are able to pull off, she decided just about a week before her death, that she was ready to go. And according to Bette, she let God know that. Bette then acquired bronchitis about Wednesday which became pneumonia by about Thursday. She was taken to the hospital and was admitted, and from that point on, Bette pretty much guided her family and the hospital staff through a meaningful and peaceful process of dying.

Now those who knew Bette, knew her to be a feisty and faithful soul. She was a “Rosie the Riveter” in World War II, who although having come from this area, riveted planes for Douglas Aircraft in California. She worked for years for West Ottawa Schools. And in her “retirement,” Bette became a world champion golfer. She won the gold medal in the Senior Olympics at the very-senior-even-for-Senior-Olympics age of what she described as, “in her 80’s.”

Bette had two sons, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. She lived her final forty years as a widow and stayed in the house in which she and Warren had raised their family. Life wasn’t necessarily easy for Bette, but she never said anything like that. She was as feisty and as faithful as they come, right up to her final hours.

I shared last Sunday morning that I had just seen Bette the night before, and while I visited her in the ICU, I spoke a little with her. But mostly, since she seemed to be unconscious, and unlikely to come to again, I sat with her in silence. Bette’s family had left for the night. And I allowed myself to fill with memories and with prayers. It was holy time.

And then at one point I said, “Well, Bette, you’ve had an amazing life. 94 years.” To which much to my surprise she responded, “95!” And that scared me nearly to death because I didn’t really think Bette would speak again. But that was so very Bette. She then smiled a little and received my apology for not adding that final year. She opened her eyes a bit and added, “That’s almost a century.” Which is if you’re doing the math is almost two thirds of Grace’s 150 years.

After setting me straight, Bette went on quietly and slowly to very beautifully speak of her gratitude for Grace Church. Now it’s a profound privilege for me to share those kinds of moments with people, but I am very aware that those moments aren’t mine, they’re ours. And so sometimes you should hear them too. Bette was thankful for what she referred to as “her pew” which was her spot for decades. Two or three or four pews up from the back, and right on the aisle. Bette, while here every Sunday, was not a front row type.

And then Bette went on and talked about how grateful she was for visits over these past few years when it had gotten harder for her to leave home. She was grateful for St Martha’s Guild, St Mary’s members, Eucharistic visitors, neighbors, various Grace clergy, and her Stephens Minister who saw her almost every week for years. And as sort of a summary statement, Bette was thankful for communion. Which made sense because over the years, I think that was her most important lesson to me – the value that this bread has in the lives of so many.

Which isn’t to say that I didn’t value it already. I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing if I didn’t value and find meaning in this bread. But Bette was adamant that she needed this bread and in some ways she made it clear that she also deserved it on a very regular basis. If there had been too many weeks between visits, Bette let us know, and we needed to hear that. Now she wasn’t deserving in a privileged or even righteous way, but in a clearly “I’m hungry for this bread,” way. In a “this-meal-is-central-to-our-life-together-and-it-gives-me-something,”way. Bette wanted and needed this meal and the church that offers it present to her. And she wasn’t shy about letting us know that. And that clarity helped us serve her.

There was nothing magical about any of this for Bette, she was far too sensible and practical for that. But in ways that none of us can explain for Bette, or ourselves, the bread was Christ for her and so were we. The holiness that we lean into and that shapes us here was present for her there, wherever her there happened to be, which was usually her home. And that holiness brought things and people together that otherwise wouldn’t be one. Bette Comport among them. Bette Comport among us.

In the Eucharistic meal–the community that housed the pew, that mourned Bette’s husband’s death with her, that cared for her kids, that was present no matter the weather or the wartime or the peacetime, that encouraged the golfer to gold, that looked at pictures of the grand-twins whom she loved so very much, that prayed and served the world about which she cared deeply, that visited her right up literally until her final day – in all of that, Christ was with her. In the Eucharistic meal, that bread and those people that gathered and visited were the Body of Christ, the presence of God.

And so Bette Comport, Riveter, wife, mother, grandmother, educator, gold medalist, back pew sitter, taught us all something about the life that comes when we share this bread. She reminded us that when we offer this bread, bless it, break it, share it, become it, and then go out into the world nourished and transformed by it, we are Christ for the world! We become able to acknowledge our own hunger here, which is in itself gift. We are nourished and we are formed. We allow ourselves to be fed and in that become more able to feed others too with the holiness we have been offered.

And so here, our response is thanksgiving. Which is what “Eucharist” means. Thankful not because we understand what’s happening here or because we control what’s happening here. Thankful not because John Chapter 6 makes sense to us. We give thanks because all of this makes bread into life for us. Which makes us into life for each other. And which in ways that are both mysterious and tangibly experiential, we then give life to the world. We’re thankful because all of this helps God be here among us in ways that gather, nourish, strengthen, sustain and send us out to the work God has given us to do. Scattered and yet one Body.

So today, or sometime soon, be sure to walk out into Resurrection Garden which is out the door by the baptismal font and just down the steps from the courtyard. Resurrection Garden is the place of interment for generations of Grace folks. And on Wednesday, Bette’s ashes will be put into the ground there.

Go down there today or someday soon and notice the statue of Jesus there. Christ is there – arms open, alive, open to and resurrected for all! And when you look, see that the statue was given to Grace by Bette Comport, many years ago. And know that in a literal but not always so literal way, that’s how it works. Christ is given. Christ is received. Christ is present. Christ is visible, shared, and taken in. And through it all we become a Body that offers Christ’s gifts to others, generation after generation. Bread of Life and hope for the world.

Amen.

“Members Of One Another”
September 8, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – August 12, 2018 – Proper 14, Year B: Ephesians 4:25 – 5:2, John 6:35-51

So then, putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another. Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil. Thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labor and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy. Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption. Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.

Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. (Ephesians 4:25 – 5:2)

Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life… Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away…Then the Jews began to complain about him because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” They were saying, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” Jesus answered them, “Do not complain among yourselves..Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (John 6:35-51) 

 

Every now and then we get a passage that I think I should just stand up here and read over and over again a few times and then sit back down. Some passages speak for themselves so easily. And we hear them so quickly that they’re easy to miss or we forget about them by the time we get to this point in the service, especially at the second service where there’s a few hymns woven in here too.  The passage from Ephesians is one of those passages, and so I want to give you a bit of background on the passage itself, repeat most of it again, and see if it has anything so speak to us.

First a little background.  The letter was written for the people of Ephesus but it was probably also sent to many of the Christian communities in that region, because they were all struggling with similar issues. Everywhere from Rome to Ephesus to Galatia, to Jerusalem and throughout budding Christendom, the people were struggling with how to be a multicultural and diverse church – no kidding.  The wrestle is not new to us and it’s important for us to remember that we are not the first age of church to struggle with Christian identity or Christian unity. The particular triggering issues might be different in each day, but the challenge itself is not.

In the context of the Letter to the Ephesians, they were working through how to integrate Jewish, Hellenistic, and Christian thought and in doing that, how to bring a breadth of people with various cultural backgrounds and beliefs together as community, one which would at least at times be recognized as the Body of Christ.

And so in this letter, the author who was Paul or a student of his, addressed things like division and self-interest, greed, the need to let go of many things and to occasionally make personal sacrifices for the good of the whole. He spoke a lot about “unity” and the call to “come together.” “Made alive together,” he wrote. “Raised up together,” “sitting together,” “built together” and so on.  He repeated phrases like “one body,” and “one spirit,” and “one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism” and he emphasized the unity of the church.

And in this letter he also offered the kinds of behaviors that would help unity happen.  Behaviors like we heard spoken of in today’s passage: kindness, forgiveness, tenderheartedness, sharing, and speaking truth, (thus differentiating between the things that make for good community and rocket science.)  And apparently because this letter spoke to the heart of the people’s hopes and needs, it went the first century’s version of viral.

“So then, putting away falsehood,” we heard today, “let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another.” What a beautiful phrase – we are members of one another. “Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil. Thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labor and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy. Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear.” So that your words may give grace to those who hear… Do not grieve the Holy Spirit (meaning don’t make the Holy Spirit sad…Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.

Simply put, the passage concludes: Be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

Paul’s point is that church is where we are to practice all of that, not because we have it down, but because even Christian’s don’t. And the worlds needs it – togetherness, unity, love.

And so our work here is to receive these gifts of God and create the kind of environment that fosters such grace.  We are to practice a broad and multi-many-things kind of unity as church.  This is where we make room for forgiveness, kindness, and tenderheartedness.  It’s the means by which we give this world some of the together it so desperately needs.

And we practice this way of being every time we worship, in part because this kind of “together” is the gift which our liturgy gives us.  We gather, we sing, we pray, we pass the peace and then share in a feast which is open to and receiving of all who come, a rarity in the first century and a rarity still today.

In here we re-become those people who are “members of one another” in intentional and sometimes surprising ways.  This place brings me into communion not only with God but with people whom I would not otherwise ever share a table, with whom I would never otherwise pass the peace, for and with whom I would not otherwise be able to pray.

This is where we are working out the hopes and vision of Paul’s letter.  This is where we offer to God the works of our hands and our hearts too.  This is where the needy (which on some level is all of us) are fed. No evil comes out of our mouths and we try to make all of the words we speak, words that are for building up so that our words may give grace to those who hear.

And not for the sake of this place alone, by any means, but for the sake of the world too.  We practice here to get better at things needed everywhere. We let go.  We offer. We receive. We become a Body that longs to be grace. And in that sense, this place is like no other place. But only so other places more closely resemble this in terms of the kindness shared, the forgiveness offered, the tenderheartedness encouraged.

So that may we help these actions themselves go viral and as beloved children learn to live in love.  Amen.

 

With a Little Hope and a Touch of Grace
July 29, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – Sermon preached at Hope Reformed Church on July 29, 2018

Proper 12, Year B: Ephesians 3:14-21, John 6:1-21

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name. I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen. (Ephesians 3:14-21)

After this Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all.Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”

When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself. When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going. (John 6:1-21)

THANK YOU, Pastor Jill and thank you Hope Church! As I told the kids a few minutes ago, that’s our message today. We’re here with you this morning because just over 150 years ago, you gave us room to meet and to worship. And we as Grace Church are so very, very grateful. We began celebrating our sesquicentennial on June 10 and will continue through June 9, 2019. Part of the celebration is giving thanks for all that has helped us become and be Grace Church. And so we are here to say, “Thank you.”

Pastor Gordon has referred to Hope and Grace as “Best Friend churches.” And as it turns out, that relationship is part of our DNA. The people who were to become Grace Church began right here in your building. In 1866 those who were Hope Church (2nd Reformed at the time) provided space for some local yet relatively new to the area Episcopalians to worship and to meet to discern their way forward.

In fact the very first Episcopal worship service that ever happened in Holland, Michigan happened right here. Now the very second Episcopal worship service that ever happened was held at the Select School, so I’m not sure what went on at the first service… but through that entire phase of Grace Church’s beginning, Hope Church members and leaders provided friendship and support. Our congregation’s leaders worked together at the Select School which became the first of Grace Church’s four sites and we worked together in the larger community on various efforts we valued. We were apparently BFFs from the very beginning.

Hope Church, you gave us space and encouragement to become. And I’m not sure there’s a greater gift to be given. And so today, about seven thousand nine hundred and four Sunday services later, we’ve returned to say Thank You.

And to do that we’ve brought a preacher, a few Grace folks to share in worship, and we’re also providing coffee hour. And for that we’ve brought five loaves and two fish (just to see what you guys really have going on here.)

Now I’m personally excited to be here not only because of the shared history and the good colleagues and good friends that you are, but also because in the Episcopal Church, (unless it’s Michael Curry preaching,) we only give about 12-15 minutes for the sermon. And to be in a Reformed church where rumor has it the average is about 45, is an absolute thrill for me! Episcopalians would NEVER let me talk this long and so I’m truly grateful for this opportunity.

No worries, Jill has reigned me in earlier this week when I let it slip that I thought that was the timeframe. But given these time constraints, just so you know, I’m not going to touch David and Bathsheba about whom we heard in the first passage. I’ll leave that up to my fine colleagues as the David story continues to unfold through the lectionary texts this summer.

Now there are also many among us who have worked on the histories of our congregations, Judy Parr, Paul Trap and Charles Huttar to name a few, and so I’ll also leave the history detail to them. This morning, I simply want to touch on the gospel which provides a beautiful approach to gratitude and offers a glimpse into what can happen when good things are allowed to multiply.

Again there were crowds following Jesus, we just heard from the gospel passage. We’ve been hearing from the gospel of Mark over the last many weeks that Jesus had been traveling with his disciples back and forth and all around the Sea of Galilee and there were always crowds. The disciples had “crossed over” many times, traveled among villages, cities and farms, teaching, feeding, and healing. And in this dip into the gospel of John we hear those themes continued in a truly Johanine, but consistent way.

“A large crowd kept following him,” John said, “because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick.” And so these people had come with hope. It was hope that got them to the hillside that day or they wouldn’t have been there at all. Hope for healing. Hope for blessing. Hope for something new.

Now the feast of the Passover was near. John unlike the other gospel authors makes a point to tell us that. This is the Jewish festival which commemorates liberation and freedom and also the festival at which people offered the first fruits of grain.

And so when Jesus saw the crowd, you can bet that liberation and freedom were in his heart and on his mind and that his first thought was bread. And so, Jesus ran by Philip the challenge to feed the people. And Philip responded rather matter of factly that there was nowhere to buy bread, nor among them did they possibly have enough money to buy the quantity it would take to feed 5000 people. (As if Jesus didn’t know that already.)

But, and this is a big BUT – there was a kid with five barley loaves and two fish. “And what are they among so many people?” Andrew asked. What are those among so many people? A question we ask all too often. Because what the 5 loaves and 2 fish were was enough, enough to allow a miracle, or depending on how your ready it many miracles to happen.

Jesus received the bread and fish from the child. Then he had the people sit down, he gave thanks, and then they distributed the food to everyone who was there. And everyone ate “as much as they wanted,” the gospel says. And not only that, but there were twelve baskets left over. Enough for the tribes. Enough for those who hadn’t been able to make it to the hillside.

And then, the gospel continues there was a storm. We’ll get to that in a minute.

First, I think the very brave person in this story (besides Jesus, he usually wins on that count,) the very brave person in this story was the kid, right? He was the first person to take a miracle-unfolding cue from Christ. While the disciples were still worried about the mileage to the nearest store and the cost of the bread, the child let go of his own bread and his own fish. And that letting go was a big deal because at that point there were no guarantees about outcome. The child just offered what he had. And so perhaps even more than courage, this kid simply had hope, hope that something bigger than five loaves and two fish could happen. He had enough hope to let go and to trust.

Then there were those first people who sat down, those first people who rather than racing down the hill to be the first ones on the boat or the first people back to their village took the risk of settling in in grass on the hillside. And then they passed the baskets – sharing the food that had been made for them. Nobody hoarding. Nobody worried about with whom they were eating – which was a big deal in itself. And so perhaps these people believed that there could be grace, hospitality and food enough for all.

And in the end, the gospel tells us about 5000 people had eaten all that they wanted and there were 12 baskets left. There was enough for everyone to take home to their people, their people who were scattered as tribes, divided by historical circumstance and some long running family feuds, but a people now united by this shared and I’d go so far as to say “holy” meal.

A holy meal that started with a child’s five loaves and two fish. And with thanks offered, and with some hope and a little grace tossed in, there was food for all. There was a miracle!

Which is apparently how this works. For us too. Thank you, Hope Church for allowing a few Episcopalians to come forward in this community with what was in the eyes of many a rather measly offering. And thank you for receiving what was not only measly but threatening to some. Sacramental, liturgical worship with a Book of Common Prayer that had only recently let go of prayers to the Queen wasn’t exactly a welcome guest in most circles in these parts in 1866. And these Episcopalians not only wanted to speak English, but most of them did not know Dutch. Nevertheless, you allowed us to sit down here. You allowed us to sit in circles and share bread here.

And in Christ, with Christ, that was transformed from “measly” and “threatening,” into “enough.” Enough to gather around. Enough to pray with. Enough to feed people through. The presence of Hope with a touch of Grace allowed gifts to be multiplied in ways that are still feeding many. In ways that have fed way over 5000 in fact. And so I think we experienced something like a miracle.

Often in this world, people are too afraid to allow others space to become. Too often, we’re too afraid to allow gifts to multiply. We depend on scarcity for power rather than trusting goodness in abundance. And we see that dynamic play out all the time. What happens if we hold human rights in a place of gratitude and offer them, multiply and share them rather than allowing them to be held tightly by a fearful few? What happens if we hold healthcare with a spirit of gratitude and allow it to be multiplied and shared? What about shelter, affordable shelter. How about citizenship? How about forgiveness, creativity, mercy, good news? That’s the rhythm of this story: there is an offering. There is thanksgiving. There is hope and there is grace. Gifts are multiplied and a miracle comes to be. And sure, there’s often a storm that follows, but according to this gospel, we, with Christ can handle that too.

There is so much more to be given, so much more to be shared, and it’s all just a miracle away. Which means that it’s only one offering away. It’s only five loaves and two fish away. Which isn’t that far at all. With a little hope and a touch of grace, anything is possible.

In the words of the Epistle this morning: May Christ dwell in our hearts as we are being rooted and grounded in love. May we have the power to comprehend, the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge (and calculations of mileage and cost,) so that we may be filled (not only with bread) but with all the fullness of God. And to him who by the power at work within us, (through our at times measly but hope and grace-filled offerings) is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.

Thank you, Hope Church. Amen.

 

The Power of the Fringe
July 28, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – Sermon preached at Grace, Holland on July 22, 2018 – Proper 11, Year B: Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things…

When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed. (Mark 6:30-34, 53-56)

What if that were true? The healing part. What if everyone who touched even the fringe of the cloak of the Body of Christ experienced healing?

It’s a high bar, isn’t it? People were rushing around the whole region and they brought the sick on mats to wherever Jesus was. And there were crowds. “In villages and cities and farms,” the gospel says. “They laid the sick in the marketplaces and “all who touched even the fringe of his cloak were healed.” Everyone. “Even the fringe.” “All were healed,” the gospel says.

What if it’s true?

And what if we very 21st century, intelligent, reasonable, grounded, modernly-faithful people expected it to happen? Now. And what if we presented in such a way as to confidently communicate this expectation? What if we, as Body of Christ, made the very bold statement that everyone who touched even the fringes of this place would be healed?

It would mean that we believed in that kind of power. It would mean that we allowed ourselves to believe that healing happens. It would probably also mean that we’d experienced healing in some ways ourselves. And it would mean that we as Body would honor and respect even the power of the fringe.

All of which is a lot to ask, frankly. Because (realistically speaking) we already do just fine in this place. Our list of accomplishments in any given year is really quite incredible. We have committed clergy and lay people, a community that is changing and working to be attentive to our growing edges and our weaknesses too. We offer good care here at Grace. We strive to welcome all. We pray together well, and we manage projects relatively well too. We even give beyond ourselves!

But maybe as Body of Christ, we’re capable of more than we think we are. According to this gospel, we’re called to believe that everyone who touches even the fringes is not only welcomed but healed. And those are two very related but different things. This gospel says to expect that everyone who touches the fringes experiences not only welcome, but also a new form of wholeness.

I was thinking this week that that would make for quite an Annual Report wouldn’t it, as we looked back over the year and shared our experiences of it? Perhaps a new slot could be added to the Parochial Report that we send into the Diocese annually: Parking lot completed. One hundred twenty home Eucharists shared. Twenty-five new members incorporated. Youth mission trip a success! Roof raised. And EVERYONE who touched even the fringes of this place was healed!

According to this gospel that should be our vision, our goal. According to this gospel, we can carry people into this place on mats, or be carried in ourselves when we need it and healing will happen, if we let it. I think we focus in on so many other dimensions of church life that we sometimes forget the power that is already here. And I can own that, I can focus in on so many other dimensions of church life that I sometimes forget the power that is already here. Which is the power to heal.

In all of our faithful busyness which is not bad in itself, but it can get in the way. Because we can forget to tend to and foster the power that exists among us simply by virtue of our being the Body of Christ. Even if we are “the fringe” of that Body which sometimes we are, God’s power is here. And people who might not be able to reach or grab ahold of anywhere else, will reach out to us and healing will come to them! And probably to us too.

The Body of Christ is capable of more than we think we are.

And to keep that from feeling overwhelming, or perhaps a bit intimidating for we modest Episcopalians, it might help us to remember where and how these miracles begin in the gospel, because it’s a starting point that can be ours too. These miracles begin with compassion. I’ll point to that in the text in a minute but the good news is that compassion abounds in this place! Honestly, I think it’s one of our strongest ties to each other and this world. Grace doesn’t tend to be a people who agree one hundred percent on anything, really. But I do think that we are a people of compassion, one hundred percent. And so maybe that high bar for healing is one that is within even our fringy reach.

Note that the gospel didn’t say that “only those without doubts” were healed or could heal. Or that Jesus met with each person to discern whether or not they had faith enough to experience transformation or to offer it. It didn’t say that only those who were devoted members of the community of faith were healed or could share in the healing. In fact, Jesus and the disciples were constantly “crossing over” in this gospel, moving among Jews and Gentiles alike to the point that it didn’t even matter who the crowd was, or how it was made up. In the Letter to the Ephesians, Paul event went so far as to talk about one humanity, where the divisions that existed among the various “thems” were abolished. None of that mattered anymore.

What mattered was that people were hungry. And what mattered was that people were hurting. Jesus looked out over the crowds and at various points in this gospel “he had compassion for them.” Compassion was his very first reaction. It was his guiding instinct, leading principle, perhaps one of his greatest powers. And you can bet the crowds felt that.

Before anything else happened in these stories, Jesus communicated compassion for them. Whoever the “them” happened to be, Jesus showed concern for their suffering, he communicated empathy, and then God did something. Miracles happened. Teachings transformed people, bread multiplied, mass feedings filled deep and hungry places, storms were calmed, and bodies, minds and souls were healed.

In Greek, the word for compassion is splagnizomai and it means something felt deep in your gut. It’s work to say it, and often it’s work to allow that dimension of ourselves to surface, and let alone lead us. You know how sometimes compassion can actually feel like your stomach is turning? I think that’s what this is about. “Splagnizomai,” is a deep movement inside that turns us, opens us to the suffering of another. It is perhaps itself a miracle, a bit of grace, maybe part of what it means to be created in the image of God. Jesus had it. And we do too. It’s not as gentle sounding as compassion but it is what opens our hearts, and our doors, and our very selves to the power of God. It is perhaps God’ power working in us.

So let your splagnizomai flow, Grace Church! It’s where miracles begin. Share your stories of healing – how it’s come, where you need it in your life, how healing has surprised you. And listen as the stories come our way. God will do something with our compassion if we simply take the risk of letting it flow. Healing will come in ways that pass our expectations and our understandings too. According to this gospel passage, we can trust that healing will come.

The Body of Christ is capable of more than we often allow it to be. Among us lives the power to transform. The power to feed. The power to calm. The power to heal. And everyone who touches even the fringes of this place, will be healed. May we help it be so.

Amen.

 

 

With Grace and Power
July 18, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – July 15, 2018 – Proper 10, Year B: Mark 6:14-29

King Herod heard of it, for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”

For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” She replied, “The head of John the baptizer.” Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb. (Mark 6:14-29)

In my just over twenty four years of preaching in this place, I’ve managed to preach on this gospel passage only one other time. And I consider that avoidance to be one of my greatest scheduling victories. This story comes up in this form once every three years, and so I’ve only faced it about eight times. And I’ve managed to sneak out of the pulpit six out of those eight.

But, given the lack of a second clergy person at this time, and my making the non-lectionary based decision to take vacation in early August, here I am with John the Baptist’s head on a platter. And even reading it is horrendous. This is without argument a horrible story. We’d all avoid it if we could. But none of us (except those of you visiting this morning – thank you for being here, sorry for the text) are on vacation this morning! We have been called to church. And this is our gospel text. So, here we go.

First, since this is a horrible end to a prophet’s life, we need to acknowledge that often stories like John the Baptist’s end this way. Prophets’ stories rarely have a happy ending, because while prophets always have a hopeful message, it’s never a happy one. Prophets speak hard words. They share hard truths. That’s what makes a prophet a prophet. And often they communicate by shouting their message in the wilderness, or in the towns or throughout the streets of the cities.

In fact, we heard Jesus say in last week’s gospel reading that “prophets are not without honor except in their hometown.” And you’ll remember in that story that even Jesus could “do no act of power” in that moment. Prophets it seems are in the most danger when their message hits home. Because even if only in word, prophets are perceived as a threat of one kind or another to those who do have power.

And according to this story, John the Baptist had told Herod that he didn’t think it was a good idea for Herod to take his brother’s wife as his own. Which is about as close to home as you can get. John had said many other hard and “prophetic” things too – frankly things that ranked much higher on the “it takes a prophet to say them” scale but that’s the one shared in this passage. And so, like many prophets before him, and like so many prophets after him, John the Baptist was imprisoned. And then he was killed.

Now what happened in this gospel is terrible and pretty gruesome. We all get that. But how it happened is sort of fascinating. Because how it all happened makes this far more than a story about John the Baptist. I’m not sure this passage is even primarily about John the Baptist. It reveals to us the hazards of leading a prophetic life, but I actually think that even more than that, it’s a story about Herod and what it reveals about him and about us too.

This story exposes the inner wrestlings that those in power, which is all of us in at least some dimensions of our lives experience on an all too regular basis. When prophets can do no act of power, others still can. But it’s hard. Sometimes it’s very hard. In this morning’s collect, we prayed for God to “mercifully receive the prayers of your people who call upon you, that we may “know and understand” what things we “ought to do,” and that we also may have “grace and power faithfully to accomplish them.” In this morning’s gospel, Herod was caught right in the middle of that prayer. He knew what he ought to do; he even had the power to do it. What Herod couldn’t quite grasp or be grasped by was the grace he needed to accomplish it.

Herod couldn’t find an easy way out. Because sometimes there aren’t easy ways out even for Kings. And I think that those in power can forget how to trust and listen to the inner wrestle that happens in those moments. We all need grace at times, to help us.

Herod had made a public oath to his daughter to give her anything she wanted (mistake number one – sorry kids.) Herod figured she’d ask for money, or as he put it, “half of the kingdom,” because what else would the child of a King ask for? Had it played out that way, Herod would have gotten the chance to show what a gracious man he was in front of all of those people. Not a bad plan when you think about it. Until, when the request came in and it wasn’t for money or for half of the kingdom at all. It was for John the Baptist’s head!

And that’s when it got complicated, because we’d been told just a few verses before that what Herod thought of John. Herod “feared John,” the gospel said, “knowing that John was a righteous and holy man.” And Herod, “protected him,” which is interesting, isn’t it? When he heard John speak, “Herod was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.” So, Herod knew that John was saying important things, he just didn’t know what to do with those things. Herod was “perplexed” by John, but he “protected” John and he “listened to him.” Which is sometimes the best we can ask of leaders. In fact, for a leader to say, “I’m perplexed, but I’m listening,” can be sort of a wonderful thing. Good for leaders to know. Good for all of us to know.

And then, given Herod’s curiosity about John, when the request came for John’s head, “Herod was deeply grieved.”

And that’s probably the most important moment in this story. Because at that moment like that, there are options. At a moment like that, there is potential. The message that John the Baptist had spoken had gotten in there. Even Herod knew there was something to it. Something he and others needed to hear. And there was something that he and others needed to do as a result of it.

“Help us O lord to know and understand the things we ought to do and give us the grace and power faithfully to accomplish them.”

The catch for Herod I think was that he’d made the oath to his daughter in public at a banquet in front of “his courtiers and officers and the leaders of Galilee.” And so, Herod couldn’t quite go with his gut, as they say. He couldn’t quite grasp or be grasped by the grace that would have saved the prophet’s life. The grace that would have made this a different kind of story. And “out of regard for his oath and for the guests,” (meaning due to the pressure of the crowds – read Pontius Pilate later on,) Herod did not refuse the request.

Now luckily our choices are not generally whether to behead a prophet or not, but sometimes our choices are just as hard. And we grieve when we’re faced with them. It’s why we need the prayer we heard this morning.

The prophet could “do no act of power” in that moment. But Herod could have, and there is something for us all to hear in that. The power to do hard but right is always present. And sometimes that power rests with prophets. Sometimes that power rests with Kings. Sometimes power rests with ordinary people. And often it rests among us all. And while it takes grace to accomplish what ought to be done, the good news is that there is enough grace available to do what ought to be done. Grace can as the hymn says, be amazing.

And sometimes this means changing course in front of courtiers, officers, leaders, or whomever it is whose opinions matter to us. I actually grieve for Herod in this story (which given other stories in the gospel one would think to be nearly impossible.) But I do. And I think I grieve for Heord because sometimes I grieve for myself and I grieve for this world. I think we know and understand more often than we give ourselves credit, “those things we ought to do.” But even when we have the power to do what ought to be done, it can be so very hard to receive the grace we need to accomplish it. The good news is that such grace is available to us all.

And so maybe the opening collect is our greatest gift this morning. We don’t have to avoid texts like this one. We don’t have to schedule our vacations around the lectionary! We don’t have to avoid these hard moments in our lives or in this world. And in sort of a beautiful way, I think this collect sort of captures the message that was John the Baptist’s: Power has been given us all. Power to repent. Power to turn. Power to change. Power to heal. Power to stand up. Power to speak up. Power to listen. “Prepare the way – in us and through us, O Lord!”

John knew that the grace we all need had come into this world. John knew he wasn’t that grace. John knew that he himself couldn’t contain it and that he himself would not be able to offer it in full. Grace had come in Christ and it was offered to everyone, even to people even like Herod. Even to people like us.

Mercifully receive the prayers of your people who call upon you, O God, that we may know and understand what things we ought to do, and also may have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them.

Amen

 

Shake It Off
July 14, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – July 8, 2018 – Proper 9, Year B: Mark 6:1-13

He left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.

Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.               (Mark 6:1-13)

For the past few weeks we’ve been hearing from the gospel of Mark story after story of healing after healing. There was Peter’s Mother-in-Law, the leper, various “people with demons or diseases,” and last week there were two biggies: a woman who had been hemorrhaging for twelve years was healed and the leader of the synagogue, whose name was Jairus, his daughter was not only healed but raised up after having died.

So, based on what we’ve heard up to this point, Jesus had gotten in trouble along the way – because of whom he healed (often those who had been classified as “unclean”) and when he healed them (because sometimes he healed on the Sabbath). But even though he was being challenged by the Pharisees, Jesus was batting a thousand in terms of his rate of success; Jesus had healed everyone whom he had tried to heal. He’d even raised that little girl from the dead.

And then we get this story from chapter 6 where Mark tells us that Jesus “could do no deed of power there.” “Except,” Mark sneaks in, that “he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them.” So, this wasn’t a total strike out, but there were absolutely no home runs. In this passage there was no healing that was nearly as significant or unanimous an experience as it had been up to now. The only thing worth noting, for Mark anyway, was the hard truth that sometimes it just doesn’t take. Sometimes the healing, or peace offered can’t be received, doesn’t take hold. Which also means because we have to flip this too, that sometimes we fail to receive the healing or peace or grace being offered us.

This is a hard one but welcome to gospel trying to make it in this world. Healings happen. Resurrection happens. And sometimes crowds experience something with the power to turn an entire community toward good news, profound hope and large scale transformation.

BUT – sometimes it’s just a slog. Or worse, those sharing the good news are deemed, “offensive.” And no deed of power can be done at that time. (Except for minor ones – so remember whatever’s going on that it’s always good to look for those.)

Now I struggle with this passage, but I also appreciate it quite deeply, because as hard as it is, it rings so very true. And I know that I live on both sides of this story. Sometimes the good news and grace we offer is refused. And sometimes we are the refusers. Sometimes “deeds of power” are just plain hard to come by.

And so what do we do with that?

Well, “there will be houses you enter,” Jesus says, “places you are where you will not be welcome, and they will refuse to hear you.” Period. Apparently, we shouldn’t spend a whole lot of time fighting that reality. There are places in which you will not be welcomed and in which you will not be heard.

But “stay there until you leave,” Jesus told them. Which is sort of an obvious statement but it’s more than that. Jesus was saying, “be present there too.” Note that he didn’t say, “Then beat them up.” Or “Invite your biggest friends into the house with you and let them have it.” No. Nor did he say, “When you aren’t welcome become silent, or hide, or change the good news you’ve been given to share.”

All he said was that those kinds of situations will happen, sometimes deeds of power won’t take place. But, “Stay present. Even then.” Which would imply keep listening. Keep talking. Keep sharing meals. “Stay there, until you leave,” Jesus told them. And when it’s time, if the good news you have to offer isn’t received, shake the dust off and move on. And go offer those gifts other places. End of passage.

Which means there are challenges to us:

First Challenge: Stay for a while even when you have not been welcomed or you believe that reconciliation will never bloom, or it looks to you like healing will forever be out of reach. Be present. Listen. Speak truth. Share meals. And see what happens. Because sometimes something does. Staying is challenge number one.

Then “shake the dust off and move on” when it’s time. Which is challenge number two- because I’m a bad dust shaker offer. Maybe a few of you are too. Leaving can be hard. Stepping out of a situation in which healing needs to catch hold can be hard.

But what this gospel is saying is that sometimes healing can’t happen in a place I’m in, because I’m not the one who’s going to bring it. I might even be getting in the way of it happening. Welcome to humility as the gospel tries to make it in this world.

You know those situations where as much as you, or we try to “make it happen” it just doesn’t? It doesn’t mean healing won’t come. It just means that such peace still passes our understanding, sometimes it passes our capacities to make it happen, and sometimes we don’t get to see it when healing when it finally does catch.

And then finally is challenge three: the challenge to receive peace and healing and resurrection when it’s offered, whether it comes from a hometown boy or a stranger who has crossed lines to reach out to us or for us. We never know when, or from what direction, or through whom the good news of Christ will come to us and take better hold on this world.

On the Sabbath? Maybe. From a leader of the synagogue? Sure. Through a little girl given the power to stand up? Yup. Today? Tomorrow? Three weeks from now? From someone who has been hemorrhaging for years risks being healed? Or maybe from that person that reaches us the just after we shake the dust off and make ourselves open to something new.

The gospel is trying to make it in this world. And more than that, the darkness cannot ultimately overcome it. But there are days in which deeds of power are hard to come by. Just remember, dust can be shaken off and eventually, healing comes. Resurrection comes. Today or tomorrow or three weeks from now. Through us? Sometimes. Through others? Of course.

So wherever you are in this story, do the work of being present. Listen. Speak the truth in love. Share meals. Shake it off when you need to, and in all things, proclaim God’s love for all.

Amen.

Inspired by Grace Begins this Sunday!
July 12, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

Inspired by Grace: DRUM CIRCLE!
Sunday, July 15, 11:30-1:00, Grace Church Sanctuary

Everyone is welcome to join Jennifer Wolfe and Beth Trembley for a time of collaborative rhythm-making. Absolutely no drumming experience required! Drum circles help us listen more attentively to others. Playing hand drums engages us physically, mentally and spiritually. While drumming, we wordlessly communicate with one another and have fun creating something new that is bigger than all of us! We will bring drums to share, but feel free to bring any hand drums (preferable) or hand-held percussion instruments you have.

Inspired by Grace
July 12, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

From Mary Matrosic, Vestry Member

Mary Matrosic is the inspiration behind Inspired by Grace, a series of programs for our 150th anniversary that will enable Grace parishioners to share their passions and talents with our community, beginning on July 15.

When I started thinking back on the nearly 20 years I’ve been part of Grace, I thought about all the people I’ve met only to discover – either early on or years later – that they do something really cool or interesting on the side. The idea for Inspired by Grace came from that.

One of the first people I met here for whom this was true is Carol Rickey, who is an amazingly gifted water colorist. In fact, one of our favorite paintings that hangs in our house is a Carol Rickey watercolor. But you might not know that Carol has this talent until you know her awhile. She has so much to share.

And then I thought about other people … people like Prescott Slee, who is the one person I want to talk to before I host a large dinner. He knows more about the art and science of hospitality than anyone I’ve ever known.

Jay Bylsma is another example. I’ve known Jay for many years and he’s always in the kitchen when there’s a big event at Grace. But I never knew he baked bread until I sat with him at the last annual meeting dinner and learned he baked the fantastic bread we were eating.

People do a lot of interesting things and most people are willing to share – would love to share – their knowledge and passions with other people. So whether we have a few people or a few dozen people attend our Inspired by Grace programs, I think it’s a great way to share our gifts with one another.

I am a big believer that creativity and creative inspiration are something we are given as a gift from God. It’s in us waiting for a chance to be expressed. For some people, it’s through hospitality, for some it’s cooking, and for some it’s being able to sit and listen to others or organize a project and solve problems in creative ways.

All of this is creativity and all of it inspired. And Grace feeds that part of us. I’m excited that Inspired by Grace is opportunity for us to share those gifts with each other even more than we do today.

I invite everyone to join us for our first Inspired By Grace program, a Drum Circle with Beth Trembley and Jennifer Wolfe on Sunday, July 15 at 11:30.

 

Little Girl, Get Up
July 8, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – July 1, 2018 – Proper 8, Year B: 2 Corinthians 8:7-14, Mark 5:21-43

When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.”

So, he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’” He looked all around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat. (Mark 5:21-43)

In some ways, what we just heard were a couple of very powerful yet simple stories from the gospel of Mark. This is a passage that’s often split into two so that you hear either the story of the long-hemorrhaging woman who was healed by Jesus. Or you hear the story of the raising of Jairus’ daughter. Both are extremely powerful examples of the healing that Jesus performed. And we need to hear that.

These are miracle stories – a person who had suffered for years and years and had gotten to the end of her rope in terms of treatment options, she was healed. And a little girl who was pronounced not only gravely ill, but by mid-story had actually died? She was raised with the kind yet powerful words of Christ, “Little girl, get up.” In these stories we hear the power of Christ to heal against all expectations. The power of Christ to raise from the dead! And so, we’re invited to lean into this, to share stories of healing among us, and to proclaim and give thanks for the power of Christ to heal.

And… as is often the case with Mark, there’s also more going on here. There’s more healing than we might catch at first glance, and I want us to see that too. And to do that, we need to allow these stories to stay as one. The hemorrhaging woman and Jairus and his daughter are deeply related; they are in some ways even dependent on one another – and that’s something we need to hear too.

This whole passage is a story about courageous people reaching out, crossing lines, and taking risks for the sake of the healing which Christ gave to them all. Before there was healing, there was courage. Before there was healing, there was a desire for wholeness. And before there was healing, there was the willingness to risk on behalf of another.

Jairus was a leader of the synagogue. Don’t miss that. Jairus’ position as leader of the synagogue is something mentioned by Mark three times in this passage, and so it matters. It matters because as we’ve been hearing for the last several weeks, the Pharisees (religious leaders who worked very closely with the leaders of the synagogues) were out to trap Jesus by this point in the gospel. Jesus and the Pharisees were very publically and theologically duking it out.

And that’s because by chapter three (and here we are in chapter five) Jesus had broken with religious law several times; we’ve been hearing these stories for the past several weeks. Jesus did it by healing on the Sabbath, touching the untouchables (lepers, bleeding women,) and by eating with outcasts and sinners. And so Jairus was risking a lot by reaching out to him. Jairus was breaking with his own ranks in significant ways and he did it in a rather exceptional fashion.

Jairus didn’t just email Jesus, or send a note, or even go to Jesus by night. This was not “a private conversation among leaders.” When Jesus had gotten off the boat, Jairus was there in the crowd, surrounded by the crowd, many of whom were members of his own congregation, his own constituents and probably a Pharisee or two. And right out there in the light of day, Jairus “fell at Jesus’ feet,” the gospel says, and Jairus begged him repeatedly to come help his daughter.

And Jairus would very likely have suffered consequences for his actions. But that didn’t seem to matter as much as the healing did. And I think that’s an important point in this gospel. Here was a leader, who had a whole lot to lose and he very publically risked it all by placing the potential for healing over the priority of religious purity and personal position.

Note: it can be done.

Now odds are good, Jairus took those risks because it was his own daughter who was suffering. It’s what any parent would do, right? Of course and back to that in a few minutes.

On their way to Jairus’ house another incredibly courageous person entered the scene. This person had no name. But she, reached out too. The woman who had been “hemorrhaging for twelve years”Marks says, broke through the crowd, came up behind Jesus, and she touched him. Now it’s important to note that this woman was,, by virtue of her hemorrhaging, ritually unclean and therefore had likely been permanently banished to the very margins of the community. She was an untouchable. And so, for her to even be present in a crowd, let alone in voice and touch was a huge risk too. She was on the completely other end from Jairus of just about every societal spectrum you could name – in terms of power, privilege, probably economic status and certainly acceptance in their community. This woman didn’t even have a name.

But because they were both willing to take risks, healing came to more than each of them. And it took them both to pull this off. And I think that’s a part of the point here too. In her touch, this woman rendered Jesus unclean. But that didn’t matter to Jesus who celebrated this woman’s faith – by proclaiming it to the whole crowd! And it didn’t matter to Jairus who by religious law, should have stopped Jesus from entering his home because of the woman’s touch (and so many other things that Jesus had done to this point.) But none of that mattered. Because Jairus’ child was hurting. And so Jairus invited this religious-law-breaking, unclean healer into his home. And Jesus went there. And in these simple words, “Little girl, get up,” Jairus’ daughter rose. And then as Jesus often did he said, “Now get her something to eat.”

And so, what happened here was a miracle larger than two people being healed, although they were. What happened here was that an entire people watched a leader risk his position of power and break ranks to appeal passionately on behalf a child. And they watched a woman break through the crowd essentially risking her life because she believed that healing could happen. And they witnessed Jesus celebrate her courage and her faith.

And so, I want to say that this is what it takes. Healing writ large takes us all, those with power and privilege, those on the margins, and everyone in-between. The crowd (many of them the “in-betweens”) could have stopped all of this, or at least tried to, but they didn’t. Probably because on some level, their hearts wanted it too.

It takes all of us to desire a healing that is greater than any of us. It takes people of all kinds to reveal what healing can look like for humankind.

Like this gospel passage, we need to allow our stories to be one.

Yesterday hundreds of thousands of people across the country, and over a thousand here in Holland, came together to say, “There are children at our border who need healing. Desperately. And together, we can help that happen.” Like Jairus, we proclaim that there is nothing to protect that is worth more than the safety, wholeness, and well-being of a child, let alone thousands of them. Many of these children at the border (and I realize there are exceptions and that the entire immigration process needs reform) but many of these kids came with parents who are the ones breaking through the crowds reaching out to a Body with the potential to heal. They are also Jairus, but with no power or privilege who are very simply seeking new life for their children.

We need to let their stories be our story. Yesterday people crossed well established lines of political party, denominations, and faiths to say that it is so. “Who is my family?” Jesus asked a few chapters back in this gospel. And he responded to his own questions through actions that reached out to those who were hurting: “All of you are my family,” he said, “And all of them are too.” Sons and daughters, children of God, family of God one and all.

And so, we are Jairus. And we are the woman hemorrhaging. And in this story, we hear that healing is possible for us all. We also hear that it will in part be our desire, our faith, our hope that helps healing writ large come into being. May we have the courage of the people in this passage. May we continue together to seek a way in which we as a people can say to the children of this world, “Little girl, get up. Little boy, get up. Here is your family. Now let’s all get something to eat.”

Amen.

In The Midst Of A Storm
July 8, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams- July 1, 2018

Proper 7B: 1 Samuel 17:1-49, 2 Corinthians 6:1-13, Mark 4:35-41

On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” (Mark 4:35-41)

What if all we heard in this gospel story was around the phrase, “Peace, be still.” I wonder if we can do that? “The wind ceased,” the gospel said. “And there was dead calm.” Peace. Still. Calm. What if those were the words we took from this story? I wonder if we can do that? I hope that we want to do that.

Because we know the storm, right? We all do. We’re familiar whether we want to be or not with the kind of storms that take a hold of our worlds and frighten even the most skilled among us. We know of the “gales” as one Biblical translation puts it, that scare us in the most familiar of settings when the boats we’ve come to know get, in Markian terms, “swamped.” We’ve been there. Some of us are there.

That’s what happened to these disciples. Remember that several of them were very skilled fishermen who had made their living on the water. They knew the sea well because they’d grown up on it and shaped their lives around it. The sea had also shaped them. These disciples could navigate their way through just about anything that could happen on the water and they very likely took some appropriate pride in those skills. “Weathering it” was not a new thing for these guys. They weren’t naïve to the challenges of crossing over. But in this story, the disciples honestly thought they were perishing. Those were the words they spoke out loud. “We are perishing,” they said. They were literally, in their own mind and hearts, life-threateningly swamped.

And we know the storm. We all know the storm, right? There’s a pattern in this gospel that goes something like this:

Healing. Storm.

Feeding. Crossing over.

Wholeness. Storm.

Healing. Storm.

Continued…

And it’s true for us too no matter how hard we fight it. As one of my favorite authors explains on any given day in this place and in this world, there are some among us who are feasting; we have things to celebrate. There are some who are crossing over; we’ve just gotten in the boat. There are some here and everywhere who are experiencing a healing; a form of new life has come! And there are others are watching the waves come over the edges; we’re not sure whether or not we’ll even make it to the other side.

But remember that no matter where you are in the gospel story, remember that Jesus was in the boat. He was healing those who needed healing, He was blessing and breaking the bread. And Christ was in the boat.

And in another of the “storm narratives” which we’ll hear soon, Jesus walked across the water and got into the boat. Because in that story too, the very same, very skilled and experienced disciples were watching the waters pour over the edges and they were again frightened to their core! And in both stories, Jesus offered peace (which he did on land too.) And Jesus spoke to them of stillness. And a calm that passes all understanding took hold again.

Christ in the healings. Christ in the feasts. Christ in the storms that scare us.

In this gospel the storms are a given. They are a part of the pattern, part of the lives in which and through which the good news was and is told. And in those stories, the peace comes as grace. And then, in this gospel, over time, the peace becomes a given too. Which means that woven into every moment, woven into every fabric of the story that is ours, the peace is a given too.

And I want us to hear that today.

This new favorite author whom I’ve mentioned here and there, his name is Padraig O’Touma. He’s a poet and theologian whose home is Belfast. He teaches and speaks on religion, storytelling, and conflict resolution and is leader of the Corrymeela Community in Ireland, a center whose work is reconciliation and that offers, “A Christian witness to peace in Northern Ireland.” O’Touma lives in the midst of a very long, generationally long storm. And the struggle is still real. And in the midst of it all, he and so many are seeking peace.

One of O’Touma’s books is titled “In the Shelter: Finding a Home in the World.” In this book he talks about one of these gospel storm narratives. And after exploring some of the many experiences and stories that come from his and others’ own crossings over, O’Touma says that all of this is “as if to say, that only in the midst of a storm can we find a truth that will settle us.” Only in the midst of a storm can we find a truth that will settle us.

Which is not to belittle the fear. O’Touma feels that fear and engages it, every day. Nor is it to ignore the pain and effects of the storm. He listens to those and witnesses those too, every day. Nor does it mean the work of the crossing is over is complete. He and we are mid-journey, always.

It’s all simply to say that peace is a given too. And in the midst of storms, we are offered peace in ways that surpass our understanding. Maybe because we least expect it there, this is peace that often comes as a surprise.

Peace comes from the stern just when our own frustration peaks. Or it comes walking across the waters towards us against all odds when it seems as if the darkness might have indeed won.

In the second letter to the Corinthians we heard from Paul that peace sometimes comes through our own actions, our own faithfully, stubbornly beautiful intentions. To a people and as a people experiencing persecution Paul wrote, “we have commended ourselves in every way: through [the great storms of] afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; we offer, patience, kindness…genuine love,truthful speech,” And he reminded them that within those gifts we offer there “is the power of God.” Sometimes, peace comes through us.

This gospel story and others tell us that peace comes among us even as the waters begin to fill the boat – whatever that boat happens to be. Whatever the waters happen to be. “As if to say that only in the midst of a storm can we find a truth that will settle us.”

Christ in the healings. Christ in the feasts. Christ in the storms that scare us.

“Peace, be still,” offers the holy and much needed voice. “Peace be still,” invites the presence. As we cross over in so many ways, may we let it, may we help it be so.

Amen.

 

Sesquicentennial Sunday
July 8, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – June 10, 2018 – Proper 5, Year B: 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1,Mark 3:20-35

Then he went home, and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, “He has gone out of his mind.” And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, “He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.” And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, “How can Satan cast out Satan? If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come. But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.

“Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”— for they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.”

Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” (Mark 3:20-35)

Happy 150th Grace Church!

And there is so much to say about that!

So I’m very glad that we have a full year to say it all. You probably are too.  Someone suggested this week that I take a minute for every year of Grace in this morning’s sermon. You can be relieved that I’m not going to take them up on that idea. After today we have 364 days left to explore the history and future of Grace and so there’s plenty of time to do that. We’ll publish a history of our church probably in several forms. We’ll have presentations and pictures to share from every generation of Grace as we go. We’ll look back on buildings and people and ministries. And we’ll look forward too. All with deep and very genuine thanks.

Today we just need to get this party started. And so we’ll celebrate Eucharist and then we’ll unveil and dedicate the State of Michigan’s newest historical marker which is under that big tarp in the front yard. After the dedication, we’ll head downstairs for a barbeque feast and after that, come back up here at 1:00 for a recital led by jazz saxophonist, Jordan VanHemert, who happens among other things to be the grand-nephew of Vivian Cook. Viv died last year but has and perhaps will forever have the claim to fame of being the longest ever member of Grace Church. Viv lived her whole 94 years as a member of this parish. Many of the connections we’ll make today and throughout this year have special meaning, something to tell us about being Grace. As you walk through the Commons of Grace today you’ll see the beginning of a digital version of LEGO Grace. This will be built over the course of the summer by a team of Grace kids, led by big kid Graeme Richmond, helping us celebrate the shelter this place has provided for generations.

And so we’re beginning this year-long celebration in fine Grace form. My work here and now in terms of the sermon is to focus in on the gospel with you, a communal act which has happened here at Grace since 1868. For almost eight thousand Sundays, the people of Grace Episcopal Church, Holland have gathered to hear, to reflect on, and to proclaim the good news of Christ.

Which can be a little challenging to do when you get texts like this one from the gospel of Mark. I realized several weeks ago that this was going to be the gospel on our Sesquicentennial Sunday and I became immediately jealous of the priest who preached on Grace’s opening day. Given that those were pre-lectionary times, he probably made a slightly different choice than this passage from Mark chapter 3. Something nicer. Less challenging. Perhaps a little “happier” in tone.

But the more time I spent with this passage the more I came to believe that it was in some ways the perfect passage for the Grace we are celebrating, and for the Grace we are always discerning how to be.

The first thing I want to say is that this is not a passage about Jesus being mean to his Mom, which is how it’s often heard. And so together let’s move beyond that interpretation and try to listen to what this passage is all about.

The crowds had gathered around Jesus “again” the gospel says. Chapter one of Mark was filled with healings and teachings and lots of shared meals, but by the end of chapter two, the religious authorities had begun to take notice of all of that. The Pharisees began questioning Jesus because (side and important note – while Jesus was healing and teaching and feeding lots of people, he was also breaking with religious law.)

Last week we heard that Jesus was being challenged for healing on the Sabbath, touching the unclean, and eating with outcasts and sinners. He had three strikes on him by the end of chapter two. And so, by here in chapter three, the crowd was not only full of people seeking healing, there were also people shouting at Jesus, saying terrible things like, “He has gone out of his mind!” and even worse, “He’s full of Beelzebul, the devil – because he casts out demons!”

And we hear in this passage, that Jesus’ family went out “to restrain him,” probably very simply because they cared about him. They didn’t want him to get yelled at like that anymore.   While his family was coming for him, we Jesus said his first words to the crowd in response to their shouts. To “He has a demon because he’s casting out demons,” Jesus said, “Wait a minute! That doesn’t make any sense. Satan wouldn’t be casting out Satan, would he? If that were the case, our work here would be done. We’d simply let evil defeat itself. End of story.”

But apparently, it wasn’t going to work that way, not enough of the time for what Jesus was out to accomplish, anyway. And so, Jesus went on to talk about the need for forgiveness in this whole work of creating a new heaven and a new earth. And then he took some hits for that too. But Jesus remained insistent. He responded to them that forgiveness was the work of the Holy Spirit, and to get in the way of that could be an eternal mistake.

And that’s when Jesus family called out even louder to him because they knew he was stepping on some very righteous toes, and that ultimately, they would strike out at him even more. And here’s where the story got so good. While his family was reaching out to him, Jesus did an amazing thing: He reached out to others.

Jesus asked the disciples, “Who is my family?” And then, instead of listing Mary and the others, Jesus said to the crowd, “You are my family. You are my mother and my brothers and my sisters too. You all are family to me.”

Which was sort of a first century mic drop. What does one say to that? It wasn’t a slam on the ones to which he was known to be related. It was an expansion of what family means.

Don’t worry about Mary here. If there is someone who can be celebrated for her wisdom and strength in this gospel, it’s her. Mary knew better than anyone that this child of hers would do amazing and holy things. Remember the angel that came to her first. And there is nothing in this story that says Mary was hurt by Jesus words. She might have been nervous for him, but that’s a very different thing. Mary’s role wasn’t an easy one in the gospels, but she knew from the very beginning that loving Jesus meant letting him reach out and love beyond them all.

And it still means that today.

Here’s our connection to Grace Church. Since the very beginning of this parish, Grace has been led by lay people first and eventually clergy (sometimes we’re slower to catch on) Grace has been led by people who, embraced by Christ, insist on an ever-broadening understanding of what it means to be human and holy family. We use the language of “family” often in this place and I think it’s important that we do. It’s telling us something about ourselves and about how Christ is present among us here.

Grace Church came into being so that those who were on the margins of this Dutch speaking Reformed community could have a place to worship in their own language, English. A place to worship with sacraments and Episcopal liturgy to shape them, guide them, bring them into community with Christ and one another. Starting Grace Church was a gutsy move by a small group of people, many of whom probably had their own families trying to restrain them for safety’s sake.

But there was something of the Spirit happening then. And there is something of the Spirit happening here still, something breathed and breathes life into Grace as we become and re-become family of God, as we become and re-become church for the world.

One of the charisms of this congregation is that Grace is able to grow through phases like the one described in this gospel passage. I’d go so far as to say that Grace has allowed this passage to be part of what it means to be Church. This gospel passage speaks to moment in time where part of the Body reaches out, and insists on the brother and sisterhood expanding.

For Grace over the generations this has meant including English speakers and Episcopalians as members of the Body here in Holland. It meant including women who felt called to work outside of the home and so Grace birthed the Infant Care Center right here in this building. It meant embracing the ministries of women in the church through liturgical leadership and ordination – the first woman ordained priest in our Diocese came from Grace Holland. It has meant inviting hungry brothers and sisters here to receive food, refugee brothers and sisters here to live, and among other things it meant welcoming LGBT people into the church. And so, when no other possibility existed in this town, Grace opened these doors to PFLAG, Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. Grace opened these doors to parents and friends of people who needed parents and friends.

Because Grace Church knows that that’s all of us. Who are my mothers and brothers and fathers and sisters? All of you and more. How many times have we felt that in this place? I think that is the essence of this this gospel passage.

Imagine being one of those people in the crowd that day who had been labeled unclean and therefore untouchable by anyone else in the human family. Imagine being one of those people who had sought healing day after day after day and had heard from religious authorities that it was neither the time nor the place for that – “just wait,” they’d heard over and over again. Imagine being one of the people in the crowd who were never allowed to share a ritual meal with anyone else. And were for the first time, invited to the table.

Imagine hearing for the first time from anyone, “You are my sister….you, Karen, Val, Lauren, Amber, you are my sister.” “You, are my brother….you, Paul, Clay, Steve, Orion, you are my brother. All of you. We are family.” “Now be whole,” Jesus says. And “Let’s eat!” That’s the voice and the kind of presence we are called to be.

Finally, in the Second Letter to Corinthians we heard today that “Grace, as it extends to more and more people, may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God. So, we do not lose heart.” And today we say one great big “Amen to that.”  We say thank you to all of those who have risked Grace in years past and we look to be those people today. May our gratitude as Grace Church increase and the glory we offer to God continue for another 150 years at least. May our hearts and minds and souls stay strong as we become and re-become Body of Christ, Grace Church for the world.

Amen.

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