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I’ll have a Markan Sandwich, hold the meat.
July 19, 2015 by AdminAccount 0

The Rev. Jodi L. Baron –  July 19, 2015 – Proper 11, Year B: Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

“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.”

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about sandwiches this week.

 

I love a good sandwich.

 

Right now, my favorite has been smoked turkey with avocado, lettuce, tomato, a little aioli on multi-grain bread.

 

The kind of bread that has flecks of seeds and grains embedded right into every bite.

 

The kind of bread that makes you hungry smelling it bake.

 

Judging by its central role in our sacrament of Communion, I think Jesus must have liked bread a lot too.

 

There are two parts about this mornings text that have to do with bread.

 

One part is the giant void of one of the greatest stories in Mark (the feeding of the 5,000) that we didn’t read (verses 35-44). The one where his disciples beg him to dismiss the people so they can go get something to eat and he says to them, “You feed them!” (I love that part)

 

So they manage to gather up 5 loaves and 2 fish and Jesus turned that into enough to feed all who were gathered, so much so that there were 12 baskets of leftovers.
I bet that bread tasted amazing to those folks gathered on that hillside to hear Jesus teach.

I bet their tummies rumbled in anticipation when they heard Jesus give God thanks.

 

 

Then there’s the other part about bread. It’s not actually in the text but more about the text.

 

 

Mark is well known for his literary style of “sandwich” stories. We heard one a few weeks ago with the Temple Leader and the Hemorrhaging Woman.

 

Today’s reading is also one of those sandwich stories. Only without the turkey and avocado and all the fixin’s.

 

Today’s story was just the bread of the sandwich.

 

I like to look at in context of what is coming down the pike in our lectionary over the next 5 weeks.

 

You see, after today we’re taking a little break from Mark. Well, not really a break…more of a zooming in on the contents between the pieces of hearty bread.

 

Over the next few weeks our lectionary will move us into John where we will hear about the feeding of the 5,000 and the walking on water by Jesus, but told for the community that were a part of John.

 

And, oddly enough, Mark’s version of these two miracles doesn’t actually get read when we’re together on Sunday. Not once in all three years.

 

I invite you, therefore, good Gracians, to take up your bibles at home and read verses 35-52 about these two miracles and then come back and see if you notice anything when it’s read from the Gospel according to John.

 

But back to today’s daily bread.

 

There is a lot in these two pieces of bread, even without the fixin’s.

 

Take, for example, the two words that leaped from the page for me;

 

Compassion and Touch.

 

Compassion he showed first to his disciples in seeing their need for refueling and second on the massive crowds that continued to swarm them desperate for healing.

 

Touch recalling the same desperation and faith of those reaching their hands toward Jesus as the woman who was hemorrhaging in the story we heard a few weeks ago.

 

The text tells us that Jesus had invited his disciples to “Come away” for a while to a deserted place so they could rest. Catch their breath. Maybe even catch a few fish.

 

But they couldn’t. As soon as they got on the boat, we read that they were “recognized” and the crowds hurried on foot to meet them.
Word was spreading about Jesus and his disciples. People were hearing what he was doing; touching people and allowing them to touch him.

 

They figured they could use some healing too.
In fact, in this story, the people seemed to be so determined to meet him that they forgot to bring any food with them, and they stayed there all day long, so long that the markets had closed.

 

But Jesus, seeing the great crowd had compassion for them.

 

Sympόnia.

 

It means sympathy, charity, fellow feeling, or commiseration.

 

This is the introduction we are invited into to prepare our hearts for the miracles about to take place.

 

And then the begging comes in. The masses keep bringing their sick on mats to wherever he was so that they might just touch “even the fringe of his cloak” and be healed.

 

“Just a touch, Jesus.” A father says. “I’m not asking you to come with me to where my daughter lies. I’ll carry her to you because I recognize you! You’re the one who heals people even if they only touch the hem of your clothing. I know that if my daughter touches just the hem, she will be made well.”

 

What faith!

 

What courage!

 

What strength these people showed!

 

“And all who touched (the fringe of his cloak) were healed.”

 

 

The God of all of creation, became vulnerable to take on our flesh, so that we might touch the hem of the clothes that he wore and experience healing.

 

The kind of healing that no human can provide.

 

The kind of wholeness that only comes from a relationship with God and in community.

 

The kind of healing that comes from showing up and allowing the Holy Spirit to work through your brothers and sisters so that together we can heal the world.

 

May we be those places where the crowds can bring their wounds to be healed by the balm of Jesus. In the breaking of the bread, in the sipping of the wine, in the prayers of our people.

 

May we have the strength and courage to bring our own wounds and fears and hopes and dreams to the God who has compassion on his creation.

 

Strength in Need
July 12, 2015 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer L. Adams-  July 12, 2015 – Proper 10, Year B: Mark 6:14-29

So I have managed through over twenty-one years of preaching in this place to have never preached on this gospel passage.  And I consider that one of my greatest scheduling victories.  Now this story only comes up in this form once every three years so I’ve only had to avoid it about seven times, but I’ve managed until now.  This congregation has heard Tom, Bill, Henry and Dennis preach on this gospel at least once each and this morning I offer my apologies to both Jodi and Christian for not offering either of them this “learning opportunity.”  Somehow in the midst of General Convention’s calendar and the Barons’ vacation timing, I slipped in what I’ve relied on as my scheduling mastery.  And so here we are with John the Baptist’s head on a platter and me here in pulpit, praying with hopes of avoiding a similar fate.

It is without argument a horrible story. We’d all avoid it if we could. It’s a horrible end to a powerful prophet’s life. But often stories like John the Baptist’s do end this way and I actually think that’s what we need to wrestle with this morning.  Prophets’ stories, at least in a temporal sense, rarely have a happy ending.

And this theme of the lives and deaths of prophets has been in the air now for a couple of weeks.  Last Sunday we heard our Presiding Bishop-Elect Michael Curry preach his closing sermon from General Convention, but the gospel passage that day was about prophets and it was about how prophets can’t be heard in their hometowns.  Even Jesus “had no power” when he preached in his own family’s synagogue, the gospel said.  He was stripped of something there.  And then this week we heard about the death of John the Baptist who had already been stripped of his freedom.  He was in jail the story recalled.  And then from there John was stripped of his life.  Now he was killed for complicated reasons, the gospel said, but they all had to do with John’s speaking the prophetic truths that he’d been given to speak.

So prophets are powerless at home and they’re often destined to meet a painful end. But we need prophets and they play a critical role in the unfolding of the story of God’s people. And so this morning I want us to ask two questions about prophets:  First, if you’re called to be one, what keeps you grounded and strong?  What keeps you going if you’re a prophet?  And then second, how can we be open to receive prophets in our church, in our world better than we tend to do.

First the question about grounding and strength.  What (given other attractive options like “keeping quiet”) what keeps a prophet going?

Well remember that there was nothing about John the Baptist that was overly attached to the things of this world, to put it mildly.  He wore camels’ hair.  He ate locusts.  He hung out in the wilderness.  So, no fancy house.  No overstocked pantry – probably not even a hidden stash of honey.  And obviously, no extensive wardrobe. John the Baptist clearly did not seek his comfort, his grounding in any of the potential trappings of this world.  He wasn’t in this world to fit in it – he was in it to change it and so he didn’t get lost in the temptations that can suck us in.

John was preaching repentance and forgiveness for a living, or maybe better put is that he was preaching repentance and forgiveness to be alive, truly alive.  Remember John was out there at the river every day offering new beginnings for those who had never been offered new beginnings before.  And John knew in his heart and in his soul that he was preparing the way for the one who came after him, preparing the way for the one who would be the way for many.

And my guess is that John got his strength from a couple of places.  First from God, from faith in something larger than himself.  (Perhaps this is a given, but it’s worth noting.)  Remember that it was clear that John had a calling from his very beginning.  He was born to Elizabeth and Zechariah when they were well beyond childbearing years and no doubt John had heard the family story endless times about how he’d lept in his mother’s womb when Mary, the Mother of Jesus had come for a visit to their home.

So John knew all along that he was called by God and so he had a lot to lean into when he hit the tough patches.  Faith was woven into his very bones and he undoubtedly found strength there, even when the walls were closing in around him.

But in addition to his faith, I bet John also found strength from the people he met down by the river. And I think this is an essential dimension in the work of a prophet.  John kept going not only because he’d been called, but because that calling was continually inspired, and re-inspired by the people whom he encountered every day.

Those people down by the river were the kinds of people who were hungry for what the world could be, because the world as it was, wasn’t feeding them.  They weren’t fitting in either, either because of their own sins, or because of something more broadly systemic or both.  And remember that the River Jordan attracted an incredible diversity of folk – there were “the outcasts” and “the sinners,” but Pharisess, religious leaders who had questions came there too.  Even Herod was listening to what John had to say!  I find that an intriguing part of this gospel story: “When Herod heard him he was greatly perplexed,” the gospel said, but Herod “liked to listen to John.”   Herod was even moved in his own limited and lacking way to “protect him.”

So what happened was that over time, John got to know the stories of the people who came to the river. He knew their pain and he knew their hopes; he knew what pulled them out there, or what had pushed them out there.  John knew what they longed for and he knew what the water revealed in them.

And so I think John probably found strength in their need; he found strength in “them” as prophets do.  Prophets come to realize that they have nothing to lose themselves but they also recognize that there are people in this world for whom truly gaining is nearly impossible.

And so John spoke prophetic truth first to them – the truth of God’s forgiveness and the promise that there was more to come.  And then he spoke the same truth on behalf of “them” to those whose power was stifling the world, rather than loving those in it.

I believe that in the hearts of prophets like John the Baptist live the stories of those who long for more.  And within those stories, and in God they find their strength.

Which brings us to the second question I wanted us to ask today:  How can we receive prophets better than we do?  Well, I think the answer is clear; in order to receive the prophets, we need to carry the stories too.  We need to know the stories of the river people, those who hunger, those who thirst, those who question, those who doubt, those who are on the outskirts due to their own searchings or their own sins or the sins of others or some of all of the above.

We need to know the stories, because when we carry those stories in our hearts and then we see or hear prophets speaking on “their” behalf we become cheerleaders rather than threats.   We become the ones helping to clear the way, rather than those who are blocking it.  When we carry those stories, those people in our hearts, we become the ones who dance at the breaking in of the new day rather than those who fear what we have to lose when it happens.

And so one final piece for this morning.  I think that we can be the river, or at least a place that the river runs through. I think this is the collective calling that we share.  We can be that place where prophets meet hurts, meet sins, meet Pharisees, meet questions, meet forgiveness, meet new beginnings, meet God.  We can be that place that helps weave faith into our very bones, however young or old our bones happen to be.

In this place we’ll see not only the needs of the world, but our own needs too and through a grace bigger than any of our callings, the stories will come together and be held as one.  And in these moments of story telling, water sharing, vision bearing, and prophet making –  a new day will begin to take hold.

 

 

 

 

 

Faith & Action
June 29, 2015 by AdminAccount 1

Sermon by The Reverend Christian Baron Pentecost 5, Year B Mark 5:21-43

“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.”

 

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit… Amen.

 

This has been an incredible week. For me, it has been a roller coaster, filled with ups and downs. A time of great sadness about the human condition and at other times, I felt some of that hope restored. It has been a time of extremes for sure. We are still mourning Charleston and the nine human beings who were killed because of the color of their skin. There has been a raging national debate on race and racism and whether we should reasonable gun restrictions or whether individuals should arm themselves to the teeth for personal protection.

 

Should government buildings be allowed to fly a flag that for many is a symbol of heritage and pride and for most others a symbol of oppression and institutional racism. A racism that has built this nation on the backs of black men and black women and black children. A racism that still affects this country to its core. A racism that is difficult to notice if you happen to be Anglo and a racism that is a constant reality if your skin is not the same shade as mine. A racism that built the Episcopal Church in America and that oppressed and prospered from the slave trade.

 

Absalom Jones was an abolitionist and Episcopal priest that led a black congregation in a white church. The group refused to sit in the balcony and wanted to be treated as equal and as baptized followers of Jesus. But the Philadelphia Church refused and so the black members walked out giving birth to the black church…  The same denomination, The American Methodist Episcopal Church that was the site of the newest nine martyrs of the Christian Church in Charleston, South Carolina. . For those of you that didn’t know this story, I’m sorry to tell you. I’m sorry that the Church that you love has black eyes and that the body of Christ has an ugly and broken past.

 

Though it seems like last Sunday was weeks ago, a few of the members of Grace sat with the community at Maple Ave Ministries and heard some speakers and sang lamentations for the nine who were killed. One of the speakers talked about the birth of the black church and told the congregants about Absalom Jones made them aware that the need for the black church in America was due to the racism of the Episcopal Church. I’m sure he didn’t know that there were Episcopalians in the pews. I felt ill. I was angry.  I wanted to stand up and say, “Yes!  But we aren’t like that anymore.” I’m glad I sat and remained silent. I sang with and wept with those in the pews. And I felt helpless. I had no idea what to do. This isn’t something that many of us feel very often. I knew that I couldn’t fix anything but i knew I wanted it to be fixed as soon as possible. I felt like I had no agency. I felt desperate.

 

And then three black churches were burned in the south, presumably by Anglos because of hatred and racism and sin. Last week Jodi preached about Jesus calming the storm. The disciples cried out “Jesus, don’t you even care if we perish?”  I could have just read that sermon today.  You there Jesus? Do you care about what is going on? Do you care about what we’re doing to ourselves and to your children?

 

And if we’re waiting for the kingdom of God that the apostle Paul speaks about… These are the parts of the Kingdom that are not yet finished.  Not yet redeemed. Not yet realized.  Not yet arrived.

 

The text for today is one of my favorites.  I love Mark and I love how he writes. I can see things in the text and can imagine being right with Jesus. It isn’t difficult for me to put myself in the sandals of Jairus. A man whose daughter is deathly ill. A man with no hope. He has exhausted all of his options. tried everything.  Feels like he has no agency and no other place to turn. “God do you care about my daughter? Do you care if she perishes?” HIs idea seems crazy and at best a longshot. He has heard about Jesus… a man who can do things that are almost magical. He can heal people and calm storms.  “If he can command the storms, surely he can heal my daughter simply with his touch.”

 

And now we get one of Mark’s sandwiches. Mark’s gospel is full of stories within other stories and this is one of the best. In the middle of the Jairus story, Jesus is in a crowd of many people. In Mark, the crowds signify chaos and anxiety and tension.  In this crowd, Jesus feels power leave him. A woman who has been bleeding for 12 years touches his cloak and is healed immediately. What?  Magic clothes? Surely desperate… this woman would not have been permitted in worship because of a strict purity code for men and women.

 

But the Markan sandwich offers us two distinct kinds of people. A wealthy and powerful leader of the synagogue. A man.  And a woman who would have even less agency than a Jewish woman living in the first century. An outcast. Both helpless… both dependent. Both desperate for healing.

 

And the woman receives healing. Not because of Jesus magic or because of magic clothes. Jesus says that it is her faith that heals her. And that, in and of itself is perplexing.  Her faith has healed her. Because we need to get back to Jairus and his dying daughter.  The text says that as he is speaking the words of healing to the nameless woman, a messenger arrives to declare that Jairus’ daughter has died. The tension has mounted… now what?  I can imagine hearing this the first time and thinking “How tragic. What will Jesus do now? No Jesus… don’t tell everybody that she is just sleeping.. that isn’t going to work.”

 

And then he touches her, just as Jairus had asked… similar to the touch of the nameless woman… and says “Talitha Cum”. Get Up!  He resurrects her and tells them to feed her… It is a great story. Filled with twists and turns and pithy statements and dozens of theological nuggets. It is in fact good news.

 

And, we could use some good news couldn’t we?  Is there good news in this gospel text today that can speak to our racism in America?  to our racism in the Church? We need a task list don’t we? Well, I think there is good news for us and for our context. I think there is healing in this text.

 

Both Jairus and the nameless woman, took matters into their own hands.  Their faith in God pushed them to action. Jairus certainly could have sent a messenger to find Jesus and beckon him to help. He could have sent several. But he was desperate. He was all in and much more committed to the task than a messenger. This was his last shot and didn’t want to risk leaving it up to somebody else. He got his hands dirty and got to work.

 

And the nameless woman… she also was desperate.. she sought her own healing. She yearned to be well.  And she had to break the purity code to do it. Because of her ailment she was not supposed to touch others. She wasn’t supposed to be in public. But when you’re desperate, you are willing to risk. You are willing to do whatever it takes.

 

The powerful must take action on behalf of those without agency. The action must come from Jairus because his daughter cannot. Her problem has become his problem. Both are relying on his action.

 

Faith and action… Faith and action… This is our problem… What will we do Grace? What will we do as individuals and corporately? What action must we take on,  on behalf of our black brothers and sisters? For our healing and for theirs.

 

May I offer a couple of suggestions?

 

Sit in uncomfortable places. Put yourself out there and be willing to be vulnerable. Find where the conversation is… and lean into it.

Listen to real experiences about how people of color feel on a daily basis.

Unfortunately, not much of this work can be done on the internet.

We must go to the places, like Jairus and the nameless woman, crowded places…

Places that will not be easy to get to or go to.

We will need to sacrifice our schedules if we want to experience this healing.

It will take work and the work will be slow.

It will take intentionality and patience.

 

That is how we begin our journey to healing.

Send us, God. Send us.
June 14, 2015 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer L. Adams- May 31, 2015

Trinity Sunday: Isaiah 6:1-8, John 3:1-17

Today on the liturgical, church calendar, we’re celebrating Trinity Sunday.  You probably picked that up in the opening collect: “ You have given to us your servants grace,” we prayed, “to acknowledge the glory of the eternal Trinity, and in the power of your divine Majesty, to worship the Unity.” A mouthful for sure. A heart-full and mind-full too for that matter. This is the day on which we celebrate the mystery and power of God as: Father, Son and Holy Spirit; Mother, Child, Sophia; Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifier; Transcendent, Incarnate, Holy Breath of God. And I could go on and on; there are many other traditional and not-so-traditional ways in which we can talk about what the famous hymn (which we will sing in a few minutes) calls, “the three in one and one in three.”

Now this day seems to bring fear in to the heart of many preachers, and perhaps to congregations also as they wonder how or, perhaps, how long the preacher is going to talk about God today.  My Facebook feed and a couple of the websites and some of blogs I read this week were revealing preachers’ fears right up through early this morning.  “How can we possibly put words on this?” they wondered.  “Who am I to talk in terms of that which is most holy?”  “What resources are you using to preach on this the HARDEST SUNDAY of the year?” one person asked.

We also heard some concern in the reading this morning from the prophet Isaiah who was, at the beginning of that passage, in a place of pure awe and humility as he considered the most holy, “Woe for me, for I am lost!” he said as he gained his own glimpses of God. “For I am a man of unclean lips and I live among a people of unclean lips and here I am, me of all people bearing witness to the King (capital K), the Lord of hosts!”

We even heard a related fear in the story from John’s gospel, which told us the story of Nicodemus who came to talk to Jesus under the cover of darkness.  Nicodemus came to Jesus by night because his experience and understanding of God was changing, and Nicodemus, a Pharisee, a religious leader, was afraid to share those questions, to have those conversations in the light of day.  He had too much to risk to show up at this point in the story in broad daylight.

And so one of the things I learned this week is that perhaps I’m a little foolish.  There are things that scare me for sure. Trust me I have a list that gets updated regularly and as hard as I work, I have yet to clear it. But talking about God just isn’t on there.  I actually love doing this!  And I want us to love this too.

I don’t want talking about God or talking to God to be on any of our lists of what scares us.   There’s enough out there to be afraid of – this shouldn’t be one of those things.  Our thoughts, our prayers, our new insights, even our foundation-shaking questions and doubts can live among us right here in the light.  We don’t have to be afraid of any of this.

Because if we do anything thing in this place on a regular, daily, basis that is our “normal”, it should be sharing our thoughts and experiences of holiness.  That’s what makes this place a little different, right?  Regardless of the specifics of the particular moment, whenever we come together, we come together for the sake of, in the name of, for the purpose of our relationship with God, and to sort out and act on what all of that means.  God-talk is the most normal thing we do here, which doesn’t mean it isn’t holy.  It just means that it’s what we do.

Now maybe one of the important things to know is that our engaging in this ongoing God-conversation, which means our doing theology together, is not about getting it right which I think is where some of the fear comes in.  If it were about getting it right, meaning there would be divine retribution – lighting strikes, destruction etc. – if we got it wrong, there wouldn’t be any people left.  I’m convinced that the pure ongoing existence of humanity is a sign that doing theology is not about perfection.

Perfection on all things God is just not a part of our history of either society or church, nor is it our goal.  The holiness that is God is in large part mystery and the best we can do is allow ourselves to be taken in to it, to be held by it, created and re-created by IT, healed, fed, nurtured, turned around, forgiven, loved, sometimes even resurrected by this mystery – doing our best along the way with whatever words we can find, whatever song or prayer or doctrine or art we can find to talk about and share those dimensions of our lives.

Now the other important thing to remember in this God conversation of which we’re all part, is that the sources for helping us in this work are endless.  We’re chalk full of them in this place – take the Bible for starters.  “In the Beginning God created” is how it opens.  “God so loved the world that he sent his only Son,” we heard today from John. And last week, “The Spirit came among them filled with grace and truth.” Creator.  Redeemer. Sanctifier laid out quite clearly (and not so clearly at times but present) in the stories and letters and gospels within Scripture which is source number one.  Then there’s The Book of Common Prayer, the Episcopal/Anglican source that’s right here in our pews and whose contents are printed in our bulletins.  Hymns and ancient prayers and stories and psalms, all right here at our fingertips at Grace, in our memories, in our hearts, on our lips. Sources galore!

But even more than that, there’s also all of us, sources one and all, to help us with this conversation, the theology we do as God’s people:

One of the wonderful things about Grace is that I can sit with seminary faculty who have degrees in Scripture and theology and I can sit with three years olds who haven’t been to school yet and with each of those groups, in each of those conversations I/we we can learn something about the wonder and power of God.  One of the most profoundly theological observations of the year came from a five year old who after hearing the story on Good Friday asked me, “Why do we call this good?”  And he meant it.  Church itself is an intergenerational theological endeavor.

I (you too) can sit in the presence of someone who is dying or in the presence of someone who has just been born. And at any given moment those two what we would call ‘extremes,’ thinking linearly, are present within the breadth that is Grace Church.  In either of those circumstances, in either of those profound experiences there is an absolute and sometimes even palpable sense of a divine holiness greater than us all.

We can also stand in the streets and we have, outside of this place with those who are working for justice and peace, as those who are working for justice and peace and we can catch on to a dream that is still being given life and breath among us.  We can catch that Spirit that blows where it will or maybe better, it can catch us, blowing us back into the kind of dream that allows the whole world to be made new, “born again” if you will.

So the sources that shape and re-shape and feed what one theologian famously referred to as “faith seeking understanding” are endless.  We have nothing to fear.

Although I bet, even after all of that we think we do – have something to fear, that is. And so I want to circle back to the mention of that list, those lists of things that scare us just to make sure they aren’t left hanging. Because they shouldn’t be.

Now I’m not going to lay out my list this morning, nor am I going to ask you to but I’d place bets on some overlaps, at least in terms of themes.   Each our lists probably contain things that have to do with unknowns, or loss, or darknesses of the literal and/or metaphoric sort.

The good news on Trinity Sunday, and every Sunday really is that that God is bigger than all of it, whatever it is.  Always. And God is present in all of it, whatever it is. Always.  And God is blowing like the Spirit does through it, whatever it is in ways that surpass our understanding, shaping, reshaping and making new. Always. And so we pray and we sing and we talk and we hope and we love and we hope and we dream.

“Who will go, forward from here?” God asked the prophet Isaiah.

Send us, God. Send us.

 

If it looks like love… and if it smells like love…
May 10, 2015 by AdminAccount 0

If it looks like love… and if it smells like love…

REV. CHRISTIAN BARON – May 10, 2015 – Easter 6, Year B: John 15:9-17

If it looks like love… and if it smells like love…

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…

I spent time this week downtown at Tulip Time. People came by the busload to try Ollie Bolen and pea soup. They were desperate for Dutch cuisine. Desperate enough that they were willing to pay $2.00 for a water. We dressed up in silly clothes and wore silly hats. I watched a mess of Klompen dancers on stage at the civic and was reminded about my heritage and how much Dutch people like to par-tay.

Though I am 100 percent Dutch, since moving back to Holland, I haven’t fully been able to recall, until this past week, the language of my people, “Passive aggressiveness”. And this week was like a language immersion course in passive aggression.  Teasing… It was a great week.

I saw many of you down at the Civic Center. We washed dishes and and worked in tents with several deep fryers. Some of you ran to the store for emergency supplies or to pick up pop or pastries from DeBoers. We laughed… we got into each others personal space. We worked in harmony with the United Methodists and I watched the veterans work circles around me. And, we made a lot of money. We made a lot of money. And that money will help pay for the group of us going to the United Kingdom next summer on Pilgrimage. And lives will be changed. Lives of the youth in this parish will be changed. Our youth will become more connected to the vine that nourishes them. They will be more connected to the Church and they will return with a fuller understanding of the world on which they must abide.

But what was most memorable for me this week, was watching the members of Grace show hospitality. We were hospitable to the guests, to the United Methodists, to the other Hollanders who came and looked for a taste of the Netherlands. I can’t count the times I saw Jen Wolfe advise a tourist about where they should eat dinner or find a bathroom. The times I saw Doug Zylstra read a nametag of a tourist and call them by name and surprise them.  The times I saw Prescott Slee smile and shake it off when he had to give direction to the new curate or repeat it to a new volunteer. This kindness, It is something I have grown accustomed to since my arrival 11 months ago, but spending a week in close quarters with you folks, reminded me of how special this place truly is.

[pullquoteright] And if it looks like love… and smells like love… it must be Jesus.[/pullquoteright]

Because when that is visible… When people see those things, they see resurrection. They see that Grace is a group of people abiding in the resurrection. They see a group of people connected to the vine. People at the Civic Center could tell… they could see the love…

I’ll be unable to go back to the Civic without seeing the faces of our Grace folks.  And it will not be easy to forget the smells that came from the kitchen and from the food we served. Made with love by our folks and the United Methodists. Made with our hands and our prayers.  And though I won’t need to eat anything fried for a while, I’ll miss those smells.  The smells of the pig in the blankets and the potatoes and kale. And the smells of the sweat and hard work of those working closest to me..  Those smells mixed and made a fervent offering up to God. People at the Civic could tell… they could smell the love.

And if it looks like love… and smells like love… it must be Jesus.

Anybody who has ever experienced authentic love knows that you can’t fake it. The kind of love that John is talking about in the gospel, is unmistakable.  That is why this story… the story of Jesus is so remarkable… that’s why it has lasted this long… That’s why the story is so compelling and why it changes life. It models for us a way to live for something other than for ourselves. Jesus models a way of being and living that is completely counter intuitive to the self centered human condition. But I saw a bunch of Hollanders (and some Hamiltonians) who were living a life of resurrection this week. Donating time and talent to feed hungry people. Just like we do on the 2nd Thursday of each month, and when we feed college students at Hope… and when we feed youth and families at Family Chow… and when we invite one another over for Holy Chow… and when we are fed at the altar… at God’s table…

So be on the lookout for love… Be on the lookout for those sacrificing their time and sacrificing their talents for others.  This is the sign of Christ.  This is the sign of the Church. This is the sign of Grace. And if it looks like love… and smells like love and tastes like love… it must be Jesus.

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