Father Snort

Brad Sullivan

2 Epiphany, Year B

January 14, 2018

Emmanuel, Houston

John 1:43-51

The Families of the Earth Can Be Blessed Through You

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” I love this question of Nathanael’s partly because it appeals to my snarky side, and also because the obvious answer is supposed to be “no.” Nazareth was a Podunk little sparrow fart town. The messiah was not supposed to come from there, and further, at least in Nathanael’s mind nothing good could come from such a crummy place. Nathanael would have rather written off Jesus and anyone from Nazareth. Let’s leave those people there, and go on and hope for the messiah to come from somewhere important. God just wasn’t playing Nathanael’s little game of making sure things looked good enough on the outside to stroke his ego. “Sorry Nate,” God said. “I know you want to be associated with a Messiah from somewhere awesome, but I’m not here to inflate your sense of self importance. I’m here to bring about my kingdom of love, grace, and truth, and that includes places like Nazareth, and other little sparrow fart town and countries.”

When we get tied up in the place, the location where greatness is supposed to be, where we think God is supposed to be, God just says, “Oh you silly humans; I’m not in any one place. I’m in all places, and like the Psalm says, even and especially with those people and places whom you often deem too lowly to matter.” So while the obvious answer is “no, nothing good can come from the proverbial Nazareth,” God’s response is “come and see.”

Nathanael reluctantly does, “Fine, we’ll go see your crummy Messiah,” and Jesus tells him something pretty huge. First he convinces him that he is someone worth hanging around and listening to, and then he tells Nathanael, “You will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”

This is of course alluding to Jacob’s ladder, the story in Genesis where Jacob (who would later be renamed Israel) was sleeping outside and he had a dream of the heaven’s opened up and the angels of God ascending and descending upon a ladder to heaven. In the dream, God spoke to Jacob and told him,

all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.’ Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, ‘Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!’ And he was afraid, and said, ‘How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’

This promise of God indeed came to pass. Jacob was renamed Israel, and from him and his children came the people of Israel, the laws and ways of God, the prophets, and Jesus himself. So, when Jesus told Nathanael “You will see heaven opened and the angles of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man,” he was telling Nathanael that families of the earth shall be blessed in you and your offspring (children, disciples, people whom you will teach about me and my ways). “You, Nathanael, can be like a new Jacob. God’s mission of healing humanity, of reconciliation to each other and to God can be lived out through you, Nathanael, and not only that, families of the earth will be blessed through you and through those who come after you. Through you, Nathanael,” Jesus was saying, “the salvation that I offer, the life of God’s love, grace, and truth, can be known and lived and passed on to others, and families of the earth will be blessed through you and through those who come after you.”

You may notice, however, that there aren’t too many St. Nate churches. “Through you, Nathanael, families of the earth will be blessed,” and yet we hear very little about Nathanael after this. Most of what he did was not recorded in the pages of history, and yet through this seemingly unimportant man, families of the earth were blessed. Like Nathanael, most of our names will not be written in the stars or even in the pages of history, and yet, the families of the earth can be blessed through each of us. We can all be like a new Jacob, people of the earth blessed through us and those who come after us, as we live out Jesus’ ways and share with them his kingdom of love, grace, and truth.

Further, the kingdom of God can indeed come from Nazareth, or any other sparrow fart nothing of a place because God does not dwell only in one place, like the place where Jacob was. Indeed, the dwelling place of God was in Jesus himself, with the angels ascending and descending on him. The dwelling place of God is within all of creation and within humanity itself: you, me, the important people from great places, and the lowly schlebs from sparrow far places like Nazareth and flooded out shells of buildings.

We are Emmanuel, and God is with us. God dwells with us and within us. We can live out God’s kingdom of love, grace, and truth anywhere, and through us God can bless the people of West Houston and beyond to truly the ends of the earth. As far as we can go and as many come to know and follow Jesus through us, God can bless the people of the earth.

Can anything good come out of Nazareth? Can anything good come out of this little flooded out gathering of Jesus’ friends? Come and see.

Brad Sullivan

2 Christmas, Year B

December 31, 2017

Emmanuel, Houston

John 1:1-18

The Questioners, the Loners, the Kids with Behavior Problems…

Over the weekend, a priest friend of mine and I talking and joking together about challenges of church life, and she said, “Yeah, church would be great if it wasn’t for all the people.” It’s a common joke about the imperfections of the Church which is the ecclesia (or gathering) of Jesus’ friends. Jesus’ ecclesia of friends began as a rather rag tag group of also-rans, the island of misfit toys type folks who needed and wanted the love and belonging which Jesus was offering. Being a rag tag group of folks, the church was always an imperfect bunch, and that proud tradition has continued on to this day.

As the church, the ecclesia, the gathering of Jesus’ friends we’re a group of people who follow in Jesus’ ways, except when we don’t. We love well, giving compassion to those who really need it, to those whose lives have been shattered and need someone to sit with them among the broken pieces of their life and slowly begin sweeping them up and putting the pieces back together. That is, except for when we don’t love well for a variety of reasons, when our own lives just aren’t up to it, or when our own brokenness prevents us from seeing the broken person in front of us as a person, and we instead just see a broken thing.

As Jesus’ ecclesia, his gathering of friends, we love God and love people above all else. That’s our way of being. Some friends of mine recently told me that in their efforts to love God and people above all else, they’ve been going through their house get rid of anything that they would be really upset about if it was broken by a child…or an adult. They want their home to be a place of love, where adults and children know they are loved, and that they are loved more than the stuff in their house. That’s a great model for the church, where we love God and love people above all else, except of course when, in our efforts to love God, we end up loving things, and we place that love of things in front of loving people. It happens. The church is imperfect because it is irrevocably peopled with people.

In John’s Gospel this morning, we heard that the Word of God, which is God, is also the life and light of all, and that the Word of God became human, as Jesus, and lived among us as one of us. That was really his first mistake, wasn’t it? The Word of God already had a perfect ecclesia going, a perfect gathering of beloved friends with the Father and the Holy Spirit. This perfect ecclesia remained perfect until the Word became flesh and lived among us. Then, Jesus joined us to the ecclesia of God, along with all of our imperfections. That’s kind of the beauty of it. If God had wanted a perfect ecclesia, then I suppose he wouldn’t have become human at all. We wouldn’t celebrate Christmas, and there would be no baby Jesus, or adult Jesus, or even teenage angsty Jesus. There would just be the perfect ecclesia of God, without humanity, but God didn’t want that perfect ecclesia, a perfect church. God wanted the ecclesia of Jesus’ friends, the church, the gathering with humanity, along with all of our imperfections, even if that meant that we mucked things up a bit. So, “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

In becoming human and living among us, God showed us his love for us, not his desire for us to be perfect. I mean, I suppose it’d be nice, but God showed that he loves us, warts and all. He then formed the church, the ecclesia or gathering of Jesus’ friends, so that we could further share his love for people, warts and all. Jesus wanted not a perfect ecclesia, but an ecclesia that shared his heart for people and his willingness to sacrifice personal comfort and convenience (and quite a bit more than that) for the sake of people…especially the ones no one else seemed to care that much about.

The questioners, the loners, the kids with behavior problems. Seek them out, invite them in, and love them more than your stuff, Jesus has taught his church, and be willing to sacrifice your personal comfort and convenience for their sake.

The people who don’t have life figured out and have spent their life mucking it up for themselves. The people who have life figured out and learned from a young age that life is harsh and cruel. The people who have been rejected by their peers, rejected by society, rejected by their church or family. Seek them out, invite them in, and love them more than your stuff, Jesus has taught his church, and be willing to sacrifice your personal comfort and convenience for their sake.

The people who aren’t like us, who make us uncomfortable, whose very existence disrupts our world, shattering the illusions we created to make our world seem safe. The people whose need is greater than we can provide, whose loneliness and despair are deeper than we can see, and whose desire for connection and companionship is greater and more beautiful than even they are aware. Seek them out, invite them in, and love them more than your stuff, Jesus has taught his church, and be willing to sacrifice your personal comfort and convenience for their sake.

We’re not going to fix every problem or make any lives perfect. The lives of all people still have that one flaw in them, that all lives involve people and are therefore irrevocably messed up, messed up just like the church, the ecclesia, gathering of Jesus’ friends, and Jesus didn’t form his ecclesia of friends in order to make a perfect institution. Jesus formed his church, his gathering of friends, in order to share with us his light, because he simply wanted us to be a part of the life of communion shared between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and so with all our imperfections, we reach out with that same light to others, and we sit with them in their imperfections, not to make them perfect, not necessarily to fix them, but simply to dwell with them, to shine some light into the darkness of their lives, and to join in communion with them, becoming friends, and joining together in the Church, ecclesia, the gathering, of Jesus’ friends.

Brad Sullivan

3 Advent, Year B

December 17, 2017

Emmanuel, Houston

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24

John 1:6-8, 19-28

That Someone Greater Is Jesus, and that Something Greater is Love

So, John the Baptist really upset the uber religiousy folks of his time, didn’t he? He was there, baptizing folks to testify to the Light of God, to lead people into repentance from the ways they were living that harmed themselves or others, and to prepare their hearts for the coming of God’s kingdom. That sounds like a good thing, something folks could pretty well get behind, but the priests, the Levites, and the Pharisees, they were having none of it. The priests and Levites were the ones with primary responsibility for the Temple worship, and the Pharisees were a group within Israel, focused on upholding the religious laws and rules of Israel.

You might thing that such religious type folks would be glad to see someone taking their faith seriously, calling people to repentance, but not so. The priests, Levites, and Pharisees were questioning John, basically wondering, “Who gave you the right or the authority to be out here baptizing?” “Are you the Messiah, Elijah, the Prophet? No? Well then explain yourself. What gives you the right or the authority to be out here baptizing folks?” You can hear in their questions the fear that their power and authority might be questioned. John wasn’t authorized by them, so there was this fear that their way of living and leading their religion was being questioned or even undermined.

So, John responded, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” In other words, John was saying, “This baptism that I’m doing, guys, it ain’t nothing to get your knickers in a twist over. You wonder about my authority and the things I’m doing…oh, just you wait. I know you guys love the way you live out our religion and that you love having authority over our religion, but this whole salvation thing, God’s grace and favor, isn’t going to be only for you few uber religious types. Truth be told, God’s grace and favor never was reserved only for you uber religious types. God’s grace and favor is offered to all, and if you have your knickers in a twist because I offered a baptism of repentance to those you deem unworthy, just wait till God decides to sit down and eat with them.”

Ok, so I suppose if we’re being honest and fair, the way of the priests, Levites, and Pharisees to live and lead their religion was being questioned…

…and if we’re being honest and fair, we see this played out again and again in the church as well. There was the reformation. That was a pretty big questioning of how the Roman Catholic hierarchy was doing things. Even now, today, we have a change going on in our religion. Folks who want to love God and people but aren’t really religious. Some have been pushed out of the church (big C Church, worldwide) because of various ways of life which others within the church deem unworthy of Jesus. Some have left the church because they have a passion for loving and serving people and they see the majority of the time, energy, and money of the church going almost exclusively to worship and building which serve the church primarily and others as an afterthought. We see folks today within the church following news practices, old practices, new ways of living out our faith with a greater emphasis on serving others than on expensive, well-rehearsed and polished corporate worship.

These changes, this turning around, this repentance, has left some of the traditional religious types none too happy. There has been division and splintering. Repentance, by its very nature, causes division.

The fact that repentance causes division is not a bad thing. John’s baptism caused, or revealed division. That’s not a bad thing. Such cause for or revealing of division is necessary. It hurts, and it is ok, so long as it is followed by something or someone greater. Someone greater than I is coming, John said. Something greater than repentance is coming. That someone is Jesus, and that something is love.

In Revelation chapter 2, [and now I’ve got your attention, right? Oh my God, preacher man’s gone to Revelation! Now things are getting real.], in Revelation chapter 2, Jesus gave this message to the church in Ephesus:

‘I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance. I know that you cannot tolerate evildoers; you have tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them to be false. I also know that you are enduring patiently and bearing up for the sake of my name, and that you have not grown weary. But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first (Revelation 2:2-4)

The church in Ephesus, they were working on repentance. They were trying to stop evildoers within their church from causing harm. They had done well, Jesus was saying. They had stopped some of the harm by those causing harm, but their repentance had led to division, and they had lost the love they had for each other.

Repentance will almost inevitably bring division, hurt, strife. If we leave things there, we end up with fracture, splitting, us versus them, winners and losers, permanent division. Repentance is good. John’s baptism was good. After John’s baptism, however, came someone greater, Jesus. After repentance comes something greater, love.

Even in the midst of repentance, we need to make sure that the presence of love is what drives us. With repentance, are we making ourselves clean of others, removing others so that we look or feel better? Are we concerned with our own righteousness before God, or are we concerned with how well we love and serve others? Remember, our righteousness before God has been taken care of by Jesus on the cross. We’re not going to make ourselves any more righteous before God than Jesus already has. His love for us is greater than our repentance. In our repentance, we’re not seeking to be righteous before God. In our repentance, we are seeking amendment of our ways and healing of our hearts so that we may more fully love others.

Repentance is of course, not the only thing that can cause division within a church. Sometimes division is also caused by flood waters drowning a church building, and groups of people end up divided over how they want rebuilding to happen. With rebuilding, just like with repentance, such divisions are inevitable. We all care deeply for our church home, for what our church home is going to be and for how we are going to get there, and surprise, surprise, we’re all different. I think Jesus is glad we’re all so different. The body of Christ is as varied as humanity. I think Jesus is glad that we care so deeply. We are a caring and loving people, and we want our building back so that we can serve others in our community. We’re still able to worship. It’s not exactly our home, but we’re still able to worship.

What we don’t have is our building as a resource to serve the needs of the community around us, and so I think Jesus is inspiring all of us to want to rebuild, to want to do so well, and to want to do so in a way that will serve not just our worship and fellowship needs, but will serve the needs of the community around us. We all have different ideas, passions, and dreams for how we are to get there, and I think Jesus is glad for that too. Only this Jesus would have against us, if we were to let those differing desires truly divide us and if we were to abandon the love which we had at first.

Our vestry has worked hard with the diocese to get us back into our building, and they have not done so in the exact way previous vestries might have. Might, because we’ve never had this situation before. Our current vestry has worked not in the way previous vestries might have, but in the way this vestry has. What I have observed of the vestry and planning workstream tasked with getting us back into our building, is that they have worked faithfully, they have worked with integrity, and they have worked well.

This post-Harvey life is a season of forced repentance for us, a prolonged season of turning around, of changing our ways, because our church building was drowned. We will not be what we were. We will be something new, a new people by water and the spirit. We will have division along with way, as is inevitable with repentance, but remember, we’re not seeking righteousness before God, but the healing of our hearts so that we may love more fully. We must not abandon the love which we had at first, for something and someone greater than repentance is here binding us together. That someone is Jesus, and that something is love.

Brad Sullivan

1 Advent, Year B

December 3, 2017

Emmanuel, Houston

Mark 13:24-27

A Tale of Two Households

When Jesus told his parable about the master of a household going away on a journey and leaving his servants in charge of the household while he was gone, telling them to keep awake and be ready for his return, Jesus was talking about how his disciples were to live once he was crucified, as they waited for him to come again at the end of time and restore all of creation. Rather than try to tease out each drop of meaning from each detail of his parable, I thought I’d expand on the parable and see where it leads, in order to develop Jesus’ point in telling the parable. I call this “A Tale of Two Households.”

There was a master of a large household, almost like a small kingdom, with herds of cows, flocks of sheep, chickens, a vast and productive farm, and the members of the master’s household, servants and family alike, worked together to keep all of the household going. All who could worked hard. Those who could not were cared for by the rest, and even they, those who could not work, cared for the others through their nurture, storytelling, kindness and compassion. The household had an abundance of what was needed, and they shared what they had with other households when they were in need, without asking for anything in return. Far away, there was another household which, from time to time, suffered from droughts, and they would send for help from the master’s household. Help was again given, without grumbling, but gladly, freely, with goodwill and love.

Then, one day, the master told his household that he would be going away for a while. He told them all to continue on as they had when he was there, to care for each other, and provide for others out of their abundance. “Keep awake,” he said. For a time they did so, but then weeks turned into seasons, and seasons turned into years, and they began to fall asleep.

Some remained dutiful in their tasks while others didn’t see the point with the master no longer around. They thought they wouldn’t receive their just reward or that the land and property should really be theirs. Some stopped working. Others began to elevate themselves above everyone else, claiming to be in charge and forcing some to work for them.

Others wanted to keep a remembrance of the Master and built a shrine to him. They didn’t really follow in his ways, but they lit candles and prayed for his safe return. Then of course, they felt the shrine needed to be kept up, and so they enlisted some of those who had stopped working to help with the upkeep of the shrine. Others found hope in their shrine and prayers, so they brought food and other necessities to the workers of the shrine so that they could keep up their good work.

The household was no longer a place of abundance, but they still thought of themselves as such. They remembered when others would come and receive from their abundance, and so those who had taken charge sent out people to the other nearby households to demand portions of what they had. Eventually, the emissaries from the Master’s household began working as overseers in the other households, taking more than they needed from them, keeping some for their own enrichment and sending back more to the Master’s household. The Master’s household became plentiful again, taking from others to feed itself.

Then the far away household had another drought, and they sent people to seek aid. The Master’s household was no longer generous, and so rather than give to them without question, they sent another emissary to see the conditions for themselves. They worked with the household there to have better irrigation so the drought wouldn’t affect them as badly. Being such a good benefactor, the emissary took a large portion of what they produced for himself and for his Master’s household. After many years, the distant household was very productive, but the condition of the people in that household was worse than it had been before.

Still, the members of the Master’s household saw themselves as good, kind, and benevolent overseers, bringing prosperity to all. They even erected shrines to the Master in the other households, the heads of those houses having long been replaced by the emissaries from the Master’s household. The Master’s household continued to grow and flourish and continued to call themselves a city on a hill. There were a few who stayed awake, who kept in the Master’s ways and remained generous, encouraging others and sharing what they had, but they were largely not listened to, seen as troublemakers, or admired by some from afar.

Then, the Master returned. He neither recognized his household, nor almost anyone in it. Those who kept the shrine thought surely he would be grateful to them, but instead, he asked why they didn’t work at the jobs he had given them and help those around them, or at least share what they were given to help others. The Master ejected them all from his household, save those few who had stayed awake and kept in his ways, and he invited those from the other households to come and be with him instead.

Now, there is no direct cognate between the old and the new household in the story I told. You can’t call it Jews verses Christians, some Christians verses others, or even Americans verses Africans or Native Americans. There is truth in this story which is told and happens over and over. There is good news in this story and there is warning in this story.

This story is about how we live in this life and in this world, and the warning is not that those who had fallen asleep were rejected by the master. That is the obvious truth, the consequence of living inhumanely. The warning is about the horrors of what happens when we fall asleep. When we fall asleep, we begin thinking of ourselves without also thinking of others. When we fall asleep, we worry and fear, we look on others with suspicion. When we fall asleep, we become less generous, more self important, and can even see ourselves as better than others. Think of conquest, death and destruction, in the name of bringing Jesus to others. Think of looking down on others for their mistakes or lifestyles without the compassion of looking deeply to see the human being doing their best, mistakes and all. When we fall asleep, we tend to assume we are still awake while also assuming, with contempt, that others have fallen asleep.

When we fall asleep, we tend to see ourselves as benevolent benefactors through our charity and good works, while failing to see that some of our own actions, as individuals and as a society, contribute to the need for our charity in the first place. When we fall asleep, we tend to view God as one who is pleased by our religion and our observance of religious rituals, rather than one who wants us first and foremost to live well toward each other, our religion as merely a tool to help heal our hearts so that we can live lovingly toward ourselves and others. When we fall asleep we end up fighting with each other over the minutia of our religion, claiming in groups and out groups, becoming obsessed with doing everything just in the right way, rather than remembering that Jesus ate with sinners and told us to share a meal together and to remember him when we did so.

The warning of Jesus’ story is what happens to us and the harm we do when we fall asleep and become the household of slumber. The good news of Jesus’ story is the first household, the true city on a hill, the household of those who are awake. The good news is the generosity and love we share when we are awake. The good news is how we treat one another immediately following a hurricane and flood. The good news is when we value people more than things, when we value others’ well being over our own absolute security.

The good news is that Jesus cares about people more than religion, and he desires for us to do the same. The good news is also that Jesus knows we’ll mess up and he has already forgiven us; so that we are free to love others and live out his household, his kingdom, not out of any fear, but purely out of love for others. Finally, the good news is that Jesus does not only return in the clouds at the end of time, but he returns daily in face of anyone and everyone around us, calling us to wake up. Wake, arise, and cast off the ways of the household of slumber, and live again in the household of those who are awake.

Brad Sullivan

All Saints Sunday, Year A

November 5, 2017

Emmanuel, Houston

Matthew 5:1-12

Who are the saints? (Icon of St. Joseph - is this a saint? Picture of my dad - is this a saint?)

Both are saints, even though only a few knew my dad.

The saints are those who love God and love people.

The saints are also those whom God loves and whom people love.

In our Gospel reading, the beatitudes, is Jesus describing the saints? Yes…and…he’s not always describing people who have done particularly saint-worthy things. He’s also describing those whom he loves.

Did the people whom Jesus described do particularly saintly things?

Peacemakers - yes.

Merciful and pure in heart - yes, they seem rather saintly.

Hunger and thirst for righteousness - maybe.

The poor in spirit - no…just kind of downtrodden.

The meek and those whom mourn - …also kind of sad, not particularly great.

Let’s look at that. Thinking of mourning and being poor in spirit, remember being sick as a kid. Remember feeling puny and just wanting to cuddle up with a blanket and do nothing? How is that saintly? Well, I have a secret for you, are you ready to hear it? Sometimes when our kids were younger and they were sick, it was actually kind of nice. We weren’t happy that they felt bad, but they were so cuddly when they were sick. They would come to us and simply want to be held, to be nearer to us. We couldn’t make the cold go away, but we gave them what they needed, to be nearer to us, to be held and loved. We got to hold and take care of our cuddly little kiddos. How blessed were they and we, when we simply go to hold and love them?

Blessed are little kids when they are sick, because they get taken care of by those who love them.

In his list of those who are blessed, Jesus is describing some who live out God’s kingdom and live out the heart of God, and Jesus is also describing those who are sick and so draw nearer to God to be held by him and loved. Blessed are people who live out God’s kingdom, and blessed are people who are down and out for they are cared for by God and live near to God through the love they share.

At the heart of the saints is a heart that says, “I love people and I want to live in a way that is loving toward others.” Also at the heart of the saints is a heart that says, “I have nothing left; I am tired and poor and sick, and I want to rest in Jesus’ arms and receive God’s love.”

So that’s who we’re talking about when we talk about the saints. We’re talking about those who love: those who love God and love people, those who are loved by God and loved by people, and those who seek out and receive God love and receive peoples’ love. Those who love and those who let themselves be loved. Those are the saints.

Who are the saints in your lives?

Brad Sullivan

Proper 25, Year A

October 29, 2017

Emmanuel, Houston

1 Thessalonians 2:1-8

Matthew 22:34-46

The Most Powerful Force In the World

Becca Stevens is an Episcopal priest and the founder and president of Thistle Farms which she stared 20 years ago with five women who needed healing, survivors of abuse, trafficking, and prostitution. She started with five women in a house called Magdalene, and there these five women found the healing power of love as they lived together, cared for each other, and loved their way back to wholeness. After four years, Becca and the women of Magdalene House realized they also needed women to become economically independent to fully get their lives back, and so they stared making candles, oils, and other healing products. Thistle Farms began, and the women who were survivors of the worst that humanity has to offer began operating this business, Thistle Farms, learning about running a business, while being healed themselves, and while generating revenue so that more women survivors could come and live in one of the houses for the two year program and also be healed.

In the twenty years that Thistle Farms has been healing women and sustaining itself through the healing products they make and sell, Becca Stevens has found that “Love is the most powerful force for change in the world.”

That sounds a bit like what Jesus taught, doesn’t it. Love God, and love people. That is the only religion Jesus is really interested in us having. When Jesus said the greatest commandment is to love God and the close second is to love people, he was talking to the uber religious Pharisees. They were like the extreme high church people of our day. If there was a law, a rule, a rubric about their religious practice, they followed it absolutely to the t. There was nothing particularly wrong about that except for what was in their hearts and the reasons why they were following the law absolutely to the t.

See they were following all of their religious practice rules because they thought doing so made them righteous in God’s eyes. They really wanted God to be pleased with them and they wanted to look good before God and others. In other words, their extreme religious observance was mostly selfish and done with a misunderstanding of who God is and what God desires for us. For a timely example, they’d basically turned God into Jobu.

For those of you unfamiliar with Jobu, he was a small voodoo idol statue guy who made his cinematic debut in film Major League. In the movie, the Cleveland Indians baseball team were dead last in Major League Baseball and they had a rather rag tag group of players, plenty of talent, but a little rough around the edges. Pedro Cerano was their big heavy hitter and could hit a home run off of a fastball just about every time, but he couldn’t hit a curve ball. So, he kept this little statue named Jobu in his locker, and he prayed to Jobu to help him hit the curve ball. Not only that, he tried to please Jobu by leaving him offerings of cigars and rum, and as he told his teammates, “It’s very bad to drink Jobu’s rum; it’s very bad.” Of course Jobu didn’t actually help him hit the curveball and in the end, he decided he would just hit the curveball himself.

The Pharisees had turned God into Jobu. “Yea for us,” they thought, “We’re offering to God all of our proverbial cigars and rum; we’re following every religious practice, every single one, so that God will be pleased with us.” They were even instructing others and even scaring them into trying to do the same so that God would not be angry with them. In other words, “it’s very bad to drink Jobu’s rum.” The Pharisees had forgotten that the point of the law, the point of all of their religious practices was not to please God, but rather to help heal their own hearts so that they might be better able to love others.

God doesn’t care about our religious practices. As much as the law of Moses said that people had to sacrifice animals to atone for their sins, the prophets said over and over again, “Would you stop with that animal sacrifice stuff? God doesn’t want it. God doesn’t care. He just wants you to treat each other well, to take care of each other, and to live lives of love.” That’s like the new ultra-revised standard international version, but that was the message. “I don’t care about this stuff. I don’t care about these religious practices. Just love each other.”

Love God, and love people. If at any time, obeying a rule of the law forces you to act in a way that is not loving toward God or people, then break the law. If at any time heeding the words of the prophets forces you to act in a way that is not loving toward God or people, then do not heed the words of the prophets.

So, if God really isn’t all that into religion, why do we have religion? Why do we have these rituals and routines and ways of life? Well, again I’ll turn to Becca Stevens with Thistle Farms. The point of the ritual and the religion is to help us love God and love people. In her book, Love Heals, Becca writes about the healing power of ritual. She writes about her morning ritual including prayer which took years to work out what truly helped heal her heart each day. She wrote that keeping this morning ritual got her ready for the day and helped heal her heart each day so that she could be more loving toward her family and everyone else she saw during the day. She wrote that “[Keeping these rituals] might mean dinners are simpler, clothes don’t get folded as often, and you miss out on other activities, but for folks like me who can spin out and lose focus, morning rituals are grounding and essential.” “We need some good old-time religious practices,” she wrote, “to infuse our lives so we can use the most powerful force - love - to heal our communities.”

Personally, I’ve found healing in old time religious practices, particularly in the last month or so by praying morning prayer each morning. For years, my practice was to pray morning prayer by myself with a cup of coffee, and before having kids, this daily practice worked out pretty well, and there were a couple of years that I found healing every morning through these prayers. Enter children, and I just couldn’t do it for a while. Still, that was my practice, morning prayer every morning, and I rarely followed that practice.

Then there was Harvey and praying Compline each night via Facebook life, and those prayers and rituals and the community praying together. One of our vestry members asked if we could do Morning Prayer as well, so the next morning I began praying Morning Prayer Monday through Saturday at about 6:00 each morning and inviting others to join via Facebook Live. There has been a change in my life with this newly rediscovered ritual, especially because I’m getting to pray with others, even if they aren’t present at the time and they join in by watching later. If that particular routine isn’t going to work for you, and it’s not going to be healing for everyone, then find another routine, some other old-time religious practice that does heal your heart. Time to breathe, time to center in prayer, letting all that is pass by and simply be in the moment. Look at the beauty of the earth, the trees, the sky, the beauty of the people around, giving thanks, feeling our connectedness, noticing the daily gift of the sunrise and sunset. Breathe, be still, light a candle to cast out the darkness, pray through scripture and the words of Jesus. Join with others in prayer.

Having routine and practices, religious rituals is a wonderful, healing way to live, not because God cares one whit if we pray morning prayer, but because these rituals help to heal our hearts, to reconnect us to the source of all life and love, the God who created all that is. Then, with our hearts healed, we can live out that love toward others. God cares about our healing and our love for one another quite a lot. That’s why God would be pleased with our religious practices, that these rituals may heal us so that we will be better able to love.

If we don’t follow religious practices, God’s not offended. God is not Jobu upset that we didn’t offer him rum. Rather, God offers us religious practices and rituals because God knows we’ll find healing by connecting to him each day, because God is love, and “love is the most powerful force for [healing and] change in the world.”

Brad Sullivan

Proper 23, Year A

October 15, 2017

Emmanuel, Houston

Isaiah 25:1-9

Philippians 4:1-9

Matthew 22:1-14

Wow, That Got Out of Hand Quickly

So this is everyone’s favorite parable. In a few sentences, Jesus’ parable of the wedding feast went from a king throwing a wedding feast for his son to the guests not wanting to come, killing the king’s servants, and the king utterly destroying their city and killing all of them. From “Hey guys, let’s have a party,” to total bloodbath in 4.3 seconds, the hearer of this story is left rather breathless, thinking, “Wow, that really got out of hand quickly.” We’re left stunned, and a bit scared as we hear this parable, and so we often try to clearly define what groups of people Jesus is talking about.

Christians have long tried to define themselves as the riff raff collected from the streets who accepted the king’s invitation, and Christians have then tried to define the Jews as the initial guests who killed the kings servants and were then killed by the king themselves. Not so fast crazy Christian. At the time Jesus told this parable, there weren’t any Christians yet. Jesus was an itinerant Jewish Rabbi telling a parable to his disciples in the context of the priests and the Pharisees trying to discredit him and his ministry while at the same time exalting themselves.

So, Jesus tells a parable about God’s judgment and God’s grace, and there is tension there which the Pharisees and the priests wanted to ignore. Pharisees and priests followed the law of Moses, so much so that they became certain of their own righteousness before God not because of God’s grace, but because of how well they followed the rules. They felt justified in God’s eyes as if they had earned his good graces. That’s now how grace works.

In Jesus’ parable, no one earned anything. People were invited to a party. The king invited his people to the party, and they didn’t want to come. In fact, they were so dead set against going to a party, that they would literally rather kill people than go to the party. How crazy is that? “I invited you to a party, and you chose to murder people instead?” The king says. So, at that point, yeah, the king kills those people and kills ‘em good, burns their town and leaves nothing but ashes.

Then he invites whoever is left, the riff raff, and all is well. They come to the party, and being riff raff, being the good and the bad, the whomever the king happened to find out among the streets, these people didn’t have fancy clothes to wear to the wedding. In fact, it wouldn’t have mattered if they did, because at a wedding like this one, the king would have provided even the initial guests with wedding garments. They were the kings guests, and they would wear what he provided, rather than showing off their own splendor and mocking those with less.

So the riff raff is having a great time at the party. Crazy uncle Earl is making a bit of a spectacle of himself, but that’s ok. Music is going, the wine is flowing, and then the king sees this one dude without his wedding garment. Did the kings servants mess up and not give him one? Did he refuse to take it? Did he sneak in through an open window and crash the party? We don’t know, and that’s what the king wants to know, and rather than fess up, the man just stands there not saying anything. From his initial entry without accepting the wedding garment to his refusal to speak to the king, the man is making one thing very clear. “Sure, I’ll be here at your stupid party, but I’m going to be here on my terms.”

That’s now how the party works. That’s not how grace works. Grace is freely offered, and you just say “yes” and “thanks.” If the guy in the story had just spoken up, he’d have been ok. When asked “Why you don’t have a wedding garment?”, just admit that you’re a self righteous prat. Just admit that you’re still broken and messed up and trying to earn your way or trying to place yourself above others. If the guy without the wedding garment had just spoken up, the king would have said, “Oh, you misunderstood. The party is a free gift, you don’t have to earn it. You don’t have to be better than anybody else. Here, take this wedding garment, and let me get you a beer.”

The story isn’t about being better than anybody else or being prepared, it’s about saying, “Gee whiz, thanks,” to God’s grace. Often when we hear this parable, however, we make it about something else, and we try to define who has accepted the wedding garment and who hasn’t? Do we, as the church, worry about our family and friends who reject becoming Christian, reject being a part of the church? Possibly we do, but whoever said “the Church” are the ones who have accepted the invitation and put on the wedding garment? Sometimes, in the church, we take our faith in Jesus and turn it into our own clothes, trusting in our faith in Jesus as a rule, rather than simply trusting in Jesus. We take our faith in Jesus and turn it into our own terms. We take Jesus and turn him into an institution.

Sometimes folks reject the church as the institution and reject the faith of the church as the faith of that institution. They’re searching for truth, searching for a way, searching for life. They are searching for God’s grace, for what we understand Jesus to be, but they aren’t finding what they are searching for in what we proclaim about Jesus nor in how we live out Jesus’ way. Perhaps those who reject the church are being called to the wedding banquet from the streets, and we have unknowingly rejected the invitation, or accepted the invitation but done so on our own terms?

There is always that tension, that we take Jesus’ invitation and turn it around and accept it, but accept it on our own terms. “The invitation is free, but I’m accepting it as a good and righteous person,” some may think, or “Now that I’ve been invited, I’ll earn my invitation by being such a good person from now on.”

There is always the tension between following Jesus and his way, the importance of living as Jesus taught, and the free gift of grace, the invitation that continues to be offered regardless of our actions, regardless of how good we are or how bad we are. There is tension between the free gift of grace and the command to love one another as Jesus loves us, and the man in the parable who tries to go to the wedding feast on his own terms reminds us that we don’t get to resolve the tension.

“I thought God wanted me to be a kind and decent person, loving others?” Yes, he does.

“But doesn’t he want me to show that off at his party?” Nope. You didn’t get to the party by being so awesome. God invited you out of grace.

See God wants to have a party, all the time, and at the end of all time. In this life, God wants us to love each other. God wants us to accept his grace and to give his grace. God looks at us and thinks, “Man, y’all are messed up. Just admit it, and quit with this silliness of thinking you have to be better than each other. That ain’t how I work. Y’all are all messed up, and I want to have a party with all of you.” That’s how grace works. The judgment is that we don’t buy it, or rather than we think we have to buy it. When we think we have to buy it, that’s when things get out of hand really quickly. The truth is, we don’t have to buy God’s grace or earn God’s grace. We don’t have to fight with each other to try to get enough of it. We don’t have to claim ourselves as having it and others as not. That’s keeping our own clothes on. God’s grace is God’s grace. It’s a free gift, and there is plenty to go around.

Brad Sullivan

Proper 20, Year A

September 24, 2017

Emmanuel, Houston

Jonah 3:10-4:11

Matthew 20:1-16

But Jesus, That’s Not Fair!

“But Jesus, that’s not fair!” That pretty well sums up the response of the laborers at the end of Jesus’ parable of the laborers in the vineyard. They had agreed to work for the day for the usual daily wage. They negotiated those terms with the landowner. Then, when they found out that those who worked for only an hour also made the usual daily wage, they felt cheated. “That’s not fair!” Well, as a friend of mine was thinking of titling her sermon for today, “Suck it up, Buttercup.”

Clarence Jordan of Koinonia Farms once said, “Whenever Jesus told a parable, he lit a stick of dynamite and covered it with a story.” At first glance many of us, myself included, look at this parable and think, “Well that’s not fair, Jesus.” Then we look a little deeper into the story, and “boom”. The dynamite goes off. Our notions of fairness and deservedness, our shoulds and aught tos get blown up.

True enough, it isn’t exactly fair to pay those who worked only an hour the same as those who worked all day, but look at the alternative. If the landowner was being fair it, would seem that the laborers who worked all day would have had the landowner pay for only an hours’ worth of work to those who worked an hour for only. That would be fair, but that was 1/8th of what they needed each day to get by. So, ultimately the attitude of the laborers who worked all day was, “in order to be fair, you should let those other people starve. Ultimately, the laborers who worked all day were saying that those who were only able to work for an hour should die. “Boom.” The dynamite goes off.

“Well wait, no, Jesus didn’t mean it like that.” “I thought it was unfair, but I didn’t want the other laborers to die.” We hear Jesus’ parables, the dynamite goes off, and then while the dust is still settling, we often try to rebuild our world just like it was before Jesus’ pesky meddling. “No, he didn’t mean it like that.” “Sure Jesus is the messiah, but he didn’t really mean what he said in this parable.” “Something in this story got lost in translation.” It’s easy to try to rebuild too quickly, wanting the security of our previous notions of what is right, without first looking at what Jesus has revealed in his pesky parable dynamite demolition thing.

We often want this parable not to be about money, and it isn’t only about money. This parable may not be Jesus’ instruction manual for economists, may not be, but the response is often to see the economic flaws in Jesus’ notion of generosity over deservedness. “This wouldn’t work as an economic system. You know what people are like. No one would work more than an hour a day.” Probably true, and that’s a fair point, but before we rebuild what Jesus demolished over that one security keeping argument, what lessons might there be for us as we consider this parable?

Looking at how people tend to get compensated for their work, we tend to look at averages. What do others make on average for this same type of work? That seems fair enough, but in the light of Jesus’ parable, a more appropriate question would be “Is this compensation enough? While others might make “X” for this job, I know that “X” isn’t really enough in today’s world. It may be fair in comparison with what others make, but it isn’t really enough.”

For a modern example of choosing to pay what is enough, rather than seems fair by comparison, Dan Price, the CEO of Gravity Payments cut his own salary by 90% back in 2015 so that all of his employees could earn $70,000. I don’t know that Mr. Price was inspired by Jesus; I’ve read nothing to indicate that he was, but his example shows the possibility of living into the kingdom way that Jesus taught, even in our modern economy. The company is still going strong, or was as of January of this year when the article I read about it was written. There were some negative consequences. Some clients pulled out of the company, fearing their fees would increase. They didn’t. Other clients liked what the CEO had done and began giving him their business. Some of the employees didn’t like the new arrangement and quit because they didn’t think it was fair for those who had been earning less than they to receive the same as they. These employees felt diminished by their boss’ generosity. I tend to go with the title of my friend’s sermon on that one. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

Like the laborers in the vineyard who worked all day, they felt it wasn’t fair to earn the same as those whom they felt didn’t deserve as much. Jesus again takes dynamite to our notions of fairness and to the comparisons we so often draw. “Am I making as much as compared to others?” “Should those people earn as much as I do when I compare the amount or kind of work I do with the work they do?” “Do they really deserve to have enough for the work they do?” “Don’t I deserve more than enough for the work I do?” Boom.

Such comparison is something else Jesus dynamites in the parable of the workers in the vineyard, along with our notions of fairness and deservedness. When the dust settles, we might just learn from Jesus that comparison may seem like wisdom, but it doesn’t tend to lead to a good place. Comparison leads to jealousy and envy. Comparison leads to being bitter about what someone else has rather than being happy about what I have. Comparison leads to always wanting more. Comparison leads to feelings of inadequacy and never being good enough. Comparison leads to us being deaf to Jesus’ teaching not to worry; his teaching that we are enough as we have been made to be; his teaching not to put our faith in stuff, but to put our faith in him, to trust in our beloved-ness, and to love others as we are loved.

Theodore Roosevelt, Brené Brown, and others have said variations of the following concerning the supposed wisdom of comparison. “Comparison is the thief of happiness, and jealousy is usually it’s partner in crime.” The laborers in the vineyard and the employees of Gravity Payments were happy with what they had, until they started comparing what they had to others. Then comparison and jealousy stole their happiness away and did absolutely nothing to help them or anyone else.

To the cry that this story isn’t fair, I’d simply say, God isn’t fair, and thank God for that. God’s Kingdom doesn’t deal all that much in fairness and deservedness. God’s kingdom doesn’t deal in our jealous comparisons. God isn’t interested in our hierarchies. He’s not interested in us raising ourselves up above others because we feel that our greater efforts make us deserving of greater benefits. In God’s Kingdom, Jesus dynamites or concepts of deservedness, fairness, and comparison. Then in the crater and debris that is left, Jesus teaches us, and God builds up in us his love, his selflessness, and his generosity toward others.

Brad Sullivan

Proper 16, Year A

August 27, 2017

Emmanuel, Houston

Exodus 12:1-14

Romans 13:8-14

Matthew 18:15-20

Our Pre-Harvey Lives Are Dead and In the Tomb

Last Friday, I was volunteering over at FamilyPoint Resources, a little ways down Memorial from here. Family Point has after school programs for children in this area along with other services for children and families. With school not yet in session last week, FamilyPoint opened up to have some hang out time for the neighborhood kids, and I was there to help with that. I spent a little bit of time on the soccer field, but mostly built LEGOs with a group kids. It’s great getting to see what they come up with and how excited they are to show off their creations. There was the occasional dispute over, ‘that piece is mine,’ but mostly we just built together and admired each others’ creations.

Afterwards, I was talking with the executive director, Stephanie Hruzek, about Family Point and the needs of the neighborhood. They need folks to come help with after school, of course, and they’re also assembling teams to help muck out houses. All are welcome to join in those efforts, by the way. One thing that was so heartening and wonderful in Stephanie’s and my conversation was the seeming role reversal of families that Family Point is used to serving, coming out to help serve others, be it through mucking houses, helping at Family Point, or just helping out a neighbor in any way they need. The humanity that she has seen in the wake of Hurricane Harvey has far surpassed the damage done. Fear of the other and fear of the unknown seem to be down right now, and our shared humanity is coming to the fore. Stephanie shared her joy at this recognition of, this living into our shared humanity, and our hope and prayer is that this seeking out and reaching out for the other continues.

Reaching out for one another and recognizing our shared humanity feels like pre-Harvey burdens have been lifted off our shoulders, burdens we were not even all that aware of: burdens of fearing others or ignoring others. Amidst these burdens which we often carry, Jesus says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

Jesus’ yoke is his teaching, his way. As much as our religion has at times tried to make Jesus’ way difficult and heavy, the way of Jesus, the teachings of Jesus are easy, and light. The way of Jesus takes other burdens off our shoulders and lightens our loads as we walk this life together. Helping others with our post-Harvey, newfound common humanity has felt lighter than before. This is the way and the teaching of Jesus. Post-Harvey, we’ve been walking in the way of love, and we’ve been less encumbered by the burden of fearing the other, less encumbered by the burden of ignoring the other, less encumbered by the burden of enmity towards the other.

Friends and family who have had estrangement growing over differing political and religious beliefs have found that such differences don’t matter in the wake of Harvey. Our petty differences and even our important differences do keep us…different, but they don’t need to divide us. If we need to be divided, God will sort that out later on. In all seriousness, Jesus taught on several occasions that any sorting out of the people, any dividing of humanity that needs to happen will be done by God at the end of the ages. In the mean time, Jesus taught that we are to live with each other, sometimes to put up with each other, but above all to love each other and to live out our common humanity.

Paul told the church in Rome to “owe no one anything except to love one another.” The burden of fear keeps us from loving one another, and there are few heavier burdens than fear - except perhaps a desire for vengeance. Before Paul wrote to owe no one anything except to love one another, Paul wrote, “Repay no one evil for evil…never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God…” (Romans 12:17-19) Desire for vengeance may seem justified, but it is a heavy burden, and Jesus’ yoke, his teaching, seeks to lighten that burden.

“If another member of the church sins against you,” Jesus taught, “go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.”

Ok, so if we’re being honest, going up to the person who has hurt you and going to them with your heart in your hand letting them know that they hurt you is not an easy task. Doing so requires courage and vulnerability. You might just get hurt again. Going to someone and seeking reconciliation, however, is so much easier and lighter than carrying around the burden of hurt forever. The weight of carrying that pain around is hard and heavy, carrying the accompanying fear and mistrust takes are hearts of flesh and turns them into hearts of stone, weighing us down even further. We trust less and less and fear more and more, when we don’t seek reconciliation, and then we end up with our pre-Harvey burdens of fearing the other, ignoring the other, and holding enmity for the other. Seeking reconciliation is a far easier and lighter burden than the burden of carrying fear, mistrust, and enmity.

Even if you can’t be reconciled, Jesus taught that you still don’t carry the enmity around. You drop it. You let it go. If you can’ t be reconciled, then let that person be to you as a gentile and a tax collector. On the one hand, you’re considering that person to be outside of your life, apart from you. On the other hand, what grudge would you hold against someone who is not a part of you? Let the grudge go, let the person go, and wipe the slate clean. It would be up to the other person at that point to rebuild the relationship. At the same time, gentiles and tax collectors were a part of Jesus’ and the early church’s mission field, so there is a writing off and a starting over in Jesus’ teaching about when reconciliation doesn’t occur. Death and resurrection. Such is the way of Jesus. Such is his easy yoke and his light burden.

Our shared humanity, seeking out the other without fear, forgiving and actively seeking reconciliation: these are ways of Jesus that we absolutely need in our post-Harvey lives, and what we need in our post-Harvey life as Emmanuel. We need each other. We always did, but pre-Harvey, we felt secure enough in other things not to realize our need for each other quite so acutely.

Our pre-Harvey lives are dead and in the tomb. Our post-Harvey lives and post-Harvey life as Emmanuel is emerging from the tomb. Post-Harvey, we have been woken from sleep, and we realize just how much we need each other. More than a building, more than programs, we need each other. Emmanuel Episcopal Church & School is a new creation by water and the Word.

We need to stay joined together, and we need to discover new ways to join together as well. In our post-Harvey, resurrected life, we need to keep reaching out into our community. We are a church, a people, without a building right now, and this is a challenge for us, and it is also a wonderful opportunity to live into our common humanity. Without our building to gather in and serve from, we get to gather and serve in other people’s buildings. We get to gather and serve in other people’s homes. We get to join with our neighbors as they gather and serve us.

With prayer and reconciliation, we get to continue in this resurrected life, sharing in our common humanity as a new creation by water and the Word, following in the easy way and light burden of Jesus.

Brad Sullivan

Proper 14, Year A

August 13, 2017

Emmanuel, Houston

Matthew 14:22-33

Walking On Water: The Martyr of Charlottesville

Jesus was the Word of God which spoke all of creation into existence. On some level, even subconsciously, I’d guess Jesus began to have some inkling of who he was. I wonder if in his encounter with his disciples on the boat, Jesus just forgot for a minute that humans can’t walk on water. He was tired; it had been a long day. He’d gone away to be by himself to pray for a while after learning that his cousin, John the Baptist had been beheaded, and instead of getting a break, Jesus ended up teaching and multiplying food some somewhere around 10,000 people (including the women and children). Finally, after all that, he sends his disciples across the sea in their boat while he gets to spend some time alone in prayer.

So, worn out, dog tired, Jesus spent time alone in prayer, and I think he might have been so caught up in his time with his Father, that he just totally forgot that people aren’t really that adept at walking on things that aren’t solid. So, like Superman forgetting to put his glasses back on before going to the office, Jesus just starts walking on the sea out to his disciples. Why not? Why shouldn’t he walk on the sea? He made the sea, after all.

So, he’s walking out onto the water, lost in thought, barely aware of his surroundings. Eventually a storm comes, and he’s thinking, “eh, not too bad, I’ve made worse,” and then the disciples see him. They’re terrified, and he realizes what’s going on. He covers as best he can, saying, “Ok, guys, I know this looks weird, but it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m not a ghost. It’s just I; It’s just Jesus.” That calms them a little, and then Peter’s like, “Hey cool, Jesus, can I come out and play?” Perfect, Jesus thinks. “You bet, Pete! Come on!”

Then we all know what happens. Peter walks on the water for a while, until he notices the wind and waves, and like Wiley Coyote walking off a cliff and staying aloft until he looks down, Peter starts to sink. So, Jesus picks him up, gets them both into the boat and decides he’s had enough of his little wind storm, dials that down a bit, and tries to pass the whole thing off, real nonchalant, “so what’s been going on, fellas?”

They start to get the idea pretty quickly that Jesus is more than a prophet, but the Lord of all creation, the one who actually made all of creation. I’m guessing they got pretty excited at that point, excited and amazed at the wonder of it all.

I get really excited when I think of the Word of God who spoke creation into existence becoming human and walking on this earth. I love that God was human and walked on this very earth. Whenever I start to take the world for granted, that very idea of God walking on this earth makes the whole creation hallowed again.

Then we get people treating creation like garbage. We get people like the angry mob in Charlottesville, Virginia over the weekend deciding that only some parts of creation are hallowed, only some types of people are hallowed. All people are made in God’s image. All of creation is hallowed, and yet, despite the beauty and sacredness of people and all creation, people will all too often de-sanctify creation by driving a car into a group of people, killing someone for thinking that racism isn’t a particularly good idea.

Imagine those folks holding a rally within these walls, declaring most of humanity damned. Imagine people coming in here with shields and sticks and guns, ready and willing to physically harm anyone who disagreed with them. Imagine that folks who disagreed with them did come in here and were beaten and killed. That is exactly what happened in Charlottesville, because in God’s eyes, all of creation is hallowed. Every place is a place of worship. Everywhere Jesus looks and says, “This place is great; I remember making this place. I remember speaking this place into existence, and I love this place.” The same goes for every person on earth, yes, even the angry mob of people who assume that God hates most of the people he created.

Hatred and violence. Shame and anger. Assuming one type of person is better than another type of person. Jesus was pretty darn clear that we are all the same in God’s eyes. Jesus was pretty darn clear that he loves all people and he loves all of this beautiful Earth which he created. He was also pretty darn clear that as much as he loves all people, there is no place in his kingdom for the kinds of thoughts and actions demonstrated by the angry white supremacist mob in Charlottesville.

Now, if we’re honest with ourselves, we all have hatred, anger, and violence within us too. Everyone does. The question is, what are we going to do with it, and what Jesus calls us to do, what he teaches us to do with our hatred, anger, and violence is not to act it out, not to act upon it, but rather to give it to him, to place it at the foot of the cross so that he can transform it into love.

That is often not done, however, and we have a world that is full of anger, hatred, and violence (as well as love). So, what are we to do amidst such anger, hatred, and violence? Well, let’s call the anger, hatred, and violence of the world storms and waves. Then, let’s do what Peter did. Amidst the storms and the waves, we look up and see Jesus coming to us, not where we expect, not in the quiet sanctuary, but right in the middle of the storms and waves, right in the middle of the hatred, anger, and violence. Then, rather than waiting for Jesus to come to us in the safety of the boat, the sanctuary, we ask Jesus to summon us out into the storms and waves. Rumor has it, he’ll say yes. Then, like Peter did, we step out of the sanctuary and risk drowning in order to go and be with Jesus amidst the storms and waves. We risk drowning, going out into the anger, hatred, and violence to be the light of Jesus within the storm.

Sometimes we’re not even entirely sure what we’re going to do there. We want to bring the light of Jesus with us. We want to live out the way, the truth, and the life of Jesus amidst the storms and waves, and it is darn scary. We just may be killed if we go out amidst the storms and waves. A 32 year old woman was killed in Charlottesville by a man who drove his car into a group of people who stepped out of the boat amidst the storm of anger, hatred, and violence to declare that anger, hatred, and violence have no place in this world. This woman risked and gave her life to give witness to love rather than hatred. That’s what we call a martyr, a witness. I don’t even know if she was Christian, but I know she was amidst the storm, declaring the light of love for all, not just some. She gave her life for that witness, and that is martyrdom.

Stepping out amidst the storms and waves of anger, hatred, and violence, we too will risk drowning. We’ll risk our lives and well-being to live out and be the light of Jesus amidst the darkness of hatred, anger, and violence. When Peter stared to sink, Jesus reached down and picked him up. I’d like to say that his doing so is a guarantee that so long as we ask Jesus for help, we won’t be harmed, but that simply isn’t true. Peter began sinking because he became overcome with fear of the storm and waves. The call to Jesus keeps us from being overcome with fear, keeps us from succumbing to the anger, hatred, and violence ourselves. The call to Jesus doesn’t guarantee that we won’t be harmed. The call to Jesus keeps our hearts from falling into hatred, anger, and violence. The call to Jesus keeps the darkness from overcoming the light of Jesus within us.

Truly to be the light of Jesus amidst the darkness of anger, hatred, and violence, we truly do need to risk drowning, to risk not only our lives and well-being, but also to risk being overcome by the darkness. In all likelihood, we will be overcome by the darkness at times, and in those times, we call out to Jesus to save us, to reach his hand out, pull us out of the storm and waves and put us back into the boat, the sanctuary. Then, once we’ve recovered, we step out of the boat, amidst the storm and waves once again to risk our lives and well-being, to be the light of Jesus amidst the darkness of hatred, anger, and violence once again.

Risk is part of the deal to live as Jesus’ disciples. We’ve got to risk drowning to walk out on the water with Jesus. We also need to be able to see the beauty and sacredness of the people and creation all around us, even amidst the storm and waves. We realize the waves are there, but don’t get too daunted by the waves. Keep your eyes on Jesus. Imagine the magic, the possibility, the wonder of seeing him walking to you on the water. Imagine the magic, the possibility, the wonder of asking him if you can come out and play too, and Jesus saying ,”yes.”