When is the right time to show mercy?

How do you like your church? Do you like it all bubbly and spontaneous? Or do you like it orderly and predictable? Throughout its long history, the church has been a little bit of both.

The famous mid-20^th century theologian Paul Tillich said that church history can be understood as a movement between charisma and order. He said whenever charisma—the need to stir things up—and order—the need for stability and predictability— meet up, that’s when the Holy Spirit shows up!

And that is what we see in today’s Gospel. The tension— the conflict! —between order and charisma.

To tell you the truth, my heart kind of goes out to the leader of the congregation, who was just trying to maintain order when Jesus healed the woman on the Sabbath in the middle of a worship service.

More than once in my ministry, I have found myself in the position of that local synagogue leader.

Two of my former parishes hosted soup kitchens in small industrial cities, and every now and then one of our soup kitchen guests would show up at Sunday worship, all scruffy and rough from living on the street. It was… well, let’s just say it was challenging. And uncomfortable.

So I kind of get where the leader of the synagogue in today’s Gospel was coming from. I mean, here was this itinerant rabbi from God-knows-where walking in and offering to heal someone without so much as a by-your-leave. The leader hadn’t read ahead to the ends of the Gospel of Luke yet, so what did he know?

But even if he was trying to do the right thing, he was going about it in the wrong way.

Instead of going to Jesus and asking him directly what he was up to, he goes to everyone…well, more accurately every man… in the congregation and complains “Couldn’t she have waited until after the sabbath to be healed?” he asks.  “Couldn’t she have gone someplace else besides the synagogue?”

I mean, the whole thing wasn’t even her idea! The man is mad at Jesus, but he blames the woman! Never mind that she didn’t even ask to be healed in the first place! After 18 years, she was probably pretty used to being stooped over like a bent matchstick. Jesus invited her to come over to him. It was all his idea!

So, the Leader of the Synagogue has committed a trifecta of wrongs: first, he triangulates—instead of talking to the person he’s mad at, he brings in a third party, the congregation; second, he focuses on the wrong person—the woman and not Jesus; and third, he stirs everyone up in the process.  All in all, he brings out the worst in everyone except maybe Jesus and the woman who was healed…and she was apparently too busy praising God to notice all the hoo-rah going on around her!

So let’s cut through the triangulation, the grumbling and the blame-game, and go right to the Leader of the Synagogue and ask him some questions. We can’t do it face-to-face, but let’s pretend. Besides, given what’s going on in the world right now, they are questions worth pondering anyway.

When would be a good time to show mercy? Tomorrow, maybe? After all, today is a day of rest. We don’t want to do work on a day of rest. After all, even God rested on the seventh day, right? But as Jesus said, even the most observant of Jews will lead their animals to the feeding trough, milk their cows, and gather up the hen’s eggs on the Sabbath. Why? Because animals don’t know about the Sabbath and they don’t care. If you don’t believe me, ask any hungry cat or dog at about 5:30 or 6 am. All they know is that it’s time to be fed or walked and they don’t know or care about your customs, calendars or your need to sleep in. And, you know what? feeding, watering and milking your animals on the Sabbath was all allowable in Jewish law. It was the right and sensible thing to do. 

Jesus asks: if it is okay to show mercy to your livestock on the Sabbath, then why can’t we show mercy to a daughter of Abraham on the Sabbath?

Put another way, when is it a good time to show mercy? Now is a good time to show mercy. Right now. That’s when.

And where is the right place to show mercy? Underneath his complaint about the Sabbath, the unhappy man who stirred up the congregation with his grumbling about the place of the healing is saying something like “This is a house of worship, not a clinic, take it outside.” But Jesus’ invitation to the woman and healing her brokenness tells us that if our worship doesn’t drive us to mercy, then we are not really worshipping God at all! If our worship doesn’t call out compassion, then we are not listening. If our rituals only reinforce our fears then we are only huddling against the cold instead of turning ourselves to God.

So… Where is the place to show mercy? Here is the place to show mercy. Right where we are, right now.

Over four hundred years ago, the first slave ship arrived in an English colony, landing in Virginia with a cargo of about twenty slaves purchased either in Africa or in Brazil, after having been brought over from East Africa by Portuguese merchants. This began a trade in human beings that fed not only the plantations of the Southern states, but eventually the mills and cloth factories in the North. The slave trade not only staffed the plantations across the South but made bankers, investors, inventors, ship-builders, and ship owners in the North quite wealthy. Of course, no one can speak for the spiritual lives of anyone other than ourselves, but I suspect that many a devout Christian took part in the buying, selling of these persons, and benefited from their labor.

A few years back, the Bishop of the Diocese of Rhode Island, Bishop Nick Knisely, led his diocese in study, prayer, confession, and repentance for their part in the slave trade and the way the Church in Rhode Island benefitted from the mills, shipping, and banking that depended on the slave trade and made some wealthy and employed many others. (Read more here.)

It took over three hundred years for this country to abolish slavery, and it took a war to do it. And in the century and a half since then, we are still sorting out its meaning and repenting from the consequences.

When Bishop Knisely did this, for the most part, he got a lot back-patting atta boys. But there were some—not a few—people whose families got wealthy from that industry, and Universities, hospitals and private schools who all had wings or halls or scholarships named after people who owned those ships and those trading houses and held shares in stocks that once speculated in human flesh. And they weren’t too happy. It was a long time ago, they said. That was then. Why bring it up now? 

Like the leader in the story today, too often we hear people say that now was not time, and church was not the place, to talk about such things. But Jesus’ response now is the same as it was back then: the time for mercy is now. And the place for mercy is here.

Luke’s Gospel tells us that Jesus’ words were so effective that no one dared challenge him again. Sure. If only. That’s only true if you ignore big chunks of the Passion.

People still challenge Jesus right down to today. They still get annoyed and grumble. They still blame the victim and look for scapegoats. Jesus was condemned to death and went to the cross because human beings will look anywhere, anyplace in order to keep what scares them at arm’s length.  And it still happens today.

We hear the same complaints: why here? Why now?

You know why we have these responses, right? Fear! Fear is the opposite of faith. But there are always people who use our fears to build up their power. There are people who only feel big and strong when everyone around them is terrified, or angry, or shouting. Like the Leader in today’s Gospel who stirred up the crowd with his grumbling—and he didn’t even have the internet and Twitter and the media—who build themselves up by bringing out the worst in everyone else.

It’s true. We do live in an uncertain and often dangerous world, and we do everything we can to maintain some order and create some safety, but here we are living smack dab in the place where charisma and order meet! And that is the place where the Holy Spirit is found! And, as Jesus demonstrates over and over again in the Gospel of Luke, we can show mercy where we can. We might not be able to save every victim of disaster, or stop the suffering of this world, but we can reach out with healing to the person right in front of us, the stranger God gives us, or the sick, injured, or lonely person in our midst.

So…. When is the time to show mercy? Now is the time to show mercy!

Where is the place to show mercy? Here is the place to show mercy!

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Scripture for the Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 16, Year C, August 24, 2025

Website for St. Mary's Episcopal Church, Dade City, Florida

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here

Here is the bulletin for the Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, August 24, 2025, St Mary's Episcopal Church, Dade City, Florida.

Real readiness

Have you ever collected fortunes? You know, the little paper sayings that are inside cookies at Chinese restaurants? Every now and then one will come along, and I will stick it in my wallet or pin it to my bulletin board.

Later on, I’ll find that fortune and wonder what ever possessed me to keep it. Surely it was not how to learn how to say “cat” in Chinese. The message must have spoken to me somehow.

I remember one that didn’t sound very Chinese, but did sound an awful lot like Jesus, which may be why I kept it. It said: “Your faith will overcome your fear.” 

Today's Gospel lesson is a collection of Jesus’ sayings which, if we aren’t paying close attention, might sound to us like those fortune cookies sayings we’ve tucked into our wallets or read aloud before throwing it away.

Jesus begins by reminding us not to be afraid. “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” (12:32)  Next, we hear him urging us to make treasure for ourselves treasures in heaven, where they will be safe from theft or decay. Then Jesus gives us a hypothetical scenario where some servants are blessed because they were dressed and their lamps lit ready for action for the moment their master returns. And how pleased is the master? He is so pleased that he has them sit down and he serves them!

The Gospel today closes with an obvious statement: if the householder knew when the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into.

Here we have a group of Jesus’ words and teachings about that have been strung together to remind us not to be anxious, or worried, or afraid. The Gospel reminds that Jesus, instead, want us to focus on God kingdom, assured that, when we do, all our needs will be met.

It sounds reasonable, doesn’t it? Making indestructible treasures for ourselves is how we stay ready for the Master’s imminent arrival.

Except that we are afraid, anxious, and distractable. You know what I mean… it’s like the urge you get to touch a wall when there’s a “wet paint”sign hanging there. I mean, it feels like Jesus telling us not to be anxious is like telling us not think of pink elephants. Then that’s all we can think about!

Besides, we always want to be ready, just in case. But that readiness can show up in silly ways. For example, I carry an umbrella in my car, because it’s Florida in August and you just know it’s going to rain between 3 and 5 o’clock every day because it just will. So when I am inside when it starts to rain, I have to decide if I am going to get myself wet running to my car to get it … or I’ll get wet going from the driver’s seat to the trunk to get my umbrella to keep me dry… or just wait the storm out, sometimes looking at the radar on my phone to see when the blob of rain will pass by.

It did not take me long after moving to Tampa Bay to learn about Rule #7… which is one of meteorologist Denis Phllips seven rules for coping with Florida’s changeable weather. And you all know what Rule #7 is right? Yup! “Don’t freak out.”

So I felt that I was ahead of the game when I moved down here, because I brought with me a box for winter emergencies… I call it a “blizzard box.” Now I use the same box but have changed the label on top to “hurricane box.” No freaking out for me! No, sir! I just don’t know what I’ll do with those fancy handwarmers.

Rule #7 speaks to one of the strange truths about people: That for many of us, the deepest faith we have is faith the faith we have in our fears. I mean we have to have a rule that explicitly says "Don't freak out!" This is not the same as the fear of the Lord, the deep awe and reverence for God, that the Bible tells us is the beginning of wisdom. All to often we get caught up in the perverse faith that focuses on our fears and makes us want to freak out at the drop of a hat.

Jesus tells us in Luke not to be afraid, but that doesn’t mean we are to be inactive or inattentive. We are to be dressed for action, to have our lamps lit, to be prepared for the return of the master, to make purses for ourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven no thief can steal, and no moth consumes (12:33). The trick is to be ready without being obsessed or over-thinking.

The truth is that we are all wrong about fear. We think it is our protective shield. We think that by being anxious we are in control.

But fear is a thief and anxiety is a swindler. When we dwell on our fears, they become our treasures. Jesus says, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (12:35). Faith is the genuine treasure we are to be accumulating, but so often we get it backwards when we allow our fears to fill our hearts so that faith can’t get in.

We have a leg up, though. We know instinctively when the thief is coming. We can feel it when the thief, which is fear and anxiety, is at the door. So, how can we keep our house of faith from being broken into by fear?

Jesus tells us that if the householder had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. He is promising us the resources to keep fear from stealing our faith. He is promising to turn the tables and to empower our faith to take back our treasure of strength from the thief of fear.

When I was a Chaplain, I knew a doctor who was Hindu. He did a talk once about how to cope with the stress of modern life, and he shared a proverb from his tradition: “Live in the past and you will be depressed. Live in the future and you will be anxious. Live in the present with gratitude and you will be at peace.” For the Christian the message is that instead of being preoccupied with our fear and anxiety, we are invited to live in the present with faith in God’s future.

As we learn to pray, and from there how to turn even the most mundane, everyday chore into a prayer—not only a gift from God but a gift to God—then we find our orientation shifting away from fear and towards faith. From scarcity towards abundance. From pessimism to hope.

As we enter to the rhythm of sacramental living—of Eucharistic community, daily prayer, and studying and meditating on God’s word together and alone—we find ourselves more and more immersed in God’s time, in living in God’s always unfolding present.

The last time I cleaned out my wallet, I found two old fortunes:

“An unexpected event will bring you wealth,” and “If you put up with small annoyances you will gain great results.”

Who knows why I kept them? Who knows if they will come true?  But move over fear and jump back anxiety, because here are some promises of Jesus that are more reliable than fortune cookies! He said, “Strive for God’s kingdom and these things (food, drink, clothing) will be given to you as well.” (Luke 12:31) So, “Do not be afraid….” (Luke 12:32)

Jesus is the promise and the antidote to the fear that lives in our hearts and our communities. And his peace is our strength.

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Scripture for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 14, Year C, August 10, 2025

Website for Church of the Good Samaritan (Episcopal), Clearwater

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here

Here is the bulletin for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, August 10, 2025, the Church of the Good Samaritan, Clearwater, Florida.

Here is the livestream of the liturgy. The sermon begins at XX:XX

Our Everyday School of Prayer

A long time ago, in a hospital far, far away, I was a student chaplain making my evening rounds on a surgical floor. In those days, people were admitted the afternoon or evening before their scheduled surgery, so we’d make rounds to visit those folks often in the evening during the time between the meal and before sleep, often after the visitors had gone home. And you know what? There was a whole lot of praying going on.

Usually not the formal, spoken prayer, but the stare-at-the-ceiling, not really paying attention to the television, kind of prayer. You know what I mean.

It took a little fortitude to call on these folks cold, because no matter how I dressed (clerical collar or necktie, lab coat, clerical suit, or business casual) patients would size me up and decide who I was and what I was about and act accordingly. And that was okay… because this sizing up was theirs, not mine. Besides, of all the professionals coming to see patients in hospital, I was the one guy  that the person had the right to say “go away” to… and I’d go.

So when I was welcomed, the conversation was up to them and some would guide that conversation for the two of us. Some would dodge talking about their upcoming procedure choosing instead small talk or “what about them (pick your team and sport)…? Or tell me about their spouse, kids or grandkids, or work, or… whatever.  Some would tell me about their illness and procedure in great detail. And rarely, some would talk about whatever anxiety of the moment was on their mind or heart (and it was not always medical!). A few would nod and grunt me out of the room. Once a guy shooed me away before I even entered the room saying, “I don’t need no [blankety-blank] priest!”

Whatever happened, it was all good.

Typically, I would ask if the person would like a prayer… or I’d see if they’d ask. Every now and then, a person would ask me the question that the disciples asked Jesus in today’s Gospel: “Teach me how to pray.”

Now this is a tricky question. Because as a chaplain, I was not there for me, but for the person. And so, I had to learn how to rest in my own tradition and authority while at the same time allowing the person to set the tone and direction. Patients will put up with “Father Know-It-All” for only so long, because it ain’t about me, right? So I’d encourage them to tell me what they wanted to know. Often, the question was serious, along the lines of: “I know this is a big moment and I don’t know how to put this into words.” Or, “I'm in crisis and I need the rituals of my tradition. or upbringing.” Or, “I want to remember a prayer from my childhood but all I am coming up with is table-grace.”

I brought this question to a colleague and fellow student chaplain because I was asked by a patient, who was Jewish, who  was asking me, a Christian priest, how to pray. My friend and classmate, who was a rabbi, said, “It’s okay. You’re the follower of a small-town rabbi, right? Follow his lead!” In other words, pray the prayer that Jesus taught.

In the Gospel of Luke, we hear Jesus say:

“Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread.

And forgive us our sins,
for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
And do not bring us to the time of trial.”

The disciples saw that whenever their teacher and Master had exhausted himself doing good, he would withdraw from the crowd in order to pray. And they had seen the results of those prayers in his life-transforming deeds and in the calm he exuded seemingly from every pore.

“Lord, teach us how to pray!” They too wanted that peace and strength, the utter assurance that Jesus had in doing the will of his Father.

And Jesus doesn't just offer Prayer 101, he gives us a Master Class. The simple and profound words that Jesus taught have become known as “The Lord’s Prayer.” Over the centuries countless faithful have uttered them together and in solitude and utter them still. These words rise up and blend into an endless prayer of praise, of supplication, of doxology. Their simplicity is interwoven with many layers of meaning that has influenced many Christians.

My first real exposure to the depth of the prayer came after my Confirmation through a little book that came my way written by Igor Sikorsky, aviator, maker of flying boats, and the inventor of the helicopter. In it, he contemplated the Lord's Prayer in both Matthew and Luke as it impacted his faith and his work. The prayer has inspired many faithful people, lay and ordained over the millennia to go deeper in their prayer. Today, I am indebted to the Rev. Katerina Katsarka Whitley for her commentary on the Lord’s Prayer in Luke, which I share with you here:

Jesus started by showing them that first they must know whom they are addressing. The Greek word for prayer used in the gospels means “a wish, a request toward” someone. Luke’s version that we heard is pared down, simpler than the prayer found in Matthew’s gospel. The one we know best grew out of Matthew’s version, and has some points that were added by ancient authorities over time. Yet, the core is the same.

“Our Father…” There this word can be loaded because they had the terrible misfortune of living with a bad father. And many of us were blessed with loving and caring fathers and we have no difficulty in identifying the Creator with the word Father. God, who is father and mother, understands all of this.

“Hallowed be your name.”  We are addressing the Holy of Holies, the all-sacred one. Jesus reminds us that when we address God we are in the presence of holiness.

“Your kingdom come.” Jesus’ teaching is filled withs image of God’s reign. It’s like a mustard seed, or a little yeast in a big loaf, or a woman looking for a lost coin, or a shepherd looking for a lost sheep. The kingdom of God that Jesus teaches us to pray for is one where justice prevails, and where love conquers. In the kingdom of God everyone is of equal value. And Jesus teaches us to pray that the Kingdom of God may it come to us in our time and in our place.

“Your will be done.” We long for a world where God’s will is done as automatically and ordinarily as happens in heaven. God’s will is not done by putting it up on a marble pedestal, in the public square. Statues or framed copied of the ten commandments in classrooms or courtrooms will not save us. All of that is for show; about telling us to be obedient to the State, the Culture, or “The Way Things Are.” Jesus warned us about this, and to watch out for praying just so we can prove how pious we are. True prayer is between us and God. Even when we pray together in unison, in church, we are connecting to God and to each other as a people of God.

This then is the first portion of prayer: where we acknowledge God as Father/Mother, as Creator, as Holy, where God’s rule of love and justice are natural and at home.

The second part of the prayer is a simple request for what sustains life. Bread was the essence of nourishment in the ancient world. Having bread meant one was not hungry. Not having bread meant starvation. Instead of the word ‘bread’ imagine praying “Give us the necessities for living because everything else is superfluous.”

“And forgive us our sins…”  We need to forgive. In every gospel, Jesus shows us our need for forgiveness. The plea to be forgiven is followed by the most surprising element of this prayer:

“. . . as we forgive those who sin against us” reminds us that God’s forgiveness is deeply connected to our ability and willingness to forgive. We need God’s grace to forgive our fellow human beings, and the grace to recognize and accept God’s forgiveness of our own sins. Some translation says “debts” instead of “sin.” “Those who are indebted to us,” may also be taken literally. In the ancient world, being indebted financially was very serious, just as our modern world is built around the management and industry of debt. In Jesus’ day, debt could mean life or death. Jesus knew that in Hebrew scriptures, Mammon was a powerful idol, just as “the Market” is a powerful idol today, and those who cannot forgive debts because they worship money cannot possibly comprehend the free, unmerited, and total grace and forgiveness of God.

“Do not bring us to the time of trial.”  Trials are frequent and no one is spared. We pray to be shielded from trials and temptation, but when they do come, they must be faced. When we are tried, we are tempted to take the easy way out, to avoid the hard choices. Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, “Let this cup pass from me,” but he was not spared, and he faced his death, convinced of the will of his Father, enduring death and the grave on the way to resurrection.

Jesus’ prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, is the profound and simple prayer that binds us together as we worship. In our parishes, with our ecumenical and interfaith friends, with followers of Jesus all over the globe and throughout time. This is the prayer that forms the basis for all our prayers. In it, Jesus shows us that we are both known and being heard.

In the parable that follows, Jesus reminds us in the Gospel that we are like the persistent child crying out to a parent. A parent responds to the child’s plea, he tells us. And Jesus encourages us to be persistent and not give up, because God’s will for us is good.

Do you want to know how to pray? Do you want to know what to pray? Here is Jesus' school of prayer. We've been chewing on what he taught us ever since. Every time we say it, we are being invited by Jesus to go deeper.

And that's important, because prayer is more important than ever… if you don’t believe me just turn on the car radio, the T.V., or open the newspaper app in your phone. Every day we are bombarded with stories of terror and harm and killing in our world. So it is good to remember that every day, all over the globe, millions of faithful people are praying Jesus’ simple prayer every minute of the day: “Your kingdom come, your will be done.” And every day, we join with them when we pray Jesus’ prayer whether we are alone or together. Listen as we pray together:

Father in heaven.

Your name is holy.

Your kingdom come.

Your will be done on earth as in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread.

And forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.

And lead not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. 

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Scripture for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, July 27, 2025

Website for Church of the Good Samaritan (Episcopal), Clearwater

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here

Here is the bulletin for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, July 27, 2025, the Church of the Good Samaritan, Clearwater, Florida.

Here is the livestream of the liturgy. The sermon begins at XX:XX

Faithfully "Doing" and Faithfully "Being"

There is an old vaudeville joke about a man and woman dancing together at a singles resort in the Catskills. The man says, “I’m only here for the weekend.” To which the woman responds, “I’m dancing as fast as I can!”

Martha is just like all of us, women and men, dancing around our houses as fast as we can, trying to get things ready for our honored guest. The Gospel tells us Martha is trying very hard to make the most of her— and her family’s— time with Jesus. 

My hunch is that Mary was not normally in the habit of entertaining visitors by sitting at their feet while her sister did all the work. Martha’s complaint to Jesus suggests that Mary’s behavior was not normal for her, and Martha was saying to Mary (by way of Jesus!) “snap out of it!”

Now here’s the trap: we are tempted to read this passage as a kind of Biblical “Goofus and Gallant” comic…remember those from Highlights for Children, where Goofus was the rude “bad” kid and Gallant was the polite “good” kid? We are tempted to say, “Martha bad, Mary good!”

But it’s not one versus the other. What we are witnessing is a lesson about the movement, the oscillation, between “activity and rest.”

Jesus does not deny the value of who Martha is or of what she is doing. He is saying that what Mary is up to is also valuable. Jesus is about priorities; first things first.

Look, Jesus is not against activity or work or even going out of one’s way to do good—just look at Jesus’ story of the Samaritan who stopped to care for the injured stranger, a story which comes right before this in Luke’s Gospel—what Jesus cares about our focus.

In the 14th-century, the anonymous author of a spiritual discourse called The Cloud of Unknowing, speaks about Martha and Mary as repre­senting the Two Ways of Prayer.

“My friend, do you see that this whole incident concerning Jesus and the two sisters was intended as a lesson for active and contemplative persons of the Church in every age? Mary represents the contemplative life and all contemplative persons ought to model their lives on hers. Martha represents the active life and all active persons should take her as their guide.”

In other words, we all have periods of activity and periods of rest. A healthy Christian life depends on being active some of the time and having times of renewal. If we don’t have both in balance we all go a little cuckoo—either in hyper-busyness or sluggish inaction.

Have you ever noticed how Episcopalians and other Christians divide up time?

Our day has times of prayer for morning, noonday, evenings and before bed. So we are grounded in prayer.

Our week is grounded with Sunday… each week’s ‘little Easter’ and the Sabbath where remember that even God rested after a busy week of creating, well, everything!

And our year is organized by seasons which tells us that God’s time has a rhythm, purpose, and direction for us and all creation.

Taken together we see a movement… and oscillation… between activity and renewal with God and the center and prayer as the fulcrum.

All of us will have Martha-times and Mary-times. We need both for a balanced and healthy life. I call this the do-be cycle. We need to do. And we need to be. Doing without being is empty. Being without doing is wasteful. We need to both do and be. Sing it with me. Do-be. Do-be. Do-be.

Society has forgotten the tune. When everything is open 24/7, every day is the same. Our world is a continuous round of endless media input, so we forget how to reflect, and where we substitute entertainment for rest. We value productivity, but for many people a forty-hour week is the baseline for work not the limit.

Recently, I saw a New Yorker cartoon of two people in a bar. A man is talking to a woman through one of those doggie cones, you know like the one you get at the vet. He says, “I wear it because it keeps me from checking my phone every two seconds.”

Do you know what the busiest shopping day of the week is in all those big box stores? It’s right now! Sunday morning!

And many Christians get caught up in the whirlwind of being “busy” and Sunday is just one more day on the list of things to do. For many of us, Sunday is the “open” day to catch up…catch up on the chores, catch up on the shopping, catch up on some sleep…because in our day and age, we are expected to be efficient and productive, all the time.

Jesus and the author of The Cloud of Unknowing assume something quite different. And that is that everything we do can be (and is) prayer! Everything we do can be an offering to God. Everything we do can reveal God’s love and power and presence and grace to us and those around us. But for this to work, for our work to truly become prayer, we have to hold God at the center of all that we do and we have to keep Christ at the heart of who we are.  We have to have the right balance of “do-be.”

Sing it with me: Do-be. Do-be. Do-be.

If we are to make Christ the center of our work, we must take the time to let Christ be at the center of our renewal.  Martha sets the table for Jesus in order for us to attend to Jesus. Not just make him comfy but to clear the decks so that she and her family and guests can, like Mary, live the moment and sit at Jesus’ feet and listen.

An ancient custom of hospitality in England holds that when a sovereign comes to your house, while in your home, it is no longer yours but his. A sovereign becomes the host under any citizen’s roof.  So remember that, should King Charles pop over to your house for tea, your house literally becomes his house. Think about that. Some of us learned a common table grace as children where we invited Jesus to come and be our guest, but if this ancient royal custom teaches us anything it is that when we let Jesus sit at our table, we invite him to be our host and for us to be his guest!  We invite him to feed us. We invite him to care for us and attend to our needs. We invite him to refresh us, teach us, and treat us as the honored wayfarer, so that we can continue the journey renewed, refreshed and oriented.

Let’s take that image a step further: in our baptisms, we invited Christ into our lives, into us. He who is the guest is now the host.  And in our Eucharist, Christ sits at the head of the table. We allow him to nourish us in our common life, in our worship, in our times of quiet and prayer, in times of retreat, and even in a few minutes reading Forward Day by Day or saying the daily devotions found in the prayer book (or on a prayer app!), and in how we order our common life.

We who emulate our image of busy Martha can sometimes forget the focus and purpose of our work. We can be so busy doing good and necessary things that we sometimes forget the balance required to sing “do-be, do-be, do-be.” The good news is that now the guest has become the host.  And as Jesus enters our living, he feeds us, meets us where we need him the most, and helps us rest in Him.

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Scripture for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, July 20, 2025

Website for The Episcopal Church of the Good Samaritan, Clearwater, Florida

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here.

Here is a presentation by the Rev. Liz Tunney, OA, on the "renewal-apostolate cycle," which describes the 'oscillation' between rest and activity in more detail.

And here is more information from Fill All Things: The Dynamics of Ministry in the Parish Church by Robert A. Gallagher

Here is the bulletin for 6 Pentecost C, July 20, 2025, the Episcopal Church of the Good Samaritan, Clearwater, Florida.

Everyday Oneness

Once, I rode the Auto Train between Florida and Virginia. As the overnight ride was drawing to a close, a father was trying to help his very young and still sleepy son gather his things and get ready to disembark the coach as soon as we pulled into the station. I could not see but could overhear the father trying to help the son put on his backpack, which the little boy was clearly struggling with. Apparently, the boy kept putting it on upside-down and the father kept trying to help him. Suddenly the little boy wiggled away from dad, and the backpack swung wide into the air landing in the aisle. It was then that I heard those immortal words: “I can do it all by myself!”

I had to smile. As a little child, I said that to my parents. As a parent, I heard my children say that to me. As a grandparent of littles, I am hearing it anew. And, I must admit, as an adult, I have said it over and over again…maybe not directly…and I hope not with the same whinny voice …but I have said it: “don’t help me! I can do it all by myself!”

The people who study human development tell us that this is to be expected, because a major task of growing up is to be successfully autonomous while at the same learning to build appropriate and healthy attachments that embody trust, respect, and compassion. We need to have healthy boundaries and a good sense of self… to know what’s yours, what’s mine, and what’s ours. So learning when to do things “all by myself” and when to say “help me please” is an important part of growing up… and, as I am learning in retirement, all life long! Which is why, as that little interaction between father and young son shows, growing up is, well, a process.

And then there is that sticky truth that very often our assertions of competence and independence often come exactly at the moment when we are feeling the least competent and the most vulnerable.

Which brings us to today’s Gospel. In it, we hear Jesus praying for his disciples. Now we might be tempted to think that Jesus is only talking about the twelve original apostles, or maybe the band of followers that have gathered around Jesus. But if you remember that a “disciple” is in fact a friend and apprentice of Jesus, all of us folks who believe in Jesus, who have confessed Jesus, and all of us who’ve been baptized are all his disciples.

We are all friends and appentices of Jesus Christ.

Whuch means that Jesus is praying for all of us! He prays that we all may be one. Let’s think about what means for all of us Christians, today and every day.

Jesus prays that we may be one even as Jesus and the Father are one. Notice that even Jesus, the “word”—the logos—that God spoke to make all things come into being, prays to be one with God. You’d think that for him the prayer would be redundant all over again! But Jesus shows us that relationship is at the very core of God’s being.

God did not choose to stand apart in solitary splendor far away from humanity and creation but instead chose to be intimately involved to the point of being born, living a human life, and dying a human death so that we might experience new life one with each other. The Gospel also teaches us that Jesus’ mission is to draw all humanity—that’s us and everyone else—into close relationship with God. Over and over again we find in scripture the truth that Godself is best shown in relationship.

But wait, there’s more! In Jesus’ prayer, we discover that he wants us to be one with each other.

To be One with God means to be One with Christ, and to be One with Christ means that we must be One with each other.  Christians are meant to be One. We are meant to be in community. 

For the Church to be One, there has to be many of us together following Christ. And to be One with God in Christ, means that we must be at unity with other Christians.

There are many things that can trip up our unity with each other and so get in the way with our Oneness with God in Christ. Let’s look at two of them.

The first is that we may mistake agreement for unity. We all hate conflict and are uncomfortable around disagreement, so we look for peace at all costs, which if we are not careful can feel plastic, constricting and fake. But we can never avoid difference and change because we are all different and we all bring unique gifts to the table. Over and over again, in the New Testament shows us that our diversity serves our unity, which is why we call what we are a communion and fellowship.

When I used to teach young people Confirmation class, I would talk about the Oneness of Christ’s people even as we’d visit different churches and experience how other Christians in other traditions (and other believers in other religions) worshipped and gathered in their own way. I often used this illustration: (Are you ready?)

How many flavors will you find in a Baskin-Robbins store? 31, that’s right! And it is all ice cream! How many flavors of church are there… lots! But we are all followers of Jesus!

Which just goes to show that oneness is not sameness. So we pray to resist the temptation of mistaking agreement for unity.

The other temptation is to be too private. Over and over again, we hear Christians talk about their relationship with Christ (if they talk about it at all) as a “personal” relationship. While it is certainly true that our walk with God in Christ is deeply personal, even spiritually intimate, it is not a personal possession to be kept to ourselves. We might be tempted to say that since the path I am on works so well for me, it’s got to be the best and only road to heaven… a kind of spiritual “my way or the highway!”

And many of us Episcopalians, and others in the so-called mainline churches, we have been taught that our religion and spirituality is a private thing, best kept out of polite conversation. To talk about our spiritual lives with any kind of frank honesty can appear intrusive and make us feel uncomfortable. And so we rarely talk about our prayer except in the most general terms, nor do we encourage people to inquire with each other as to what God is doing in our lives or what gives their living purpose, hope and meaning. An overly private faith can mean that we never ask important questions out loud and that robs us of the ability to wrestle with important things. It also means that it’s hard to really let our faith inform our ethics. While we might not want to impose our beliefs on other people rudely, an overly private religion can get in the way of our growth and stop us from learning the language and habits of faith.

People tell me all the time “I am spiritual but not religious.” Okay. Leaving aside the implicit and unhelpful assumption that any outward form of faith—say, Sacramental Living—is “only” religious but not spiritual and therefore somehow invalid… if discussing our faith and talking about what moves us spiritually is taboo…if it is embarrassing or feels “weird”…how can we ever grow in the spirituality that we claim is so important? 

And, I don’t know about you, the truth is that when I am left to my own devices, I am a spiritual klutz, always bumping into things. I need help.

To live out Jesus’ prayer that we be One as He and the Father are One, requires us to be conscious of how God is at work in our lives. And to be conscious of God at work in us, we have to find the language of how to talk about God, our faith, and what gives our lives meaning and ask our questions in a way that feels natural, safe, and comfortable for us. We need the help of people who are on the same journey. Christian community provides the spiritual companionship we need to help us discover that we are indeed One with God in Christ.

Some years ago, I was at a men’s retreat put on by the Brotherhood of St. Andrew (a kind of Daughters of the King but for men), and during the weekend I found myself in a conversation with five other men none of whom I met before but all of whom were engineers or in a technical or scientific profession. They were continuing a conversation that I came in the middle of. It started when one of them asked out loud “How can I believe in Jesus, when I am in a world that demands empirical proof and evidence?” So here I was listening to a group of men talk about faith, science, engineering and meaning.

This was not a debate. No one was trying to change anyone’s mind. And yet it was a very animated discussion. The excitement came from the fact that these men were sharing each other’s story. It was a conversation that rarely happens and yet it was on the minds of these men all the time, just without an outlet.

Which leads me the best part of today’s Gospel. Jesus’ prayer that we may be one as he and the Father are one is already being fulfilled! The incarnation, cross, and resurrection saw to that! We are already through our baptisms re-united with Christ! What we need is practice! We need time and help to rehearse the story of God in our lives. And shows us what it means to be one.

The second-century theologian Tertullian said, “One Christian is no Christian.” But so very often we are just like that little boy on the train… we want to do it all by ourselves! And that can be good, but sooner or later we discover that we also need each other. The Gospel reminds us that we are One only when we are learning and doing the work of Jesus together. In our faith and baptisms, we are one as Jesus and the Father are one, and together we can practice making Jesus’ prayer come true every day.

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Scripture for the Seventh Sunday of Easter, Year C, June 1, 2025

Website for Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd, Dunedin, Florida

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here

Here is the bulletin for the Seventh Sunday of Easter, Year C, June 1, 2025, the Church of the Good Shepherd, Dunedin, Florida.

Here is the livestream of the June 1, 2025 9 a.m. liturgy at Good Shepherd, Dunedin, Florida (sermon starts after 37:15).

A Cliffhanger for the Soul

Pop-quiz, sports fans: what is the longest parable in all of the Gospels? Yup, that’s right, it’s the one I just read: the Jesus-story usually called “the parable of the prodigal son.” 

You know what’s really weird about this parable? For all of its colorful details, we don’t know how it ends! Think about it. It’s like those limited series we like to binge-watch, with a cliff-hanger at the end of each episode right before the credits that make you go “Ahhh!”

How does it turn out?

 

Will the faithful son go into the party and greet his brother? 

Does the returning little brother realize that his big brother is not at the party and seek him out? 

Will the father ever witness his two estranged sons embrace? 

And the biggest question of them all: which character do you identify with the most?

Ouch!

In this parable Jesus invites us to walk with both sons and the father, so that we can listen to how God is calling each of us.

The story of the two estranged sons and their father only appears in Luke’s Gospel and none of the other three, but it is probably one of the most famous of all Jesus’ teachings. It comes at the end of a long string of other parables in Luke about how much God values everyone. 

God’s love, Jesus says, is like a shepherd with a hundred sheep who, on losing one, leaves the ninety-nine and searches diligently for the one lost sheep. 

God’s love, Jesus says, is like a woman with ten gold coins who, on losing one, turns the whole house upside down and sweeps every nook and cranny until she finds it. 

In Luke's Gospel, we are hearing a story that explains why it is that God has expanded the Covenant circle to not just include the Jewish nation but all people. The original covenant people--as seen in the oldest son-- are not left out, and the people who joined in or even returned to the Covenant community--as seen in the youngest son--are not only welcomed in! So this is also a story of how God's love works and is available to everyone. 

But it is not only the searching and the finding that is important, but the rejoicing is essential! Jesus says God rejoices when even one lost person is found. The shepherd rejoices to find the one lost sheep. The woman calls all her friends and neighbors and rejoices with them, endlessly telling them the story of the coin she lost and how relieved she was to find it. You can almost hear her say “You’ll never believe where I found it…it was in the last place I looked!”  And Jesus tells us in Luke’s Gospel that the church (that’s us, the gathered people of God!) is to rejoice whenever anyone comes to themselves, comes home and is welcomed by God and God’s people.

I think that this is why so many churches host 12-step meetings, like AA, NA, OA, CODA, and all the other Anonymous’. It’s not the cheap rent that brings these groups into our parish halls. It’s what the Church does! It is why we are here! And it’s what Jesus does for us!

The late Henri Nouwen, who was a Dutch Roman Catholic priest, spiritual director and writer, meditated on this parable as it was portrayed in Rembrandt’s painting “The Return of the Prodigal Son.”  He first saw the painting as a poster in someone’s office and was immediately taken by it. The image spoke to him at once! Years later, he was given the chance to view the real thing at The Hermitage in St. Petersburg, Russia, where it hangs today. Nouwen wrote a book about his encounter with the painting and Jesus’ parable in his book The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Homecoming. He said that for every Christian, for every person, there is a need, a call to come home. There is a need and a longing to come home and be embraced and loved for who we are—all of us, even the parts of us that wander away.

 

We have all, at one time or another, also been like the son who leaves. Nouwen wrote that, when we come back, just like the youngest son, we discover that God is not interested in our prepared, over-rehearsed speeches. All of us have counted up our wrongs and found ourselves wanting, and all of us hope that we might get some small job just to keep us warm, fed and occupied. Not much, we tell ourselves, just enough, because we know we don’t deserve anything else. Just a little kindness will do. We learn from Jesus that God is not interested in reminding us over and over again of our failings. God is not interested in sharing crumbs. God wants us home. 

And, like the father in the story, God celebrates and calls in the whole family and neighborhood when we return.

Nouwen also says that all of us are like the son who stayed home. We count up our rights and our sacrifices and we expect our due. All of us at one time or another have demanded to be recognized and have felt injured or slighted when someone else got what we thought we deserved—especially if they’ve not been as good, or as competent, or as faithful as we have been.

 

We have all been the brother who stayed, and for us the challenge is to accept not only God’s justice, but more than that we must learn to accept God’s extravagant love and generous forgiveness. In his own way, the good son, when he refused to accept the wayward son’s welcome, becomes a prodigal himself.

And there is a third challenge in this parable, one that we often overlook. Nouwen reminds us that we are also called to be like the father in the story, the one who forgives and the one who welcomes; the one who is patient and the one who coaxes and the one who never loses faith. It is the father who not only runs out to greet the wayward son on his return and embraces him; but it is also the father who leaves the party and enters the darkness to stand with the faithful son and embraces him as well. My hunch is that the father allowed the youngest son to go off to the Big City because he understood that this might be how he learns about life and himself. In this story the father shows us that God’s love is not a zero-sum game with only winners and losers. Jesus’ parable reminds that God never says, “I told you so!”

Jesus reminds us in the Gospel lesson that the feast is for everyone. “All that I have is yours” the father says to the faithful but angry son outside the party. “You are always with me.”  For us to take on the role of the father is to find the language and the way to welcome all God’s people into the feast and rejoice that everyone is there.

So … who are you in this story? 

I think Jesus’ parable of the Two Prodigals and their Dad is a kind of a spiritual Rorschach test. You know one of those tests that therapists used to do to get you to speak what you see in a blob of ink. Probably the person in the story with whom we identify the most and the person who irritates us the most, are teaching us something about where we are spiritually and where we need to grow. 

At the heart of the father’s love that Jesus talks about in this story is empathy. Empathy is a much-maligned attribute lately. Some, like a certain gazzilionaire in the news lately, thinks it is a weakness. But without God’s astounding empathy… which we Christians know is made manifest in the incarnation, where God lives and walks amongst us in the person of Jesus… none of us would have a chance at life. Without empathy, the lost son is not welcomed, the faithful son is forgotten, and this family that Jesus presents us-- Jews and Gentile, male and female, slave and free-- falls apart.

As we move closer and closer to the journey to the cross and resurrection, we will become mindful of the fact that God has embraced all of us. We are called to embrace all the people God sends to us. Why? Because all of us at one time or another have been the wayward son who was welcomed beyond all expectation. And all of us have, at one time or another, been the faithful son who, despite doing everything "right," felt slighted or ignored. And since we live in a world filled with people who are seeking and people who are hurting, we need more and more to enter into the role of that loving father who welcomed both siblings into the banquet. 

And now for the cliffhanger: The only way for the faithful son and his wayward brother will embrace is when both of them accept the extravagant forgiveness of the father that neither son expected nor dreamed of. 

How will it turn out? For them? For us? For you and me? 

Let’s come to the banquet and find out!

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Scripture for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year C, March 30, 2025

Website for Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd, Dunedin, Florida

Here is the bulletin for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year C, (or this 10 AM liturgy bulletin)  for March 30, 2025, the Church of the Good Shepherd, Dunedin, Florida.

Here is the livestream of the March 30, 2025 10 a.m. liturgy at Good Shepherd, Dunedin, Florida.

If you want to go deeper: Here is Bishop Nick Knisely's (Rhode Island) sermon on this passage, which helped me sort through some of the questions on empathy that I was pondering this week as I studied this week's Gospel.