Sermon: Jesus is There. And There.

Photo by Edwin Andrade on Unsplash

Sermon Preached on July 22, 2018

Proper 11B RCL

The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse,

Director of the Whitaker Institute, 

Episcopal Diocese of Michigan

All Saints Episcopal Church, East Lansing, MI

Listen here

Good morning.  My name is Rev. Vicki Hesse.

I serve the Diocese as the Director of the Whitaker Institute.

The Whitaker Institute is the educational arm of the Diocese.

Ask: Who here has taken a class from the Whitaker Institute? 

Our overall purpose is (slowly)

to form disciples to carry on the ministry of Jesus Christ.

(that’s a big mission, but we have a big God!)

We do this through about a dozen Dio-wide programs that

educate, equip and empower

members of our faith community with lifelong formation.

Three programs you may know include:

Safe Church courses (now being revised),

“Academy for Vocational Leadership,” a local school for ordained ministry and

“Exploring Your Spiritual Journey,” aka EYSJ,

for anyone (lay or called to ordination) to learn how God is calling them.

These are only three of several programs.

Perhaps there will be time at coffee hour

to learn more about learning and working together

for mutual transformation.

So thank you Pastor Kit, who is on vacation this week,

for your invitation to be here today. 

Intro

Some of you were raised Episcopalian,

others came to this church from other denominations. 

My early denomination was church of the outdoor sports-

hiking, biking, riding.

And early in my conscious adult relationship with God,

before I was baptized,

my friend Mary Ann invited me

to a deserted place to rest awhile. 

We both had busy lives in IT – she in CT and me in CO. 

We needed to rest.

She had heard about this retreat being offered in Wyoming

by author Marcus Borg and

she thought that I might be interested.

The ranch was sparsely inhabited,

with a lodge and half a dozen cabins

scattered throughout the gray, sage-dotted hills

with a barn and corral where they kept horses for trail rides.

I mostly went because Mary Ann was a good friend

and I needed a break.

At the first evening after dinner,

we gathered in the living room.

We introduced ourselves, why we were there and what we hoped for.

I sheepishly gave my reason as rest and time with my friend.

Others were there for more profound reasons.

Soon, Borg began delving into scripture with

a review of his (then) most recent book,

Reading the Bible Again for the First Time. 

As he told of the metaphorical and

image-packed understanding of the bible,

I was drawn in.

God captured me through a passion of learning and discovery

that placed inside me a deep desire to know more

and to feel God’s love and forgiveness. 

During those seven days,

I could hardly wait for the evening sessions. 

Those sessions healed my scars

from bible-thumping-literalists

that I had previously experienced.

Who knew that learning could be so healing?

Well, apparently Jesus did. 

Because in today’s gospel story,

we hear about how when the disciples had

“come away to the deserted place,”

they and Jesus were met at their retreat destination. 

So many people recognized them

and arrived ahead of them

that the place seemed to Jesus like they were

in a field of sheep without a shepherd. 

So what did he do? He taught them. 

Jesus knew that learning could be so healing. 

Interestingly, the term we read here as

“deserted” or “uninhabited” place

is same word used in the opening chapter of the gospel,

“describing both where

Jesus spent forty days in the desert before his ministry began

and

the place to which he withdrew to pray after his first healing miracles.”[1]

Jesus must have sensed their combined fatigue

and excitement like he had felt

and invited them to pray together.

And that is where we, too, can find Jesus.

In deserted, uninhabited places. 

Not only in comfortable spa-like settings,

where we feel God’s presence when times are good.

But also in

Those dry prayer-free parts of our inner lives

where God seems so distance.  There is Jesus.

Those parched, painful, grieving places we know

when our best friend dies or

our when our aunt receives a diagnosis of cancer.  There is Jesus.

Those dehydrated, isolated places

where no one seems to know that we are despairing

with harsh questions about why anything matters.  There is Jesus.

Those wind-swept, uncivil, political bantering places

that are so pervasive in our society. There is Jesus.

Do you want to meet Jesus?

Go so those deserted, uninhabited places.  There is Jesus.

Just know, however, that a crowd might be there.

For when the crowd sees the disciples in the boat

Leaving the shore, they run ahead and greet them.

So deserted places remain so for only a short time.

There, the people are rushing about seeking healing.

Yearning for God.

Aching in pain.

Complaining about the negative society.

Lamenting oppression and discrimination.

Throughout the whole region, in villages or cities or farms,

wherever Jesus goes,

they beg for healing love. They beg for healing heartache. They beg for forgiveness. They beg for liberation from debts. They beg for kindness from others.

And that is where Jesus is, in the midst of them.

(pause)

Earlier this year,

Whitaker hosted priest Mike Kinman,

who was Dean of the Cathedral in St. Louis, MO.

He was there during that wilderness experience

of the city during the Ferguson shooting of Michael Brown.

The riots came near the church, he said,  

so he and a group of clergy spoke on the phone

and agreed to meet in the next day

for a panel discussion about the situation.

And there, he was convicted for not wanting to meet Jesus. 

For one of the Baptist pastors got up from the panel discussion

and went out into the crowd. 

Calling Kinman to join him. 

As he did so, with some trepidation,

Kinman met the participants in what is now known

as the #blacklivesmatter movement. 

These protestors were vulnerable. They were different from him. 

Mostly young, black, women, who spoke truth to power and with passion. 

Kinman recalled something like,

“that is where I met Jesus that day, in the midst of the crowd,

in the movement of the spirit, with the chaos and fear

and love that the crowd shared.

"My pastor friend said to me,

“If you want to meet Jesus, you gotta get out on the street.”

He was right.  I felt very vulnerable and very loved by God.”[2]

Kinman continued, “How do you know when you have met Jesus?

“You weep more. You laugh more. You get more confused.

You struggle more.”

And you know you are beloved,

made in the image of God, and nothing can take that away from you.”[3]

So there was this crowd

And there was Jesus, in the midst of it. 

The people begged him that they might touch “even the fringe of his cloak.” 

They begged to be in his personal space, where you can feel the healing. 

That’s what Kinman experienced.

That’s what we experience, too, when we are serving others,

in the presence of their vulnerability

and in the sharing of our vulnerability.

That vulnerability is the fringe of Jesus’ cloak.

The good news today is that

God in Jesus loves you and forgives you

whether you recognize him or not.

You can seek him out in deserted, uninhabited places of your life.

Or you can jump into the fray of people

milling about like sheep without a shepherd. 

In these seemly dissimilar places, Jesus is there. 

You will recognize him.

And, Jesus already recognizes you.

Jesus is working in your life already

in more ways that you can ask or imagine. 

So rest awhile in his love.

Feel that peace that the world cannot give –

that comes through the presence of Jesus. 

Come close to the fringe and be healed.

Amen

---

[1] Commentary on Gospel of Mark, New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume VIII, page 600

[2] From my memory at Epiphanies Conference, February 21,2018. St. John’s Episcopal Church, Royal Oak, MI

[3] Article by The Rev. Jonathan Sams, The Record – a publication of The Episcopal Diocese of Michigan

Sermon: Flag and Font and Feast

Sermon for July 5, 2015

Independence Day (Observed)

The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse

St. Philip’s In The Hills, Tucson, AZ

Lord, Open our Lips,

that our mouth shall proclaim your praise.  Amen

Listen to this sermon here. 

Good morning!

The 4^th of July

has always been my favorite holiday. 

During my youth,

my mother went all out with hospitality,

inviting friends and neighbors to our home

for a day of play and a special feast. 

We churned homemade ice cream,

snacked on deviled eggs

and enjoyed my mother’s special Paella dish followed by dessert of Baked Alaska Flambé. 

It was a favorite holiday because

we shared it with friends and neighbors.

It was a celebration not of independence,

but interdependence,

marking how we depended on each other

not only for the joy of the day

but the sustenance of our whole lives.

On the 4^th of July,

we hold the tension of two messages:

One:

“you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism

and marked as Christ’s own forever”[1]

and

Two:

“I pledge allegiance to the flag

of the United States of America,

and to the republic for which it stands…”[2]

On July 4^th, there is a special aura

surrounding the character of “independence,”

fueling the US break up

from the authority of England

and manifesting in the American Revolution’s

permanent chasm

between the colonies and their distant rulers. 

July 4^th is the day the Founding Fathers

ratified with pride, our national independence:

statehood, sovereignty and completeness.[3]

However, the Founding Fathers

did not want just to be free from foreign rule,

they also wanted a new way of

being in community.

Which is why they,

“mutually pledged to each other their lives,

their fortunes, their sacred honor.”[4] 

So it is that every 4^th of July

we reflect on our dependence upon each other,

of which the readings remind us.

The letter to the Hebrews recalls

those who died in faith of God’s promises,

who, like Abraham,

set out not knowing where they were going,

but trusted in the Lord. 

Like those refugees and immigrants,

we, too, are strangers and foreigners

on the earth, seeking God’s reign,

not our own.

We are not owners of the land,

Hebrews reminds us, we are stewards. 

And as stewards, we are called

(as read in Deuteronomy):

·        to welcome the stranger with love,

·        to feed and clothe the stranger

·        to act with justice to

the weakest and most marginalized

in the community.  

In the gospel reading from Matthew,

Jesus critiques cultural independence

that was found even in his day, when he says,

“you have heard it said

“You shall love your neighbor

and hate your enemy.” 

He goes on to criticize unchecked individualism and self-reliance, rooted in mistrust.

Into this individualistic society,

Jesus said to them, and to us

LIVE with interdependence,

love your enemies, pray for hostile ones,

and

welcome, feed and clothe the stranger     and act with justice

with those on the margins.

With Jesus’ help, we can love and pray for all

with whom our lives are interwoven –

no matter how strange or weak or hostile

or pained or painful they are. 

Pray for those who persecute you, Jesus says,   

because prayer opens hearts

and weaves us together.

Because being dependent on others

can be a sign of strength. 

Because when we trust another person,

we reflect the Body of Christ:

where we need everyone –

with unique gifts and eccentricities

and quirkiness –

we need everyone in order to be complete.

       

So who in your life needs prayer and love?

Who needs restoration into

God’s interdependent community? 

Take a moment to hold that person in your heart, or as they say in 12-step program: perhaps you can become willing to become willing

to hold that person in your heart –

just for a moment.

pause

It is in the tension between

our baptism and our pledge of allegiance,

that we enter worship today. 

We enter worshiping and witnessing to the truth

that we are citizens of a community

wider than our nation.

We enter as members of the body of Christ,

Christians without borders.[5] 

In baptism, we pledge allegiance

not to any earthly power

but to the sovereign God of the universe

revealed in Jesus.

In baptism,

we join the ongoing story of salvation & freedom

that marks every day as “dependence day.” 

In baptism,

we acknowledge our reliance on God

and our dependence on community.

And God’s mark on our lives -

as one of the beloved, interwoven community -

transcends all other identities-

whether female or male or trans,

black or white or brown,

gay or straight or questioning. 

God loves us for who we are.

So while we honor “independence” day

of our nation, we also declare our

“dependence” on the triune God.

The triune God into whose name we are baptized

renews and restores

our connection to the whole created order.

The triune God into whose name we are baptized

calls us to live an interdependent life

so that we may become channels

of love, mercy and justice in the world.

The triune God into whose name we are baptized

grants us the true freedom

that we enjoy on the 4^th of July

and every day.

How do we celebrate this dependence on God?

Pause – well, here’s a story.

The last scene of the film

“Places in the Heart,” shows

a small church in Texas (in 1935)

that is holding a communion service. 

While the few people in the sanctuary

are eeking out the hymn Blessed Assurance,

something unexpected happens.

As the parishioners pass the bread and wine,

more people appear in the pews –

those whose lives are woven together:

the bank president

who tried to foreclose on a young widow;

the white men

who lynched a black boy

after he mistakenly shot

the town’s beloved sheriff;

the players in the honky-tonk band

and the groupies who followed them

from dance to dance;

the African American laborer

who had helped the young widow

bring in a prizewinning crop of cotton and the Klansmen

who drove him out of town; and, finally,

the sheriff himself

and the boy who had killed him.

‘The peace of Christ,’ the sheriff says to the boy

as he shares the bread and wine.

‘The peace of Christ,’

the boy whispers in return.[6]

pause

Today, in the tension of flag and font,

God transcends the choice

with a sacrament of interdependence:

which we call “Communion” -

the bread of life and the cup of salvation.

God invites us to an eternal feast,

the Feast of Resurrection,

where in communion with all the saints,

past, present, and yet to come

we celebrate our dependence on each other.

The good news today is that

Through the font and the feast,

God’s love binds us together

for the joy of the day and

for the sustenance of our whole lives.

Amen.

---

[1] Book of Common Prayer, Baptism, page 308

[2] The Pledge of Allegiance, posted here.

[3] Inspired by The Rev. Nils Chittenden’s sermon, “2013 Interdependence Day” that can be found here.

[4] From the Declaration of Independence cited here on Wikipedia, excerpt of which was read aloud by a Deacon in worship.

[5] Inspired by Debra Dean Murphy’s 2011 sermon, “Flag or Font?” posted here.

[6] Inspired by Kimberly Bracken Long, The Worshiping Body: The Art of Leading Worship, page 8-9