So... Who's next?

The Big Story of the Past Week is how two of the main television networks just shut down two late-night comedians for doing their craft... Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel. There is a video going around of a speech by John Stewart at the Kennedy Center reminding us that comedians are the "banana peel in the coal mine" (a wonderful image!), and that those in power are particularly sensitive to being made fun of. More precisely, tyrants hate being laughed at.

So, in addition, to suggesting that now might be a very good time to revisit and watch closely the film (and play) "Cabaret," and doing all we can to support and hold up not just free expression in the arts, but also holding up it's sibling, a free and unfettered press. 

We in the work of ministry, both lay and ordained, ought to be particularly watchful. Because, make no mistake, we're next. If not next, then we're at least on the list.

It's strangely odd and ironic (not to mention moronic), that the folks cheering on the powers that shut down both Kimmel and Colbert, are often in their way super-duper religious, and not so long ago they were cheering on a movie about a pastor and theologian, Dieterich Bonhoeffer, who was not only jailed, but later executed, for talking back to (and organizing against) the German fascist regime under Adolf Hitler. But their take on Bonhoeffer is deeply flawed and distorted, because for Matraxias (and his gang of a-historical preachers) to make this work outside the cinema, they have to make the actual tyrant into the good-guy, and  make the culture into the tyrant. Sure, mentioning this might strain Godwin's Law to the breaking point, but it is nonetheless true.

So, if it's comedians today will it be clerics tomorrow?

I'm not trying to be dramatic here. I mean, I am sure that last January 20th, the President would have happily taken over and shut down the Cathedral Church of St. Peter and St. Paul in Washington, DC (aka the "National Cathedral") because the Episcopal Bishop of Washington spoke of the need for mercy and her prayer that the newly inaugurated president would exercise that cardinal virtue in his administration. 

His reaction? He said, "It was boring." Yeah, right. Sure. He always says that when the critique has hit home, except that instead of yawning theatrically during the sermon, he gets mad and stewed about it. Just replay the video and look at the people sitting around the president, who were watching him carefully, weighing his reactions as frightened children do around an abusive parent. Because the problem is that when El Jeffe gets mad, he gets even, and he will not be happy until his opponents are both humiliated and annihilated.

Just look at the recent cabinet meeting when (and not for the first time) each member of the cabinet took turns praising the president for his wit, wisdom, intelligence, and vision. No honest assessments here, and the only bad news for this crew will be whatever the boss wants to hear.

Which brings me back to my question... who's next?

Pastor Martin Niemöller's poem, "First They Came," comes to mind, and if you haven't already thought of it or don't know it, take a moment and read it here. 

The bottom line is that when the networks have been cowed, the comics silenced, the press shackled, and those in power even down to the most local level have all lined up in obedience, who will speak about ethics, morals, justice, and who will speak for the powerless, the imprisoned, and the silenced? 

Sure, there are plenty of clerics who are thrilled that voices that offend them (or make fun of them) are knocked off the air. But that's only biblical, just look at the all the court prophets who sidled up to the kings of Israel and Judah, while the biblical prophets were put to death or chased into the deserts. As someone once said, "they have their reward." 

We know when it will happen: when denominations are held hostage, threatened, and taken to to court for doing what faithful people do, then we'll know.

It's already been tried here and there on the micro level. Like the recent wrangle between a Christ Episcopal parish in Tom's River, New Jersey, when the local mayor tried to use eminent domain to take over the church's property because he did not want the feeding and sheltering of the homeless which would mess up his plans for an expanded park in his beach front town. He apparently wanted the church property used for pickleball. His plan didn't work, but it's a hint at things to come.

It looks like it's only a matter of time before the current administration tries to use to the power of government to regulate, reign in, and control religious expression. It probably won't happen quickly, but there will be indicators along the way. 

We'll know by the clerics who are invited into the White House and those who are not. That's already happened.

But soon it will spread in other more subtle ways. When the government starts handing money to religious service groups that they agree with, instead of ones that are simply neutral-- or who speak out against things the government might do or say. 

Or when denominations are black-balled or punished because their preachers or conventions say things they don't like or go places they don't want them to go. 

Or when the government picks and chooses for churches what ethical and moral issues they may (or may not speak to), and pressures them into how they may act on it (as when, in some states, clerics could go to jail for officiating at inter-racial marriages). 

There are plenty of examples all through history, including our own, of faith communities and their leaders jailed, run out of down, and executed for going against the prevailing faith of the moment. It's not out of the question. 

And to tell you the truth, my own denomination and it's English forebears have been down that path. My own denomination does, after all, come from a state church tradition. And our forbears have both been jailed by their religious enemies, working in cahoots-- heck! who were the government! (Remember Oliver Cromwell, as well as the New England Puritans?) My tradition also participated with the government in religious coercion (think the so-called Indian Schools in both the US and Canada run by Episcopalians and Anglicans). So we don't come to this debate either cleanly or naively.

Which bring us back to the question: if it's comics today, who's next? Artists? Musicians? Writers? Scientists? Journalists? If that's the case, then theologians, clerics, and the everyday faithful will not far behind.

Many folks say that religion enjoys a special, even a favored, space in the public square. And some don't like that. Every now and then, we'll go through a cycle where someone grouses about the tax-exemption for houses of worship and their ministries. Churches, synagogues, mosques, of all stripes and varieties can be (if they do the paperwork... it's not automatic... and mileage varies by state and municipality) tax-exempt along with charities, private schools and universities, not-for-profit hospitals, and so on. 

Despite the claim that this is an unconstitutional favoring of government towards religion, if you look closely, it's not really. The people who don't like this set up forget that the point of the charitable tax-exemption is that these institutions--both religious and secular-- do a civic good that government cannot or should not do. 

At the same time, the critics have a point, but only if the exemption went only to particular traditions or denominations leaving the rest out. But every religious group can benefit from this if they choose... which is why some unscrupulous folks sell mail order ordinations and set up religious-looking groups as they try to rake in the dough without either oversight or taxation in their desire to cash in.  

[Hey, look, I live in Clearwater, Florida, where L. Ron Hubbard set up shop, so I know how this can play out in the extreme! Keep in mind that one of the first signs of a religious charlatan is that they deliberately avoid interacting with other faith groups except when they want to cherry-pick members. They want all the perks and none of the accountability. Our local group ain't the first to play this game, but they do it on a grand scale! But I digress.]

Anyway, that's the risk you take when you treat everyone the same. Most of the folks claiming the various religious exemptions are sincere and ethical. Some are not, which gives the rest of us a bad name. But as, Uncle Ben said to Peter Parker, with great power comes great responsibility. Religious groups who claim the exemption have the responsibility to use that privilege to do social and civic good. 

One of those responsibilities means promoting civil conversations about public ethics. The government doesn't tell us what to believe, how to worship, how we organize ourselves, and whom we select as our ministers, precisely so that we can be free to talk about morals, ethics, justice, and meaning freely and without coercion.

The rub comes when people in power do things that are immoral, unethical, unjust, and coerce others into either cooperation or silence. If the government starts doing that, who will speak up? If not the faith community, then who? Naturally, there are journalists, activists, scholars, citizens, and even (occasionally) politicians. But the faith community, no matter their tradition or beliefs (even non-theistic faiths) have a particular skill set  in ethics (or they ought to!) so they have an important role in freely and firmly speaking on these issues in the public square. 

Yeah, but, I hear you say, religious groups don't not always agree... to which I say, that's kinda the point!

So when certain things happen, especially when the pace picks up, we need to pay attention.

It was not an accident the day that President Trump decided to use the power of the military and police to clear a crowd and march across the street to St. John's Episcopal Church, Lafayette Square. [Also see here.] 

Nor is it an accident that he sells Bibles interwoven with civic documents and embossed with his signature. 

And it is not happenstance when he gathers ministers and evangelists (most of whom have a television, broadcast, and internet presence) to gather around him in a show of prayer. 

Or when he goes to the Museum of the Bible and declares that the government ought to "encourage" an hour of prayer per week. Which begs the question, would that 'encouragement' look like and who would design, promulgate, and enforce it?

Then, to top it all off,  there is his strange image of Trump dressed as a Bishop on an official White House web site. He said he was only joking. As Pope Leo pointed out, he is sending a message.

The message is as clear as the recent cancelling of Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel, and the taking over of the Kennedy Center. He was crystal clear during the cabinet meeting where the time was spent lavishing praise on the President. He showed his hand in his reaction to Bishop Marianne Budde's sermon at the National Cathedral on Inauguration Day. It's very clear that as far as the White House is concerned, the only messages that should come from stages, screens, and pulpits are ones approved by the Administration... and these must always compliment the president.

Imagine! Imagine when the power of government is used to regulate what is preached, taught, and worshipped in your local congregation. Sooner or later, someone will decide that the price for the privilege of being a charity, a school, a university, or a faith community will be constant and consistent fealty to The Leader. 

In this kind of world, the cost of disobedience won't just be taxation... it will be regulation. And regulation requires monitoring. And monitoring means the end of the trust that is the heart of a healthy civic life. 

The question is: who's next?

Grace over bondage

It’s probably safe to say that the typical Christian in today's world doesn't read an entire book of the Bible in a day. And even safer to say this usually doesn't happen before lunch.

Well, I want to congratulate our lectors this morning, because that’s exactly what they did! Yes, you, too, can go home astound your friends and family by telling them “I read a whole book of the Bible today!”  Or, you can flop down in the living room chair and exclaim “Whew! Today I sat in church long enough for them to have read a whole book of the Bible today!” That’s got to be worth something! Yessiree! Our lector read a whole of Paul's Letter to Philemon, (well, except for four verses that the lectionary people cut out for some strange reason, but that’s close enough.)

Okay, okay, Philemon isn't a long theological treatise like Romans or Galatians. It’s not a double-barreled letter like 1^st and 2^nd Corinthians. By comparison, it’s kind of a bookmark. Or more precisely a bookplate. But it gives Paul and a few other early Christians a very human face because it sheds light on a culture that is so very different from ours and a glimpse of how real, live early Christians actually lived their lives.

Here's the story: Onesimus was a slave, and he was a Christian. Philemon was a Christian, too. But Philemon owned Onesimus. Apparently, Onesimus ran away or else did something against Philemon's wishes. And after Onesimus ran away he somehow ended up working with the apostle Paul.

Paul is schmoozing Philemon, laying it on thick, because he wants Philemon to let Onesimus go so that he would have the freedom to travel with Paul. Was sending Onesimus home to be freed and reconciled or would he face the music instead?

Notice that Paul is not above a little Christian arm-twisting, because even though the letter is written to one man, you know that the entire congregation or cluster of congregations around Ephesus, where Philemon lived, was watching to see what he would do. Would he welcome Onesimus home as a brother in Christ or take him back as a runaway slave and punish him? Of course, Philemon could have split the difference: welcome Onesimus home as a Christian slave with little or no punishment. But that’s not what Paul was asking…he wanted Onesimus to come back to Paul a free man.

Okay. That’s nice. So what? This letter is so short that it’s practically a bookmark in the New Testament. The average Christian doesn’t even know it’s there. And, besides, the letter’s context is so totally and completely different than ours that it might seem totally irrelevant to us. (By the way, in the ante-bellum South, slave owners hated this letter and either twisted it justify themselves or wished it was cut out of the Bible entirely!)

But look again. Here are three people (Paul, Onesimus and Philemon) struggling to live out their faith while being challenged by it over and over again. There’s an awful lot packed into a couple dozen Bible verses!

I don’t know about you, but what Jesus says in today’s Gospel makes me pretty uncomfortable, too. He says that when we follow him, we are to hate—hate! —family, kinship, possessions, and everything we hold dear. What Jesus means is that it will take work, discipline—and practice! — to put Christ at the forefront of our living and following Jesus will challenge our priorities and change our decision-making. If you don’t believe me, ask Philemon.

Paul is asking Philemon to put aside his pride and treat Onesimus as a brother in Christ. It doesn’t matter if Philemon is right and has custom (and the law!) on his side. Paul in fact sets that all aside when he to writes Philemon these words, “I am sending him back to you, no longer as a slave, but as a beloved brother.” Look at what Paul is doing. He does not appeal to Philemon on the basis of law, but on the basis of love, in verse eight, he says: “Though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love.”

Paul is asking Philemon as a true Christian to accept Onesimus back as a brother in Christ, and not as a slave under the law! Paul is asking Philemon the slave-owner to receive Onesimus, as a Christian brother. Paul is asking Philemon to choose grace.

The brilliance of this move is that Paul neither breaks the law of the land nor the law of the gospel. He says, “Yes, go back to your former home, but as new people in Christ.”

I love this little letter because it shows us what faith looks when the rubber meets the road. And it also shines a harsh light on the goings on in today’s world. I mean, what issues and relationships try our faith today? If someone were to appeal to us on the basis of faith to change something in our lives, what would it be? And what would be the effect of that change? In a world where people get wound up over everything from migration to wealth and poverty, to how we might deal with school shootings and who go mildly berserk over how we memorialize the victims of night-club massacres-- I mean, painting over cross walks at 3 a.m. Really?-- what Paul is asking of Philemon cuts to the quick. 

And just in case you think that I or someone in the Episcopal Church chose this passage just to needle us, remember that this letter was written two millennia ago and was added to the lectionary fifty years ago. After all that time, the promise of this little letter shows us that the deeper we go in our Christian living, and the more we conform our lives to Christ, the bigger the change we will see, the greater the challenges we’ll feel, the more lives we will touch with grace and hope.

So, how did it turn out? What did Philemon do? What happened to Onesimus? We don’t precisely know but we have some clues. 

There's some evidence in the early Christian church that there was a "Bishop Onesimus" in the city of Ephesus in Greece, a church founded by Paul. The story goes that this Bishop was so grateful for the witness and Christian love of St. Paul that he preserved many of his epistles. And to prove his bona fides to collect Paul's epistles, he included this little letter showing how he was freed from one life and set on course for something new.

Today we’ve had a taste of what first century Christianity was like in the first decades after Jesus’ resurrection.  And guess what? It doesn’t look all that different from what people like you and me must deal with every day!

Imagine what would happen if Christians today approached each other and our tough choices with the same sense of prayer, compassion, risk, and hope that Paul, Onesimus and Philemon exercised together! What would life be like if following Christ was more important in our everyday living than kinship, politics, country and custom? Would it be easy? Probably not! Ask Philemon! Would it be life-changing? You bet! Ask Onesimus! Would it make a difference? Look around! Because right here, right now, is what faith looks like where the rubber meets the road.

+ + +   + + +   + + +

Scripture for the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 18, Year C, September 7, 2025

Website for St. Chad's Episcopal Church, Tampa, Florida

Learn more about the Diocese of Southwest Florida here

Here is the bulletin for the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, September 7, 2025, St Chad's Episcopal Church, Tampa, Florida.

Friend, Come Higher

There is this old routine done by the late puppeteer and ventriloquist Shari Lewis where she is talking with her hand-puppet friend, Lamb Chop, about her (Lamb Chop’s) table manners.

Lewis says to Lamb Chop: I was very disappointed in how you acted when we had dinner guests last night.

Lamb Chop: Why? 

Shari: Because when the food was set at the table, you just grabbed all the food off the plates and ate it up before anyone else had a chance!

LC: Oh. (pause) Well, what would you have done?

Shari: I would have waited to go last.

LC: Well, you were last, so what’s the problem?

And it goes on like that, back and forth with Shari trying to teach little Lamb Chop in vain about how to be a good guest and how to be a good host.

In today’s Gospel, we see Jesus at the home of a Pharisee trying to teach him about how to be a good guest and how to be a good host.

All through his Gospel, Luke shows us Jesus eating and drinking and with all kinds of people, from Matthew, the hated tax collector, right through to his Last Supper at Passover with his disciples.  Luke’s Gospel tells us how Jesus fed the multitudes...twice! In Luke’s Jesus is at table with everyone, rich and poor, men and women, you name it!

But why all this eating and drinking? For Jesus, the meal, the table and the banquet, is an image of what God’s reign in like. He says that being in relationship to God is like being at a feast…where only strangers and the poor are invited!

Jesus says that the kingdom of God is like coming in to the party and not only being greeted but being escorted to the best seat in the house.  We don’t need to bluster, bully or pretend. And we certainly don’t have to reach across the table and grab what we want and stuff our faces. We don’t need to charm the bouncer at God’s banquet, either.  In today’s Gospel, Jesus says that at God’s banquet, we are seen for exactly who we are and—surprise! —we are invited to the head table!

But wait! There’s more! Look at Jesus’ invitation list. His banquet is open to everyone! Typically, we invite only people we like, or people we want to impress, or people who are like us, people we don’t want to offend. That’s natural. But God want us to live beyond the natural, to go the extra step into the supernatural: invite the stranger, the poor, the hungry, the outcast. Now maybe we don’t do that in our homes, but we can certainly do that here.

Jesus teaches us to welcome—and, more than that, to invite and usher in—to the table everyone who hungers, especially those whose hunger is beyond our ability to feed. Look at what Jesus teaches in the Gospels: the banquet, the feeding of the four- and five thousand, the communion table, the cross, all show us that God’s love is for everyone! And God’s grace is better than any heavenly Uber-eats because we don’t so much go to the banquet, but God brings it to us, where we live, as we are.

Are you a fan of old movies? I am! One of my favorite films is called "Places in the Heart." It pops up from time to time on one of the cable networks or you can find on Tubi or Amazon Prime or one of those. Set in Texas during the 1930s, “Places of the Heart” is a film about survival in the face of very difficult circumstances.  It talks about overcoming hatred with love, and how grace happens even among broken, imperfect people. Sally Field plays a poor widow with small children, and she won an Oscar for her role in this film.  Her character takes boarders into her home to help make ends meet on her dirt-poor farm. In the film, the two borders are a blind man, played by John Malkovich, and an African-American man, played by Danny Glover.  Glover is also her farm hand and farm manager and faces overt –sometimes violent – racism from Field's white racist neighbors. Malkovich is blind but he sees the world for what it is. Every meal that is set for the family and the guests becomes a kind of ritual, a meeting place, and a touchstone for whatever else is going on.

What I remember most is the final scene, set in a small country church during Holy Communion.  As Communion is being distributed, the camera shows us the congregation.  There, all around Sally Field's character, are not just the congregants, but also all the people who are and have been important in her life, both the living and the dead.  Despite all the conflict and difficulties of life and all the imperfections of that community, there they are. It’s not just a church service; it’s a heavenly banquet attended by the communion of saints.

Jesuit priest Fr. James Martin, reminds us of how Jesus’ teaching and ministry was all about embracing the outsider, the outcast, the stranger, and the migrant. He says:

‘How often have you been at a social gathering and gravitated towards the most popular, powerful or supposedly “important” person in the room? It’s natural; maybe this person has become popular because of some talent or notable accomplishment. So perhaps the “popular” person seems more interesting. But often we gravitate towards that person because of our own desire to be seen as popular, powerful or important as well. That is, we hope for a kind of “rubbing off” of the person’s importance.

“It’s natural, but it’s not what Jesus asks of us. When I [Martin] was in high school, one of my friends regularly spent time with fellow students who were seen as “uncool.” This impressed me deeply. It was like he had some sort of superpower: He didn’t care if others saw him as uncool. It was more important for him to treat others with dignity and kindness.

“Who are seen as “outcasts” today? That depends on what social milieu you are in, but you might say transgender people, migrants and refugees, the poor, homeless men and women, sometimes the elderly. Most of us aren’t so callous as to shut them out (though some people do this publicly, and even gleefully), but are there times when we could be more welcoming? It’s important to say without irony what we all want to hear ourselves: “Friend, come up higher.”

Jesus takes it a step further. Instead of taking the place of honor, take the place of humility… join with the outcast, the left behind, and the stranger and the host of the banquet, God our Creator, will say, “Friends, come up higher.”

A long time ago, when I was a student at Drew University, a Methodist-related college in New Jersey, I went to chapel every Tuesday night for Holy Communion. And every week, the celebrant (a religion professor and Methodist minister) would recite these words from a hymn written by Charles Wesley, Anglican priest and, with his brother John, founder of the Methodist movement, that went like this:

Come, sinners, to the gospel feast;
let ev'ry soul be Jesus’ guest.
Ye need not one be left behind,
for God hath bid all human-kind.

The Prayer Book has the rubric that when the consecrated bread and wine is presented to the assembly, the words “The Gifts of God, for the People of God” are said by the Celebrant. And over the course of my ministry it has become my custom to say something like to everyone at the offertory, “…this is Christ’s table, and you are all welcome to it.”

And you know what? Whenever I say that invitation, something like that movie image comes to my mind. Here we gather, in Christ’s presence with all the people who have ever touched our lives, some living and present, some moved away and moved on, some who have died, and yet… we are all here, at home, at table, sharing a great and wonderful feast together.

Whenever we come to this table, we come face to face to two truths: we are, all of us, the humble guest invited to “come higher” and we are the hosts, the maitre de, as it were, of Christ’s banquet who invite all comers, even the lowliest, the most unlikely people to sit and feast at God’s head table.

+ + +   + + +   + + +

Scripture for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 17, Year C, August 31, 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 Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Year C, August 31, 2025, St Mary's Episcopal Church, Dade City, Florida.

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!

+ + +   + + +   + + +

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.

+ + +    + + +   + + +

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. 

+ + +    + + +   + + +

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