Homily 12.3.16

2nd Sunday of Advent

Scripture Readings
Isaiah 11:1-10

Romans 15:1-9

Matthew 3:1-12

I don’t know about you, but I am feeling particularly grateful for this season of Advent this year. In what has been a year filled with divisive and hateful rhetoric, acts of violence, and now much fear and uncertainty, I am grateful for the rich images and symbols that Advent surrounds me with. The light of a candle flame conquering the darkness. A voice of reason crying out in the wilderness. A green shoot coming out of a dead tree stump. A reconciled creation. Gifts of hope surround us in our celebration tonight.

Fitting that we too are in a literal time of darkness as the days grow shorter, until the celebration of Christ, the incarnation entering the world, and then the light comes back a little more each day. We all have times of darkness and despair in our life. Advent reminds us that even in the deepest darkness, we can kindle the flame of hope, because in the words of my friend Claire Hitchens, “our darkness is not darkness, in your sight Lord in your sight, our deepest, deepest night Lord, is clear as day light.” (listen here)

The prophet Isaiah and the community of Judah in our first reading tonight knew about living in dark times. They knew about despair and fear, living under an oppressive empire. Isaiah's audience for our first reading tonight has had their rulers cut down like the stump left after a felled tree. There seems to be little reason to hope or rejoice, and yet it is out of this context that Isaiah reminds them of the power and promise of their God, who is greater than any earthly ruler or structure. Out of what seems to be dead and barren, new life will spring forth. And not just any new life, but a new leader who clothed in the gifts of the Spirit who will bring justice and righteousness, filling the earth with the knowledge of the Lord and bringing peace.

Now the people of Israel and Judah came from an oral tradition; they were great storytellers. And during their darkest moments, they would often look back, to look forward, remembering and praising God for the ways that God fulfilled her promise to their ancestors. Living under an unjust empire, they would recall how God led them out of Egypt and into the promised land. While being slaughtered and persecuted they would remember how God made a great nation from Abraham and Sarah with descendants to outnumber the stars. These stories reminded them of God’s promise that God is not only with them, but in the words of another great prophet, Jeremiah, has plans for them to prosper and not be harmed, will give them a future and a hope. Paul recognized this in his letter to the Romans we heard today, that all that was written in former days was to give us hope.

This tool of remembering our stories and looking back to cultivate hope is useful for all of us, and perhaps you have experienced it as well. When we are in our own moments of darkness and despair, when it feels hardest to find the hope of how things could possibly work out or get better, we are blessed to have those around us remind us of all we have already overcome, remind us of who we are and whose we are, remind us of God’s power, promise, and unfailing love.

Just recently I had two such experiences to draw me out of my own darkness and despair: one through the Call To Action Conference in Albuquerque and another at a special commitment ritual for a dear friend following her spiritual path. Surrounded by communities grounded in faith and hope, I was called out of myself and into the deeper reality of the Spirit of Life who is still just as present with us now as she was at the beginning of time. We shared stories of connection, life, reconciliation, and love. Being able to shift my consciousness from myself and my own worries, to the Spirit’s work in the world and reconnect to this larger web of light, life, and love that infuses all of creation, I was able to see and experience the hope that can only come from a deep connection to God and the infinite river of love that is always present for us to tap into.

Looking back at the stories of our ancestors in the bible, at the promises that they believed in even though they did not see them come to fruition, we have the benefit of knowing that a shoot did spring forth from the stump of Jesse, that people of all different backgrounds have been united through Christ, and that we have been gifted with the power of the Holy Spirit to bring about the kin-dom of heaven on earth. Who am I, of little faith, to doubt the power and promise of God in the world today? When I know that in just a couple weeks we will celebrate and remember how God’s infinite love did become incarnate in the person of Jesus, who through his life and message tuned us in to the reality of the kin-dom already present but not fully realized, and tasked us with continuing his holy work.

Advent provides us with a time to remember and prepare anew, to nurture hope so that we can act in faith as co-creators of God’s promise and plan for the world. And the hope we nurture this Advent season is not a passive or lazy hope. It is not a hope that allows us to sit back and wait for things to get better. No, the hope of Advent is an active, energizing hope, fueling a faith that calls us to act for justice here and now in order to bring about the shalom we are promised by our God. It is a hope that connects us to our ancestors and through their stories reminds us that with God, all things are possible. It is a hope fueled by knowledge, the lived experience, of a God who’s love is so big, and infinite, and mysterious that it took on flesh to fully enter into our human experience and free us from all that binds us and separates us.

I want to end with a beautiful quote I saw this week shared by one of our fellow ECC priests, that captures this idea: “Hope is the ability to hear the music of the future. Faith is having the courage to dance to it today.” When we are connected to the Spirit of Life, we can hear the music of a future where all people, and the whole of creation, can cooperate in harmony with one another. Let us have the faith to enter into this dance today, to live the promises of tomorrow. And so as we prepare to welcome Christ into the world anew, let us continue to nurture this active hope in one another to make the kin-dom of God that is already present and promised but not yet fully realized, a reality for all.

Amen

Homily 11.12.16

Homily from ECC Liturgy at Call To Action National Conference in Albuquerque, NM
(This was a shorter time frame and more interactive/smaller crowd)

Gospel: Luke 18:1-8

It’s been a tough week for many if not most of us. When we despair, we turn to our faith for wisdom and insight. The scripture that just happens to be the daily reading for today can offer us some insight into how to respond when facing injustice, when confronting an unjust judge. It also ties into our Conference theme: A Call to Mercy and Justice. How are we called to persistently pursue mercy and justice in the world today?

Did anyone catch the opening lines of our Gospel? What is this parable about? (response: the need to pray always without becoming weary)

So this is a story about prayer. What does prayer look like? (responses: action, protest, incarnation)

The widow in this story is incarnating prayer, making it take on her own flesh as she persistently and without ceasing advocates on her own behalf for justice. Prayer is Protest.

A particularly startling thing about Jesus making the protagonist of this parable a widow, is that she is engaging in uncharacteristic and shocking behaviors for a widow. Widows were quiet, forgotten, marginalized, often had no rights once their husband died, and were reliant on the community for their sustenance. Not this widow. This widow goes to the very seat of power and demands that her agency and humanity be taken seriously. She’s not going to wait for someone else to speak on her behalf. And she won’t take no for an answer!

We don’t have a timeline for how many days, weeks, months, or years she continued to demand justice, but we know that she wore down the judge, and received a just ruling. And we are reassured the God sees our actions and hears our prayers, and if we remain faithful to the persistent pursuit of justice we too will see it come to fruition. It might be a long road, it is sure to be a difficult one, but it is the one we are called to as children of God and people of faith.

So what does it mean to be called to mercy and justice. It means claiming our full humanity and agency, presenting ourselves before the unjust power structures of today, and persistently pursuing justice through incarnational prayer.

We will have an opportunity today to do just that. There will be a direct action at 1:00pm outside this hotel, joining together with local Albuquerque organizations to demand justice for those whose rights and lives have been violated in this community. We will come together to elevate the voices of those who have been victims of fear, hatred, racism, sexism, and homophobia - and say no more. We will not let this injustice continue. We will not remain silent. 

And the widow won’t be going to the judge alone. We will join her in solidarity, not just today but every day. We will demand that our full humanity and holiness be seen, be honored, as well as the humanity and holiness of each of our brothers and sisters. Because we believe that we are One people. One earth. And as such, my liberation is bound up in yours.

Amen

Homily 10.13.16

Homily from the closing Liturgy of the 2016 Holy Synod of the Ecumenical Catholic Communion.

Scripture Readings:
Genesis 18:10-15
Luke 1:26-38

Like our opening song so joyfully proclaimed: Our God is Here! Amen? The Spirit is alive and well, at work in the world, in our beloved Communion, and in each of us present here today and throughout this week.  She has been moving among us, through us, and within us as we have engaged this week in the holy work of being church together, walking together, living into our call as the body of Christ in the world.  We have tried to create intentional spaces throughout the week to tune into the Spirit, to notice how she is moving among us and in us, because as we hear in our readings this morning, God sends the Spirit to bring new life into the world when least expected, where least expected, so we have to pay attention.  

And God speaks to us in many different ways.  Maybe there has been a time this week, where you heard something that gave you a physical reaction: perhaps a knot in your stomach, or goosebumps, or maybe you had an experience that brought tears to your eyes, or made you tremble.  Maybe there was a particular phrase or idea that you heard that has stuck with you, perhaps a refrain from a song or a line from one of the prayers or keynote talks that keeps coming up in your heart and mind.  These are important things to pay attention to, to sit with, to dig deeper into to see what God’s invitation is for you and for us.  

In our Gospel reading tonight we have these two incredible women presented at different ends of the spectrum: Mary who is still a young girl, not yet married, and Elizabeth an old woman married for many years.  Both of these women are invited to bring new life into the world, and neither of them are expecting this invitation when it is presented, and I think it’s safe to assume that no one in their communities was expecting these particular women to bring new life into the world in the way that God was inviting them.  These weren’t wealthy, or powerful, or even well educated women.  Within the Jewish community they were no bodies, a young girl and old crone. And God chose them to participate in her dream for the world.

I love this spectrum that is covered looking at Mary and Elizabeth as book ends, because it reminds us that no one is too young, no one it too old, to collaborate with God’s vision, God’s dream for the world.  No one is too young or too old to offer new life.  No one is too young, or too old, to dream a new dream and make it reality.  We can expand on this to include all of our identities: no one is too female, or too male, or too straight, or too gay, or too white, or too latino, or too black, or too rich, or too poor or too anything in between to collaborate in God’s dream, to bring new life into our Church and into our world.  

Our communion is about the same age as Mary, when she was invited to bring new life into the world.  We are young, but we are not too young to incarnate God’s love in the world, and shake things up for the better.  What seeds might have been planted within you this week that could grow into new life?  What seeds have been planted for new life in our Communion?  And are we willing to say yes, to take the risk of living into that vision, that dream, to step out of our comfort zones and into the mystery?  

[Take 3-5 min. for people to share with a neighbor some thoughts/answers to these questions]

Every time a challenge arises, and we stay, we recommit ourselves to work through it together, we are saying Yes to God’s dream for the world.  Being vulnerable, opening ourselves up to one another to learn and grow, we are saying Yes to God’s dream for the world.  When systems of oppression seek to divide us into categories and pit us against one another, and instead we choose love, mercy, and liberation, we are saying Yes to God’s dream for the world.  My yes to not giving up on you is a yes to unknown mystery God will birth into the world through you.  

What do we need in order to say Yes to the Spirit of Life?  How can we support and encourage one another in our individual Yes and our collective Yes? We need to have strong, deep roots.  In order for Sarah, Mary, and Elizabeth to say yes, to believe in the vision of God for their lives, they had to have deep roots of faith.  They had to be grounded enough, and sourced enough, by God, by the Spirit, that even though they were afraid, even though they doubted and even laughed at God’s plans, they were still connected enough to trust God and say yes.  

Because we know from our readings that they were scared, and they were uncertain.  That’s ok.  We aren’t stuck with our first reaction.  God didn’t say to Sarah, because you laughed and doubted you will no longer bear a son.  God said, you laugh now but just wait, I will still bring new life into the world through you.  Gabriel didn’t tell Mary, because you are confused and afraid God has changed God’s mind and will find someone else to bear the Son of God.  

We get to be scared, we get to laugh at what seems ridiculous, we get to not understand how this could possibly all work out, what it will all mean, AND we can still be open and say yes, in spite of that fear or doubt, because we are deeply rooted in God and sourced by the Spirit.  And because we are not doing it alone.  As Bishop Francis laid out for us in his opening homily, we are walking this road together.  

God reminds us in both readings today, that nothing is impossible, nothing is too wonderful for God.  Isn’t that an incredible message?  Nothing is too wonderful for God.   

Perhaps some of the dreams shared with one another throughout this week might seem too wonderful, too impossible, but not for our God.  I have heard repeated throughout this week about the Catholic impulse toward unity, and I have seen this in the dreams we have shared with one another, taking an honest look at where we have work to do - bridging the gaps that keep us divided across genders, cultures, languages, ages,  titles and roles within our beloved Communion.  I have felt the Spirit moving among us, through us, within us, drawing us closer to her, and the closer we are drawn to her the closer we are drawn to one another.  

I want to end by encouraging you to hold these two questions in your hearts, and bring them back with you to your communities:  What new life is God inviting me to say yes to and share with the world?  What new life might God be inviting the ECC to say yes to, and share with the world?  

As we leave this sacred space we have built together throughout this week, let us make a commitment to not only the nurture the new life growing inside of us, but the new life growing inside each of our sisters and brothers as well, those who are present and those who are not.  Let us be attentive to the unexpected places that God’s life and spirit will burst forth into our beloved Communion.  And let us all be midwives to one another, accompanying one another birthing into reality these beautiful dreams growing inside us.

Amen

Catching Up!

You wouldn't know what a busy past four months I've had by looking at this blog!  Since I started my first semester at Eden Theological Seminary in September my days and weeks have been full, but I've neglected to keep this blog updated with all that fullness!  So, get ready for an end of the year catch up of my various homilies and other reflections from the past four months.  Maybe I'll try to make one of my New Years resolutions to keep this space a bit more current as I'm writing and reflecting on the presence of the Divine in the holy bits and pieces that make up this mystery of life...

A Prayer for Creation

September 1st is the World Day of Prayer for Creation, and many Christian denominations celebrate a whole season of creation from Sept 1 - Oct 4 (the feast of St. Francis of Assisi).  I was preparing an article for our church newsletter and looking around online I couldn't find a prayer that I really liked so I wrote my own for people to pray on Sept 1st and throughout the whole season of creation.

"Spirit of Life, that calls all creation into being, help us to recognize our intimate connection to the whole universe, and to honor that connection with mutual love and respect for the world around us and all of its inhabitants.  Giver and Sustainer of Life, move us to think, speak, and act with compassion, to recognize your presence all around us each day.  Help us to cultivate lives that honor that sacred presence so that those who come after us will still be able to delight in your wonder, beauty, and awe present throughout creation.  We ask for your wisdom, strength, and courage to do what needs to be done to care for our common home.  Amen" 

Room for the Unimaginable

"Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable" 

~ Mary Oliver

This quote was used in an opening prayer for a meeting I had this afternoon and it really struck me.  I read it as "keep room in your heart for God's Grace" because the gift of God's loving presence (aka grace) usually shows up in ways I could never have imagined.  

Most of us, myself included, live in a world that is very busy and very planned out.  We have schedules and routines; we have goals we set and plans to achieve those goals.  We fill up our time.  And the question that this quote brings up for me is, "As we fill up our schedules, are we also filling up our heart?"  Are we so busy doing, achieving, or 'sticking to the plan' that we don't have space to recognize and embrace God's grace when we are gifted with it?  And if so, are we really embracing all that life and God have to offer us?  Because in reflecting on my life, the best parts of it today, many of the best people in it, were totally unimaginable before they presented themselves.

One person I thought of immediately when I saw this quote was my husband.  Our relationship, our marriage, was totally unimaginable to me before it happened.  I went to Peru with my own plan, goals, and expectations.  And then God, as God often does, shook things up.  I was challenged to reflect on if I did have enough room in my heart to welcome in this unexpected love, this new relationship, that wasn't part of my plan.  And I am so grateful that I did!  

I also think of my two amazing nephews (who are coming to spend a week with me next week!) who were both unimaginable gifts to our family.  I am grateful that my sister had space in her heart to welcome in and embrace the unimaginable, gifting us all with the love and lives of these two wonderful boys.  

The paradox of this reality of holding space in our hearts for the unimaginable is that the more I fill it with new people and experiences, the greater my capacity to love grows.  There seems to be no limit, space keeps opening up if I allow it.  And in this ever increasing love I have for the unimaginable world and the human beings who inhabit it, I enter deeper into the mystery of the divine who is infinite love.   

May we all hold space in our hearts and our daily schedules for the unimaginable to enter in, interrupt in the best way possible, challenge and change us, and grow our infinite capacity to love.  Amen

Eucharist: The Body of the Cosmos

The sign reads: "the bread in your hand is the body of the cosmos."

This picture was taken at Plum Village, the home and retreat center of Buddhist monk and teacher Thich Nhat Hanh.  

I spent a week in this incredible space back in 2009.

As someone raised and rooted in Christian theology and spirituality, I find so many beautiful compliments in Buddhist teachings and practices that enhance my own connection to the Divine.  This particular sign which was in the dining hall at Plum Village really struck me as speaking truth not only about the interbeing of all nature (the bread contains the sun, the rain, the air, etc), but also the truth behind the Eucharist - the Body of Christ that is shared each week during the liturgy.  The bread in our hands is the body of the universe in that it is the body of the Cosmic Christ who through the incarnation is now present in all the universe. (see more about this idea in my homily from 5.7.16)

May we grow to see not only the bread of the Eucharist as holy communion, but also recognize the holy communion present in sharing together the many fruits and grains of the earth that nourish and sustain us each day.  Amen

Quote/1

I loved this quote from the moment I first saw it.  What a powerful reminder for all of us about how important we are!  

The photo is of me in the Cordillera Blanca near Huaraz, Peru taken in 2010.  

Show Me What Theology Looks Like

Show me what Theology looks like

This is what Theology looks like

Theology looks like

Out of the pews and into the streets

Theology looks like

Reclaiming Holy Week

Black Lives Matter

And the community gathered

In protest and lament

To say not one more

Not one more

Death

Not one more

Young man or woman

Locked up

Behind bars

Separated from their family

Theology looks like

Discomfort

Theology looks like

Witnessing black rage

And not backing away

Not trying to calm it down

But taking it all in

And naming it Holy

Theology looks like

Me and you

Arm in arm

Taking back the streets

Theology looks like

Whose streets?

Our streets!

Theology looks like

My Christ, my brother saying

I can’t breathe

Me saying

Now I’m in the struggle

And I can’t leave

My God saying

I’m not gonna stop

Until all people are free

Theology looks like

Clergy asking for forgiveness

For the silence of the Church

And the people granting them

That forgiveness

And challenging them

To do better

To show up

Theology looks like

Friends joining the crowd

Who didn’t plan

To march and chant

On their Holy Saturday

Theology looks like

Public lament

The cries and tears

Of mothers who have lost their children

Who know all too well

The pain of Mary

The pain of the women at the cross

Who lost their

Friend

Son

Brother

Theology looks like

Community coming together

And denouncing the violence

Denouncing the racism

Denouncing the divides

And lamenting our complicity

In it all

Theology looks like

Holding those in mourning

Creating space for that mourning

And never saying when it should be done

Allowing that mourning to spill over

Into day to day life

Theology looks like

Interrupting a lovely afternoon

On the patio

Because people are dying

People are dead

And you need to know about it

Theology looks like

Solidarity with those who struggle

Every day

Just to live

Theology looks like

Being criticized by good, white

Well-meaning Christians

Theology looks like

Faith in action

Theology looks like

A La Pieta march

On Good Friday

And

A mourning march

On Holy Saturday

Show me what Theology looks like?

This is what Theology looks like. 

© Jennifer Reyes Lay

This stream of consciousness poem was written on April 4,2015 after attending 2 events for #ReclaimHolyWeek (Good Friday and Holy Saturday).  One of the chants we shouted as we marched was "Show me what Theology looks like! - This is what Theology looks like!"

Litany of Lament

Help, YHWH! No one is loving any more. (Psalm 12:1)

My soul is in deep anguish.

    How long, YHWH, how long? (Psalm 6:3)

How long, YHWH? Will you forget me forever?

    How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my anguish,

    And wallow in despair all day long? (Psalm 13:1-2)

I am worn out from my groaning.

All night long I flood my bed with weeping

    and drench my couch with tears. (Psalm 6:6)

My heart is tortured inside me;

    Terrors of death assail me.

Fear and trembling invade me;

    Horror overwhelms me.  (Psalm 55:4-5)

Rouse yourself! Why do you sleep, O Lord?

     Awake, do not cast us off forever!

Why do you hide your face?

     Why do you forget our affliction and oppression? (Psalm 44:23-24)

Wake up, YHWH!

    Rise up in your anger

Against the fury of my enemies!

    Awake, my God, and give me justice!  (Psalm 7:6)

Put an end to the violence all around me!

    Make the just feel secure, O God of justice,

You who test mind and heart!  (Psalm 7:9)

YHWH, my God, I take refuge in you,

     Save me from those who hound me! (Psalm 7:1)

“Because they oppress the helpless,

     Because the poor sigh and moan,

Now I will rise up!” says YHWH.  (Psalm 12:5)

Away from me, all you who do evil,

    for YHWH has heard my weeping.

YHWH has heard my cry for mercy;

   and accepts my prayer. (Psalm 6:8-9)

If Only / Good Friday Poem/2

If Only...

Mary knows

the pain of a mother

who has lost her child

too soon. 

La Pieta

Holding her dead son

In her arms.

Killed -

Not by natural causes,

but at the hands

of men,

the hands

of an oppressive government,

and even at the hands

of fearful, corrupt religious leaders. 

Mary was there through it all. 

As the crowds chanted

to crucify

her baby boy. 

As they called him

a thug,

a criminal. 

As they said

he deserved what he was getting

for daring to challenge the system,

for daring to preach equality

for daring to assert his own humanity

and divinity. 

Perhaps they blamed her too? 

If only

she had raised him better. 

If only

she had taught him

how to obey authority.

If only

She had taught him

how to respond properly

to a question when asked. 

If only

she had taught him

to stay in line,

to obey the rules

to fulfill the role

he was born into

in his culture and society. 

Maybe then

He would still be alive.

Maybe then

he wouldn’t have been crucified.

Or maybe

they would have found a reason

anyway.  

© Jennifer Reyes Lay

Abiding Love / Good Friday Poem/1

The sun shines equally

On those who are mourning

And those who rejoice.

The birds sing their songs

For the passerby who walks

Heavy with burden

Or light in freedom.

The tree offers equal shade

To the one who is depressed

And the one who is full of life. 

Nature is indifferent

To our human emotions.

Nature is indifferent

To our joys and sorrows.

Is God indifferent too?

Or perhaps it is not indifference,

But abiding love and presence –

Always there

In equal share

Whether we want it

Or not,

Whether we seek it

Or not.

Just there.

Given freely

And equally

To all. 

Perhaps I don’t have to

Weep

Or rejoice

To let you know

I’m here.

Perhaps like the sun, birds, and trees

I can just be me

Here for you

As I am

As you are

Abiding in love

Together.  

© Jennifer Reyes Lay

Homily 7.2.16

Scripture Readings:

IS 66:10-14c

Gal 6:14-18

Luke 10:1-9

Discipleship as Bearers of Shalom

Shalom. Peace be with you. This is a familiar part of our liturgy and ritual as Catholics, giving and sharing peace with one another. We hear in the Gospel tonight that this is the first thing as disciples of Jesus that we should say when we encounter a new person or enter someone’s home. Peace to you, Peace to this household. This is also the same message that Jesus shares with his scared and grieving friends after his resurrection: Peace be with you. This is the message we are called to carry and live as Christians.

We could use some more peace in our world today. There were more mass shootings in the U.S. last year than there were days in a year. Just three weeks ago was the massacre at Pulse, an LGBTQ nightclub in Orlando, FL where 50 lives were lost. Two weeks ago was the one year anniversary of the Charleston shooting. And then just a few days ago terrorist attacks in Istanbul, Turkey took the lives of at least 42 with an additional 200 or so injured. Wars raging around the world, many backed by our own government, have led to a profound refugee crisis with millions either internally displaced or fleeing for safety in foreign countries where all too often they are not greeted with shalom, but rather denied or treated as less than human. We could use more peace in our world.

We are called as disciples of Jesus, like the 70 sent out in the Gospel tonight, to be bearers of his message of Peace, or in Hebrew: Shalom. I love the word Shalom because it is a rich and profound word that means so much more than just what we think of when we say ‘peace.’ It is not just the absence of war or violence. Shalom is harmony and wholeness within me and also between persons, groups, or countries. Shalom points to a state of safety, comfort and completeness as well as prosperity.

We have a beautiful and powerful image of the kind of Shalom that is promised to the people of Jerusalem in the first reading today. When we keep in mind that Shalom is harmony, safety, and connection what more beautiful image is there than that which Isaiah offers us of a mother breastfeeding her infant. The Peace of God is the peace that is felt between a mother wrapping her child up in her arms, protecting that child and comforting that child who she continues to give life to. Truly when we see and experience this our heart should rejoice!

Shalom reminds us that we need each other. To be messengers of shalom we can’t pretend like we know it all, or that we are self-sufficient and don’t need others. Packing lightly on the journey - no money, no change of clothes or shoes, no supplies - means we have to accept the hospitality of others. It is a vulnerable position. Like a young infant reliant on her mother, the 70 who were sent were sent in such a way that they couldn’t feed and house themselves, they had to rely on the community to offer safety, protection, and comfort. And in that exchange, that giving and receiving and breaking bread together, in sharing stories and healing, they made the peace they offered real. When we follow in these same footsteps, we make the peace of Christ real.

This is not easy work. Jesus tells his disciples in the Gospel tonight that he is sending them out like sheep among wolves. We are not guaranteed safety or protection. There is risk in truly living a life and message of peace and unity.

But there is also great reward in the healing power of shalom. When the disciples went out as Jesus instructed they were amazed at their own power to bring healing, to cast out demons and all that which brought suffering and division. Their faith and trust in the message and ministry was enough to heal those open to conversion where perhaps before it was thought impossible.

However not everyone will be open to this message of shalom. Jesus goes on to say that if our message of peace is not received, it will return to us, we dust off our feet and continue on our journey. This is a particularly challenging message for me, and perhaps some of you can relate, because sometimes I really want people to change, I really want to be able to change them. I want them to hear the message and take it to heart and change their ways, move from violence and division to peace and reconciliation. I know they can be better and I want them to do better, but ultimately I can’t control that. I am reminded in Scripture tonight that my call as a disciple is to be authentic in the path I walk and the message I share, to seek out and build inclusive communities and shalom relationships, and when that doesn’t happen to keep my own internal peace, stay true to myself, and move on to the next person whose path I cross and extend my greeting of shalom.

What does all of this mean for our own faith community? How can we make Sts. Clare & Francis a Shalom community - a community of peace, safety, wholeness, connection, and comfort? Based on the clues in our Gospel tonight, I think we are on the right path. We have to spend time with one another, we have to share meals together, we have to share our true selves - not the fancy clothes, titles, or positions we wear, but who we really are. We have to help one another heal, because we all have our own unique demons and shadows that torment us. We have a beautiful caring ministry who accompanies those who are hurting in different ways, but we are really all called to care for one another, to offer our presence and a compassionate ear. And we get to rejoice and celebrate with one another! Because day by day, week by week, we are participating in not only announcing but building the kingdom of God here on earth, here in St. Louis, here at Sts. Clare & Francis as we share the Peace of Christ with one another. 

Shalom