One of the Gates of Time at the Oklahoma City National Memorial, 2008
(photo via Wikimedia). The inscription reads:
“We come here to remember those who were killed, those who survived and those changed forever. May all who leave here know the impact of violence. May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity.”

Please save the date: On April 9-11, 2014, all bishops, clergy and laity in the Episcopal Church are invited to attend Reclaiming the Gospel of Peace: An Episcopal Gathering to Challenge the Epidemic of Violence.

This conference, which will explore violence in all its forms in today’s society, will be held at the Reed Center and Sheraton hotel in Oklahoma City, in the Diocese of Oklahoma.

Bishop Edward J. Konieczny of the Diocese of Oklahoma noted, “It is significant that Oklahoma City was selected, as it was the site of one of the most violent and devastating events in our history.”

The conference will include worship, plenary sessions, workshops and visits to the Oklahoma City National Memorial and Museum.

“With Our Lord’s gospel of peace as the basis of our work, the Episcopal Church will look closely at the violence that surrounds our lives today,” said Bishop Eugene Sutton of the Diocese of Maryland.

Participants in the planning of this event include representatives from the Dioceses of Atlanta, Chicago, Connecticut, Louisiana, Los Angeles, Maryland, New York, Oklahoma, South Dakota, Southeast Florida, Washington, West Texas and Wyoming. Also assisting in the planning of this conference are the Episcopal Church’s offices of Federal Ministries, Communication and Government Relations.

Schedule details, speakers, workshop titles and registration information will be available in the fall of 2013.

For more information, contact Mary Getz (mgetz@episcopalchurch.org) in the Episcopal Church’s Office of Government Relations.

Oklahoma City skyline, 2006 (photo by Daniel Mayer)

Download bulletin insert as PDF:
full page, one-sided 6/30/13
half page, double-sided 6/30/13

black and white, full page, one-sided 6/30/13
black and white, half page, double-sided 6/30/13

Spanish bulletin inserts are available on the Sermones que Iluminan website.

July 7, 2013

2 Kings 5:1-14 and Psalm 30 (or Isaiah 66:10-14 and Psalm 66:1-8); Galatians 6:(1-6), 7-16; Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

We are good at placing burdens on our clergy. One of the most severe is to expect them to be the chief, perhaps the only agents of parish growth. We await a new rector, ready to give a list of lapsed people, former parishioners who have strayed, or perhaps even the names of people we might think would fit in with the rest of us. Then we sit back and expect the new priest, who knows no one, has never lived here before, to get on with it. That’s what we pay the priest to do.

Consciously or not, our expectations transform our ideal of priests. We envision them as well-polished sales clerks, adapt at getting customers to buy. For our part, we make sure that the building looks spick-and-span, the sign welcoming, the doors open and the grass cut. It is so difficult to avoid imposing on our faith that which we have become used to in our secular lives. Few things impact us more than marketing. We are consumers all, bombarded with objects on offer at a price, most of which we neither need nor really desire. It’s important that we don’t start to think of our priest as the object designed to provide what we believe to be our “spiritual” needs.

Lessons like the one from the gospel today tend to reinforce all this. St. Luke tells of Jesus sending out over 70 disciples into the surrounding villages. They are to travel light, but are armed with special powers. When they return, it seems they had great success. So, we reason, as the disciples, or some of them, became Apostles, and as we think of apostles as clergy, who created bishops and through them priests and deacons, obviously this story is meant to inspire the clergy to do a better job for us.

People who write scholarly books about St. Luke’s gospel note that Luke alone mentions this story. Some think the number 70 refers to the non-Jewish nations, the “gentiles” evangelized by Peter and Paul and company. We read about their missionary endeavors in the Acts of the Apostles, Luke’s second volume of his history of Jesus and the first Christians. Others note that Moses called 70 people to assist him in his task of shepherding Israel as it moved through the desert. Perhaps both are true. Jesus sends his followers into “Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and to the furthest parts of the earth.” Jesus created a team to assist him and sent them into the world. But was that team made up of clergy alone?

We continue to insist that these people were the first clergy. In this we are both right and wrong. We are right that among those called and sent were those who would be pastors, preachers, celebrants of the sacraments, those who led emerging Christian communities. We are wrong if we think that all those called and sent filled that description, or were rather like our full-time, paid, professional clergy.

Those called and sent today, as then, are not merely the ordained, but rather they are the baptized. Yes, this gospel is about you.

The gospel tells two things about every baptized Christian here today. The first is that the task of telling the Good News to others is given to us all. We may achieve that task in many different ways, quietly or spectacularly, verbally or by our loving care for others, but the task of showing Jesus to others is one of the chief reasons why we exist. That is not an exaggeration. We have to grasp the idea that each of us has been created, was born, for a purpose, and that purpose is in the mind of God and is more important than any other purpose we may take on.

The second truth the gospel tells us is that we have been “empowered” so to do. That’s an assurance and a challenge. We tend to absolve our passivity by muttering things like, “I’m an introvert,” “It’s not in my nature,” “I get embarrassed.”

The Gospel assures us  – and Luke later stresses this at the beginning of Acts – that we are all empowered to witness in the world and that empowerment is not the same as natural talent.

Imagine that you find yourself by a sick bed. Everything in you tells you to cut and run. You are extremely uncomfortable, don’t know what to say, feeling inadequate and close to panic. Yet you stay, maybe holding a hand and just sitting there. That action comforts and cheers the sick person. You have used not your talent, but the power given to you in baptism and reinforced every time you receive Holy Communion.

Perhaps you are in line at the store; an irate customer is yelling at the sales assistant. It’s not her fault. She is close to tears. When you get to her, your notice her name, speak it to her, smile and offer her silent comfort. In so doing you use the grace given to you in baptism.

You see, our second problem, apart from consigning the task of witnessing to the clergy, is that we don’t recognize spiritual gifts because we think they must be spectacular. Yes, the 70 were given the power to cast out evil, but to do so may merely be the offering of goodness and kindness, objective love.

That may sound trite. Practicing consistent, objective love, particularly toward people we hardly know, or are not like us, or are people that repel us by their actions is no trite or easy thing. It’s much easier to lump them in a convenient group, label them, espouse an all-embracing cause and keep one’s distance.

Jesus, present among us this morning, continues to call us, send us, and empower us. We all have a vocation to ministry. Perhaps this coming week, in our quiet times, when we have the opportunity to reflect, or even to pray, it might be good to consider what task, seemingly beyond of strength or talents, our comfort zone, God wants us to take on and embrace, in the strength of the Holy Spirit, who has lived within us, often unrecognized, since the day we were adopted by God in Baptism.

— Fr. Tony Clavier is a retired priest and a missioner in the Diocese of Springfield.

2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14; Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20; Galatians 5:1, 13-25; Luke 9:51-62

Elijah and Elisha. What an epic story. It’s pure Hollywood! Mix together “Lord of the Rings,” Harry Potter and Indiana Jones, and this would give just some of the ingredients.

There are wicked kings and queens (they featured a couple of weeks ago), wild-bearded ascetic revolutionaries (that’s Elijah), wide-eyed acolyte disciples eager to drink from the deep well of the master’s wisdom (that’s Elisha), sacred, powerful garments (that’s Elijah cloak), incredible scenery (mountains, deserts, huge rushing rivers).

And we have not even considered the special effects. And what special effects they are. George Lucas would be so proud. Whirlwinds, rivers magically parted, firestorms beyond our pyrotechnical dreams, deep, booming, cavernous, thunderous, deafening roars.  Sparks, spectacle, energy.

Fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry – oh, wait – those aren’t from Elijah’s story, they’re from Paul’s Letter to the Galatians.

And what a letter it is! Here’s that list again: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing and things like these.

Whatever those Galatians were up to, it certainly wasn’t stamp collecting. And what themes Paul raises: the dangers of replacing slavery of one kind with slavery of another – slavery to self-gratification and self-indulgence.

Let’s look at this in detail.

What a vivid description of Elijah: the whirlwinds, the fire. Rather like the disciples in that Samaritan village. They must have been thinking about Elijah as well. They ask Jesus if he wants them to summon down fire on the Samaritan village because the townsfolk didn’t receive him. What an extraordinary episode. What on earth were those disciples thinking, wishing a fiery immolation on that village?

“Foxes have their holes, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

“Let the dead bury their own dead.”

“No one who puts a hand to the plough and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God.”

But weren’t we talking about the Galatians? We seem to have been distracted by Elijah, or was it the Samaritan village?

And that is precisely the point. There are so many wonderful, exciting, vibrant, insightful, diverting, important things that could be said about all of our readings today. We could so easily flutter from one to the other, alighting on some little vignette that takes our fancy, and then another. And what we’d end up with would be a glorious Technicolor mess.

In this day and age, distractions abound like mushrooms in a damp, dark basement. Far from avoiding them, we appear to seek them out. The term “multitasking” doesn’t seem to have negative connotations: In fact, we tend to view the ability to do more than one thing at a time as a virtue. Texting during a meeting? Sure, why not? Checking Facebook at a dinner party? Why, yes! Doesn’t everyone? It persuades the people around us that we have full, busy, important lives. Most probably we persuade ourselves, too. We flit from one shiny thing to another, wowed by things that are sleeker, faster, bigger, higher.

And that, also, is precisely the point. There are so many distractions, diversions. But each of these conspire to take our minds off the ball. Faced with a bewildering array of choices, we can easily become unfocused, lose our single-mindedness.

All of the characters that we meet in today’s readings – apart from Jesus – are distracted by something. The disciples of Jesus are distracted by their mistrust of the Samaritans. The people that Jesus and the disciples meet on the way are distracted by their material possessions, duties and social conventions. The Galatians are distracted by all manner of ephemeral, selfish gratifications or petty jealousies. Elisha is distracted by the thought that he might not inherit Elijah’s special powers.

Even Elijah had been distracted. Much earlier in his story, he had challenged the pagan prophets of Baal to a competition atop Mount Carmel to see which of their respective deities was the more powerful. In a story as equally full of impressive special effects as today’s, in which the pagan gods were crushed, the triumphant Elijah orders the massacre of all 450 of the prophets of Baal.

After all of this spilt blood, Elijah falls into a depression and hides in a cave. No doubt there were functional reasons for his dejection and his hiding, since there was probably a price on his head. But there was more to it than that.

“Enough, O Lord,” Elijah says. “Take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” Remarkably, this is nothing less than Elijah’s conversion. He had set his God, Yahweh, in competition with the gods of Baal, but all Elijah had achieved by this was to put himself on the same level as the pagan prophets he’d claimed to despise. The contest on Mount Carmel had merely ended up being a show of strength between rival shamans. Elijah had spent his life seeking God in the earthquakes, the winds and the fire, but had eventually found him in the still, small voice.

In his book “Faith Beyond Resentment,” the Roman Catholic theologian James Alison calls Elijah’s dark night of the soul his “un-deceiving” – his realization that what set his God apart from all others was not that he was more muscular, and whose religion was “more efficacious,” but that he was, in fact, the very antithesis of all that.

Elijah’s conversion experience seems not to have filtered down to Jesus’ disciples. They – along with the rest of their contemporaries – seem to prefer Elijah in his noisy showman phase. When Jesus’ disciples suggest raining down fiery destruction on the Samaritan village, their understanding of God is just as off-target as Elijah’s had been. Time and again we are shown how the disciples just don’t seem to get it. We know that eventually they do, but it’s a long journey for them to reach the realization that God’s strength is in weakness, God’s rule is in servanthood, God’s power is in humility and God’s judgment is in forgiveness.

Before we congratulate ourselves on being smarter and more insightful than those first disciples, let’s just take a moment to consider if we ourselves – and the church in general – get it any more than they did.

In “Faith Beyond Resentment,” James Alison suggests that what Elijah’s conversion experience tells us is that our own religious identity might need turning upside-down, too. “Here we are,” he writes, “face to face with the collapse of the sacred, a real demolition of personal structures and ways of speaking about God. This collapse is the crucible in which theological development is wrought.”

More and more people are saying that the church is at a pivotal point in its life. Some even describe it as a collapse. Certainly it is a time of wholesale reassessment.

But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Perhaps, as Christian commentators like Diana Butler Bass and Phyllis Tickle suggest, it is that we are on the brink of a new Great Awakening. Perhaps it is where we will hear afresh the still, small voice of God, and what his voice is inviting us to do, and where we will understand much better how to break free of the slavery of distractions.

— The Rev Nils Chittenden is missioner for Young Adult Ministry in the Diocese of North Carolina, and chaplain of the Episcopal Center at Duke University. After attending seminary at the University of Cambridge, he was ordained in the Church of England in 1995. His ministry since then has been varied, encompassing cathedrals, campuses and community organizing as well as parishes. He moved to the U.S. in 2010. He and his wife have two cats and two beehives.

Broderick Greer, Virginia Theological Seminary

“Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road.” (Luke 10:3-4)

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) readings:
2 Kings 5:1-14; Psalm 30; Galatians 6:(1-6), 7-16; Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

2 Kings 5:1-14

From Abram’s initial call from Ur to the death and resurrection of King Jesus, Israel’s vocation was clear: Embody the light, goodness and justice of your God to every nation. Much of scripture, though, is spent explaining how Israel excelled in doing the opposite.

In this short vignette from 2 Kings, an unnamed slave girl takes this vocation seriously. Despite having been unjustly removed from the land that nourished and undoubtedly gave her a narrative of identity and belonging, she sought out good for Naaman, a man whose health she could have callously watched deteriorate. Instead of walking down a path of contempt, this girl walked down a path of compassion, pointing her pagan master toward the God of Israel, the God of life and wholeness. Despite Naaman’s mocking hesitation, the healing power of Israel’s God met him in the murky waters of the Jordan.

The slave girl’s humble witness to the living God brought restoration to her oppressor. In every generation, there has been a remnant of wise, faithful people who have actively blessed their oppressors. What do you think their motivation was?

What are ways we can bless those who oppress us?

What does God’s healing of a gentile say about God’s nature?

Psalm 30

The idea that the “God of the Old Testament” is different from the “God of the New Testament” is, at its very least, unhelpful. “Before Jesus,” the adage goes, “God was always angry. If you got on his bad side, he would smite you. If you messed up just a little bit, he was done with you.” Though that impression can be gained from various Old Testament stories, I’m not convinced the sentiment is accurate.

In this psalm attribute to King David, the psalmist acknowledges the presence of a dynamic, molten God. “I cried out to you for help, and you healed me,” the psalmist announced. In the psalmist’s theological universe, God was actively involved in the helplessness (v. 2), sorrow (v. 5), terror (v. 7), and celebration (v. 11) of life. This psalmist holds nothing back when it comes to honestly declaring his or her feelings before God. And I think it’s safe to suggest that God holds nothing back when engaging this person, or any of us, in every season of life.

The Book of Psalms is a collection of songs that encompasses every facet of Israel’s devotional and liturgical life. If you were commissioned to write a psalm in this moment, what would it say? How honest would you be in its composition?

Do you think God can handle your honesty?

Galatians 6:7-16

One of the downsides of our modern, urbanized society is that much of scripture’s agrarian vocabulary is lost on us. As urban gardening becomes more common, hopefully we’ll be able to reclaim one of humanity’s most primal relationships: our relationship with the earth.

St. Paul, a man formed and rooted in an agrarian world had no issue using “planting” and “harvest” language. He saw the Christian life, and maybe the whole of creation, as an uncultivated plot of land, open to human interaction, longing for human care. In his letter to the Galatians, he contends that everyone is planting something. Those who sow out of selfishness will reap devastation, but those who plant for the benefit of the Spirit, the wise apostle said, will harvest eternal life from the Spirit (v. 8).

St. Paul challenges the Galatian Christians to evaluate what they are sowing into the world. He calls on the community of Christ to lay aside every form of selfishness and pride, embracing goodness and humility. This humility is rooted in the cross of Jesus, Israel’s long-awaited king. Paul even goes as far as to bind himself to boast in nothing “except the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ” (v. 14). This boasting, this sowing, this work of love, is completely consumed in God’s loving act in Christ on the cross for the sake of the world. In Jesus’ crucifixion, the body of Christ is crucified to the whole world and is delivered into a new creation. And this new creation is all that matters (v. 15).

St. Paul compares the Christian life to sowing and harvesting. If he were writing today, what sort of metaphors do you think he’d use?

What is “God’s Israel,” spoken of in verse 16?

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

Every day, followers of Christ pray that God’s kingdom will come “on earth as it is in heaven.” But just how does this happen? Is it through legislative victories or sales at discount stores? Does it come when the people we like “win,” and people we dislike “lose”? Does it come only on 70-degree days in April, or is it possible that God’s reign can break through in the dark, cold evenings of December?

In this gospel reading, Jesus sends out 72 of his disciples in pairs to announce to Israel’s villages that “God’s kingdom has come to you” (v. 11). In their almost baggage-less traveling, Jesus’ disciples were given orders to simply eat food wherever they were offered it.

This going where Jesus directed and doing as he commanded took an immense amount of trust. He didn’t give much more instruction other than to leave the communities that did not welcome the announcement of God’s reign. When the 72 disciples returned from their excursion, they were ecstatic. “Demons are submitting to us!” they said. Jesus, unimpressed, encourages them to rejoice that their names are “written in heaven” (v. 20).

This “written in heaven” phrase troubled me at first glance. My Protestant mind cannot fathom a Jesus who rewards his followers with heaven when they do what he tells them to do. But after further thought, I am inclined to think that this experiment in evangelism is actually heaven itself. In their receiving of bread in strange homes and exchanging of stories and giving of good news, the 72 experienced heaven. That’s all that heaven is, right? Sharing, learning, and delighting in others and in God?

In what ways have you possibly missed out on heaven in the last week?

Read Christine’s comments on the Revised Common Lectionary readings for Proper 8 (C).

Christine Hord, Virginia Theological Seminary

“Jesus said to him, ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.’” (Luke 9:58)

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) readings:
2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14; Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20; Galatians 5:1,13-25; Luke 9:51-62

2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14

Second Kings continues the history of Israel from 1 Kings. Elijah will soon be leaving Elisha and ascend or be “taken up” to heaven. Elijah and Elisha have set out from Gilgal. As Robert Wilson points out in the footnotes on 2 Kings in “The Harper Collins Study Bible” (Harper Collins, 2006), at the Jordan River, Elijah uses his mantle, a symbol of his power, to separate the river so that he and Elisha may cross. This act, separating the waters of the Jordan River, echo similar acts by Joshua as he led the Israelites into Canaan, and Moses and his parting of the Red Sea. Connecting Elijah with those ancestors who came before him and led the Israelites to freedom is a testimony to the importance of heredity and inheritance in the history of the people of Israel.

Wilson also points out that in traditional Mosaic Law it was believed the firstborn received a double portion of the inheritance. The inheritance for this family is the gift of the Spirit. Elisha asks that some of the gift be shared with him. When Elijah ascends to heaven, Elisha receives the gift of Spirit from his brother, and using the mantle parts the water. This act of power over the waters is a sign Elisha will now carry on the history and inheritance for the people.

What can your family history tell you about the gifts you may have inherited from your ancestors?

What patterns do you see emerging from your own family history that may not be of the Spirit?

Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20

The psalm begins with a cry for help. The psalmist finds no comfort and cries out, “Help me God.” “Where are you God?” “Why won’t you help me God?”

This hymn of lamentation, however, quickly turns into a hymn of thanksgiving and praise. The psalmist begins to recall all the wonderful gifts and blessings that have been given and chooses to praise God for this abundance. We are reminded again of the way in which God led the people of Israel to freedom and the promises that God has made and kept.

There can be times when it is very difficult to see God here, now, with us, through our struggles and moments of despondency. Feelings of abandonment and despair are real and heartbreaking. Practicing gratitude can keep us mindful of those things that are good, encouraging us and giving us hope. Some people keep a gratitude journal, writing each day three to five things they are thankful for or when they felt a strong sense of God’s presence. This practice can be particularly helpful during times when God can feel so far away.

What three things are you grateful for today?

Where have you found God during the most challenging times of your life?

Galatians 5:1,11-20

Christ has set us free. Just as Elisha asked for a share of Elijah’s Spirit, we, too, are all given the opportunity to share in the gifts of the Spirit. In Christ, who has set us free, we all may choose to live in the Spirit and not succumb to earthily and human desires. Paul’s argument against circumcision is in opposition to teachers who have been encouraging members of the early church to continue the traditional Jewish laws. While circumcision may have been the traditional practice to show ones allegiance to God, under this new law, one will show forth the fruits of the Spirit as a sign of their commitment to God in Christ.

What fruits of the spirit are you proficient in?

Which fruits do you think could use some work, and how might you begin that work today?

Luke 9:51-62

Jesus has just foretold his death and resurrection, and we are told it is now near the time of his ascension. Much like Elijah on his journey from Gilgal (2 Kings 2:1), Jesus has “set his face” toward Jerusalem (v. 51) and begins a journey from Galilee. Jesus has also “sent messengers ahead” (v. 52), an echo of Exodus 23:20 and a literary tie to a prophets history.

Jesus encounters resistance to his ministry in Samaria, and as they travel along the road to Jerusalem many wish to follow him. Jesus explains to the would-be followers, that to follow the Son of Man is not an easy life. This life of discipleship requires one to leave what they know and even whom they love. Just as Jesus did not allow his disciples to turn back and punish the Samaritans, he similarly explains to those eager to follow, that once one has committed to this life of discipleship there is no turning back.

When in your life have you had to make a difficult decision to move, to leave a job or maybe even a partner to do what you believed to be the best thing?

The scripture doesn’t tell us whether those wanting to follow Jesus ended up doing so. What might you have thought if you were one of the would-be followers and Jesus told you not to look back to those you were leaving behind?

Left panel of the “St. John Altarpiece”
by Rogier van der Weyden,
circa 1455

The Episcopal Church celebrates the Feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist each year on June 24. John was a prophet at the time of Christ, who recognized Jesus, his cousin, as the Messiah, and baptized him.

The Feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist was first included in the 1549 edition of the Book of Common Prayer, according to Don S. Armentrout and Robert Boak Slocum in “An Episcopal Dictionary of the Church” (Church Publishing, 2000), and it was decided to observe the feast about six months before Christmas because Elizabeth was in her sixth month of pregnancy with John at the time of Jesus’ conception.

The story of John’s birth is recorded in the first chapter of the Gospel of Luke, which relates that John was miraculously born to an elderly and childless couple, Zechariah and Elizabeth. When the angel Gabriel told Zechariah that Elizabeth would bear a son who would be named John, Zechariah did not believe it was possible, and was made mute. Zechariah’s speech was restored to him on the eighth day after John’s birth, when the baby was circumcised and named John. With his newly regained voice, Zechariah then proclaimed the canticle known as the Benedictus Dominus Deus:

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a mighty savior for us
in the house of his servant David,
as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.
Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors,
and has remembered his holy covenant,
the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham,
to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies,
might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness
before him all our days.
And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to his people
by the forgiveness of their sins.
By the tender mercy of our God,
the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:67-79).

Collect for the Nativity of St. John the Baptist

Almighty God, by whose providence your servant John the Baptist was wonderfully born, and sent to prepare the way of your Son our Savior by preaching repentance: Make us so to follow his teaching and holy life, that we may truly repent according to his preaching; and, following his example, constantly speak the truth, boldly rebuke vice, and patiently suffer for the truth’s sake; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen (Book of Common Prayer, p. 241).

Download bulletin insert as PDF:
full page, one-sided 6/23/13
half page, double-sided 6/23/13

black and white, full page, one-sided 6/23/13
black and white, half page, double-sided 6/23/13

Spanish bulletin inserts are available on the Sermones que Iluminan website.

The Alabid family fled Iraq and was resettled in Chattanooga, Tenn., by EMM’s partners at Bridge Refugee Services.
Photo courtesy of EMM.

World Refugee Day is Thursday, June 20, and the Episcopal Church recognizes the plight of refugees around the world. The church proudly supports the work of Episcopal Migration Ministries and its network of 31 affiliate partners, who welcome refugees in communities across the United States with help from Episcopal parishes.

Every day, refugees all over the world face losing their homes, their families and their sense of security to war and persecution. They are forced to flee their countries just to survive.

The United Nations estimates more than 15 million people were living as refugees in 2012.

Episcopal Migration Ministries affiliates assist newcomers with housing, food, employment placement, English training, orientation to new communities and many other forms of assistance.

The Plecas family came to the U.S. from Croatia after the Yugoslav civil war. They also live in Chattanooga and were aided by EMM. Photo courtesy of EMM.

In 2012, these affiliates welcomed 4,225 refugees from more than 30 countries, offering each an opportunity to move from a life in crisis to a place of self-determination and hope for the future.

Today, vulnerable refugees from countries like Iraq, Bhutan and the Democratic Republic of Congo are coming to the U.S. with help from Episcopal Migration Ministries. Parish partners are desperately needed to help these newcomers find the friendship they need to thrive.

St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Atlanta, Ga., has befriended five refugee families in the last five years through a congregational ministry in partnership with the local Episcopal Migration Ministries affiliate. Church member Panke Miller said the experience has broadened the church’s worldview, while demonstrating the inspiring resiliency refugees possess.

“Our parishioners get to see the side of the United States that welcomes people. We have a policy of accepting refugees – it is in our DNA,” Miller said. “It’s a great thing for faith communities to be reminded of that part of our history, which really fits with our scriptural mandate to welcome the stranger.”

As World Refugee Day approaches, remember the concerns of refugees still caught in limbo overseas by offering prayers and acting to support those new to the U.S. Friendship and volunteer support help refugees build on their own resiliency to find success in new communities.

To learn more about the Episcopal Church’s refugee ministry and connect with an Episcopal Migration Ministries affiliate, visit http://episcopalchurch.org/emm.

Download bulletin insert as PDF:
full page, one-sided 6/16/13
half page, double-sided 6/16/13

black and white, full page, one-sided 6/16/13
black and white, half page, double-sided 6/16/13

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Isaiah 40:1-11; Psalm 85 or 85:7-13; Acts 13:14b-26; Luke 1:57-80

People old enough to have been adults during the turbulent ’60s will remember how controversial Martin Luther King, Jr., was at the time. It was said that he and his people had no right to stir things up with all his confrontational tactics. In the South they said he didn’t understand the negro’s place, nor the way Southern society had to be structured. But in 1966 – toward the end of his career – when he led a March in Cicero, just outside of Chicago, he ran into a maelstrom of white hatred every bit as angry and violent, and he got just about nowhere. Even clergy in Northern churches were very hesitant to speak favorably of King. His “Letters from a Birmingham Jail” were meant to win them over.

In those days it would have brought on laughter and derision among most Americans to be told that King would become the greatest Christian prophet of 20th century America, and that a national holiday would be declared in his name.

Obviously, we’ve gone through a national period of reflection and re-evaluation; many minds have been changed as well as the social structure and culture of this county because of Martin Luther King.

This change of heart and culture toward King is a useful example regarding the man whose birth we observe today: John the Baptist, someone who appeared strangely out of the wilderness wearing something woven out of camel’s hair, living on a diet mostly of bugs and wild honey.

And John the Baptist must have had a big voice and a powerful message about the Kingdom, because we are told that Jerusalem and all Judea emptied out and came to hear him: large crowds getting themselves baptized with a baptism of repentance. And he wasn’t afraid to speak out, calling soldiers and tax collectors not to abuse their offices, calling the more pious people – scribes and Pharisees – a “brood of vipers,” for a false religiosity, and noisily embarrassing King Herod for marrying Herodias, the divorced wife of Herod’s half brother. John the Baptist was put in prison for that, and Herodias saw to it that John lost his head.

Jesus’ public ministry doesn’t really begin until after John’s martyrdom. And when the crowds begin to follow Jesus for his teaching and healing powers, before long Herod gets wind of it, and feels thunderstruck that maybe this guy is John brought back from the dead, a prophet that not even the king can suppress.

Reading between the lines, one can form the strong suspicion that what we have in John the Baptist is a very powerful and commanding figure, one who – like Martin Luther King – requires some time and reflection to sort out his true significance.

Indeed, he may have seemed – for a time – a rival to Jesus’ own ministry. John had followers who persisted with his ministry. We are told in the Book of Acts that Paul ran into a group of people out on a mission in Asia Minor who had been baptized into repentance, but had no knowledge of baptism by the Holy Spirit. Among them was a figure of considerable esteem who knew the Bible and could speak very persuasively of his faith. Once baptized in the Holy Spirit in Jesus’ name, he was a powerful advocate and apostle for Christ.

Thus we see a kind of merging or reeling in of what might have become a different offshoot of Judaism, a religion founded on John the Baptist. This reeling in occurs, for example, when some disciples of John, loosely wondering after John’s martyrdom, come up to Jesus and ask, “Are you the One, or should be wait for another?”

But before seeing how Jesus answers this point-blank question “Are you the one?” suppose we pause and reflect on the example of how it was that we managed eventually to appreciate the full stature and significance of Martin Luther King. It took some time, some reflection on his speeches, his writings, his nonviolent strategies, the real changes that came cascading forth in our society, and the hope for things yet to come, because of him.

Yes, Jesus was baptized by John, and John witnessed to Jesus’ stature as not being worthy even to tie Jesus’ shoes. But it appears that John’s magnetic force was so powerful his followers couldn’t see beyond him to his real significance.

Jesus answers the question “Are you the one?” in an operational way:

“Go tell John what you see and hear: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up and the poor have the good news preached to them.”

He then goes on to speak of that rough-hewn man in the wilderness they all went out to see: a prophet and more than a prophet, a forerunner. And Jesus quotes from Malachi using the very last sentence of our Old Testament: “Behold, I send my messenger before thy face, who shall prepare thy way before thee.”

It is the prophetic expectation of Elijah come back to prepare the way for the Messiah.

But the final appreciation for the significance of John the Baptist comes from the portrait given us by the Gospel of Luke. Here we find John comes from a priestly family. The angel Gabriel appears to the father, Zechariah, saying that Zechariah’s wife, Elizabeth, though advanced beyond child-bearing years, will have a son whose destiny is to play the role of the forerunner Elijah. Zechariah, being doubtful about this, is struck speechless until the child is circumcised. Then he speaks the words of the hymn we know as the Benedictus Dominus Deus, very likely a hymn of the primitive church to express their veneration of John. The hymn closely follows the Magnificat of Mary, expressing the promise that the covenant of God with his people is carried forward by John with the promise of salvation of the lowly and protection from enemies, offering forgiveness of sins, light from darkness and the guidance of holiness of righteousness.

Furthermore, we are told in Luke that Mary and Elizabeth were kinswomen, related, and rejoiced in companionship over their pregnancies.

In this way, by couching it in his birth, the gospel of Luke brings to full fruition the stature and significance of John the Baptist.

— The Rev. Armand Larive is a retired priest in the Episcopal Diocese of Spokane and the author of “After Sunday: A Theology of Work” (Bloomsburt Academic, 2004).

1 Kings 19:1-4, (5-7), 8-15a; Psalm 42 and Psalm 43; Galatians 3:23-29; Luke 8:26-39

If Elijah and Jezebel were after me, I’d run, too! Elijah was so afraid, he wished he might just die, but God had other plans for him as God often does for us. This is a wonderful story from today’s reading from First Kings about one of the great prophets who is so human in his fears, yet a model for us of what we can accomplish if we listen to the voice of God.

First Kings tells the story of how God’s people have turned their back on the Lord. How sad – they are missing out on the amazing gift of knowing God’s love. For even in their sin, God desires their repentance and return.

But they are noisy people. Previously in First Kings, we’ve already seen the prophets of Baal dancing and shouting and slashing themselves with their knives in their frenzy to call their impotent gods down on their sacrifice. Elijah showed them a different God – a God who can do miraculous things, but who also can listen to the small voice of his creature.

Isn’t it unfortunate that Jezebel, who could have repented and turned to this all-merciful God, instead felt her authority so threatened that she put out a death warrant for Elijah?

Now in his hiding place, Elijah hears God’s voice and answers honestly. “I’m afraid – I can do no more.”

In today’s language, God says, “Hang on, I’m coming. Here’s where you’ll find me.”

Elijah experiences winds that tear rocks loose from mountains and an earthquake – the mighty force of nature’s power – but he finds God, finally, in the gentle breeze, in silence. In a similar text from Isaiah, God even calls out to the people, “Here I am, here I am!” They do not hear the pleading voice. And yet, God does not destroy them all. Yes, there will be punishment, but there will also be redemption and much more to show the limitless abundance of God’s mercy.

So often we experience a sense of desperate need in our hearts, but we forget where we can turn. There is a beautifully plaintive song sung by the character Katisha in Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta “The Mikado.” She has been jilted by the man she loves, and sings: “Oh, living I!
Come, tell me why,
when hope is gone,
dost thou stay on?
Why linger here, where all is drear?”

It’s one of the most beautiful songs written by Gilbert and Sullivan – both text and melody tear at the listener’s heart. We might imagine God’s heart being as torn by the frenzied noise and deliberate ignorance of God’s own people who choose evil over love, today as well as several centuries ago. If God were human, God just might have said, “Why do I stay here where all is drear and when hope is gone?”

Thankfully though, even as we try to put God in our small boxes, God is eternal and beyond our sad manipulations. Instead, God continues to call, “Here I am, here I am!”

When will we answer?

In our gospel reading, Jesus might have been feeling that same emotion when he healed a sick man and yet the people begged him to leave them alone. In his book “Miracles,” C. S. Lewis writes: “Miracles do not, in fact, break the laws of nature.”

“Oh, really?” the Gerasenes in today’s gospel reading would probably ask. “How about the one where Jesus sends the demons into our flock of pigs and they run off the cliff to drown in the sea?”

It sounds like the start of a lame joke, but it was no joke to the swineherds who made their livelihood from the pigs. So, what do we do about this? What was Jesus thinking when he gave the demons what they wanted?

St. Augustine, on the other hand has said, “Miracles are not contrary to nature, but only contrary to what we know about nature.”

Well, that’s a little better. Maybe we don’t know everything about pigs after all. Maybe the thought of living with something evil inside was too much for the pigs, who, after all, are very sensitive animals. But that, too, flies in the face of our perception of Jesus as caring about all people, gentile swineherds included.

So, which is right? Do we try to figure out why Jesus sent Legion into a herd of pigs? Do we just rejoice that a man, and a gentile at that, was healed? Do we castigate the Geresenes for sort of being like the false prophets in First Kings, who said, in effect, “Get out of here, you’re more trouble than you’re worth!”

One way to look at it is to realize that the pigs are not the point. Jesus’ authority over demons is the point. Jesus caring about people with terrible difficulties is the point. And probably Jesus extending his ministry to gentiles is a point. The pigs – maybe it wasn’t like that at all. We truly just don’t know.

What was Luke’s focus at this point in his gospel? What did he want to get across about Jesus to his own hearers? That’s something we have to struggle with when we read the gospels. They were all written for another century’s hearers, and we have to consider that when we read them now. We need to look for the underlying message and not worry about whether Jesus sent something calling itself Legion into a herd of pigs. It may not have happened exactly like that.

Jesus truly cared for the poor and hurt of the world. Jesus was showing that God’s love included outsiders, like the gentiles. Jesus showed that God’s power was mightier than the power of evil – just like Elijah had done many centuries before. C. S. Lewis reminds us that we can’t understand everything about miracles.

There are some things we have to give over to faith and the presence of mystery in our human lives, and that’s OK. We should allow awe and wonder to fill our souls and direct our gaze toward the Almighty, who thankfully, loves us with an unconquerable love.

So, what do we do?

Maybe we should look for a place that is our sacred place, a place where we can listen for God’s voice in the silence and in the gentle breeze. The voice will be there. We can imitate Jesus and open our eyes and hearts to the needs of those who are right there beside us – those we don’t see even as we step around them. And we can pray that we will live out the pronouncement of Paul: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

All of us are one!

— The Rev. Dr. Susanna Metz is vicar of Petrockstowe in the Torridge Team, Diocese of Exeter, North Devon, England, and is the publisher of Tuesday Morning, a quarterly journal focused on lectionary-based preaching and ministry.