"To White Shores, and Beyond, a Far Green Country Under a Swift Sunrise"

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Emmanuel Episcopal Church
October 31, 2021
All Saints’, B

John 11:32-44

White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.

“Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

I’ll venture to guess that all of us have felt this way at some point. If you had been here. Where were you? Where are you? 

Lord, if you had been here, cancer would not have killed my loved ones.

If you had been here our city wouldn’t have flooded, children wouldn’t starve, people wouldn’t work three jobs and be in poverty. 

If you had been here, we wouldn’t have people who are feared, harassed, and killed because of the color of their skin.

Lord, if you had been here, COVID wouldn’t have ravaged our world.

Where are you, Lord? Where were you? 

As much as we wish death would not separate us from our loved ones, especially when they are young or the death is brought about by violence, death continues to happen even when God is walking on earth among us. We may wish or sometimes think that because we believe in Jesus, death won’t come for us or our loved ones until we are old and prepared for it, having lived a full life. The truth that we know, however, is that death comes to all of us just as randomly and as certainly as it does for everyone. No right formula of prayer, belief, or ritual is going to stop that. We who believe in Jesus can’t stave off death any more than anyone else can. 

Jesus didn’t come to stop death from happening. Death is supposed to happen. Without death, there is no new life. We know this in nature in the way biology works, in the way the earth works. Things die and return to the earth, and when they do, new life happens. New trees are nourished as old trees die and give nutrients to the soil. The same is true for animals, even for humans. Death brings new life, and a new kind of life.

When we die, we become new life. We are changed, not ended, alive with God.  See,
Jesus didn’t come here to keep us from dying. Jesus came here to keep us living.

Now death can take many forms. Physical, mental, emotional, relational. How often are we and other alive in our bodies, but suffering death in many other ways. These deaths too are going to happen in our lives, that’s the nature of life. Jesus didn’t come here to stop these deaths from happening. Jesus came here to keep us living amidst all of these deaths.

Thinking of these non-physical deaths, I imagine a man who was cheated by a business partner, whose dream company is no longer his, but his former partner’s. He’s angry, as well he should be. Losing his business, his ideas, his dreams, that was a death for this man. I can imagine this man thirty years later still resentful, bitter, and angry. Broken, basically, having never really recovered from the betrayal and loss, he is mostly alone, not trusting, barely loving. His life really ended with that betrayal, and though he’s physically alive, he’s mostly dead inside. 

“Unbind him, and let him go,” Jesus said. I can imagine this man taking a different path than continued resentment, bitterness, and anger. I can imagine this man releasing his past, releasing his hurt, and letting new life take place within him after that death. Thirty years later, I can imagine this man with a great life, a life different than what it would have been, but a life in which he loves and is loved, where he trusts, where he is fully alive, living life abundantly. Part of him died and went into the tomb, but he let it go. He was unbound by that death so that he could continue living.

Now, when death happens for us, all kinds of death, including the physical death of our loved ones, part of us dies too. Part of us goes into the tomb with Lazarus’ body. His body, after four days in the tomb, was decomposing, rotting. There was the stench of death and decay, and the same is true for us when parts of us die and we lie in the tomb. We’re sad, maybe lost, sometimes resentful and angry. “Lord if you had been here, cancer would not have killed my loved ones; our city wouldn’t have flooded; children wouldn’t starve; people wouldn’t work three jobs and be in poverty; folks wouldn’t be afraid, harassed, and killed because of the color of their skin; and COVID wouldn’t have ravaged our world.

When these deaths happen, we get to think and feel this way. We get to be sad and lost, resentful and angry. Even through that fourth day in the tomb when the stench of rotting flesh is upon us, we get to be sad and lost, resentful and angry. Such is the nature of death, but we aren’t meant to stay there forever. “Unbind him, and let him go,” Jesus said.

Come out of the tomb, for there is new life after death.

That’s true for the many non-physical deaths which take place throughout our lives, and it is also true with physical death. Jesus didn’t come here to keep us from dying. Jesus came here to keep us living.

So too with physical death, we hear Jesus’ words, “Unbind them, and let them go.” Physical death is not the end, for we continue living on in a way we don’t fully understand. More than physical life, we continue on with life in God. All of us together, unbound by death, the communion of saints, fully alive, even though our bodies have died. 

All of our loved ones. All of the saints in our lives. All of the saints in the church. Past. Present. Yet to come. We are all unbound from death and brought into full life with Christ in God. That is the communion of saints, for death is not the end. As the wizard, Gandalf said in the the movie “The Return of the King,” “Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it. White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.”

With the deaths in our lives, we often say, as Mary said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Yes he would have. Now “unbind him and let him go.” For Jesus did not come to keep us from dying. Jesus came to keep us living, living fully with God throughout this life and even after this life has ended, gathered together in God with all of our saints and loved ones, gathered to white shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.

We Never Need Fear Showing Compassion

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Emmanuel Episcopal Church
October 24, 2021
Proper 25, B
Mark 10:46-52

We Never Need Fear Showing Compassion

So, Jesus met a man on the outskirts of Jericho who was blind and lived his life begging on the streets. Who was this guy? Did he have any family? If so, why wouldn’t they care for him? He wasn’t crazy. Had no demon. He wasn’t dangerous. He was, however, obviously a pretty terrible sinner, otherwise he wouldn’t have been blind. That was often the thinking. Rich? Successful? God had blessed you because you were so deserving. Poor and downtrodden? Well, I don’t know what you did to anger, God, but maybe stay over there because I don’t want any part of it.

Never mind that God clearly states in the Book of Job that prosperity and adversity don’t come to people because God has chosen to bless them or curse them. Unlike us, God doesn’t play favorites. Unlike us, God doesn’t share with those he likes and shun the ones he doesn’t. The man’s blindness was not due to divine retribution for anything, and yet people of Jericho probably saw the blind man as cursed by God. That tended to be the thinking.

Perhaps that’s why no one would take him in. Thinking he was cursed, people let him beg on the street. They even shushed him when he tried to talk to Jesus to ask to be healed. “Oh be quiet, he shouldn’t heal the likes of you.” Or maybe, “We don’t want him to know you’re here; he’ll think badly of us.” 

In any case, Jesus heard the man crying out to him, and Jesus cared about the man, calling him to come to him. What Jesus didn’t do was ask for any sign of repentance. He didn’t ask the man to stop sinning. He didn’t tell him to forgo his wicked ways, he just asked him what he wanted. “I’d really like to see,” the guy said. “Cool, I can take care of that;” Jesus replied, “your faith has made you well.” With that, Jesus healed him, and the man followed Jesus as a disciple.

By Jesus’ response to the man, we know that his blindness was not any sort of divine punishment. No repentance required. The fear and disdain which the people of Jericho had for this blind man was not necessary. God hadn’t cursed him, and God wasn’t going to curse them if they were near to him or kind to him. 

Perhaps then, in healing the blind man, Jesus healed not only him, but also the people of Jericho. Consider the message given to the people of Jericho by the fact of Jesus healing this man. 

“You needn’t be so fearful, isolating and shunning those who are downtrodden. You needn’t be so afraid of God that you shun those you think are being punished by God. That’s not how God works. See, you have great love inside of you; that’s how God works, and if you remove your fear, your love can flourish. You can love and care for the downtrodden. You needn’t shun them. You can love them.”

There are people who often get shunned nowadays by a good number of Christians. Those who get shunned include our lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer siblings, shunned because they are seen as sinners, quite possibly cursed by God. They aren’t, of course, and there is no reason for them to be shunned. We see more and more of our LGBTQ+ siblings coming to meet Jesus in the Episcopal Church because by and large, they aren’t shunned here, and like the blind man, they follow Jesus as disciples and apostles. 

Of course there are other groups of people who get shunned by various Christian groups. Those who welcome our LGBTQ+ siblings often end up shunning those who had shunned our LGBTQ+ siblings. The shunner becomes the shunned. Fear, hurt, even compassion for a group of people are all reasons why we end up shunning others, but having compassion on one group of people doesn’t mean we have to shun another group of people. 

We have great love inside of us; that’s how God works, and if we remove our fear, our love can flourish.

We needn’t fear giving compassion to fearful, angry people. Folks get angry because they are fearful. I daresay we all know what that feels like. Right now, we’ve got folks who are afraid of COVID and so they are taking precautions against it. We’ve also got folks who are afraid of losing their jobs due to the precautions against COVID harming the economy. We can have compassion on both groups. Even as we get terribly afraid and the other group causes us even greater fear, we can still have compassion for fearful people. Jesus’ healing of the blind man shows us that. People are afraid, and we don’t need to be against one group of frightened people in order to be for another group of frightened people.

God was not cursing the blind man, and Jesus’ compassion on him showed that compassion on one another is God’s desire for us. God doesn’t desire our contempt for those we fear. Of course, we’re going to feel contempt for those we fear, and that’s what we get to give to God, rather than to them. God can handle our contempt of others, as we give it over to God and ask his healing to remove our fear and contempt so that love can flourish. That’s how God works, through the great love inside of us. 

We never need fear showing compassion. We needn’t fear showing compassion and
love for the wrong sorts of people. The blind man was seen as the wrong sort of person by the people of Jericho. We’ve got lots of wrong sorts of people in our world. Vaxers, anti-vaxers. Maskers, anti-maskers. Believers in climate change and climate change deniers. Those sinful groups of people whose morals and views of the world are utterly at odds with God’s ways, and those pointing out those sinful groups of people who believe that their own morals and views of the world are in step with God’s ways. 

All of these groups of people are doing their best in the world to do the right thing. All of these groups of people have great fear and end up behaving out of that fear. All of these groups of people get to have compassion shown to them. All of them, and all of us have great love inside; that’s how God works, and if we remove our fear, our love can flourish.

Be a Friendly, Neighborhood Spider-Man

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Emmanuel Episcopal Church
October 17, 2021

Proper 24, B

Mark 10:35-45

Be a Friendly, Neighborhood Spider-Man

In the movie Spider-Man: Homecoming, Spider-Man, aka Peter Parker, desperately wants to be an Avenger. The Avengers, such as Iron Man, Captain America, and Black Widow, are Earth’s mightiest superheroes. Their base of operations is Avengers Tower, they are known throughout the world, and they are the ones you call when the really big bad stuff happens. 

Spider-Man has superpowers, and at the same time, he’s a teenager, Peter Parker, still in high school. His quest to be an Avenger keeps being denied, and he is discouraged because he has lofty ambitions, and wants to do more than just help the people of his neighborhood, Queens, New York. He wants to be saving the world. He wants a spot at Avengers Tower.

Well, through all the twists and turns of the movie, eventually, he is offered a place among the Avengers, but by that time, he’s come to see the value not only of “saving the world,” but also the value of being there for the people around him. He turns down the offer to be an Avenger, saying, “Well, I mean, I'd rather just stay on the ground for a little while[, be a] friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Somebody's got to look out for the little guy, right?”

He didn’t need glory. He didn’t need fame. Look out for the little guy, and be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

When James and John, the sons of Zebedee asked Jesus to sit next to Jesus when he came into his glory, they were basically wanting to be Avengers. They thought Jesus was going to rule over Israel as king, and so they wanted to sit on either side of his throne. Of course this first meant fighting a war against Rome with Jesus at the helm, and after destroying the Romans and avenging Israel, they would rule over Israel with Jesus. 

They misunderstood of course one thing, that Jesus wasn’t going to be fighting any war against Rome. They also misunderstood their role, their importance, and their need for a throne in order to be effective as disciples of Jesus. Notice that Jesus didn’t rebuke them for their request. The other disciples did, they were pretty hacked off about it, but Jesus saw that James and John were actually thinking too little of themselves, as if they didn’t matter without some throne, as if they couldn’t really make a difference without a throne. So, Jesus calmed his disciples, called them to him, and taught them a lesson about who they were and what their ministry really was.

“You know that among the Gentiles,” Jesus said, “those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you…” He didn’t say “it should not be so among you;” that you shouldn’t be tyrants over each other. Jesus said, “it is not so among you.” “You are not tyrants over each other.”

Rather than rebuke James and John, Jesus looked into their hearts and saw not a desire for tyranny or greatness for their own sake. Jesus saw a desire for good, and in his response, Jesus is basically saying, 

Y’all are asking for greatness, and knowing your hearts, I can see that you aren’t asking to be tyrants over others. Your hearts are in the right place. What you are asking for is a serving role, but you don’t need a throne to do that. You already serve, even in seeming lowliness. The service you are doing is just as important and often more important than that of lords of rulers. 

Keep your feet on the ground for a while. Be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

That’s where we find the most effective and Christ-like ministry has been throughout the church. The church as Empire is not what grew disciples of Jesus and healed peoples’ lives. The church as mighty and ruling over others has actually ended up causing a lot of harm in the name of Jesus. No, the real ministry of Jesus through the people of his church happened in the people of the church serving with each other and serving with those in their neighborhoods, looking out for the little guys. The same is true in our world today. 

Now, this is not to say that there is not good ministry being done by the church on an institutional, organizational level. There is much good ministry being done through the organizations and institutions of the church engaging with other organizations and institutions, even globally. There has just been formed an Episcopal Church delegation to the United Nations for an upcoming UN conference in Glasgow, Scotland. Ellen Singer, from our diocese, will be part of that Episcopal Church delegation to the United Nations. That’s pretty cool. That’s global-level influence of the Episcopal Church.

Now, when I first heard of that UN Delegation, my reaction was about like Spider-Man wanting to be an Avenger or James and John wanting to be next to Jesus in his glory. I thought, “I want to go to the United Nations,” but then I quickly realized, “Yeah, actually I really don’t.” I’m glad for those who do. There is great ministry that is done within large bodies, organizations, institutions, and that’s a good thing for the church to be able to offer counsel for those making decisions that affect many, or most, or all. Not to be in charge as Lords over people, but to counsel those who are.

Even so, the majority of Jesus’ ministry through the people of his church happens in the neighborhood. The majority of Jesus’ ministry through the people of his church happens in the relationships we have and the relationships we continue to cultivate and form. We don’t need titles, or thrones, or global-level influence to do important ministry as disciples of Jesus. 

Helping the kids and teachers at Rhoads Elementary is important ministry, looking out for the little guy. Ministering to people with Alzheimer’s and Dementia through The Gathering Place is important ministry, looking out for the little guy. Calling your friend or neighbor who is having a rough time and having some coffee or lunch together to connect and go through that time with that person is important ministry, looking out for the little guy. 

No one needs to be an Avenger to be a disciple of Jesus. We just need to look out for the little guy, keep our feet on the ground, and be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

“F%&k You Jobu, I’ll Do It Myself.”

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Emmanuel Episcopal Church
October 10, 2021
Proper 23, B

Mark 10:17-31

“F%&k You Jobu, I’ll Do It Myself.”

In the 1989 movie, Major League, star slugger, Pedro Cerano, could hit the ball clear out of the park as often and with a swing almost as beautiful as Yordan Alvarez’. Unfortunately, in the movie Major League, Pedro Cerano, superstar slugger, could not hit a curve ball, nor could he presumably lay off of them? So, he routinely stuck out as other teams realized that the curve ball was his Kryptonite. 

The best solution might have been to work with a hitting coach, but alas, Pedro’s solution came in the form of a tiny, crazy-haired statue of a wild-eyed man he called Jobu. Pedro offered Jobu rum and cigars, and once even a whole chicken (KFC) in order to help him hit the curve ball. Jobu was a straight up idol which Pedro was using to try to make his life easier. When it kept not working, Pedro finally said, “[To heck with] you, Jobu, I’ll do it myself,” at which point he of course hit a curve ball out of the park.

I bring this up, one because I’m a little excited about the Astros and the postseason, and two, because Pedro’s use of Jobu is a pretty good example of an idol being used to try to make life easier. Ancient idols, carved or sculpted, set in homes and prayed to were meant to keep bad things away, to make life easier. Idols were thought to grant your requests if you prayed to them just right, if you gave them rum and cigars and whole chickens.

Now, many of us don’t have small statue idols like Jobu that we use to try to make life easier, but idols can come in many forms. For the man who asked Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”, his idol was his wealth. His wealth, his riches, his stuff made life easier, and he seems to have believed that he could’t be happy unless life was easy, that he couldn’t be happy unless life wasn’t hard. See, unlike Jobu, the rich man’s idol seems to have been working for him in making his life less hard. So, when Jesus told him to set aside his money, the idol that made life easier, he thought that he couldn’t be ok without it. He believed that he couldn’t be ok if life was hard, so he walled himself off from life in God’s kingdom.

Here’s a secret, life is always going to be hard, at least hard at times, and no amount of rum offered to Jobu is going to change that. 

“How hard it will be,” Jesus said, “for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of heaven.” How hard it will be to enter the kingdom of heaven for those who fear life being hard and aren’t willing to risk life being hard. That was the challenge for the rich man whose idol was his money. Well, here’s another secret, you don’t gotta be rich to have idols get in the way of risking for the kingdom of God.

Will I be ok? Will I have enough? Will I be enough? Do I have enough money, time, experience, expertise? How will I possibly be ok if I give up much of anything that I have? These are fears that I dare say all of us face, and I dare say most of us have some kind of Jobu to which we offer rum. Sometimes that idol is simply walling ourselves off from risk. 

Into all of that fear and unknowing, Jesus is teaching us to trust God in the unknowing, accepting the fact that yes, things may fall apart, and to trust that we are enough (and there are others with us). Jesus is teaching that we can never offer Jobu enough rum to safeguard against life being hard, so be ok with taking risks and giving things up for the sake of God’s kingdom.

“We gave stuff up!” Peter said in his very very Peter way. “Yes,” Jesus replied, “and you are going to receive much more, people around you to support you so that you will be ok even without as much money, time, or rum and cigars to offer to Jobu.” 

Jesus’ disciples gave up the protection of life as they knew it in order to live life in God’s kingdom with new people, new situations. Often we protect ourselves by walling ourselves off from new situations. We keep ourselves from entering new relationships and new situations for which we feel we are not enough. Our walls feel like they make life easier, but remember what God did to make life easier in Genesis 2? God made a human companion. Humans were made to be helpers and supports for each other. We find wholeness in new relationships and risk because we were meant to be there for each other. That’s life in God’s kingdom.

So, for a way that we can be there for each other and for others, to risk new relationships, I’m going to turn things over to Kathryn Johnson, Counselor at Rhodes Elementary school. We have begun a partnership with Rhodes Elementary to serve and minister there, and Mrs. Johnson is going to talk with us about the school and how we can serve and minister there.

…

…

Jesus is calling us in this time and in this place, in our new home, to risk for the sake of relationship, connection, and service in God’s kingdom. Serving and ministering at Rhodes is one of the ways Jesus is calling us, and the usual questions probably arise. Will I have enough time? Do I have enough expertise? What do I know about serving with kids? I’m too old to relate, or I’m too inexperienced to know what I’m doing.

With our questions, doubts and uncertainties, realize there will never be enough protection, there will never be enough rum for Jobu to make us ready or enough. Like the man with great wealth, Jesus is calling us to life in his kingdom, even though it may be hard. He’s also assuring us that what we’ll find in serving others is the peace that we’re looking for. What we find in giving up our various Jobus, in risking new relationships in new situations, is that we actually are enough; we actually can hit that curve ball. We actually don’t need all of our protection to make life less hard. We have each other, and we have a wonderful new opportunity to serve and live the life of God’s kingdom.

Glorious Train Wrecks and Glorious Symphonies

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Emmanuel Episcopal Church
September 26, 2021

Proper 121, B

Mark 7:24-37

Glorious Train Wrecks and Glorious Symphonies

Have you ever had a terrible empathy fail? You’re overcome with emotion, exhausted, and totally stressed out by all that is going on, and you feel completely not good enough for all that is going on. So, you talk to a friend about it. The friend responds with, “Oh, that’s ok, it was so much worse for me last year.” You end up feeling even worse, like you’re still not good enough, but now you’re also unimportant.

I’ve been in a workshop for the last couple days called, “Dare to Lead,” made by and based on the work of Brene Brown. She is a researcher and author of “Dare to Lead,” “The Daring Way,” and other books about shame, how destructive shame is for us, and how empathy is the antidote for shame. 

Different from guilt which says, “I messed up or did something bad,” shame says, “I am messed up, and I am bad.” Shame is the feeling of being totally unworthy of love and belonging. Alone. Scared. Not good enough. Not worth people’s time. One of the major  antidotes for shame is empathy. Empathy helps us feel connected to others. Empathy doesn’t dismiss our pain, our fears, or the things we’ve done. Empathy looks at us as we are, warts and all, and says says, “I’m here with you; I get it; you aren’t alone; and you are totally worthy of love and belonging.”

Sadly, a lot of Christian theology says the opposite. We’re sinners, totally unworthy, and destined for torment forever. That’s what we deserve…unless we believe in Jesus. Then, we’re still unworthy, but God loves us anyway. That’s a pretty abusive theology. Shame is at its root. You’re terrible, unworthy, you don’t belong; you’re no good; you should be punished. Shame, being unworthy of love and belonging. 

Then, according to these theologies, Jesus comes along and says, believe in me, and God won’t punish you forever…because God loves you. That’s what abusers do to their victims. Tear them down, make them feel worthless, and then say, “I love you, and I alone can make you well, not worthy of love…but I alone will love you even though you are totally unworthy.” 

That’s about control, not empathy or love. It’s bad theology which turns God into an abuser, rather than a loving God. 

See the truth of our nature is that we are made beautiful, wonderful, and totally worthy of love and belonging. We’re not born with some stain of original sin. That's bad theology. We’re born, and we are hurt over time. We fear. We act out. We hurt others our of our own hurt. God is of course not happy with all of the hurt and harm we do, but God does not see us a terrible and totally unworthy of love. God loves us and hates to see us hurting ourselves and hurting each other.

So, to help heal us, God became human, showing us empathy and love. God, Jesus, knows exactly what it’s like to be human. Life is hard; being human is hard. It’s beautiful, and messy, and painful; a glorious train-wreck, and a glorious symphony all at once. By joining with us in being human, God says, “I’m here with you; I get it; you aren’t alone; and you are totally worthy of love and belonging.”

So then, believing that theology, that we are worthy of love and belonging, believing that God is not just trying to control us with fear and shame, what is Jesus saying with this dismemberment/mutilation lesson?

Well, obviously, Jesus is not literally telling us to cut off our hands or else he’ll punish us forever. I know it sounds that way. “It is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands…and to be thrown into hell.” “If you mess up too much, I’m going to hurt you…forever.” That’s not love. That’s shame, control, fear and abuse. Remember, Jesus loves us and we are worthy of God’s love and belonging. This dismemberment/mutilation lesson, then, cannot be saying, cut off your hand or I’ll punish you forever. The lesson cannot be about shaming us and forcing control over us with coercion. 

Hear the lesson instead in the light of empathy and love, and you’ll see that this lesson is about taking seriously the harm we can cause, showing us just how bad that harm can be, and so encouraging us to take big steps to choose instead a way of healing and restoration. 

“Golly, cutting off my hand sounds terrible, and Jesus is saying that the harm I can cause to myself and others with my hand can be even worse than that. I can harm other people in ways that are worse than removing my hand; I can in fact harm people in ways that become like Hell on Earth. I can’t bring about Hell on Earth. I really don’t want to do that; I don’t want to cause harm like that. I mean, I’m often hurt and angry, but gee whiz, I don’t want to bring about Hell on Earth. Maybe I oughta seek another way?”

See, this cast into hell part of Jesus’ lesson is not really unknown to us. Planes flown into buildings. Being so angry and feeling so alone that it seems like me against the world. Choosing numbing behaviors so much that people never address the problems in their lives, but just keep growing more isolated and resentful. Politicians wanting to win so badly and being so assured of their righteousness that they denigrate the other side as being evil, bringing about such division and strife that we can’t even countenance the thought that there may be some good coming from the other side, that freedom and public health become enemies of each other.

We get being cast into hell. We do it to ourselves all the time. Not casting ourselves into Hell on Earth can take drastic change, drastic giving up of something we hold dear and can’t imagine being without. Giving up the need to be right in a religious belief and for others to share in that belief. Letting go of resentments and accepting one’s own faults so that it is no longer me agains the world. Letting go of numbing so that we actually have to work together on life’s challenges. Giving up dehumanizing anger and entrenched wrangling over ideological differences so that we don’t make things even worse than our fears of what might happen if the other side won.

Giving up these things can feel like cutting off one’s own hand, or foot, or eye. Jesus is then hold up that pain next to the pain of the hells that we often make and cast each other into. Jesus is showing empathy and love, saying, “I know the healing work is hard, and I know, as we all know, how much harder life is without that healing work. Even though it can feel like cutting off your own hand, doing that healing work is so much better than living through Hell on Earth.”

God loves us, not in spite of us being unworthy of God’s love. God loves us as God’s children, and we are totally worthy of God’s love and belonging. God also teaches us hard lessons because God knows life can be even harder without them. “I’m here with you; I get it,” God says. “You aren’t alone; and you are totally worthy of love and belonging.”

Casting Down Our Idols (selves)

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Emmanuel Episcopal Church
September 5, 2021
Proper 18, B
Mark 7:24-37

Casting Down Our sIeDlOvLeSs

There have often been times when I’ve been in a large group of people and found that I had a great fondness for a good many of the people there, and at the same time, I’ve found a great antipathy for another large part of the group. I’m referring to times when I’ve been to a sporting event like an Astros game. Folks wearing the Astros shirts and hats, well they’re my people. There is this connection, this bond, this belonging we feel for each other. We don’t know anything at all about each other, but we’re wearing the same color t-shirt. We belong together for that night in the tribe of the Astros.

Now the fans in the Yankees shirts, for example, well we just don’t belong together. I may have much more in common with them, may like them immensely more outside of that stadium and in different t-shirts, but for that night, at the game, we are two different groups who do not belong together. I’m overstating things a bit of course, but forming exclusive groups is something we humans tend to be pretty good at doing.

“No girls allowed.” “No boys allowed.” Little kids making their own often temporary exclusive groups. It seems innocent enough; it usually is, and children’s “No Boys Allowed” and “No Girls Allowed” clubs also show us how, even early in our lives, we tend toward forming like groups that exclude those who are not alike. 

This forming of like groups makes some sense. Sometimes people want to be with folks who are most obviously like them. Sadly, these like groups or exclusive groups can end up hurting those who are excluded. Even kids’ “boys only” or “girls only” clubs can unintentionally hurt those who are excluded. Some kids grow up not quite sure where they fit, not sure where they belong: with the girls or with the boys. I think of Steve, as I knew her years ago, now Beth, who had this experience growing up. There was no intention of excluding her, and yet there wasn’t really a place for her on the playground when the gym teacher said, “Boys over here, girls over there.”

Oftentimes we don’t mean to exclude, we’re just trying to have a group gathered around a particular similarity. Other times, we very much mean to exclude, to exclude those who are deemed as unworthy, undesirable, or not belonging.

“Whites only.” “No Jews.” “No Irish.” “Women need not apply.” There are countless ways our society and all societies have excluded others, and the Church, much as it tries to love, has often been a willing part of such exclusion.

In the past, our churches have been intentionally racially segregated. We have kept women out of ministry even though Jesus and the early Church did not. We’ve allowed members of the LGBTQ+ community to be a part of the church, so long as they were quiet about and hid who they were. That’s just a partial list of how the institution itself has excluded groups from the church. Even more are the ways individuals have removed people they felt were undesirable. They disapproving look given, the audible whispers of disdain, the snubbing of some, and the outright statement that “you would be happier somewhere else” to others.

Excluding others in the church has a long history, probably as long as the church has been around. Even the earliest members of the church were human and full of the same challenges that we all have, wanting to feel comfortable, wanting to belong, and sometimes excluding others to make sure we felt comfortable in our own belonging.

Even in Jesus’ day, before he had established his church, Jesus was a part of this human tendency toward exclusion. When a woman who was a Gentile begged Jesus to cast a demon out of her daughter, he initially refused. He called her a dog. He saw her as unworthy, as undesirable, as not belonging. Jesus was acting as he had been taught. We don’t associate with those Gentile dogs.

Then, the woman didn’t fight Jesus or refute his claim of her beastliness. “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs,” she said. Supporting Jesus’ claim, she revealed it for what it was: cruelty and exclusion. It seems that she brought Jesus up short. It seems that his eyes were opened in that moment, that what he had been taught about Gentiles as less than human dogs wasn’t really the case. Here was not an unworthy dog, but a woman and a child. These also were beloved children of God, and Jesus healed the daughter immediately. 

Jesus, who was God, yes, but also fully human with human limitations and frailties had been taught one thing about humanity, that there were undesirable less than humans, and then when he saw one of these undesirable less thans up close, he realized that he had been given a false teaching. This woman, and by extension these Gentiles, were not less than humans, but full humans, beloved of God, who were deserving of love and belonging.

Now, you could say when we exclude others that we’re only human, also following what we’ve been taught. That’s true enough. Even so, when we exclude others from the church, we don’t do so by acting as humans. When we exclude others from the church, we become idolaters, acting as though we were God. It’s God’s church, not ours, so when we start to proclaim who can be a part of God’s church and who cannot, we are moving God out of our way so that we can make God’s church what we want it to be. Putting ourself in God’s place, we end up becoming our own idols, ultimately worshipping ourselves, rather than God. 

Who is in, and who is out? Who is worthy, and who is unworthy? By the teaching of various days, the out and unworthy were black people, women, homosexual people, children who made noise or moved, folks without enough money, or folks with the wrong clothes. All of these people have been excluded from the church at various times and places, following accepted norms of the majority at the time, only to have those norms cast out, those idols thrown down, and the people seen no longer as dogs, but as beloved children of God.

What norms, against what people, do we still hold, putting them down as dogs and raising ourselves as idols in God’s place? Who would make any of us personally uncomfortable sitting next to us, or preaching to us, or celebrating at this table? Realizing who those people are, remember that they are not dogs, but God’s beloved children, and we are not God to exclude them or anyone from God’s church. 

No longer in charge as gatekeeper, we simply get to enjoy the rich diversity of who God’s children are. Astros and Yankees fans. Rich and poor. LGBTQ+. Cis-gender. Heterosexual. Any and all races and skin colors. American. Immigrant. Children. Adults. Felons. Men and women and all those in between. There is such a rich and beautiful diversity of God’s children, and God’s intention for God’s church and God’s kingdom is for us to enjoy all of each other. We are each others’ family, God’s family. No one of us welcomes another, but we meet each other together, for we all belong here, in God’s church as God’s family.

Spiritual Meals: Jesus, IT, and Other Tasty Treats

The Rev. Brad Sullivan

Emmanuel Episcopal Church

August 22, 2021

Proper 16, B

Ephesians 6:10-20

John 6:56-69

Changing Our Diets

I’ve been re-reading IT, a novel by Stephen King about a group of friends from Derry Maine who band together as children and then again as adults to defeat a shapeshifting demon-clown monster thing, called “IT.” IT feeds off of fear and violence, most of which IT perpetrates, though IT also feeds off and seems to help cause greater violence and hatred in the people of the town. IT is most famous for taking the appearance of a clown, and if you haven’t read the book, you may have seen or heard of the miniseries back in the 80s or the recent two part movie series.

Pennywise the dancing clown, IT, is a terrifying villain in this terrifying horror story. IT scared me as an 11 year old, and IT still scares me as a 43 year old. To this day, I quicken my pace walking when past storm drains due to the opening scene in the book.  

Even more disturbing than the monster itself, however, is the response of the people of the town to IT. When things get bad, the people generally do what they should: hold curfews, encourage adults to walk children to school, and increase police presence. At the same time, however, there is a general apathy within the town about the presence of IT. None are really aware of IT, and yet all seem to accept the fact of a high rate of murder and violent crime, and they seem largely to take in stride as well the large number of children who are victims.  

The town prospers, and the people go about their lives accepting IT as simply the way things are. On the one hand, what else are they supposed to do, not really knowing what is going on? On the other hand, how can they just accept IT as the way things are?  See, the people of the town despise IT, and they also feed off of IT in a spiritual kind of way. IT has become so intertwined with the town and the people that IT feeds off of them, and they unknowingly feed off of IT. IT has become their spiritual food. 

Like the people in this novel, we too seem to feed in spiritual ways off of the suffering of others. This is not intentional. It’s not what we strive for. It’s simply the inescapable result of a world full of brokenness and conflict.  

Consider how companies and people profit off of war: weapons manufacturers and others. I’m not saying the military or weapons makers are bad. At its heart, the military’s goal is to protect the weak and the innocent. Weapons manufacturers help make that possible. At the same time, we can’t escape the fact that part of our wealth comes from the destruction and killing of others. That’s just part of the way things are, and that destruction and killing becomes part of our spiritual food.

Think about how many products we wear or use that are made with overseas, underpaid, and oppressed workers? That becomes not only part of our wardrobe, but part of our spiritual food. How much of our economy depends on the same? How much value is derived off of impoverished and crime ridden areas remaining impoverished and crime ridden so that other areas can have premium pricing as a safer alternative? 

How many of us get angry and stay angry at any number of world or community problems that we probably can’t change, but that we can at least get righteously angry about and feel a resulting strength and moral superiority? Anger and contempt, fighting over who is right. Brainless liberal. Heartless conservative. Masks or no masks. The righteous indignation and moral superiority, the anger and contempt are all part of our spiritual food.

In all of these and countless other ways, we are feeding off of the brokenness and conflict in our world. That brokenness and conflict has always been with us and will always be with us. Whether we want it to be or not, the darkness, violence, brokenness, and conflict of our world will always be part of our spiritual food.

In this rather problematic spiritual diet then, Jesus says, “Eat my flesh, and drink my blood.” Eat and drink me as your spiritual food, Jesus says. Feed your spirit off of my spirit. Change your diet.

So, how do we feed less off of brokenness and conflict, anger and contempt, and make our meals of Jesus instead? Well, if we really want the diet to stick and last, then one thing we likely can’t do is make a sudden, drastic, and huge dietary change. If we try to divorce ourselves from everything that is of violence, oppression, and conflict, we are going to find just how interconnected violence, oppression, and conflict is in all we do. We’re not going to make the world perfect, and we’re certainly not going to increase our consumption of Jesus by angrily and contemptuously decrying anything we feel is not of Jesus.

So how do we feed off of Jesus? How do we eat his body and drink his blood? Well, there are countless, infinite ways, including sharing communion here, the spiritual communion, embodied in the meal we share. Other ways to eat Jesus’ body and drink his blood are to take note of each other. Pay attention to each other. Help each other out in fun times together and in rough times together. Stand up for each other. Love each other. Such is the spiritual food of Jesus’ body and blood.

Take time for yourself. Rest. Rely on the Lord and the strength of his power, knowing you can’t get it all done. Have faith and trust in God. Trust in God and in God’s goodness. Trust in your own goodness, being made good and beautiful in the image of God. Trust in God’s love of you and guidance of you. Such is the spiritual food of Jesus’ body and blood.

Strive for justice and peace in how you interact with others, in how you vote. Strive for justice and peace in how you shop, in the things you consume. Seek truth and live in righteousness, meaning live a life seeking good for others and for yourself. Such is the spiritual food of Jesus’ body and blood.

Enjoy the sun, the sky, the grass, the trees, the air. Enjoy the ride. Breath. Breath in the beauty of the moment, even during anxiety, depression, sadness, and fear. Trust in God enough to let go and not have to control everything all the time. Pray. Pray a lot. Make it weird. Such is the spiritual food of the body and blood of Jesus.

We can’t purify ourselves by completely ridding our spiritual diet of any and all darkness, conflict, violence, and oppression. Such things are intertwined within our lives and this world, and there is no ridding ourselves of them. Also, Jesus didn’t say remove from your spiritual diet all things that are objectionable. He knew that wasn’t possible. Instead, Jesus said, “eat my flesh and drink my blood.”

“Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power.” (Ephesians 6:10) Make your spiritual meals of Jesus. Eat Jesus' spiritual flesh, and drink Jesus' spiritual blood, that you may abide in him and he in you.