Pentecost 6A Road Trip, Matthew 9:35-10:8, St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Little Rock, June 14th 2020

Pentecost, Proper 6A Road Trip

Matthew 9:35-10:8 (9-23)

June 14th, 2020. St. Mark’s

We’re on the road!!! Today we embark on the travel narrative where Jesus sends us out into the world to proclaim the good news, cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons! Throughout the journey this summer Jesus dialogues with the crowds, his disciples, and us as he empowers us to heal and love. But Jesus keeps making statements difficult to understand, like we heal and love by being “wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” Maybe there are answers in the responses of others before us who struggled with these words during unrest in their times./ We can often better understand Jesus’ words in the music of other fragile and fragmented generations like ours./ So, let’s travel back to the 1960s,/another era of great social and racial unrest: the Vietnam War, riots, fires, assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King, President John Kennedy, his brother, Robert Kennedy./ Let’s engage in active imagination and travel to the sixties./ Then imagine Jesus taking this summer Galilean road trip in that generation carrying with him the voices whose music healed the pain of that era.////

It’s summertime in Galilee. Jesus is sweating, not blood but water, as he stuffs the disciples’ sleeping bags into the car top carrier of their VW van. The new and old Galilean disciples are shifting about in excited pairs, chattering noisily about places they will go and things they will see. Jesus inserts his favorite recording of Handel’s Messiah into the van’s old tape player, hoping that the breeze of its majestic strains will lift him up on the miles ahead. The disciples, Peter, Paul, and Mary wannabes/ roll their eyes and jump into the back seats singing John’s latest hit, “My Bags Are Packed, Leaving On A Jet Plane, and don’t know when I will be back again.” Judas sits in the front seat with a pirated version of Jesus Christ Superstar, as he hums, “If I were Free to Speak My Mind.”

Jesus makes one last check through his AAA trip ticket and settles into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel. He alone knows they are headed to Jerusalem. There are three highways to Jerusalem: along the coast,/ down the western Jordan Valley,/ and the shorter, middle way through Samaria. AAA has routed Jesus and his band away from Samaria.

Fifteen minutes into the trip, Peter belts out a new song, “Let the Midnight Special Shine Its Light On Me.”

Peter, Paul, and Mary then revive the group by breaking into a rousing version of “Early in the Morning, at The Break of Day, I asked the Lord, please help me find the Way.” ///

The rest of us also remember past summer road trips and wonder if we will ever hit the road again to get away from it all. Jesus and the disciples, however, are moving toward it all. This is the beginning of our summer lectionary road trip, an itinerary that traces a section of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem described by Matthew. Jesus’ road trip is not vacation. Matthew’s version of this journey teaches us how to continue Jesus’ ministry of compassion, peace, love, healing. These travel narratives will support us who struggle and strive to live “real life”/ faithfully today/ during this pandemic and unrest,/ as we also listen to those in a past generation who struggled and heard Jesus’ words of love and healing.

Music often is the healing grace in times of stress and unrest. It is comforting that Jesus has some sacred recordings and a band with him to lift his spirits, for he cautions them and us that we will face rejection and disappointments from the get go. Things may not work out the way we had planned.

Jesus bluntly tells his disciples they will even be beaten and dragged before the ruling class. The disciples, James and John, the sons of thunder, react conventionally saying, “we will meet violence and rejection also with violence and rejection.” The song from the back of the van is “If I Had My Way in this wicked world, I would tear this building down.”/ Jesus will have none of that. Instead he asks Peter, Paul, and Mary to change their tune to a friend’s draft of “Blowing in the Wind: How many times, Lord, how many roads must a man walk down, before he is called a man, the answer my friend, is blowing in the wind, blowing in the wind.”/ The beloved disciple then follows up with the old spiritual, “I Ain’t Gonna Study War No More.”

Jesus then gazes over his shoulder at his musical group in the back seats and teaches us and them the words to a new tune he just heard, “The Times, They Are A ‘Changin.’” He tells us our life will be different in his band, even more so during our present time. We may have no musical ability, but Jesus reminds us to keep practicing only one song which is really a wedding song, performed at Peter’s wedding, “There is Love, there is Love.” This must be Jesus’ theme song. It makes Jesus happy when we sing it. Jesus challenges us to move beyond the accepted standards of safety and security and put relationships with each other and caring for each other as a major priority.

The last song we hear from the back of the van is, “Lord, I’m 100 miles from Home, 200 miles, not a shirt on my back, not a penny to my name. 500 Miles.” //

Soon in our lectionary trip, Jesus preaches about seeds, sowers, mustard seeds, yeast, and tremendous catches of fish. Jesus likes food and eating, especially eating with strangers. He tries to retreat to a deserted place, but people find him. Instead of scolding the crowd, he heals the sick, feeds 5000 plus with five loaves and two fish, and ends up leaving 12 baskets of leftovers. Jesus climbs up a mountain to pray, but he sees his disciples in distress on the sea. “The Water is Wide and we cannot get o’er.” Jesus goes to them, and calms the sea. He heals the daughter of a foreigner and learns what God is teaching us about caring for those different from ourselves.//

Too soon our journey this summer draws to a close, and our present routine may not be different. But if we follow our lectionary closely these weeks, we will discover that we have been traveling in a unique summer school with Jesus, more like a touring choir camp,/ and that in Jesus’ classroom, the songs, the music, the lyrics differ greatly from what our culture once sang.

We may lose our way or run out of gas on this trip to Jerusalem with Jesus, but all of Matthew’s stories this summer/ and the music from past generations remind us that Jesus never ever leaves or abandons us on this journey. He knows what we are going through. He loves us and asks us to act out that love to the world. WE are to share that love so others will also know they are loved and will never be abandoned. “The Song is Love.”/

There are high stakes for those who unfold Jesus’ road map and follow his musical band and its itinerary. This journey with Jesus to Jerusalem so reminds us of our present spiritual and physical life of faith/ with what seem like too many bumps and potholes.

It is easy to let the cacophony in our minds drown out the MINISTRY Jesus strains his voice,/ calling us to/ in the midst, and through this pandemic and social unrest. The music Jesus sings is a new tune with lyrics of only two words, heal, love. It is impossible not to worry about what will happen this summer and the next,/ but worrying keeps us from doing this real ministry of compassion to our brothers and sisters./

Listen carefully this summer for the music from Jesus’ band,/ all too often in the background. Listen especially to a song Jesus wrote for Peter, “With Your Face To The Wind, I See You Smiling Again.”

Don’t miss a single Sunday of Jesus’ summer road trip. Join the chorus when Peter, Paul, and Mary point to us/ to sing our part/ in their newest release: “If I had a hammer,/ I’d hammer in the morning,/ I’d hammer in the evening,/ I’d hammer out danger,/ freedom,/ justice,/ love// between my brothers and sisters, all over this land.”

“No Excuses,” Homiletics, 6/28/1992.

“Walk On,” Homiletics, 6/28/1998.

Elizabeth McGregor Simmons, “Luke and AAA: Preaching to Fellow Travelers in June, July, and August,” Journal for Preachers, vol. 27, no. 4, Pentecost, 2004, pp. 12-17.

Charles Hoffacker, Proper 8C, Sermonwriter, June 27, 2004.

Joanna. joannaseibert.com

A Tale of Two Women, Easter Vigil A, St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Little Rock, Matthew 28:1-10

A Tale of Two Women

The Great Vigil of Easter A, St. Mark’s Episcopal Church,

April 11, 2020 Matthew 28:1-10

“Let us hear the record of God's saving deeds in history, how he saved his people in ages past; and let us pray that our God will bring each of us to the fullness of redemption.” BCP 288)

Back in Galilee. Mary, the mother of James adds more spices to the last of the lamb and mixes it with lentils for dinner, always better the third day. Joanna, Solome, and Suzanna direct the children as they clear the dishes. The full moon brings in a small amount of light through the front window. It is early spring, still cool, so we huddle around the fire for warmth and especially for each other’s company. Our after-dinner entertainment is story telling. All the chores are done, so tonight we have time for many stories.

“Who can tell the best bedtime story tonight?’

The men always go first and Mary’s husband, James the Older, picks the first story. “I will tell you the story of how God created the heavens and the earth,” James, the Elder, speaks slowly and deliberately. “God creates this world and every living creature out of darkness, out of emptiness, out of more darkness than the darkest night you can imagine when there is no moon. God creates all of us in his own image, even little James, the Younger, in the corner who is not paying attention to this story,// and then God blesses everything he made.”/

Peter chimes in when James the Older takes a breath. “My story is about how God saves all of us when we were slaves escaping from Egypt by parting the waters of the sea.” “I know this story,” pipes up James, the Younger, as he moves in closer to the circle. “Moses stretches out his hand and God drives the sea back by a strong east wind all night and turns the sea into dry land!”/

John speaks next. “My story is a song that I would like to sing about how God sprinkles clean water upon us and gives us a new heart and a new spirit and takes away our heart of stone and gives us a heart of flesh.” John’s musical voice brings a stillness to the night air. But soon the men are telling boisterous stories about the flood, the valley of the dry bones,/ each man trying to top the other one’s story.

Mary Magdalene moves into the inner circle “Mary and I have a story to tell.”

“Women are not story tellers,” blurts out James, the Younger, back in his corner!

“No, wait,” says Peter. “We did not listen to Mary and Mary Magdalene the first time they told their story! We need to hear it every night!”

Mary Magdalene begins. “It is early dawn after the sabbath after Jesus dies. There is almost a full moon with as much light as we see tonight. Mary and I have traveled with all of you who followed Jesus from Galilee fixing meals, cleaning up just like tonight./ We are grief stricken, so we decide to honor our dead friend and take all the spices we have saved to anoint his body. We worry all the way to the tomb about how to roll away the stone,/ how to get past the guards we hear are there,/ but we don’t care, we’re going./

We silently arrive at the tomb,/ and suddenly the earth shakes violently,/ and then some Thing that looks like lightning with clothes as white as snow comes from out of nowhere and rolls away the stone/ and then sits on top of it! The guards appear dead! This White-being that we believe later is an angel tells us, “Do not be afraid,” but of course we are petrified!

The great White-light-being continues, “I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here. He has been raised from the dead. Jesus has risen,/ come, look and see where his body lay. Then go quickly and tell the others to meet Jesus in Galilee!”

We hastily peek into the tomb which is empty and get out of there, as fast as we can./ But then.. this is soo amazing, we meet Jesus on the road! “Greetings,” he says. Now Jesus has never said anything like “greetings” before. We fall down and hold his feet to make sure he is for real.. He is real./ We worship him./ Jesus then says exactly what the white-lightening-being says, “Do not be afraid. Go tell the others to go to Galilee where I will see them.” /

We rush back to where we all are hiding, and no one believes us! They say it is an idle tale by women!”///

Peter cannot stay still another minute. “Yes, I was there when you came back. Yes, I did not believe you, but I ran back to the tomb, hoping beyond hope that it might be true. And yes, there is the empty tomb!” ////

“So what do you think,” says John, “of all the stories tonight, could this one be the greatest story ever told.” “Yes,” says James, the Younger. “Now tell us more about what happens after that!”

Mary Magdalene puts her arm around young James as Peter lifts him up to go to bed. “James, it is too late/ for more stories,/ but yes, you are so right./ The story is not finished./ So much more happens./ If you get up early in the morning/ and come back into this room/ after the big candle is lighted,/ we will continue the story.”

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com

Lent 4 The Lord Is My Shepherd, St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Little Rock, March 22, 2020

Lent 4 The Lord Is My Shepherd, St. Mark’s March 22, 2020

If you are wondering where God is in all this coronavirus mess, stay with us for a few more minutes. As we live socially distant, trying to avoid the coronavirus, the psalm appointed many, many years ago, just for today, is the 23rd Psalm where we are told that God is our shepherd, who leads us and cares for us. I hope we will pray this psalm every day until we can again become physically connected. In fact, let’s say it again. (PAGE 612 BCP )

1 The Lord is my shepherd; *

I shall not be in want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures *

and leads me beside still waters.

3 He revives my soul *

and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.

4 Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I shall fear no evil; *

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

5 You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me;

you have anointed my head with oil,

and my cup is running over.

6 Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, *

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

This is the most read psalm at funerals and with the sick, so let us follow the lead of so many others before us whom we loved./ Those in our ancestry and the sick are crying out to us now to know what they know. The God of love is not only above us and inside of us, but our God is beside us, our companion through the most difficult storms, crises, and disasters. God never ever leaves us alone or abandons us. /

Often we think this image of a shepherd was only relevant for ancient times. Certainly, the word picture of the Good Shepherd was very meaningful in the Hebrew Scriptures and in the New Testament where the post exile Hebrews sing this 23rd Psalm while tending sheep. But in the 21th century with our urbanized society of agribusiness and electronic fences, this scripture image may be a dusty antique of the past. We simply do not encounter sheep and shepherds except at a petting zoo, or perhaps at a drive through of the live nativity pageant that was at the Church of the Nazarene, our sister church next to us on Mississippi. We also are not excited about comparing ourselves to sheep. They are low on the animal IQ list. We do not expect an animal episode of the game show “Jeopardy” featuring a competition between sheep any time soon.

But to the Hebrews, the Good Shepherd is a meaningful image of a God who is loving, listening, caring, protecting, and leading his flock to nourishment and safety./ Is there a metaphor that we might use today to understand our God who is loving, nurturing, healing, caring? Hold that thought. We will get back to it. But for right now, let’s listen closely to discern how we may best hear the Good Shepherd’s voice beside us during this crisis. Is the message of the psalm only for the dying and those who are sick?

Our present culture is full of many voices. A symptom of the mental illness schizophrenia is hearing voices—loud, demanding seductive voices, pulling apart the sanity of a centered soul. Watch the award-winning movie, A Beautiful Mind, the story of the Nobel prize winning mathematician, John Nash, and you will understand. In many ways we live in a schizophrenic culture. We are bombarded with voices demanding, analyzing, projecting, pleading, persuading, seeking to control our hearts and our minds./ Especially now we hear a multitude of different voices telling us about the coronavirus./

If we look at the 23rd psalm, an old family friend, with a new pair of glasses, we might see where we may find help./ There are four places where the voice of our caregiver, our protector, seems to be the strongest in this timeless psalm.

The first place is beside still waters, where we are made to lie down in green pastures where our fearful soul is revived. Remember the story about a desert father who goes to teach his novice about HEARING the voice of God. The old monk sends the novice out to fetch a bowl of water from a desert pool. The young monk returns and they both sit for hours,/ never speaking,/ watching quietly as the murky liquid becomes clear,/ as the sediment slowly settles to the bottom./ The Good Shepherd, the good listener calls us to quiet places and speaks to us there, often outdoors in the green and blue, in the silence of the wind. If you want to hear the voice of the Good Nurturer, the psalmist is telling us to find a still place in our lives, often outdoors, even for a few moments. Perhaps this is one gift from our confinement from the coronavirus. Many of us may have more time for silence, for prayer, listening for the voice of the Good Shepherd./ Those with small children now at home will especially be needing this quiet time. Again, the place of less noise may best be outdoors or early or late in the day or night. /

The voice of the Shepherd also leads us to right paths, actively seeking paths of righteousness. This is the second place we more clearly hear the voice of the Good Shepherd, the Good Leader: where we are searching for the path of our calling and our truth. This again may be another gift of the coronavirus. Some may now have more time to connect on our phones, emails, social media to friends, family, and our neighbors who are more vulnerable. We may also have more time to study and read scripture especially using the ancient Benedictine practice of lectio divina. We read scripture slowly,/ listening for the word or phrase that speaks to us from our life./ We meditate on that word and think about how it moves us./ We then offer to God how our heart is moved by the word./ Lastly we rest in silence in the Good Shepherd’s arms./

The third place we might hear the voice of the Good Shepherd is “where God spreads a table before us in the presence of those who trouble us, our enemy.” Today our enemy is this messy virus that shares itself across all borders, except two. Its spread is stopped by some basic hygiene steps, especially handwashing that we should have been doing all along, as well as unfortunately our social distanc/ing. The psalmist reminds us that the Good Shepherd is here with us/ and perhaps especially in the presence of this viral enemy./

The psalm promises the shepherd’s voice at one more place we all are experiencing. This is the place we need to hear that voice the most. This is the valley of the shadow, the valley where hurt and despair and death threaten to overcome us. We have learned most about this place in our Mourner’s Path groups where we hear stories from those who have experienced the death of a loved one. Over time, they remember someone inside or outside or beside them, guiding and caring for them./

The psalmist tells us that fear, fear of an evil illness also lives with us in this valley of isolation and darkness. Knowing God is beside us as our constant companion/ invites Courage also to be our constant guide. How does the Good Shepherd keep giving us courage? Courage is Fear that has said its prayers. // But sometimes it is too difficult to find courage. But remember that all of us, at this your St. Mark’s family, are praying for each other. This is where courage and prayer speak to each other. Courage and prayers meet and knit together in this community./ When we are in so much pain that we ourselves can no longer say our prayers,/ others are saying them for us./

And so, my WOOLLY friends,/ it seems this ancient, dusty metaphor of the Good Shepherd is very much a part of us, gifted to us from our heritage. Perhaps it IS such a timeless metaphor because it does not have the baggage of all our other present-day images. /The coronavirus, our enemy,/ has given us the gift of time. While we separate ourselves from each other, may we with all our might, use this time to put ourselves into position to hear more clearly the voice of that Good Shepherd. This voice may not be in complete sentences./ It may be silence that moves the heart. It may be a song, a messy diaper, a teenager that we haven’t been able to talk with for some time,/ a family member who keeps calling, a flute, a bird call, a hungry family at the food pantry, a phone call, a text, an email, food to our neighbor. The Good Shepherd, the Good Guide, the Good Listener, the Good Nurturer, now invites us to allow the Good Shepherd to be by our side, to care for us, to love us,/ today/ and for all our days./ The Good Shepherd is reminding us and our children that we all have been anointed with holy oil at our baptism, that the cup of love from the Good Shepherd is running over with goodness and mercy and love,/ and that we will live in the House of God forever.

Barbara Brown Taylor, “the Shepherd’s Flute” in Bread of Angels , pp.80-84.

Barbara Brown Taylor, “The Voice of the Shepherd” in The Preaching Life, pp. 140- 146.

Joanna. joannaseibert.com

Funeral Joan Matthews March 6, 2020 St. Mark's Little Rock

Funeral Joan Matthews, March 6, 2020 St. Mark’s

Today we join with family and friends to celebrate the life of Joan Matthews, the 85-year-old Canadian born matriarch of her family of four children, Boyd, Brett, Marci/a, Bobby, their spouses, as well as nine grandchildren. Joan raised this amazingly talented family after the death of her husband, Dr. Robert Matthews in 1992. Our present bishop, Larry Benfield was at St. Mark’s at that time. Dr. Matthews’ funeral was his first to preside over in Arkansas. The family will always remember the pastoral care they received from our present bishop at that time and for many years to come. Joan was a public health nurse, visiting the sick in their homes where she wiped away the tears of many of those she visited. This is part of her family heritage. As a child, she often accompanied her grandmother, Granny Stewart, who took food to the needy in a picnic basket with probably a Bible between the loaves of bread. Joan also served faithfully at this church as a eucharistic minister at this altar and a eucharistic visitor to the homebound. When she became homebound, many eucharistic visitors from this church took communion to her. We need to let them know that they were carrying Christ to someone who had done the same for so many others before them. Joan also was very proud that she was an EFM, Education for Ministry graduate from Sewanee School of Theology. But there was more to know about Joan than what she accomplished. Perhaps you will learn a little more about her/ from what her family shared with us about the day she died at home in her 85th year.

“On the day Joan died, the family had been telling her since the day before, "Marci/a (her daughter) is coming.. she'll be here tomorrow.. she'll be here in 8 hours.. she'll be here in two hours.." After Marci/a arrived all the children would drift in and out of her room, talking, singing, rubbing her feet, brushing her hair, reading from the prayer book. Finally, with every one present, all four of her children, Marci/a, Bobby, Boyd, Brett, three granddaughters, and Virginia, Bobby’s wife, they gathered around Joan’s bed reading psalms and reminiscing. Joan breathed her last breaths with all gathered around/ as Bobby felt a cold wind breeze past him.”/

This is an amazing story of a whole family midwifing the passage of the beloved matriarch of their family back to God in her own home. It is like being present and assisting at her birth into a new world, into a life in the resurrection. There is no more sacred and loving thing than being at that passage,/ the death of someone you love.

Let’s talk a little more about love. Joan’s body has died to this world but her love is still here with each of you. Love is the only thing we leave behind when we die. Remember this verse from 1 Corinthians, “Love never dies.” (1 Corinthians 13:8) Repeat

We don’t understand it. It is a mystery./ I look at pictures of my own loved ones who have died, my brother, my grandparents, I can feel their love as I send my love back to them. Frederick Buechner and Henri Nouwen tell us that our bodies die, but our mutual love somehow returns to God and is kept for all eternity.

Listen again to what St. Paul, Buechner and Nouwen are saying. Love is kept for all eternity. That means love is all we leave on this earth and love is what we take with us into eternal life with the God of love. Joan left her love to you, and also her love is now part of/ and is enlarging the love of our God of love/ in this greater life. If you are a mystic, you have no difficulty understanding this. If you are a person who comprehends mainly by rational thinking, this may be a difficult concept.

Let’s see if this conception of love is not only biblical and in the voice of our theologians/ but also in our literature. This is a closing sentence from Thornton Wilder’s fictional book, The Bridge of San Luis Rey( Sand louise ray), where five people die on a bridge in South American. The passage was read by British Prime Minister Tony Blair at the memorial service in New York for British victims of the attack on the World Trade Center.// “There is a land of the living/ and a land of the dead/ and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.” (Repeat) —Thornton Wilder in The Bridge of San Luis Rey (HarperCollins, 1927), p. 107.

I know in my heart that the love that Joan had for each of you will always endure. Your love for Joan who has died/ is ongoing, as is her love for you. You will never be lonely. Her Love is always there inside of you. St. Paul, Nouwen, Buechner, and now Thornton Wilder tell us that in some mysterious way this love we have for each other never dies./ Joan’s love stays with each of you as you carry it forward to transform yourselves, transform others you meet, //and transform the universe./ Joan’s love is also now in the resurrected life in some way we do not understand as part of the God of love. The verse from Corinthians and Wilder in his novel are both telling us that the best of this love we have for each other never ever dies. This is a mystery, but I know in my heart it is true and I think you know it as well because this is what Joan taught us and you./ Unfortunately, the Bible does not answer most of our questions about resurrection. It refuses to approach resurrection as something rational for us in our lifetime.1

In this mysterious universe what we do know, however, is that those who mean most to us// mean EVEN MORE to God. In God's way, God will keep them, and because God keeps them, we will never be separated from them, or they from us./

This morning as we carry the ashes of our dear friend, Joan, in and out of this sacred space, we are sac/ra/men/tally carrying her back to God. 2We know she already is with God, but this funeral lit/ur/gy allows us in effect to shout out a prayerful petition to God, “God, get ready! Here comes Joan! A sinner of your own redeeming, and a lamb of your own flock. You have given her to us, and now with gratitude for the gift of her life, we are returning her to you.” Our prayers are like the prayers at the offertory, “We give thee but thine own,”/ except in this case the offering is not money but the life of one we love.

It is an early Christian tradition2 to tell stories about the one who has died as the body is on its pilgrimage to its final burial place. You are a family of story tellers, so keep telling all of us/ and all you meet, stories about Joan/ as I know you will do at the reception. This is how you will continue to share her love. We tell stories because Christians believe that death changes but does not destroy. Death3 is not a period at the end of a sentence, but more like a comma/ where we die but go on to a new relationship with God AND with those we love. Our experience is that our God of love does not give us a loving relationship and then let it stop abruptly as with Joan’s death. This loving relationship is still there but in some different form of love. We tell stories of Joan especially at her death to continue our relationship with her, to know Joan’s never-ending love for you, to remember Joan’s love for the God of love, as seen through the prism of her life, both in glad and sorrowful memories, which will continually be refractions of the grace and love of God.////

“O God of grace and glory, we remember before you this day our sister, Joan. We thank you for giving her to us,..to know and to love as a companion on our earthly pilgrimage…and now 4O God of Love

who loves us/ with a greater love than we can neither know nor understand: We give you most high praise and hearty thanks for the good example of your servant, Joan, who now is in the larger life of your heavenly Presence;/ who here on this earth was a tower of strength for all of us, who stood by us and helped us;/ who cheered us by her sympathy and encouraged us by her example;/ who looked not disdainfully on the outward appearance, but lovingly into the hearts of men and women and children; who rejoiced to serve all people, especially the sick;/ whose loyalty was steadfast, and her friendship unselfish and secure; whose joy it was to know more about You and be of service. Grant that Joan may continue to find abiding peace and wisdom in your heavenly kingdom, and that we may carry forward her unfinished work for you on this earth;/ through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

1Heaven, edited by Roger Ferlo (Seabury Books, 2007).

2Thomas Long, “O Sing to Me of Heaven: Preaching at Funerals” in Journal for Preachers, vol. 29, No. 3, Easter 2006, pp.21-26.

3Edward Gleason, Dying we Live (Cowley 1990).

4 J. B. Bernardin Burial Services (Morehouse Publishing 1980) p. 117.

Joanna. Seibert

Love Your Enemies

Lent 1 March 4, Love your enemies 2020 Wednesday 5:30,

Matthew 5:43-48

Today Jesus tells us to love our neighbors,/ ourselves,/ and goodness knows,/ even our enemies. Could this commandment be related to Jesus’ recent journey Sunday into the wilderness where he meets our greatest enemy called Satan? Rachel Held Evans in her last book, Inspired, leaves with us her experience of wilderness, enemies, and how this relates to Jesus and the God of love. She reminds us that unfortunately we will be driven into the wilderness on our journey when we encounter enemies, just like our Jewish relatives before us. We try to stay connected to the God of love but sometimes we seem surrounded by situations that are harmful to us. Our best reaction often is to flee to the wilderness to escape our enemies, just as Hagar and her son are turned out by Abraham and Sarah, or Jacob flees his brother Esau, or Elijah flees Jezebel. Evans believes that even the God of love, when clothed in human form, has to make a visit to the wilderness to prepare for his meeting/ head on with the devil.

The wilderness is usually thought of as a scary or barren place where God seems even more absent,/ but I have learned from my daughter who is a wilderness forester that the wilderness is the most sacred place where we, like Elijah, best hear the silent voice of God. The wilderness is out of sync with our usual routine. It disorients us and leads us to a different way of thinking where we can learn that the only way to face our enemies within and without/ is with love.

We all have had experiences where we have been harmed: death of a loved one, loss of a job, struggling with an addiction, physical, verbal abuse, a serious illness, depression, other mental disorders, difficulty with our children, parents or siblings,/ struggling with our present political scene. Rachel reminds us that as we are driven into the wilderness from these experiences, we will always learn a great deal about ourselves and especially about the God of love that has been there before us. That is the experience of the children of Israel, Hagar, Jacob, and even Jesus,/ our constant companion. When we decide to live in this more barren place, we meet what we perceive as the enemy within or without of us, but instead meet and are saved by the God of love, and are attended by angels. I think the wilderness is where Jesus especially learns about love of one’s enemy, as he confronts the devil, the personification of evil, the one who lives without love, that part of us where love for others does not live. Jesus’ confrontation with the devil, the evil one, is where he teaches us about loving/ our enemy. First Jesus listens. This is the most loving thing we can do, to listen. Then he speaks to the evil one being obedient to the love of God, whom evil does not understand. Evil can never overcome this love./ Jesus may be reminding us how to journey through the wilderness of this political scene and see if we can also / love those whom we consider our enemy. Loving our enemy is listening/ and looking for/ the Christ within what we perceive as our enemy, and offering the Christ, the love of God within us./ The enemy may or may not be transformed, but we always will become more connected to the Christ within,/ whenever and where ever we offer Love./

Lastly, Rachel reminds us to name these wilderness experiences. Hagar names the well in the wilderness which saves her life and her son, Ishmael, “I have seen the God who sees me.” Just as Jacob is about to meet Esau in the wilderness, he wrestles with God and names the place, Peniel, which means “ Face of God.”

Tonight, we will name this, our liturgical wilderness, Lent.// Here,/

the love we find and offer this Lent will never ever be destroyed, especially when we offer it to those whom we may perceive as our enemies.

Rachel Held Evans in Inspired ( Nelson Books 2018) pp. 48-50.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com