A Love Story
Quite some years ago I attended Mills College, studying in their department of education to get teaching credentials for both elementary and secondary education in Alaska and California.
On the first week of classes the school held a matriculation ceremony welcoming in the new freshman class. At that time Mills was still a woman’s college for their undergraduate offerings. What struck me was the close ties of many graduates who returned for this ceremony. Women had assembled from classes going back to the 1930s – but not many.
I still get their alum magazine, which this month featured stories of students who had met their spouses while at Mills.
The first story of Michael and Katja warmed my heart. Michael was working on a masters of fine arts and Katya spied him across the tables at the Olin Library. This was in 2001.
Michael describes what he calls “a shock of recognition.”
“It was like a flash of lightning that blinds you. I had this real feeling that we had met before. I was a little shy, so it took a while to kind of warm up. But I think the time that I decided to talk to Katya was when I started to notice that she was sort of waiting at the fountain for me!”
Katya corrects her husband, “Lingering,” with a smile.
“I remember feeling like, ‘Oh my gosh, something is happening…In that moment, the stakes just felt a lot higher because I just felt this sense of potential. I just felt like Michael was really different than anyone else I had met.”
That began a romance of nineteen years…still going strong.
Most of us have known those feelings, that bond. Many of us are still living that delight, though some of the fire may have subsided and we’re comfortable old married folks. For some unrequited love may be now felt as a residual tragedy or irretrievable loss.
The fact still remains – we’re made for one another.
At Epiphany we celebrate a love letter from God. That’s what the Star of Revelation is all about. Just as Katya realized, “Something is happening.”
Our younger son met Alexis online. We are so overjoyed that they both realized after several dates, “Something is happening.” And now a wedding is scheduled for October 7th of this year…and we delight in the joy they find in one another. Something is happening indeed!
It all started with a Big Bang when, in the twinkling of the Divine Eye, everything came into being: “The stars and planets in their courses.” Dandelions and lady bugs, lizards and dinosaurs. Not all at once, but like any true romance, gradually unfolding — A huge bit something happening.
And finally, you and me.
That is what the Feast of Epiphany is all about – SOMETHING IS HAPPENING in that simple manger far away. And happening still today.
That is the love story of the Divine Lover and the Creation. The will is to flourish in the same way Michael and Katja have flourished, the way couples and communities have flourished down through the ages.
That is the never-ending Love Story, unfolding on the first pages of Genesis. To each of us comes the call, “Arise, shine; for your light has come and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.”
Yes, it’s not all roses. This world yet knows much darkness. But as John Ford Coley, croons, “Love is the Answer.”
Not a sentimental love, though the fireworks are a help. I’m talking of love that goes out of its way to boost flourishing – even when you DON’T feel like it.
It’s the love that takes you outside of your comfort zone. It’s what leads you to do that minor errand, simply because you know it will make the other person happy.
It’s the love for your country that leads you to walk precinct for a candidate you believe will do a good job. To walk for several hours even though you could be curled up on the couch with a good novel. Even when the joints ache and the back is sore and the street lights have already turned on.
It was that lightning attraction of a miraculous star that led those three travelers to their heart’s delight.
And what gifts might we bring?
I’m reminded of all those who down through the years have been keepers of the flame of faith. The unheralded matriarchs of our communities of faith who kept the doors open when hope was scarce and funds were even scarcer.
I think of Mrs. Nellie Hughes, wife of our pastor, who when I was a child led children’s church every Sunday …who tried to instill in us obstreperous boys some sense of decency and decorum…who tried to present a living faith through story and song that would last our whole life long.
The fact that I still fondly remember her and her gentle admonitions, her stories and smile, says she had succeeded far beyond what she might have imagined. She was God’s love letter, and in her presence, something was happening.
That’s what the Star of Revelation is all about – Love is the Answer, and Something’s Happening.
When I was at All Saints Church in Pasadena, one of our clergy was a priest from South Africa. As a white woman, Wilma might have easily said goodbye forever to that tormented land.
Since its first President Nelson Mandela left office, South Africa has been racked by unemployment, crime, and corruption. Wilma chose to return. As a white Afrikaner, she is aware she had little leverage to do much to be of help. But what she could do, she would. That’s the Wilma of generous heart that we all loved at All Saints. I still miss the lilt of her English accent when remember her.
In the sermon she preached on her farewell Sunday, Wilma mentioned a website dedicated to those white Afrikaners who have committed to remain and do whatever they can to heal the dysfunction of their great nation. The site’s hashtag is: #ImStaying You can find it also on Facebook.
Here is the story of one of the faithful, generous souls who have screwed up their fortitude and have pledged their lot with their fellow countrymen and women. It is the story of one white South Afrikaner woman who’s staying put. These beautiful citizens of that fabled country brightly reflect glimmers of the Christ Star. And what they reveal is hope for the planet – the hope of some simple, decent humanity.
This woman’s journey is the sacramental presence of God’s love – that divine “Something’s Happening” story.
Here is one post on #ImStaying that is right out of God’s never-ending Love Story.
The narrator says that on her drive home one day, she saw a man on crutches lugging a suitcase on wheels. Crossing a bridge, he was struggling mightily as he finally got to the other side. He was tired and obviously ill. She told her kids that she was going to stop and help him.
She rolled down the window and asked the man if she could give him a lift somewhere. His distorted face indicated to her that he was in some real difficulty. He seemed somewhat confused. He handed her a piece of paper saying he was deaf and dumb. She began to speak very slowly and offered him a lift to where he needed to go. He wrote on his paper, on a board he pulled from his backpack, his destination. She had her son get out of the car and help with his bags. Then she had the man sit next to her with his crutches.
As she drove along, the man kept writing messages to say thank you on his board, and she used the little sign language she knew to say that it was her pleasure. She stopped along the way and got him something to drink and withdrew some money at her bank.
When they got to the taxi station that was his destination, her son carried his suitcase to the cab. As he left, she had tears streaming down her face. She handed him a 400 Rand note in South African money, and hoped he would make it home safely.
She later told her kids that there was no way that many people would help a man like this, walking with crutches, with a distorted grimace on his face. Speaking to her children as much to us, she continues:
People need help! We can only do what we can with what we’ve got. I’m just happy that being kind costs nothing and we have the potential to do so much good.
I know that [they] will remember that day in particular for the rest of their lives and I hope it will encourage them to be good to other people. We need to role model this behavior for our kids.[1]
The mother concluded that she again had tears in her eyes as she typed up her story. She thanked #ImStaying for all the positive posts on the site, concluding with the prayer, “May God bless Africa.”
As my friend Jim Strathdee has so marvelously turned a Howard Thurman poem to song!
When the song of the angels is stilled.
When the star in the sky is gone.
When the kings and the shepherds have found their way home.
The work of Christmas is begun!
O Star of Brilliant Revelation, revealing our work. The work of all the little people, the nobodies, the “least of these” – in whom Christ continues to daily preform the most astounding miracles. We’re Staying. Something’s Happening – a Love Story. Let it ever be so, even here at little St. Francis. Amen.
[1] Anonymous, #imstaying.
January 8, 2023, The Epiphany
“A Love Story”
The Rev. Dr. John C. Forney, St. Francis Episcopal Mission
Isaiah 60:1-6; Psalm 72:1-7, 10-14; Ephesians 3:1-12; Matthew 2:1-12
Let us Go See This Thing
This last week, most improbably there stood before Congress Volodymyr Zelenskyy, president of Ukraine. He spoke of his gratitude for the aid and moral support the American people had given his nation. He spoke of the suffering they were currently enduring in freezing temperatures and darkness.
Here, in part is what President Zelenskyy told us:
“We’ll celebrate Christmas. Celebrate Christmas and, even if there is no electricity, the light of our faith in ourselves will not be put out. If Russian — if Russian missiles attack us, we’ll do our best to protect ourselves. If they attack us with Iranian drones and our people will have to go to bomb shelters on Christmas Eve, Ukrainians will still sit down at the holiday table and cheer up each other. And we don’t, don’t have to know everyone’s wish, as we know that all of us, millions of Ukrainians, wish the same: Victory. Only victory.”[1]
It was an electrifying moment.
Only a short few months ago, we all looked on Ukraine as a hopeless cause. Another instance of a brave people losing a struggle against overwhelming odds against a ruthless foe. Sad, but inevitable. The way of the world.
It is into this world that a small child lay in a cradle, huddled against bitter cold. Shepherds keeping watch, alerted to the impending mystery, gather themselves together. And set out to see what new ray of hope shines in the darkness of another autocrat’s darkness.
“Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.”
And isn’t that the yearning of each of us, to see some ray of hope, to see a sliver of light in our darkened world?
That is what all the decorations are about. That is what the gathering of friends and family is about. “Let us go see this thing which the Lord has made known to us.”
As the old year closes, our nation closes a chapter on one of the most sordid episodes of our history. It’s not the first time we have had a brush with autocracy. The first came in the 1930’s when a radical Catholic priest incited millions across the airwaves to accept the fascist alternative. Fr. Coughlin and others were deep into a plot, fomented and financed by agents of Hitler, to overthrow our democracy. Check out Rachel Maddow’s podcast, Ultra. A book and film are in the works.
With the report of the January 6th Committee in our hands, we have the documentation of just how close we came this time to suffering a coup to overthrow our democracy. This modern-day Herod was willing to do just about anything to retain the power of the presidency. Even to the murder of police officers.
“Just say the election was corrupt and leave the rest to me,” was the Former Guy’s ask of former acting Attorney General Jeffrey Rosen.[2] When it became clear that Rosen would not go along with this cockamamie idea, the Former Guy planned to fire him and install a toady, Jeffrey Clark, who would do his bidding.
But democracy’s light, brilliant as that Star of Epiphany, cut through the darkness of this nefarious plot. Virtually all top employees threatened to resign en masse should that happen.
“Let us go see this thing” that has preserved our democracy and rule of law. If not all, at least some of the time almost nine hundred pages — or at least take time to read the summary, or catch pieces of it on your nightly news. Read it. Scan it. It’s bipartisan. It’s shocking. It’s on the mark. This witness to the truth, to the values of self-rule is surely the Lord’s doing.
“Let us go to [our local newsstand] and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” For all those who have given witness to these events, we will return to our homes and factories “glorifying and praising God for all [we] have seen…”
Yes, the events leading up to that moment were dastardly. Pardons were sought for the many malefactors in Congress who had aided and abetted the plot. Yet, the vision of free and fair elections prevailed. The line held.
Christmas light does shine in the darkness yet in 2022, reaching far into 2023 and beyond.
This light shines upon Adnan Syed, recently released from prison after serving 23 years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. The DNA evidence proved his innocence. The prosecutor, upon uncovering new evidence, proclaimed his innocence. And numerous others have worked long and hard since 2014 to assert his innocence.
He walked out of the courtroom on September 14th a free man, restored to his family. This December he was hired by Georgetown University as a program associate for the university’s Prisons and Justice Initiative. Now, 41, Adnan begins a life of hope. December’s Christmas goodness indeed!
“To go from prison to being a Georgetown student and then to actually be on campus on a pathway to work for Georgetown at the Prisons and Justice Initiative, it’s a full circle moment,” Syed said in the university’s announcement. “PJI [Prisons and Justice Initiative] changed my life. It changed my family’s life. Hopefully I can have the same kind of impact on others.”[3]
It’s only one man you may say. That’s true. But as George Regas would always remind us, “Keep your eyes on the prize but celebrate the incremental victories along the way.”
See this thing that the Lord has done. The light of that man will only grow in luminosity.
Let us see the work this freed man can now do, turning the lessons of his tragic past into inspiration and perseverance to free others. Let us see this thing the Lord has done and rejoice.
It is this Christmas goodness, this Christmas hope which drew those shepherds to that rude manger in Bethlehem. Christmas serendipity for all who attend to the angels’ annunciation.
By the way, Bethlehem translates as “House of Bread.” That is the announcement of the angels on high, that is the promise of Christmas goodness. The real and true Wonder Bread offered to all.
In a recent op ed piece, Peter Wehner reminds us of the truth of our faith, something we have always known deep down – the bedrock of Christianity is not moral purity, true doctrine or right ritual – it is about relation. Jesus commanded, “Love one another as I have loved you.”[4] That is the lodestone.
When Christianity is stripped of love, it “becomes a religion characterized by hard edges and judgmentalism, by brittleness and moral arrogance, by mercilessness and gracelessness. Those who claim to be followers of Jesus but behave in this way become not his friends but his enemies.”[5]
At the manger we are invited into a relationship. That’s what babies are all about. That is why Christianity is not so much taught as caught. We’ve all know people whose faith bubbles up in joy and service. They have upheld us in times of grief and doubt, in times of despair and when forlorn. They are the bread of life, baked freshly from the House of Bread.
As those Wise Visitors following that Star of Brilliance left their gifts, we too offer the best we have at the manger.
Today as in yesteryear, that original nativity brilliance yet breaks through in the lives of all who have fallen in love with the small Christ Child. As that child has come to maturity in the lives of grown believers, their works of mercy and justice give testimony to its goodness in our day.
We too would exclaim, “Gloria in Excelsis – Peace on Earth to All of Good Will.” Amen. And, P.S., Happy New Year!
[1] Full Transcript of Zelensky’s Speech Before Congress, New York Times, December 22, 2022.
[2] Kevin Breuninger, “Jan. 6th Hearing: “Trump told DOJ officials, “Just Say it was Corrupt and Leave the Rest to me,” CNBC live blog tracking Thursday’s hearing of the House Jan. 6 select committee, June 23, 2022.
[3] Brian Witte, “Adnan Syed hired by Georgetown’s prison reform initiative,” AP, December 23, 2022.
[4] John 15.
[5] Peter Wehner, “Jesus Loved Friendship,” New York Times, December 24, 2022.
January 1, 2023, Christmas 2
“Let us Go See This Thing”
The Rev. Dr. John C. Forney, St. Francis Episcopal Mission
Numbers 6:22-27; Psalm 8; Galatians 4:4-7; Luke 2:15-21
A Stand-up Guy
Long, long ago – in the dark ages of junior high – one lesson was firmly implanted in my mind by our P.E. coach, Mr. Jorgensen. This was the time when the seventh-grade boys would be taken aside for sex education.
We were fortunate to live in a reasonably progressive town, Long Beach, California, where such things could be dealt with on a rational basis.
So, one morning to titters and some surreptitious giggles, a few elbow jabs to the ribs of a nearby friend, we boys were assembled in the weight room of the gym. Of course, all us guys were already experts on the subject – we thought. All sorts of salacious tidbits had been passed around the playground and on the playing fields. But interest was piqued to the max. Now we were going to get the real low-down
Mr. Jorgenson was a no-nonsense coach. He literally once threw a screw-up boy out of our history class – without first opening the door. We could tell by the look on his face and stern demeanor, that this was more serious an occasion than we expected. More serious than his usual about sportsmanship.
After introducing the subject and what we would be covering, Mr. Jorgenson asked one boy, a kid named Joe, a very pointed question: “Joe, how many sperm does it take to make a baby? – Joe, how many?”
There had been rumor that Joe might have gotten a girl in trouble, and this was the confirmation. What Joe did not comprehend was that he, also, was in deep trouble. They both were.
As Jesse Jackson would admonish kids from the hood, “Babies have no business making babies.” What girl, what boy, is mature enough to bring a baby into adulthood. Not a one!
Definitely not our classmate Joe. To him, this baby was just an unfortunate occurrence that really didn’t concern him all that much. A throw-away kid. Joe was not prepared In the slightest to care for a pet dog, let alone a child. Joe was a complete screw-up. Totally incapable of taking responsibility.
This was, indeed, a most memorable sex education class as we boys sat there in stunned silence — Serious stuff! Way beyond smirks, playground wisdom and tales. I’m sure none of us ever forgot that afternoon session on the gym floor.
I sometimes wonder that ever happened to that little tyke. My fondest prayer is that he or she was put up for adoption and taken in by some responsible family. By adults!
Today we read in Matthew’s gospel of another Joe, Joseph if you will. Like our junior high Joe, he is to discover the shocking news – he’s going to be a father.
Even if you’re married and forty, I can tell you that this is most disconcerting news. Yes, we were hoping for a baby. But when the reality of a flesh-and-blood child dawned on me, I was overcome with doubts. “Am I ready to be a father? Will I be a good enough parent? A supportive enough husband?” This is scary business. I’m not ready. Even having had courses in early childhood education, I instantly forgot everything. I wasn’t ready.
Imagine Joseph in a small village with loose tongues and fingers wagging. He must have been beside himself. Did he have the courage to still be seeing Mary? Was he up to being emotional support for her? No, he was shaking in his sandals. He’d gone all soggy like a wet meringue.
“Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly.”
I’m sure he was about to get out of Dodge quietly before the scandal became the talk of the entire village. This brief announcement of Matthew gives us absolutely no hint of the mental anguish of both parties to this announcement. We can only guess.
“But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.”
Now we don’t know with any certainty the nature of this holy message. Was it conscience, character, upbringing, a listening to the inner Spirit? …but in any case, Joseph does not bug out on Mary. He stays and raises Jesus to adulthood. Perhaps even taught him the carpentry trade.
Joseph is the sacrament of God’s steadfastness. He was faithful to the task at hand. He and Mary were in this together. Faithful as God is faithful.
Quite a departure from our first Joe, who as far as any of us knew, never saw the girl again. That episode only turned out the be the first of Joe’s many troubles – another story to be told.
Mary’s Joseph turned out to be a righteous man, a stand-up guy. Faithful for the long haul, though he soon drops out of the pages of scripture. He remains the paradigm of God’s faithfulness. For that reason, the Roman church celebrates a feast day for the Holy Family.
Last Sunday we focused on a stand-up woman – Mary. Today we’ll focus on a stand-up guy – and all the stand-up guys God sends each and every day.
This week, December 14, ten years ago, the anniversary of the Sandy Hook school mass shooting, was featured on news programs all across the county.
Senator Chris Murphy of Massachusetts, another stand-up guy, spoke on where we are as a nation. He, like St. Joseph, has not forsaken his call of leadership on the issues of military weapons of mass destruction in our communities.
Senator Murphy through an insightful op ed piece speaks to the mental health issues that are producing such tragedy in our communities. In spite of all the electronic connections, we are producing a generation sucked into the dark hole of loneliness and despair. We now have an epidemic of suicides.
Chris writes, ”Growing up, my identity was strongly connected to the town I lived in, Wethersfield, Connecticut, and the “localness” of my daily experience reinforced that identity. For instance, I fondly remember my local grocer, who slipped me a free slice of American cheese every time I visited the deli counter with my grandparents.” That local grocer is now gone, replaced by a Walmart, Sam’s Club, and Amazon. Not much human contact needed at all.
“Loneliness is driving people to dark, dangerous places, and those young, white men carrying tiki torches are only the tip of a giant iceberg of isolated, angry people whose search for meaning might lead them to a seething antisemitic or racist mob.”
Senator Murphy is willing to issue a stand-up clarion call – a warning on what we are doing to ourselves in service to the almighty dollar, not to mention the worship of a gun culture. The cheapest goods at those big box stores, are now costing us plenty – our loss of connection to each other. The glue that holds society together.
More than Senator Murphy, how many other stand-up men have stood by their families and community of Sandy Hook to bear witness to the sorrow of their loss? God’s gift of solidarity to us all.
One husband writes: “My wife, Mary Sherlach, was the school psychologist at Sandy Hook Elementary School…It has never surprised me that she died while confronting the shooter in the front hallway.” It takes real courage to relive those tragic moments – to bear witness to one’s own grief, lest the rest of us forget.
Like Joseph, this man did not bug out, but has become a part of “The Sandy Hook Promise.” Like Joseph, this man is staying put, right where God has planted him. He is a token of God’s faithfulness, God’s solidarity with us.
Another stand-up guy is Lawrence O’Donnell with his promotion of school desks for children in Malawi. It’s the K.I.N.D Fund, Kids in Need of Desks. Every year during this season he has school children expressing their thanks to the American people for promoting their education. The K.I.N.D. fund, in cooperation with UNICEF, has these last few years been promoting girls’ high school tuition. Because high school education is not provided by the state in this impoverished nation, girls graduate at half the rate of boys.
One of those young high school girls I featured in a sermon a couple of years ago, Joyce Chisale, recited her moving poem, “Little by Little.” Joyce is now fulfilling her dream, attending her first year in medical school. Lawrence O’Donnell and his team have made this possible for Joyce and many other girls like her in Malawi – with the dollars sent in by a lot of us. In highlighting girls like Joyce, Lawrence is certainly a stand-up guy living out the Catholic social teachings of his faith. A token of God’s faithful promise.
Adam Kinzinger is another guy, cut of the same cloth. Like Liz Cheney, he has chosen country over party – sacrificing any hope of a future political career. His willingness as a Republican to serve on the January 6th Committee has greatly benefited our nation. He has spoken truth to the insurrectionists and seditionists in his own party. He, like Rep. Cheney, must be accompanied by armed security agents at all times.
This last week he spoke the bottom-line truth of that fateful day, January 6th.
Rep. Adam Kinzinger (R-Ill.) said Wednesday that former President Trump is “absolutely guilty” of a crime surrounding the Jan. 6, 2021, riot at the U.S. Capitol.
“I think he’s guilty of a crime. I mean, look, he knew what he did. We’ve made that clear. He knew what was happening prior to January 6th. He pressured the Justice Department officials to say, ‘Hey, just say the election was stolen and leave the rest to me.’ And then the Republicans all need to put the stamp of approval on it,” Kinzinger told CNN’s Jake Tapper on “The Lead.”[1]
He did not walk away from his country in its hour of need. He did not walk away from the truth. He did not walk away from decency. He is to be counted among the righteous. A token of God’s steadfastness, keeping the faith.
We should also include Dr. Anthony Fauci in this honor roll. He has steadfastly stood by our nation as we have endured one of the greatest medical challenges in our lifetime. And for his efforts, he has been vilified and received death threats. He also needs an armed guard to carry on his duties. As he retires after many long years of service, no words can express the gratitude we own him for his service. Dr. Fauci, you are indeed a stand-up guy. It would have been easy to just walk away under the deluge of the scurrilous attacks on your integrity — but you have stood firm, a token of God’s steadfastness and solidarity.
This year as we come ever closer to that manger of promise, let us remember and give thanks for faithful Joseph, standing with Mary in spite of her ostracism, in spite of the threats of Herod. And for all the stand-up guys who have followed in his footsteps. Who have changed diapers, comforted tears, held their families close – and stood with our nation in her hour of need.
Inspired by, and grateful to paraphrase Joyce Chisale’s poem, “Little by Little.”
Little by little we follow that star-lit path to a humble manger bed.
Little by little might that Holy Child takes up residence in our hearts.
Little by little, might our lives be tokens of solidarity and steadfastness
with the destitute
with those who thirst for an education
with those seeking shelter and a hot meal
with those who work for a more just world
Little by little might that Christ Child be born anew in us. Little by little. Amen.
[1] Julia Mueller, “Kinzinger says Trump ‘absolutely guilty’ of crimes ahead of Jan. 6,” The Hill, December 14, 2022.
December 18, 2022, Advent 4
“A Stand-up Guy”
The Rev. Dr. John C. Forney, St. Francis Episcopal Mission
Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1: 18-25
Channeling Your Inner Mary
The first church I served right out of seminary was actually two. It was part of a two-point charge served when I was under the United Methodist system. Both were in the Upper Mojave Desert, about twenty-five miles apart on Highway 395 — Inyokern and Randsburg, a stone’s throw from Death Valley.
One of my new acquaintances out there inquired early on, “Forney, what did you do to the bishop to get sent out here?” Another friend in Temple City announced my appointment from the pulpit one Sunday in church we had been attending, “John’s finally found out where his appointment is going to be: Unicorn and Rancid.”
The smallest church of the two, Randsburg United Methodist, had only four members left and my job was to collect a bequest given to the church, then close the place up. This bequest had been tied up in court due to the sloth of the attorney handling it – he finally ended up being disbarred, but that’s another story. Well, this thing dragged out and out. Soon we had far more than four members. Now, the problem was, the water had been shut off several months before I had arrived. I couldn’t imagine anything more depressing than a hot, dusty church with no water – no water, in the middle of a scorching summer out in the Mojave Desert!
We absolutely had to get the water turned on again. Absolutely!
The words of Isaiah are a thirsting for restoration, for a return to the gates of Zion. That all which is amiss be restored.
Yes, Lord, let the dry land be glad! Let the desert rejoice and blossom!
“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped…the lame shall leap like a dear…for waters shall break forth in the wilderness.” Lord, let it be! Yes, turn on your mighty water spigot.
A highway shall be prepared, straight to glory – “It shall be called the Holy Way…no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray. The ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with singing…” A straight shot glory attack! That’s what Isaiah’s about.
This vision of return from Babylonian Captivity is one of restoration. All the folks dancing and singing on that Glory Road home.
In the holy city of Jerusalem God’s people shall live in solidarity with one another. Open the gates of justice for this homecoming. “Sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” The lion shall lie down with the lamb – though the lamb might not get much sleep.
For much of our history, for a lot of our people, America has been a barren desert of sorrow and sighing – as they languished under the slave master’s lash. Beginning in 1619, we robbed an entire people of any future. Right from our inception as a nation. Right through the Jim Crow laws of exclusion. And hooded night riders.
Our present economic system locks the vast majority of our people out of any decent livelihood. It’s a barren system that saddles young people with tens of thousands of dollars of college debt, especially those from black and brown communities – and those from rural poverty. And one wonders why our young people have given up on capitalism? To them it looks to be a parched future of little hope. No righteousness to be found here.
It’s a ruinous and barren political system that strips workers of the right to any meaning of union representation, as did President Joe Biden and his Democratic congress to our railway workers this past week.
These railroad companies are making billions – the highest profits ever – and their CEOs are among the highest paid in the nation, raking in millions every year – and we can’t even afford a measly seven days of paid sick leave!? Shame on you! Get real, people. Time for our inner Mary.
And, for the most part, the church remains silent in the face of such massive inequality, such gross injustice.
Definitely — time for our Inner Mary!
Not that statue in some churches, not that picture on parish walls of a demure, bashful servile girl in pastel blues. As harmless as a Cocker Spaniel. No! Not that Mary.
I’m talking about a Mary that looks more like Harriet Tubman, Conductor to Freedom on the Underground Railroad — more like Rosie the Riveter — more like Katy Porter with her white board — more like Rosa Parks firmly planted in that bus seat – more like Octavia Butler with visions of our future swirling in her brain — more like Toni Morrison with pen on fire writing Beloved — more like fearless, undaunted Mother Carrie Oval, my predecessor out there in that barren desert of Randsburg and Inyokern who wouldn’t give up in the face of a sexist boycott of her first sermon – all those women of steel and moral purpose who kept on coming. Women who persist! Yeah, throw in Elizabeth Warren, Liz Cheney and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. And Mother Jones, to boot!
When Mary is confronted by the Angel Gabriel and given the terrifying news that she will become pregnant – pregnant without her consent, pregnant like so many young girls in Ukraine who are the rape victims of Russian invaders, pregnant like so many young girls in families of poverty with no access to birth control — Mary does not acquiesce quietly. No demure, little, nice, quiet girl she.
She, as Mike Kinman once put it in a most memorable sermon – Mary takes one step back and says to that intrusive messenger, “If this is the way it’s gonna be…Just hold my beer and watch this!’”
With that, she cuts loose with the Magnificat – she belts out one of the most radical proclamations of social justice in all of scripture. If I’m part of this plan that I did not ask for, then let ‘er rip. You’re going to be absolutely astounded at what God’s going to accomplish through this child to be born of my womb.
Yes, indeed. Hold my beer and watch this!
“His mercy is on them that fear him
throughout all generations.
“He hath showed strength with his arm;
he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.”
Yeah, I’m talkin’ to, big shots.
“He hath put down the mighty from their seat;
And hath exalted the humble and meek.”
“He hath filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he hath sent empty away.”
You fat cats, your shelf life has expired. There’s a new sheriff in town.
Privilege and preference, all turned upside down – this is the Lord’s doing and marvelous it is in God’s holy sight.
It’s time this Advent we channel this inner Mary – channel her righteous indignation at injustice, channel her persistence, channel her loyalty to this holy work of God. Channel her loyalty to the end, even to the foot of that tree of shame and sorrow.
In our Advent study by Jill Duffield, Advent in Plain Sight, uses the metaphor of a gate to open the mysteries and promise of this season. Through the gate of Advent, we are beckoned to a world transformed. We are invited to lives of new promise and opportunity.
This last week I had the opportunity to present to the chair of the board of Housing Claremont the Helen Meyers Achievement Award, a recognition of persons and organizations that have made our town of Claremont a better place to live. This group and their leader Ilsa Lund are channeling their Inner Mary. Her song lives in them.
Housing Claremont, through its advocacy for permanent supportive housing for the indigent, mentally ill, the homeless, the addicted, is a gate through which we in our city can pass on God’s promise of full inclusion.
Claremont, like many suburban communities in Southern California, has a sordid history of exclusion. Redlining and restrictive covenants in property deeds were part and parcel of a racist past designed to keep Black people out. Actually, also Mexican-Americans, Chinese, Japanese – to keep anyone who was not “white bread” out of here. We were a “sundown community.” If you’re not white, you’d better be gone by sundown. If you knew what’s good for you.
Housing Claremont and their chair, Ilsa Lund, has striven mightily to bring Claremont into conformance with our highest Constitutional ideals. A rule of law and ethic where “All means All.” Full stop. End of Story. Magnificat incarnate!
They have met a wall of opposition in their advocacy of Larkin Place, a development of supportive housing for the “least of these.” Opposition comes right out of the same mentality that gave us that redlining and those restrictive covenants.
Yes, the opponents say, we believe in housing for the homeless. But house them elsewhere. Yes, “Housing ends Homelessness.” That’s true, and, by all means, help these people. But help them someplace else. Anyplace else, but NOT HERE!
There’s a wonderful spiritual, “Twelve Gates to the City.” The righteousness of Mary’s Magnificat proclaims the gates open. Open the gates of opportunity and inclusion, the gates of justice and righteousness to our unhoused neighbors living right here on the streets and in the vacant lots of our city. Open the gates this Advent!
It has been said that eleven o’clock on Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America. Too often the gates of full inclusion to our churches are shut tight to those we fear. Pablum is served — not Mary’s Magnificat. Open wide the Gates to God’s righteous Word this Advent.
Open wide the gate to economic fairness to our railroad employees. Let go of grievance and privilege. America is not a zero-sum game where winner takes all. That’s not the vision. Open the gates of opportunity this Advent.
Standing outside those gates are the same Three Strange Angels who visited Abraham and Sarah. Admit them! Standing at the gate of the soul of this nation is the angel who visited Mary – Admit, admit that Advent Messenger that justice be reborn and righteousness find a manger bed.
As with Mary, the tidings may terrify. The future may look dark and foreboding. Though we be uncertain as to what sort of message this might be — at the very gates of our hearts stands blessing. Admit the Holy Messenger. Admit.
Let the waters of righteousness flow like a mighty stream that the deserts of frozen hearts and closed communities blossom. And joy shall come to the wilderness. All the angels in heaven shall gather in concert to proclaim, “JOY to the WORLD!” — “And to the Fishes of the Deep Blue Sea!” Oh, and by the way, we finally did get that water back on at that little outpost of the Jesus Movement out there in Randsburg. Amen.
December 11, 2022, Advent 3
Gaudete Sunday
“Channeling Your Inner Mary”
The Rev. Dr. John C. Forney, St. Francis Episcopal Mission
Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146:4-9; Canticle 3, BCP[1]; Matthew 11:2-11
[1] The Book of Common Prayer, according to the use of the Episcopal Church, 1979.
Wakee, Wakee
When the boys were little tykes, my morning job was to get them out of bed and make sure they were dressed for school. I’d come into their room chanting sing-song, “Wakee, wakee,” all the while flipping the light switch on and off. At first, I’d hear a few grunts and groans, then “Go away.” As this was an Alaska morning, it would still be pitch dark outside. I’m positive, the boys probably would have considered it a much more obtrusive, more obnoxious wake-up call had I sung to them.
Once I had the fire going in the wood stove and Jai had breakfast served, attitudes somewhat improved.
We’ve just celebrated Thanksgiving, our national holiday I’ve always considered the lead-in to Advent. Much of everything comes to a standstill as families and friends plan gatherings all across the nation – good preparation for the hush of Advent.
Jai and I finished making the turkey dressing the other night. It’s an old family recipe, dating back at least to the time her mother stopped being responsible for this meal and we had to scrounge through several cookbooks and figure out what stuffing we might like. No oysters. No giblets.
As we settled into the couch to watch Judy Woodruff anchor the PBS Newshour, the stuffing ready for tomorrow’s feast, I noticed Jai making frequent trips out to the kitchen, snitching bits and pieces of the stuffing we had just labored over. I told her that I thought I was wondering if I should call her brother in Anaheim and tell him that he’d better come over right now and get a bite there while there was still some left.
The smell of our sausage-apple stuffing still wafting through the house is my Advent preparation.
Prepare — the call of Advent – Wakee, Wakee. I’ll light up my purple Advent lights that adorn the eves of our house this Sunday. I’ll get the UNICEF Christmas cards ordered and get to work on our Christmas letter.
Today the summons from our scripture readings is, “Wake up, for Christ’s sake!” Yes, for Christ is nigh upon us.
“About that day and hour no one knows…For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man.”[1]
The first Followers of the Way believed that the END was indeed upon them. Within the lifetime of many still living, Christ would come with all his angels and wrap up history. The First Sunday of Advent concerns Christ’s return, to be born anew in our hearts. It is also about our final destination, the summation of all creation – the Final Day.
One of my favorite hymns we sang in Sunday school as a youngster was straight out of this end-time theology, “When the Roll is Called Upon Yonder.” Even us boys sang it with gusto and true belief that our name would be announced on that Last Day.
That understanding is the theology of Matthew’s gospel. Stay awake! You never know!
By the time Luke writes his gospel, the community of the Jesus Movement has settled in for the long haul. That is why Luke concludes his gospel with the Book of Acts, the story of the spread of the Jesus Movement. In little communities of believers then scattered across the Roman Empire. Luke’s theology is a theology of “the meantime.” While we’re waiting – to be about Christ’s work. To be about what makes for community and life abundant. Those are our baptismal orders.
But the idea of an imminent end time is still with our secular folks. It comes to us in that favorite Christmas song, “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town.” Yeah, just like the end-time rollcall, “Santa’s making a list and checking it twice, gonna find out who’s naughty and nice.” And, you’d better watch out!
Although, I discovered that “naughty” was usually more fun – until it wasn’t. Some of our churches still terrify little kids with the most horrendous stories of that Final Day.
My mother would tell me how as a little girl she woke up one night with a start. Right outside her window was a huge harvest moon. About that same instant, a freight train had come barreling through town, sounding its mournful whistle.
This was it. The angel Gabriel is come. Christ has returned.
She, her heart pounding, her breath rapid, coming in gasps, the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up – she flung herself out of bed and ran shrieking through the dark, “Gabriel’s here. Wake up. Wake up. It’s the END.
And of course, the whole family indeed did wake up. And it took some while for them to settle her back down. That was one of Grandma’s oft told stories. Being a Christian Scientist, however, she had no truck with such doctrine.
So, how does the end come? What are its signs, its harbingers?
My evangelical friends were convinced that the forerunner of the End Time was the Antichrist. The candidate might be Hitler, Pol Pot, or some other heinous malefactor. I was told by one acquaintance it was the Democrats. Others – the Republicans.
My mother’s side of the family believed it might be FDR – “He fired your grandfather.” At that time Grandpa had been the postmaster of their home town, Lodi, California. Grandpa had been appointed by President Hoover. Democratic ascendency was the clear sign that the End was near.
We read in our papers of all sorts of imminent catastrophes. Portents of the End?
PFAS chemicals. Had you heard of them? They’re the chemicals produced in making such things as Teflon, and firefighting foam. They’re in cosmetics, the film that makes rain bounce off your jacket – “better living through chemistry” – until it isn’t.[2]
They re the cause of cancer, pregnancy complications, unhealthy blood lipids. Definitely, NOT better living. Even in the most minute doses, this stuff is damaging. Does the end come when we all poison ourselves to death through these amazing concoctions?
Wakee, wakee.
We are told that male sperm counts have been decreasing since the 1970s at about 1.6 percent per year. Since the year 2000 the decline has accelerated to 2.6 per cent per year.[3] This as a world-wide phenomenon.
The end for the human race? Is this toxic brew of chemicals the ultimate birth control? And, folks, it’s not just us. What about the deer and the antelope out there playing – playing until they’re also extinct?
Wakee, wakee!
Or, maybe we just all shoot ourselves to death in a final OK Corral blaze of gunfire? In the US we are running more than one mass shooting per week. This week — Walmart in Virginia, Club Q in Colorado Springs. Four people were killed at a marijuana farm in Oklahoma on Sunday; a mother and her three children were shot dead in Richmond, Virginia…
Thanksgiving week has seen 22 people killed and 44 injured, all through the barrel of a gun”
Donya Prioleau, a worker at the store, captured the horror and tragedy of the Walmart shooting.
“Somebody’s baby, mom, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, grandparents…whoever did not make it home tonight! Thanksgiving is a holiday we celebrate with friends and family…there are those who cannot. I can not unsee what happened in that break room.”[4]
Folks, what else should we expect in a nation awash in a sea of weapons of war, where we’re all armed to the teeth? What else should we expect with the airwaves flooded with hateful invective and politicians and many churches preaching the same intolerance and hate?
Wakee, wakee!
These are senseless deaths. Senseless, because we as a society have lost our senses. Stalin was quoted as remarking, “A million deaths is a statistic, one death is a tragedy.” Well, the whole thing is a bloody tragedy. And this is how it ends for too many of us here in America.
These folks at Club Q were just out for a good time in what they thought to be a safe place. Then the ominous sound of “pop, pop pop,” as bodies began fall to the floor. Five killed and some twenty-five injured.
The co-owners of this gay nightclub, choking back tears, told reporters that “the people here are family.” This was their safe space. Now, no longer. This was how it ended for those five. Is this how it ends for any notion of a civil society?
Wakee, wakee. Don’t ask for whom the hearse comes. It comes for America – as the mourning bell tolls.
In the meantime…in the meantime. “Christ has come, Christ is come, Christ will come again.” This we proclaim at every celebration of the Eucharist.
We cannot stop the tragedy of our days. That doesn’t mean we sit back and eat bon-bons.
Christ in a paramedic’s jacket is among us. Christ of the soup-line is present. Christ in classroom and break room. Christ in friend, gay or straight, near to comfort.
“Put on the armor of light,” St. Paul urges. Just as two patrons of Club Q took down and subdued the 22-year-old shooter, your call to be Christ to your neighbor may come at any time. You know neither the hour nor the day. In your action, whatever it may be, is your liberation — is your step into the “Eternal Now.”
In the daily scrum of news, Christ is present in a thousand disguises. Motioning each to join as well, to join in the splendor of these days, our days. Christ in us and we in Christ. God’s purpose working itself out to the end of days, the Last Day.
In the meantime? James Baldwin said it so well in his essay, “Nothing Personal:”
“For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; The earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the moment we break faith with one another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.”[5]
Yes, we have great responsibility to keep hold of each other, to keep hold of this splendorous blue-green planet of ours – for we can also do great damage.
Yet, Christ is our Light. That Light does not go out – the ultimate Advent LED – still shining brightly as ever it did when that star guided those Three Seekers to a manger bed in Bethlehem. As brightly as Jacob’s Star rising. Piercing darkness, our darkness, to the end of our days.
Wakee, wakee. Christ is coming, again and again, playing in a thousand venues. You know neither the day or the hour. Yet the time is always now. Near, and very near. Wakee, wakee. Amen.
[1] Matthew 24:36-39, New Revised Standard Version.
[2] Melba Newsome, Forever Chemicals: Hidden Threats, Science News, November 19, 2022.
[3] “The Decline in Sperm Count,” Focus on Reproduction, the online magazine of ESHRE, the European Society of Human Reproduction and Embryology, November 22, 2022.
[4] Ed Pilkington, “It’s the Guns: Violent Week in a Deadly Year…,” The Guardian, November 23, 2022.
[5] James Baldwin, The Price of the Ticket, “Nothing Personal” (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1985), 393.
November 27, 2022, Advent 1
“Wakee, Wakee”
The Rev. Dr. John C. Forney, St. Francis Episcopal Mission
Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44
