We are called to be children of light and do so intentionally in our lives, no matter how little or big of acts. 

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 25 C
Texts: Luke 16:1-13

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My friends and I love a good board game. 

I am not talking about shorter games such as Candyland, although Candyland is dear to many, I am speaking of the games that have instructions that take an hour to read and once you get around to playing the game itself–it takes even more hours. I am talking about the games where you spend time standing around the table, investing in reading the rule book, leaning in close, and asking questions about strategy. 

As I read the parable for today, I wanted to know: what kind of game the manager is playing. 

The Gospel tells us that the manager who, in a last-minute attempt to find some security in his life, changes the debts of people that owe his master. That way, when the manager no longer works for the master, he will be welcomed into the homes of the people whose debts he lessened. 

Unexpectedly, when the Master discovers this, he commends the manager for his quick thinking. Instead of getting angry, the master praises the manager for being wise, or shrewd as the text says. This tactic pays off for the manager: he receives security in his future, gains friends, and gets a pat on the back from his boss. What a win! 

Except for the parts of the text that makes us shift in our seats. 

The parable describes the manager as both shrewd and unjust. How can this person, who has been unjust, be taken seriously? We are used to stories where the person we learn from has integrity and seeks honesty, but the person we are left to look to, the manager, does the opposite. Instead, we see that he plays the game. He finds his opening and takes a risk against the odds for a big reward. 

And that leaves us asking what Jesus is saying and how we are involved. 

Jesus tells us “for the children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light.” Here is where we begin to see that Jesus is making a parallel between two groups: the children of the manager’s generation and the children of God. Leaving us asking what is the manager doing with his own generation, that we, the children of God, are missing?

The most prominent feature of the manager is his responsiveness to the situation. 

We can tell the manager knows the rule book and acts in order to seek out his goals. As Jesus turns to the disciples to tell this story, he knows these people before him should understand what’s going on. The Triune God is among us, have the disciples not been listening to the parables? If this manager can act with this level of intentionality in his own generation, why are the disciples, the children of God, not? Work for justice, care for the neighbor, and love one another. This is what God tells us to do. 

Yet, these lines get blurred. 

These two lines which are supposed to be parallel, begin to intersect. We focus more on our finances than our neighbors and our mental energy centers on getting ahead instead of living in the moment. We assume someone else will figure it out, rather than asking what we can do. While it is obvious that the manager has his own agenda and goals in the story, we know that ours, as children of God, are different. We look to the Gospel for freedom, we look to the law to guide, and we look to the cross, knowing that God with us, is amidst it all. The manager knows where his priorities lie and what he values. Do we know ours as children of God? Whose values are we following and for what reasons?

In these questions, we look back at the Gospel. 

Jesus tells us “Whoever is faithful in very little is faithful also in much” and consequently, “whoever is unjust in a very little is unjust also in much.” Jesus tells us that even if we have little faith, we are doing much. So if we are moving towards loving God and the neighbor even when it does not feel significant, we are doing God’s work. And when we are engaging in things that feel bigger than ourselves, we are doing God’s work. Reaching out to check in on a friend. Picking up litter on the ground. Going on strike to call out exploitation in power structures. 

The manager knows that these odds can be turned when he acts, because he knows the world around him. He has an awareness of the challenges he faces and pushes on regardless of them. What would happen if we trusted God with the same conviction? Jesus tells us that once we begin to live intentionally by doing those acts of little faith towards peace, justice, and loving the neighbor, they become big. Not only in the sense of the world to come, but the world that is happening right here, right now. With intentionality, People will know they are loved. Oppression will disappear into justice. And our world will find peace. 

We know being a child of God is not a game, it is a way of life that pushes us to be intentional, held by grace to turn ourselves towards God.  

Despite the strategy that the manager uses, he seeks out creative ways to solve problems and knows that he needs a community to do it. Similar to my friends and I playing board games, the manager invests his time, leaning in close, learning about the world and people around him. What would it mean for us to do the same in our faith lives? We have a community full of ideas and neighbors that are reaching out. We just need to ask, Children of God: how will you live with intentionality?

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Answering the call of discipleship involves unexpected challenges and conflict, we choose if it leads us to destruction or to grow together, rooted in justice, peace and loving our neighbors.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 23 C
Texts: Psalm 1, Philemon 1-25, Luke 14:25-33

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today’s readings are not the warm embrace one might be looking for. 

Jesus makes declarations about hate and about the cost of discipleship. Paul challenges Philemon about welcoming his slave, Onesimus, as a brother. And we are left to figure out how to connect the pieces.

I found myself asking, really Jesus? Hate? Isn’t that what we are trying to get away from? I would imagine that Jesus’ statement grabbed the attention of the crowd around him as the Gospel asks if we’re ready to consider what the cost of discipleship may be.

While the second reading helps us discern what the cost of discipleship could look like. As we’ve traveled through the Gospel of Luke, we know that Jesus is not a stranger to conflicting relationships. And when looking at the world today, we’re not strangers to this either. Except for today, the question about discipleship and conflicting relationships is asked directly to us. 

Are we willing to open ourselves up to conflict and unexpected difficulties that come with being a disciple? And are we willing to let the call of discipleship change us, allowing us to grow into the promise we made in baptism, even if that means letting go assumptions we have made about the world?

Paul opens up this question to Philemon. 

The book, Philemon, consists of a single chapter containing a letter from Paul to his “dear friend and co-worker,” Philemon. In the letter, Paul asks Philemon to take back his slave, Onesimus, and asks that when Onesimus returns, he be welcomed as a brother. 

On the surface, Paul’s letter appears to be a phenomenal cover letter for Onesimus. Paul speaks about having a father-like relationship with Onesimus and even states that he will take the blame for any form of debt Onesimus has. 

But Paul’s ask should not be taken lightly. Knowing the inhumane history of slavery, Philemon has the legal ability to choose what happens to Onesimus. Despite this, Paul asks Philemon to live into the choice he made to become a disciple of God. Paul points to what actively living out discipleship looks like, even if it means challenging one’s close friend. 

Paul holds both love and accountability for his friend, Philemon

Paul gives thanks for Philemon, expressing how Philemon has brought him joy and encouragement. After acknowledging that friendship, Paul pushes on in his letter saying “for this reason, I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty.” Welcome back Onesimus – not as a slave, those old days are gone – instead, live into your call of discipleship. Welcome home your brother. 

We’re looking at a conflicting situation that feels all too familiar today. Opposing sides, friends being torn apart, both feeling justified in their thinking. We’re seeing that when Paul says, “there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female,” he means it. 

The letter ends unclear as to what Paul’s expectations are for the outcome or even if Philemon chooses to follow through with Paul’s appeal. While this may be a cliffhanger for the reader, it leaves us to think about Paul’s words. Paul leaves his request open-ended, saying: “Knowing that you will do even more than I say,” “welcome him as you would welcome me.” A true challenge to the call to discipleship. 

Although Paul mentions he would like to make this a command to his friend, Paul reminds Philemon that he has an option in this. Will Philemon decide to answer with hate? Or will Philemon and Paul grow together, bringing God’s reign of peace, and justice, and caring for the neighbor?

Paul puts himself at risk of losing his friend and the whole situation ending in conflict. And we are left asking if Philemon is going to pick up his cross to be a disciple, even if that means ending his assumptions about how his world operates and reaching instead to his foundation found in God. 

Philemon’s call to discipleship is a call for us too.     

How can we as a community keep each other rooted in this call? And how can we as individuals, answer the call of discipleship, trusting God’s teachings to guide us when conflict arises? Will we choose to be grounded in God’s teachings of peace, justice, and loving the neighbor when political divides emerge? What about when in arguments with loved ones? What about when anger rises to the top and we begin to even feel hate towards those close to us?

The psalm gives us an answer. 

Meditate on God’s teaching, look to the law of the LORD to guide, and be like a tree. It is no wonder that we find the answer in the texts of scripture that are known for having raw emotions because those that wrote the Psalms knew about conflict. Yet, when writing in conflict, they looked to God and remained rooted. 

Note that the Psalm speaks about being planted by a stream of water, a place where trees can be fed, grow, and prosper. Know that this rooting by a stream does not mean ultimate safety. Our summer storms remind us of that. But having rootedness means leading to growth. It means enduring the change of the seasons and growing tall via the nutrients we find when going back to one’s foundation. 

Those roots for us can be found in the sacraments, in God, and in our communities. Do you find your identity being empowered by God’s spirit and trusting in the Triune God? Do you find yourself welcoming all to the table, despite the biases and the doubts poured into our ears? Do you have the boldness in your relationships to both walk with and confront the challenges of life? These things are by no means easy, but show the risk that Jesus is speaking of in the Gospel and what is at stake in the book of Philemon. Discipleship is a big commitment. Paul’s letter shows us this while continuing to act with love towards Philemon. It shows us this is what growth can look like. 

So, where will you choose to plant your roots?

In places where questions are not asked and the call of discipleship is disregarded when it gets too complicated? Or in places where we’re pushed to grow, to branch out, reaching toward God’s promises? If we’re to be bold enough to hope for peace and justice and reconciliation for the world, we, in partnership with God, are to work toward that with each other, too.

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

God comes to turn the world upside down – Mary knew she was a part of it and we are too.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
St. Mary, the Mother of Our Lord  
Texts: Isaiah 61:7-11, Psalm 34:1-9, Galatians 4:4-7, Luke 1:46-55

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

When I was little, I heard a similar story of Mary.

Mary was a young woman, who was a virgin that gave birth to Jesus. She often signifies motherhood and comfort. That was about as much as I knew growing up.

But if we stop there when describing Mary, we miss the way that God disrupts world views. We miss the way God rattles the world through this seemingly undistinguished woman. And we miss the magnitude of Mary boldly choosing to accept a future where the outcome is unknown. In a society that would not think much about her, Mary suddenly comes to the forefront of where God is appearing in the world. And God, once again, challenges us to rethink where we assume God to be.  

Mary knows from the start that her choice to make an impact on humanity will be much more than a womb carrying God.  

The Magnificat begins with Mary speaking about how God is working in Mary’s life. She speaks about actively seeing God changing what she assumed for her life when she answers “yes” to the call of God. We hear Mary embody this new call with her breath, magnifying the Lord and rejoicing. Mary declares that God has done great things for her. Holy is God’s name. 

This is a big proclamation of trust and fearlessness for an individual who is about to endure rejection from being pregnant without being married in ancient times. Chances are, Mary knew the consequence of pregnancy before marriage: being stoned to death. 

Mary embraces the risk that she is about to enter into and does so willingly. She praises an active God who is turning the world upside down before her eyes. She knows that big things are about to happen. 

As Mary finishes out her self-reflection, she reaches a startling realization. 

If this is how God is working in her own life, what does this mean for the rest of the world? Scattering the proud? Flipping power dynamics? Filling the hungry and sending the rich away empty? These are the promises that God has made to God’s people and suddenly she realizes she is a part of it. What is at stake is a lot more than Mary’s life, but all our lives. As Mary says, God turns the world upside down from “generation to generation.” Through people like Mary, and like you, and like me. 

God has called generations to be the hands and feet of the Triune God. This does not quite mean exactly like Mary, raising Jesus, but Mary’s proclamation causes us to ask about our own lives. 

Where do we see God turning the world upside down and are we willing to risk answering yes? Yes to the turning of food insecurity. Yes to the turning of oppressive legislation that seeks to divide instead of unify. Yes to the turning of reducing people to statistics and instead of looking at our fellow humans with compassion. 

If it feels that Mary’s proclamation is a lot to digest, that’s because it is. 

What would it look like to be hungry in order for others to be fed? What would it mean to challenge power structures at the polls? What would it mean to lift up those that are oppressed? You do not need to solve all of these, but it can not be ignored because this is the turning upside down of the world that God is doing through us. This is not turning the world upside down by violent revolution, but through transformation of the heart and the choices we make to bring God’s reign.

Do not be mistaken, there is risk involved. 

Scattering the proud of hearts, having those in power brought down from their thrones, and sending the rich away empty–for those experiencing any form of privilege, these can be alarming. And even when we are at our best, this is a high bar to keep. The struggle between these two vastly different feelings of alarm and proclaiming could leave one unsure what kind of good news this is. 

So, we look back at the Gospel. Mary tells us this is a proclamation of praise, not of condemnation. Mary proclaims that if God is calling to her, this must mean that God is calling to all everyone else. 

Just ask the Galatians in the second reading.

Paul has preached to the Galatians about what happens when God enters into communities: All receive the spirit and all are received as adopted children of God. This is a big proclamation moment!

Yet, after Paul leaves, all is forgotten by the Galatians. 

Paul, in a rather compassionate letter, metaphorically, throws his hands up in the air and asks “don’t you see what is going on here?” This is not a competition about Jew or Gentile, but about being united together in Christ. 

It is a larger piece of an argument outlining Paul’s appeal to the people to tell them one simple truth: God comes for all to turn the world upside down. Not just for the Jews. Not just for the Gentiles. But for all in the wholeness for WHO they are. What is incredibly revolutionary about Paul’s writings is he is continuing to proclaim what Mary is: all are called and welcomed into God’s reign, exactly how they come. 

God looks to the Jews and Gentiles saying, “I need you to be a part of the change across the world, not by proving superiority over one another, but by the transformation of your hearts and how you see your siblings in Christ.”

Mary answers God with a brave yes. The Galatians answer is unclear. What about ours?

Similar to Mary, we have a choice about how we answer to God turning the world upside down. Similar to the Galatians, our world struggles with embracing that change. God did not choose sides for the Galatians and gives Mary, the Galatians, and us a choice. And God is there to walk with us in that choosing. All of us. This takes trust, awareness, and patience, characteristics that do not always feel attainable.

When the angel Gabriel appears to Mary earlier in Chapter one, we know that Mary was “greatly agitated” and “pondering” over what was being asked of her. Knowing that these two intense feelings of fear and hope go side-by-side. Mary was not instantly only-happy about her life being turned upside down– we know better that the Gospel is not a static story. 

This intensity of emotions existed together at once. These emotions can exist for us too. God asks that we trust and imagine what our world could be with all being fed, all living in peace, and all neighbors loving one another. That is what is found when the world is turned upside down.

Mary’s Magnificat brings us face to face with hard decisions. 

For Mary, it meant risking her life, putting her future on the line and trusting God. For us, it can feel heavy too, but just like Mary, we as a community and individuals have a choice. Are we going to answer the call to abundant love and life?

The good news is: we have a community that works with us through these decisions and a God that continues to have grace and love as we navigate through the turning of the world. Mary knew that, despite being at risk, she had God with her and a community to guide her. You do too.  

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

 

 

God’s compassionate call pushes us to have readiness for the reign of God. We are to trust God’s calling  and trust that God is a part of that calling.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, year C 
Texts: Genesis 15:1-6, Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16, Luke 12:32-40

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

When rock climbing, you have two options: hang on tight and climb to the top of the wall–or fall off the wall. 

Either way, the options are anxiety-inducing, forcing you to be ready for action. This is a situation I frequently find myself in when I go indoor rope climbing with my husband and brother. Rope climbing involves three important aspects: the climber, the belayer, and the rope that holds them together.  

It is the belayer’s job to keep the climber safe by managing the rope supporting the climber through a pulley system connected to the ceiling. Trust between the belayer and climber is incredibly important because if, or when the climber falls, they are caught by the rope the belayer is in charge of. 

The first time I climbed, I was anxious. 

How am I to trust that I will be caught while 60 feet up in the air?

As I climbed up the wall, with my brother as the belay, I carefully chose where I wanted to put my hands and feet, making sure that I had everything under control, but the further up the wall I went, the more limited my options became.  

I paused as I held on to the wall looking around, realizing as panic seized me: I would have to jump to the next place for my hand. 

My arms started shaking, I slowly turned to look down at my brother. “You sure you got me?” I called down. My brother looked back and replied, “yes, you got this.” So, with my trembling arms, I jumped and reached for the next part of the wall. Despite my anxiety, I knew there was a wall ahead of me to climb and had to trust in my brother belaying on the ground.

“Do not be afraid Little Flock”

We hear these kind and comforting words from Jesus, amidst a backdrop of anxiety-inducing challenges. Sell your possessions, be dressed for action, and be ready: the son of God is coming at an unexpected hour. Although the statement of readiness feels uncomplicated, such as just climbing to the top of a wall, we know that there is a lot more that goes into following the call of discipleship. Jesus’s first statement about not being afraid gives us comfort as we enter into the discomfort of the text. 

There are two parts to the Gospel reading. The first reminding us of the loving, parental connection that we have with the Triune God, while the second describes being ready at the door for action whether that be the return of a master or a thief in the night. 

Take note, Jesus states his words of comfort at the beginning of the Gospel for a reason. If we hear only the statements of readiness and intensity, we have lost being told that God is with us. The Greek tense tells us that God is not in the action of giving God’s Reign, but it has already been given. Jesus is here with us, this is not something that is far off in the distance. You are dearly loved and held, now. God delights in us being a part of God’s reign, but we are faced with the question: how are we actively a part of it?

This is a question Abram knows far too well. 

Abram has the knowledge that God walks with him and receives a similar message: “do not be afraid.” Yet, Abram has questions about an unsure future. How will God’s promises be fulfilled? What am I supposed to be doing right now to live out my calling? Who will be the heir of my house? God’s answer to Abram appears to be simple: come outside, look at the stars, and have faith and trust in the call as it comes. In the coming chapters, Abram appears skeptical of what God’s call means as Abram’s journey takes twists and turns. Did Abram see all of these promises fulfilled in his lifetime? No, but as Hebrews text, today says, he looked from a distance, saw, and greeted God’s promises. 

So when we are anxious about our callings, how do we trust?

The first time I climbed with my brother being the belay, I climbed 5 ft into the air and asked if I could experience what it would feel like to let go. Obviously, this was a commitment that I still held some control over, but I needed the reassurance of knowing that he was there.

This is how trust and faith grow. So often faith is examined as a thing that we can acquire with enough knowledge or if we read enough, but when we shift faith into the lens of trusting, we see that it takes time, growth, bravery, and a community to uphold one another. The kind of alertness that Jesus speaks of is attention to one’s call that comes from seeking and trusting, living into the promise of God’s Reign. Jesus tells us that because we are loved, there is a call to action that comes as a result of living into this love. Trust, be alert to God knocking at your door: how does this call appear in your life? Does it come in the form of trust as you enter into a new career?  Maybe it is risking perfectionism in order to change and learn. Or taking the jump being vulnerable in a relationship?

And what about when it feels as though God is not present? 

One aspect that I did not anticipate when climbing was when I fell, I would experience a millisecond of free fall before the rope would catch. This millisecond fall could feel like years when trusting in the presence of God, whether that be long-term illnesses or major decisions that can impact for a lifetime.

Often the upward climb on the wall is a lot more intimidating than the option to stay on the ground. Abram knew that weight when looking at the intimidating expanse of the stars and we still know that today when we anxiously look at the world. Looking at the Gospel, we learn that trust and the anxiety that can come with it go hand-in-hand. God tells us to trust in how we are being called and if that anxiety arises, to look to God for guidance, even when we are unsure where God’s presence is. We do not know at what hour God appears, but what we do know is that we are to answer that call and to trust that God will catch us if or when we fall. 

As I continue to go climbing, my anxiety is still there.

When I reach the top of my climbs and have to go back down, sometimes I am able to happily let go, trusting that the 60-foot drop will be taken care of. Other times, anxiety takes over and I ungracefully scratch at the wall with thuds on the way down. The consistent part is that either way, my brother, who is belaying me, brings me to the ground safely.

“Do not be afraid, little flock” God walks with you, being the solid ground as you climb. Be ready for ways that God will appear, have curiosity and courage to open the door, greeting the calling.  

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Jesus prays for us to be united through God’s unconditional love.  What does that mean for us now? 

Vicar Andrea Bonneville
Seventh Sunday of Easter, year C 
Texts: Acts 16:16-34; John 17:20-16

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Jesus offers us his thoughts and prayers today:

“I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will trust in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you sent me.”

“The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

Imagine if Jesus was sitting in this space saying this prayer.
Imagine if Jesus was down the street at George Floyd Square.
Imagine if he was at the vigils in Texas, New York, and California.
Imagine if he was at the N.R.A gathering and protest. 
Imagine if he was on the senate floor.

What does a prayer for unity mean when we see and experience so much division? What does a prayer for love mean with all the pain, violence, and hatred? 

Would Jesus’ prayer be heard today? or would it be mocked and disregarded as false hope joining with all the other thoughts and prayers that lack action and accountability?

But the thing is that Jesus’ prayer today doesn’t lack action and accountability. Jesus’ prayer is the first action he takes as he begins to journey to the cross. A journey that displays what Jesus means when he speaks about unity and unconditional love.  A journey that is going to lead him to the depths of sin, suffering, violence, and pain.

Our liturgical calendar says it is the Seventh Sunday after Easter, but the violent and heartbreaking tragedies of the last few weeks; the slaughtering of the innocents in an elementary school, grocery store, and church bring us right back to the pain and grief of Good Friday when Jesus said to the world “It is finished” and bowed his head and gave up his Spirit.

An act of self-giving sacrificial love.  An act that breaks the bonds of injustice, that turns swords into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks. An act that transforms us and brings about forgiveness, healing, justice, and unity.

Jesus goes to the depths of the brokenness of our world, showing us that even unimaginable violence and death cannot and will not overcome God’s unconditional love for all of creation. And then Jesus resurrects into the pain and grief of community bringing peace and love reminding us that God comes to us again and again and again.

Jesus’ prayer for us today doesn’t really mean much without Jesus’ death and resurrection because Jesus’ actions are what open a way to unity and unconditional love.

Jesus doesn’t just pray for us to live in unity and love, but the Triune God forges a path for us to follow that will lead us to community where we can lament and pray, where we can serve each other, where we can call out injustices and examine our privileges, where we can receive forgiveness and nourishment, where we can share love and joy.

Jesus transforms us and calls us to be people who continue to embody this unconditional love so when find ourselves in the depths of sin and suffering, death and destruction, we can be people who call out injustices, hold people of power accountable, and dare to hope that the God of all creation is going to bring hope and love in times and places that feel deserted.

But the question about what it means to be one, to live in unity, is something that we need wrestle with. As individuals and as a community, we have to confront the powers that divide and separate us while also not being afraid to advocate for social justice and policy change.

We have to mend and restore relationships in our communities and build a new foundation of trust and love. And we can’t assume we know what is right or act only in familiar ways, we have to open our ears and listen to our neighbors who call out for justice and follow their lead.

And we, like Paul and Silas, have to notice the evil powers that oppress our siblings and call out the injustices. We have to speak truth to power. Even if it causes us to step away from our comfortable lives or out of our comfort zones.

We have to carry our prayers, our laments, our cries for justice and peace into the places where the world tries to convince us the Triune God won’t be. We have to be the voices and witnesses of God’s earthshaking unconditional love and justice.

Believing and hoping and trusting that the Triune God is living and breathing through us and this community. And that the Triune God is present in this place, in this community, in our world, in you; uniting us together through love.

Amen