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

 

 If someone asked you to speak plainly about who Jesus is, what would you say?  What would you tell them you hear when you hear the Good Shepherd’s voice?

Vicar Andrea Bonneville
Fourth Sunday of Easter, year C 
Texts: Acts 9:36-43, Psalm 23, John 10:22-30

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

How do you know the voice of the Triune God?

It seems like both a simple and impossible question to answer.  But if you were standing in the crowd as one of Jesus’ sheep and they asked you to speak plainly about who Jesus is, what would you say?  What would you tell them you hear when you hear the Good Shepherd’s voice?

By this point in his ministry, Jesus has given people around him numerous examples and explanations about who he is and what he entered the world to do. He has performed miracles, healed the sick, challenged the authorities, fed the hungry, and set the oppressed free. He boldly proclaimed in words and through deeds that he has come to care for and seek out the ones who are lost, lonely, wandering, or following an unknown voice.

It is safe to assume that the people asking to hear who Jesus is from Jesus himself already have a perception and understanding of who he is, just like many people in our world know about Jesus.

But do they hear about Jesus from a creditable source?  Or is what they have heard mixed together with the noises of this world that suggest that power, control, and maintaining the status quo are what we should strive for.

Has the voice of the Triune God become quiet because of all of the noise pollution? 

Constant streams of breaking news stories that scream hatred and control and ignorance. Violence in our communities that cause harm and fear. Loud opinions of people who believe they can have control over other people’s bodies, and who they love, and what they learn. The nagging voice in ourselves that tries to convince us that we aren’t good enough, or that we can’t ask for help when we need it. 

My ears are ringing thinking about all the noises we listen to day in and day out that try to drown out the voice of the Triune God. And what challenges me is that I don’t know how to quiet the noise. I don’t know how to live in our society or in my community without being drawn to the noise. And I’ve heard many of you share similar experiences of trying to quiet and escape the polluted noise.

Our task at hand is to be able to hear all the noise and discern what really is the voice of the Triune God in our lives. The voice that tells you you matter, that you are loved, and that you are forgiven. The voice that shows us how to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8).

Not only do we listen with our ears, discerning what is the voice of the Triune God and what is not, but we listen and discern with our whole bodies. So that when we hear God’s voice, through creation and our neighbors, through music and story, through tears and joy, we hear the voice of God deep in our bones and deep in our hearts. The voice that is already there. 

And when the noise really is too loud, we find a familiar sound and keep turning back to that.  A song, a poem, scripture, the voice of a trusted friend, the call of the Good Shepherd calling us back to the pasture that is filled with community, love, and nourishment. 

A place where we can rest until we follow the Good Shepherd out into the world proclaiming the healing and reconciling good news we find in the Triune God. Speaking plainly, and loudly, and frequently so our neighbors and our enemies can hear the good news of God’s unconditional and transforming love and forgiveness.

It may seem like a big task, but it isn’t a new task.  And it isn’t a task that we do alone. We follow in the foots steps of the saints who have gone before us and paved a way of helping us to hear and know and trust and experience and share God’s love.  People who have been and continue to be voices in our community that lead us to God.

That is who Tabitha was in her community. A voice of God that transformed her community through the way she loved, served, and cared for the widows and marginalized in her community.  I imagine her sewing shop was filled with noise—with laughter, tears, and unconditional love.  That it was a place where people knew to go when they needed help and care.  That they turned to Tabitha who was a living presence of God and a cornerstone to a beloved community.

And Tabitha’s spirit, the Holy Spirit that was in Tabitha, is also in us. We all are the presence of God in the world. And with God’s help, we use our voices, our bodies, our talents, our hearts to show people and tell people about the abundant life and eternal life we have in God.

That catch is that it isn’t as much about knowing God’s voice amidst all the noise. It’s about being God’s voice and sharing God’s love. Being the cornerstone, being the pasture where people know they will hear the voice of the Good Shepherd and find nourishment.

The voice that says:  I know you and I love you. You belong to me and I will care for you.

Amen.  

Jesus Christ comes to us as the one who serves and leads us into lives of service and love. 

Vicar Andrea Bonneville
Sunday of the Passion, year C 
Texts: Philippians 2: 5-11; Luke 22:12–23:56

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

“But I am among you as one who serves.”

Jesus tells his disciples at their final meal together. It is what his mother, Mary, sang before he was born. It is what he showed and told them throughout his entire ministry. “I am the one who came to bring good news to the poor, who proclaims release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, who lets the oppressed go free, and who proclaims the year of the Lord’s favor.”

“But I am among you as one who serves.”

Jesus exemplifies to the crowd and the powers that be as they mock him, torture him, and brutally execute him by nailing him on a cross. Using his very last breath to overcome evil with unconditional love. “Forgive them”, he says, “for they do not know what they are doing.”

“But I am among you as one who serves.”

Jesus reminds you today as we remember his death on the cross and his going to the grave. The Christ of God emptied himself of divine power and control. Christ humbled himself and served us and took on our humanity and everything that comes with living in human skin: pain, sin, suffering, violence, destruction, and death.  

Jesus shows us self-giving, vulnerable, and unconditional love. Love that cannot be contained by the evil of the world. Love that doesn’t stay buried in the ground.

This love that we hear about today has already taken root in our world.  It’s rooted in compassion and healing, forgiveness and service.  Rooted in speaking truth to power and advocating for the oppressed. Rooted in prayer and lament and praise. Rooted in the water and bread and wine.  Rooted in you, and me, and all of God’s creation.

And it is just waiting to sprout and bring forth the newness of life.

But love, and healing, and forgiveness, and compassion, and service cannot and will not sprout without you, without this community, without all of God’s beloved carrying our spices and ointments, our tears and our hearts, to the graves of our world with minds and hearts open to see what can heal and transform.

We turn toward our neighbors, our friends, and our enemies. We turn toward the brokenness and pain of the world, with the same mind and heart that was in Christ when he ate with his disciples and washed their feet.  The same heart that healed sick, welcomed the outcasted, and loved without limits. The same heart that was on that cross. The same heart that breaks from the pain and heals with kindness and love.

Because the love and forgiveness that they tried to kill on the cross and bury. The love that challenged power and evil, and brings forth a new way of life is the love that is waiting to sprout in your heart and mind.

This week, this Holy week, we open our ears and hearts and minds to listen to the one among us who serves.  We listen to the one who heals and transform. The one who loves and forgives. We listen to the one who says “do this in remembrance of me.”

And we wait and watch for the one who comes in peace, blooming love and forgiveness that continues to transform lives and heal our world.  Christ Jesus whose Spirit is in you among you as one who serves.  

Amen.