Easter Vigil - Grace Episcopal Church, April 4, 2026

Easter Vigil - Grace Episcopal Church, April 4, 2026

This is the night, when you brought our forebears, the children of Israel, out of bondage in Egypt, and led them through the Red Sea on dry land. This is the night, when all who believe in Christ are delivered from the gloom of sin, and are restored to grace and holiness of life. This is the night, when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave, we heard Huldah sing all of this. 

We’ve just rehearsed the stories of our faith, the stories of God’s activity in the life of God’s people, the story of reconciliation, restoration, resurrection, in the midst of wandering, whining, and wailing. We’ve seen bones that join together and wind and spirit to give them new life. We’ve had our hands in water that cleanses, water that hydrates, water that is poured over us.

On this night, death does not have the final word. This week we have kept vigil, we have listened to litanies and prayers, we have sat in the silence and wept, we have been to the cross with Jesus, we have recognized our complicity in the whole mess, we have held one another’s hand, we have wondered whether we are worth all this pain and trouble, we have told the stories of who we are and whose we are, and we, like Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women who go to the tomb to see Jesus, are afraid, afraid that it may not be true, given all that we’ve seen and experienced in the recent months.

But we, here in this room, know the ending of the story. And we know at the two pivotal times of the church year, Incarnation and Resurrection, the angel says, “Do not be afraid.” And tonight we hear, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here but has risen” Indeed this is good news, received with fear and great joy. What are we to do with this Good News, that death does not have the final word? Can we believe it? The women go away unsure. And Peter, wonderful Peter, ran home amazed at what happened. God has raised Jesus to new life, Love prevails, rising again out of the grave. 

On this night, we are surprised by joy, we are surprised by hope, Love prevails. God acts decisively on behalf of all creation, on behalf of the Peters, who deny Jesus, and the Judas’, who betray Jesus, the Roman soldiers and the apathetic bystanders, the Mary’s and the Martha’s, you and me. 

We rehearse this pattern year after year, day after day, not to impose it onto reality, but rather to remind ourselves and each other that this pattern is at the very heart of reality: that love does prevail, that no matter how grim the night becomes, joy will come in the morning. Every story we tell points us to God who loves creation so very much, that God is willing to take extreme measures to show us that Love prevails, that death does not triumph.

We see Jesus. Jesus who was born into this world, our world, born in a barn, to parents of questionable status. Jesus, who taught in the temple when he was twelve. Jesus who ate with tax collectors and sinners, who hung around with women and children. Jesus who fed the hungry, five thousand at a time. Jesus, who spoke with the woman at the well, who healed the blind man, who raised his friend Lazarus from the dead. Jesus, who went to the margins, Jesus, who literally gave new life where there was no life at all. 

Incarnation, the embodiment of God’s love, shows us that God stoops into our time, our lives,and walks this road with us. Jesus’ life, and love, pain and sorrow, death and resurrection, show us that it is not God’s purpose to remove the hardness from this life, or to remove brokenness from the world, but to show us a new way to live. Resurrection shows us that God actively works in human history because God never gives up on the creation God loves so very much.

This Easter story, this story that Love prevails, that death does not triumph, matters. 

Sometimes we get impatient - 

sometimes we want to give up - 

sometimes the darkness seems so thick - 

sometimes joy seems so far away. 

But we continue to tell these stories, to live these stories, in order to strengthen our skills as we walk through the pattern in our own lives; joy, struggle, suffering, resurrection. We fill up with courage, and hope, so that we may be the carriers of joy into the world. 

Jesus calls disciples, the ones who followed while he walked this journey on earth, and you and me, Jesus’ disciples today, to teach us who we are, to teach us about being citizens of the new kingdom. On Tuesday, your clergy took time out of their Holy Week, to gather and renew our ordination vows. Our bishop spoke to us about how, in an age marked by anger, scorn, and division, joy is an act of revolution. The purpose of the church is to cultivate an alternative economy that trades in joy and love. While happiness, or feeling good, depends on our circumstances, joy grows from keeping our eyes fixed on the promises of God, and soaking ourselves daily in God’s goodness. 

And on this most holy night, we witnessed Nicole’s baptism, and renewed our own baptismal promises 

to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, 

in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers, 

to persevere in resisting evil, 

to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, 

to seek and serve Christ in all persons, 

loving your neighbor as yourself, 

to strive for justice and peace among all people, 

and respect the dignity of every human being. 

We are Easter people. We live with hope and with joy in the reality that death does not have the final word, but that Love prevails. Alleluia, alleluia. 

 

The Church of St. Paul in the Desert, Palm Springs CA, Candlemas (transferred) Feb4 2023

Darkness can not drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate can not drive out hate; only love can do that. Martin Luther King Jr

By now you have seen images and heard words coming not only from Minneapolis, but Maine and Ohio, and you have seen images of resistance from all over the county. It may look mighty dark right now, it may feel like Good Friday, but Sunday is coming. That’s what we’ve taken to reminding ourselves as we embrace hope. 

The reality is that we in Minnesota are living under occupation. We have witnessed Immigration and Customs Enforcement removing people from homes, work, and school based on door-knocking in random neighborhoods and swarming schools, health care facilities, Mexican restaurants, child care centers or gas station parking lots all in hopes of finding someone, anyone, to detain. And murdering protectors and kidnapping observers in the midst of it. We are witnessing a spectacle of cruelty and brutality. Again, this is our reality. 

As people of faith, we must step into the breach with faith, love, and most of all hope, to do what the gospel compels us to do - welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, protect those who are at risk. I don’t have to convince any of you of that. This past Sunday’s Old Testament reading was from Micah, a passage with which you are so very familiar. “What the Lord really needs of us is to do justice, and to love kindness and mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.” In the midst of the chaos I am observing, I have also witnessed incredible acts of justice, kindness and mercy, walking humbly with God.

Friday morning a week ago my clergy colleague Susan, and I, with a wonderful handful of people from Grace Episcopal Church, were at the airport to raise our voices demanding that Delta and Signature stop being complicit in removing people from our state to detention centers God knows where. That action was about disrupting the flow of money and commerce. We cheered, and we prayed, and sang as 100 of our colleagues were bused off to jail after kneeling in the cold for at least an hour. 

Then, with at least 50,000 of our closest friends, in -20 cold, we gathered downtown Minneapolis, we watched out for each other, we shared hand and foot warmers, we sang, and were kind to one another as we became Minnesota fierce. My colleague Susan, and her partner Brian, went to US Bank downtown, one of the leading financial institutions in Minnesota, to be part of a sit-in, to ask that they lead the way in standing up to injustice.

This past Friday morning we gathered at the BIshop Whipple Federal Building, where those who are kidnapped off the streets are first taken. We again stood in the cold and spoke out for those who have been taken because they were witnessing - taking video, blowing their whistles. And just that morning two journalists were detained. People stand outside the Whipple building so that when they let someone go, there is someone waiting and prepared with warm clothes and a ride home. Last Saturday I delivered food to families who no longer leave their homes to go to work, or to go to the grocery store or the gas station for fear of being grabbed by ICE. That food ministry has over the last two weeks has tripled the number of people that still come to the church and to whom groceries are delivered. You can help with that, Rev. Jessie has that information for you

A statistic I discovered this week, and a reflection for you to consider.  90% of the community activation in Minneapolis is neighbor care.  Not protest. Not legal observation. But community response work: feeding the hungry, protecting schools, getting medicines to people who need them. Singing in the neighborhood so people stuck indoors, fearful of authorities, will know they are not alone. When what is happening in Minneapolis, and soon in Maine, in Ohio, and all over is called protest, you flatten the level and diversity of the response. You play into the framing of a violent regime.  

We are resisting, and there is something else happening here that’s not just resistance. It's a paradigm shift.  Minnesota has been abandoned by the federal government, so the people have taken over, and it is incredible. 

We are the hands and feet of Jesus in the way of embodied, fierce, resilient, defiant, love. We show up with compassion and resolve. The grief is palpable. And what do we see? People, neighbors, clergy, gathering together in neighborhoods and breweries and being community, increasing the light, rising up, with hope. There are candlelight vigils in every neighborhood. This occupation is nowhere near over, I just read that eight more observers were arrested at gunpoint yesterday morning, but we will continue to love fiercely, and walk the way of Jesus, together. 

Five year old Liam Ramos and his father were finally released. There is reason to hope, light in the darkness is dispelled in and through neighbors and community. We show up for each other, Jesus shows up in flesh and blood, we show up for our neighbors, God in our midst, the one who stoops to pick us up off the ground. This is where hope lives. 

Friends, we follow Jesus because we are convinced of God’s love for us, God’s love for all of creation. We follow Jesus because we are convinced that Love wins. We follow Jesus because we are convinced that embodied, resilient, defiant love is what God offers, and we in turn offer to our neighbors. 

We come here, to this place and we offer our own brokenness to be forgiven and healed, we are filled with bread and wine that are Jesus’ body and blood. In the mystery that is God’s love for us, we recognize blessing, we receive mercy, and we enact justice. And together we are emboldened, we can be brave and courageous as we witness to God’s amazing love for all God’s people. 

And therein is hope. We build hope in ourselves and in our community as we intentionally walk with Jesus. We build hope as we do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God. We build hope as we recognize the blessedness that is all around us. Everytime you carry God’s light and love you conspire with God to hope. Everytime you carry this light out into your community you participate in God’s beloved community.

 

4 Epiphany Yr A February 1 2026 St. Martha and Mary Episcopal Church Eagan MN

4 Epiphany Yr A February 1 2026 St. Martha and Mary Episcopal Church Eagan MN
Micah 6:1-8, 1 Corinthians 1:18-31, Matthew 5:1-12, Psalm 15

I am convinced the prophetic voices we hear in today’s readings can guide our walk with Jesus, and can guide us in the work of resistance in which we find ourselves as Minnesotans today. We must listen to them. In Matthew’s gospel is Jesus’ sermon on the mount. This is the opening proclamation of Jesus’ ministry to follow, and in it Jesus shows us what the kingdom of God looks like. And in Micah we hear words that many of us are most familiar with. The voice of the Lord calls us to remember, we are to remember what has happened and to remember the saving acts of the Lord. And how shall we come before the Lord? Shall we bring burnt-offerings, rivers of oil, our first-born child? And then there it is, what the Lord really needs of us is to do justice, and to love kindness and mercy, and to walk humbly with our God. 

Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God. This is what God’s kingdom looks like, and this is also what it means to follow Jesus. Humbly isn’t quite an accurate translation, it should be more like walk intentionally, walk deliberately, with your God. Do justice, love kindness, and walk intentionally with God.

In Matthew we learn how to recognize blessing. We’ve heard these beatitudes so many times, haven’t we? You know, for a long time I taught children using Godly Play story telling. Godly Play is a way to tell the sacred bible stories. So, I’d tell this story about Jesus teaching his friends when the children were in first grade, and then they’d hear it again in second grade, and by third grade they’d say, we’ve heard that one before! And I’d respond with, of course you have, but what’s different about it this time? Because you see, each time we hear these stories, we are in a different place and a different time, so we hear something different from them. Friends, we are in a different place and a different time, we must hear these beatitudes differently.

Jesus is speaking directly to his disciples with this teaching. You and I are really just eavesdropping. Jesus is teaching his disciples about how to recognize blessing. This isn’t about who is blessed, it is about how to recognize who and what God has already blessed. God has already blessed the poor in spirit, and theirs is the kingdom of heaven. God has already blessed those who mourn, and they will be comforted. God has already blessed the meek, and they will inherit the earth. God has already blessed those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, and they will be filled. God has already blessed the merciful, and they will receive mercy. God has already blessed the pure in heart, and they will see God. God has already blessed the peacemakers, and they will be called children of God. God has already blessed those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, and theirs is the kingdom of heaven. And God has already blessed those who are reviled and persecuted.

You see, our job, as followers of Jesus is to get with the program, God is already doing great things, our job is to see that and join forces, to be a co-conspirator with God to be a blessing. And one of the things that makes it so hard is that God has already blessed those whom some would not think are blessed. Sometimes, when people talk about someone who is blessed that might be someone who is wealthy or powerful or famous or successful or beautiful or enviable. Blessing, at least according to the standards of this world, is most often of the material kind. Blessing is missing the close call, or getting something someone else doesn’t get. But that’s not what is revealed in Matthew’s story about Jesus teaching the disciples. God blesses in ways that the world rejects. 

Following Jesus is about doing justice, loving kindness, and walking intentionally with God. Following Jesus is to recognize blessing when it is staring us in the face. I think recognizing blessedness is about walking with God. I think recognizing blessedness has something to do with living in a community, a church of hospitality, a place where people of all stripes can come and find justice, and kindness and mercy. It is about standing with our neighbors when they are hungry and in need. 

I was one of the clergy who stood in the freezing cold a week ago, standing up for justice, kindness, and mercy. Now, some of you may not agree with me that what is happening in our city, in our state, and in our country is outright intimidation and occupation. You may make the argument that the federal government is justified in arresting those who have broken the law. And as far as adhering to the law of this land I would agree with you. However, that is not what we are witnessing in our cities and on our streets. We are witnessing the round up of people who don’t look like us or talk like us, and those who are standing up for their neighbors. If you listen to what these scriptures say, if you listen to what Jesus says, you can no longer abide this spectacle of cruelty and brutality.

Friends, we follow Jesus because we are convinced of God’s love for us, God’s love for all of creation. We follow Jesus because we are convinced that Love wins. We follow Jesus because we are convinced that embodied, resilient, defiant love is what God offers, and we in turn offer to our neighbors. 

We come here, to this place and we offer our own brokenness to be forgiven and healed, we are filled with bread and wine that are Jesus’ body and blood. In the mystery that is God’s love for us, we recognize blessing, we receive mercy, and we enact justice. And together we are emboldened, we can be brave and courageous as we witness to God’s amazing love for all God’s people. 

And therein is hope. We build hope in ourselves and in our community as we intentionally walk with Jesus. We build hope as we do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God. We build hope as we recognize the blessedness that is all around us. Everytime you stand up for your neighbor by witnessing to the injustice. Everytime you stand up for your neighbor by donating money and food and clothing to all the places you do. Everytime you stand up for your neighbor by delivering groceries to those who cannot get out of their homes. Everytime you bring God’s light and love you conspire with God to hope. 

You are loved, go out into the world to do the work you are called to do, to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God. Amen. 

Blessing

May God give you grace never to sell yourself short; grace to risk something big for something good; and grace to remember the world is now too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for anything but love. And may the blessing of God, Creator, Christ, and Holy Spirit be upon you now and remain with you forever, Amen

Second Sunday of Christmas Jan 4 2026 St. Martha and Mary Eagan

Second Sunday of Christmas Jan 4 2026 St. Martha and Mary Eagan
Isaiah 60:1-6, Ephesians 3:1-12, Matthew 2:1-12, Psalm 72:1-7,10-14

A New Year dawns, and with it hope and promise, light and love. Even in the midst of this present darkness, more light has already begun to shine, I can see it and I can feel it. And yet life continues to feel hard, sometimes even scary. We live in a world now in which we expect violence, no longer is cruelty a thing to be vanquished, its spectacle is forever before us. The gospel story we have today took place in a time not unlike our own, as it opens we are placed in the middle of King Herod’s Judea. 

This gospel story, unique to Matthew, is a story with peculiar characters, with wisdom from outside of the mainstream, gentiles, powerful, politically savvy people. And King Herod who looms large as a despot, for whom power, instead of love, wins, and who is afraid of this baby, a threat to his empire. God’s presence in Jesus is going to upend the powers that be, and thwart Herod’s plans. And yet we are reminded of God’s activity – God’s intervention; these wise ones from the east were warned in a dream to go home by another way. 

How does this story, the story of God in the flesh, the manifestation of Christ in the world, change things, change us? And how do we make Christ known in the world? You see, there is so much hope, so much promise, so much light, so much love. God bursts into our world, stoops into our lives, and continues to break into our world, and walk with us in the flesh. What does that mean?

The story we have before us today, this story of the wise ones from the east who follow the Light to the child born in a barn, helps us to see the cosmic importance of this birth. This birth happened in a particular place at a particular time in the context of a particular tribe, but the arrival of these wise ones from the east shows us that it wasn't just for a particular people at a particular time in a particular tribe. Matthew's intent in telling this story in this way with these characters is to show us that this birth changes the world, this birth confronts empire, the wise ones from the east know that.

God does whatever it takes to reach out to and embrace all people. God announces the birth of the Messiah to shepherds through angels on Christmas, to Magi via a star on Epiphany, and to the political and religious authorities of God’s own people through visitors from the East. From a manger, where a child lies wrapped in bands of cloth, God’s reach, God’s embrace in Jesus, gets bigger and bigger and bigger. Jesus eats with outcasts and sinners. Jesus touches people who are sick and people who live with pain and suffering. Jesus even calls the dead back to life. Ultimately, Jesus draws all people to himself as he is lifted up on the cross. In Jesus, no one is beyond God’s embrace.

God’s radical grace is wondrously frightening. The Light that shines in the darkness is wondrously frightening. That is also what this story is about. God comes to us in wondrously surprising ways. Ways we do not expect. Ways which we would never choose for ourselves. We are changed, we are transformed, the world is turned, and we must go home by another way, a different way, the way of Love. 

Or not, the alternative, of course, is to join Herod in not seeing God’s ever-expanding embrace, or feel threatened by it, and instead giving way to just plain fear: “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him”. Herod jealously reached out himself, far enough to violently protect his place and preserve his power.

But I would suggest not being like Herod, and instead of living in fear of what is next, what is new, what could happen, we live in God's embrace, we live in God's light, we live in confidence that Love prevails. Instead of living in fear of what the future may bring to us, we live in God's abundant and amazing grace. Instead of holding fast to that which someday we will lose, we get on board with God's mission in the world of healing and reconciliation.

Taking the way of the wise ones from the east, going home by another way, going home by Jesus' way, surely provides a life of adventure, of risk, of surprise. Jesus leads us in a radical route. It takes us through green pastures, and more dangerous waters, it is a route that is filled with wolves and sheep. This is a route that calls us through transformation to wholeness; it is a route on which the adventure is not about you, but about whom we are together, the people on the adventure with us, and it is about how we are related to God. On this route home we are called to be Light bearers. We are called to be Love bearers. We are called to bring God’s Love to dark corners, to mountaintops, to raging waters.

My most recent viewing obsession is Stranger Things. I got on the roller coaster late in the ride, and the drop to the finish is thrilling. A major motif in Stranger Things is darkness and light. But, as it is with the best of storytelling, sometimes it takes some work to find the cracks of light that will bring healing and hope. I think Stranger Things is a great story, not only because of the landscape of dark and light, there’s so much more to be said about community and communion, friendship and love, looking beyond oneself and into oneself to find belovedness, and - much of that must wait for another day. Today’s story, the story in Matthew’s gospel, shows us the light breaking through, it calls us to follow that light, to find the path that brings us home. 

We are called to bring God’s Love to a dark and broken world, to a culture that is pulled apart by greed and fear. We are called to bring God’s Love to a fearful world. 

You see, God’s Love, God’s Power, is the most powerful integrating force in creation. God’s Love moves us from brokenness, from fragmentation, to wholeness, to healing and it is the only way.

How do you bring God’s Love and God’s Light into the world, how do you bring God’s wholeness into your work or your school? It is our call to bring God’s transforming love to those who have not yet seen or felt or known that love. It is our call to bear the Love that wins into the world. What glory will you manifest?

And, it is God's dream that we do this together. After all, it was three wise ones, not just one, who came to see Jesus. We don't go this life on our own, we journey together, we go home by another way, together. 

Amen

Epiphany blessing

May Almighty God, who led the Wise Ones from the east by the shining of a star to find the Christ, the Light from Light, lead you also, in your pilgrimage, to find the light and love. And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be upon you and remain with you for ever. Amen.

First Sunday after Christmas Dec 29 2024 Grace Episcopal Church, Mpls

First Sunday after Christmas Dec 29 2024 Grace Episcopal Church, Mpls

Isaiah 61:10-62:3, Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7, John 1:1-18, Psalm 147 or 147:13-21

My most recent viewing obsession is Stranger Things. I got on the roller coaster late in the ride, but I’m all caught up, and the drop to the finish is thrilling. A major motif in Stranger Things is darkness and light. But, as it is with the best of storytelling, sometimes it takes some work to find the cracks of light that will bring healing and hope. I think Stranger Things is a great story, not only because of the landscape of dark and light, there’s so much more to be said about community and communion, friendship and love, looking beyond oneself and into oneself to find belovedness, and - much of that must wait for another day. Today’s story, the story in John’s gospel, is also filled with darkness and light, inviting us to enter into the revelation, the epiphany, the inbreaking of God to our world - in new and wonderful ways. 

Let's begin at the beginning, where John begins. John’s beginning is not like Matthew’s beginning, the genealogy tracing Joseph back to King David - and then an announcement from an angel, the next thing we know is that the baby is born. And John’s beginning is not like Luke’s beginning, the birth announced by an angel, recognized by Elizabeth, consented to by Mary. And Mark, Mark doesn’t even tell that part of the story. 

John begins at the beginning; in the beginning was the Word. This gospel writer very intentionally places us at the beginning, the first words of the first book of the Holy Scripture that John had on his heart, in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth. And John very intentionally introduces us to one of the themes that for him shapes all of faith, the light that is in the world. John situates Jesus in a truly cosmic landscape. 

John’s beginning prologue parallels very intentionally the first chapter of Genesis - When God began to create the heavens and the earth, the earth was complete chaos, and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. 

The gospel writer begins, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through God, and without God not one thing came into being. What has come into being was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it. 

I think it is really important that we understand that these stories we read from sacred scripture are not individual snippets of words, but have everything to do with the stories of our ancestors. These words inform our lives today, and this word is God’s Word. God, who wants to be known to us, and be in relationship with us. 

These are words of Incarnation, Emmanuel, God in the flesh, birthed out of the waters of creation, the waters of baptism, the waters of new life. Bathed in the light that dispels the darkness. For John, there is hope that the smallest source of light might create the possibility of belief. 

God speaks the Word into this world, Jesus dives into our lives for light, for love, for relationship, for connection. John calls us to turn around and face the Light, to fall on our knees and be forgiven. And today John calls us to be partners with him in showing the way to the Light. And for John, the darkness represents a lack of relationship and connection. 

We are yet in the season of incarnation, God in the flesh meeting us in the flesh. God came to be with us in the flesh not to relieve us of the mess and the muck of this life, but in the flesh God stands by our side, takes our hand, sometimes even carries us, and loves us. And that kind of love changes us, we can't help but be changed. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to be perfect because we are perfectly loved. We don't need to consume and acquire to possess worth; we are enough just the way we are created. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to gain attention to earn God's love, God has already loved us into ourselves. 

Incarnation is a mystery, and yet it is not so hard. Incarnation, God in the flesh, is about love in a very real and intimate sense, it is about God’s promise and commitment to you and to me to walk this journey with us, and it is about our commitment to love. Christmas is not about the presents; it is about God’s presence with us, and your presence with those whose path you cross.

And that’s where the rubber meets the road, isn’t it? Incarnation is about showing up, and showing forth the light that shines through all darkness. God in the flesh meets us in our flesh, and we must respond to God in the flesh, God’s grace upon grace, with love for our neighbor, love for those we like and for those we cannot abide, love for our immigrant neighbors, and love for the idiots who seem to not understand this basic tenant of God’s beloved people. We cannot disregard the connection we have to God and one another, and to those who are God’s beloveds - all of us. We live in the promise God made at creation and continues to show forth in every moment, when we look for the light through the darkness. 

Love is born into human flesh. God stoops into our lives through the most fragile of body’s, in the most humble surroundings. And, at the very same time, although the place of humans is certainly small; we find ourselves dwarfed by both the creation and the Creator. Yet there’s more to the story. The Creator of the galaxies, eternal and unbegotten, emptied themself and was born as an infant. At the crossroads of time and space, God chose to become fully human, one of us. The light shines throughout the universe, and through the humblest of lives. 

As we celebrate these holy days, may we be reminded that God is above us, below us, surrounding us, and within us. God is alive wherever love is born, wherever justice is pursued, wherever peace is nurtured. The Christ child calls us to see God revealed in those on the argin and in the ordinary, and in one another. Thanks be to God.

Amen.

2 Advent Year A December 7 2025 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

2 Advent Year A December 7 2025 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 15:4-13, Matthew 3:1-12, Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19

It’s Advent, so things are still unfolding; get ready to be amazed. Does that sound like the Advents we’ve had in our pasts? Maybe not so much. 

John the baptizer sure seems to think something wild and amazing is happening. So much so that he calls all those in hearing distance, including you and me, to pay attention, to turn around, to listen. He’s out there in the wilderness, out there on the margins, saying, all you who hear, listen, something amazing is happening here. At least, that’s the way I'm hearing John the baptizer today. 

This season we in the church call Advent, when we await the coming of the Christ child and the fulfillment of all things, and the secular world calls Christmas, is full of expectations. Lights on the house, the perfect Christmas tree, baking, apple pies, lefse, shopping, wrapping, and meaningful family time.

When I was a little girl, some of my siblings, and our mom, would go Christmas tree shopping. I actually don't have fond memories of that experience. We were expected to get a perfect Christmas tree, just the right height and width, a Norway pine, with the long needles, and a good, straight trunk, and not too expensive. It seemed to take hours, and I'd be so cold, frozen feet and hands. Finally we'd get the tree strapped to the top of the car, or stuffed into the back of the station wagon. We'd get our chosen tree home, let it thaw out in the garage, and finally get it into the house. Inevitably it was not right, too tall, too wide, too crooked. At least one of those trees fell right over, after it was fully decorated. It was hard to set all of those expectations of perfection aside, and take joy in the beauty of the tree.

We feel expectations put upon us during this season, by family and friends, we have our own expectations of what we should do, what we want to do, what we have time to do. And amid all these things we think we must do, John the Baptizer asks us to wake up, turn around, change our perspective, listen differently.

So this morning, I'd like you to call to mind your "to do" list. What do you think you need to get done in these next few weeks before Christmas? Now, just set that list to the side for a few minutes and listen to what John and Jesus call us to in these readings this morning.

John the baptizer calls us to repentance. At the risk of laying on some guilt, which is what we seem to feel when we hear the word repent, and which I do not intend. I want to help you reframe that word and action. Repent simply is to turn. It is to change direction. Repent is reorientation, particularly, reorientation toward God. It’s like your mapping app in your car or on your mobile device, every wrong turn you take she says, recalculating. She is reorienting us as we make minor, or not so minor, deviations in our route. Repent may even be like confession and repair. So our opportunity in this season of Advent is to reorient ourselves to God, change direction, and repair broken relationships.

So now recall your to do list. Amid all that you feel you have to do, or that you want to do, or that you think people expect you to do, how may you turn, recalculate, or reorient yourself to God? I'm not saying that the items on your list are not worthwhile, but I am asking you to consider how you may make room in that list to embrace the holy pregnancy, the new life, of this Advent season.

The prophet Isaiah has something to say about that new life. "A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots." Picture that stump. Stumps of trees that look like they are dead. But a branch shall grow out of the roots. There shall be new life, delicate and fragile, like a newborn baby. What if we believe this fragile sign is God’s beginning? Perhaps then we will tend the seedling in our hearts, the place where faith longs to break through the hardness of our disbelief. Do not wait for the tree to be full grown. God comes to us in this Advent time and invites us to turn, to reorient ourselves,  to give room for the branch that emerges, ever so slowly and small, from the stump. We may want to sit on the stump for a while, and God will sit with us. But God will also keep nudging us: “Look! Look -- there on the stump. Do you see that green shoot growing?”

Turn around, reorient yourself to God this Advent season. See that green shoot growing. Watch the new life take shape. Keep awake as the light grows bright. Is it possible for you to look at your list of everything you need to get done, and day dream about what you hope Christmas will be like. What kind of Christmas do you want to have? More than that, what kind of relationships do you want to be a part of? Even more, what kind of world do you want to live in this Christmas and beyond? 

The prophet Isaiah is all about hope, change, turning toward God. "The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them." Our hopes, after all, surely aren’t limited to our immediate wants and needs but reach out to include our larger families, communities, and world. That is what repentance and repair are also about. What needs repairing? 

So maybe Advent is about leaving our familiar and well-trodden path, making a turn, maybe venturing out on another way. Maybe Advent is about trying something different this time, something that gives us a sense of the grace and glory of God, the babe in Bethlehem, the Word made flesh. Advent is a time to turn toward God, a time to reorient ourselves to the holiness of the birth of this baby, the birth of love, the birth of change.

And as we hear in Matthew’s gospel this day, turning toward God, reorientation and even repair, will bear good fruit. It will bear the fruit of compassion, and we will be free to give our time to others. It will bear the fruit of mercy, and we will be free to give our love to others. It will bear the fruit of justice, and we will be free to give food and shelter to others. And maybe we even work toward a time when there is no longer a need to provide food and shelter, because there are no longer any hungry or cold people in our towns. 

And as John the baptizer calls us from his place on the margins, from his place in the wilderness, we meet him there, not in the places of power, but on the edge, in the places of wildness, standing closer to those in our neighborhoods who are cast out and cast down. So go into the desert - of your community, of your congregation, of your own heart. Eat some locusts with John for a time. Find Jesus in the small places, and join yourself fully to his reign of love, which has already triumphed, and which even now is coming into the world.

Amen.

Advent blessing

Give us ears to hear, O God,

and eyes to watch,

that we may know your presence in our midst

during this holy season of joy

as we anticipate the coming of Jesus Christ.

And may the blessing of God,

who is creator, redeemer, and spirit,

be with you this day as you walk into wildness with one another.

Amen.

 

All Saints November 2 2025, St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

All Saints November 2 2025, St. Martha and Mary, Eagan
Daniel 7:1-3,15-18, Psalm 149, Ephesians 1:11-23, Luke 6:20-31

Struggling, striving, to be one too. I love this day, I feel so connected to the cloud of witnesses, the communion of saints. Why do I feel All Saints so deeply? I don’t think it’s because I want to be a saint, or I think I have any degree of perfection. It’s because I want to be among those who follow Jesus, I want to be among those who stand up for love, and compassion, and mercy, and I know I cannot do that alone. I listen to these names, names of the long dead and names of the recently dead, and I wonder, do I measure up? Do I act justly when the time comes, am I merciful in judgment, can I be compassionate with those with whom I passionately disagree?

This cloud of witnesses helps me along, holds me up, keeps me accountable, makes me want to do better. Each one of these in this cloud of witnesses changed their particular piece of the world, not necessarily by doing fabulous, extravagant things, but by stepping into the space in which they were needed, when called. By stepping up to love. By using their voice and being brave. Not heroic, but faithful.

Do you have saints in your life? Not perfect people, people perfectly loved. There’s a piece by Linda Hogan, an indigenous writer, who was the Chickasaw Nation's Writer in Residence. And at All Saints time it lands on me with all sorts of sense and wonder. She has written, “Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. ‘Be still’ they say. ‘Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.’” 

That empowers me, emboldens me to put one foot in front of the other, each day, and speak love into dark and lonely spaces, and we have definitely been experiencing some dark and lonely spaces recently. It feels like my voice joins all the voices before me, and together we sing a song of the saints of God. Because being a saint is not about being superhuman. It may be about having a super power though. The super power of love, the super power of the love of all those who have gone before us to show us the way, and those who will come after us to carry on.

I wonder about the saints we named today, and so many others whom we did not name. I wonder if they knew they were a saint, or if all they knew was God’s love for them and for others. I think they didn’t know they were saints. I think they were just like you and me. I think they took seriously the call to love God, and to love one another. I think they woke up in the morning, just like you and me, and asked God to help them carry Jesus’ light into all the dark places of their lives.

Who are the saints you know, and have known? Not perfect people. But people putting one foot in front of the other and stepping into the space of love and bringing the light of Jesus with them. I think a lot about my mom who died 11 years ago now. My mom wasn’t perfect, she was as ornery as an Irish woman comes. There was always room at my mother’s table. Even if she didn’t like you, you got fed. She prepared meals at church, and put on quite a spread for funeral luncheons. And for years she was in charge of the Loaves and Fishes meal once a month. Mom would never consider herself any more than a person that said yes to pitching in and helping. She never thought of herself as brave or courageous, or particularly compassionate. But she stepped up when she heard the call, often it was the call on the telephone… we need you to...bring a hotdish, we need you to… be in be president of the women’s club…we need you.

I think what’s really true is that the phone call, or these days the email or text, is much louder than God’s still, small voice. And stepping into the space of love and compassion, responding to God’s call, is much more like providing a meal, or filling up the food shelf, or standing up for the most vulnerable, than it is about saving the world.

All Saints is our day to find ourselves in the community that attests to the love that wins. It is not to find ourselves wanting because we aren't good enough or perfect enough. All Saints is our day to experience the awesomeness of those who walked this path before us, and to count ourselves as part of that great cloud of witnesses. It is an opportunity to call on this cloud of witnesses, Abraham and Aquinas, Madeleine and Marion, Perpetua and Felicity, Martin Luther King and Oscar Romero, as people who show us the way of fearless love, mercy, and compassion.

Grandmothers and Grandfathers, ancestors and forebears, the entire cloud of witnesses, stand here beside us.

On this day of all saints, we call upon all of those who have taken this journey before us, to stand here with us as we are witnesses today to the love of our creator God, to the life and love and work of Jesus, and the enlivening presence of the Spirit.

Stand here beside us, as we struggle to follow Jesus.

Stand here beside us, as we grieve for our mothers and fathers and our loved ones who have died.

Stand here beside us, as we endeavor to find our identity as the ones who are marked as God's own forever.

Stand here beside us, as we continue to hope and find encouragement in the face of loss and discouragement.

Stand here beside us, as we courageously invite those we love into a relationship with one another and with Jesus.

Stand here beside us, as we strive to be a blessing in the lives of all we encounter.

Stand here beside us, as we wonder about what blessing is even all about.

Grandmothers and Grandfathers, ancestors and forebears,

stand here beside us, we remember your fidelity, your strength, your courage, as we ask our creator God for the same.

If we are indeed the result of the love of thousands, which I believe we are, then what is the task we bear today? It’s not about heroics, but definitely the super powers of love and compassion. We are the saints of God; we are the ones who give rise to the thousands who come after us. Our task today is to follow Jesus. Our call is to Love God, love others, show that love bright and clear wherever we are. Getting up every morning, giving thanks for the day, putting one foot in front of the other, and shining the Christ light into all of the dark places, makes a difference. We are joined together, we are joined with the cloud of witnesses, and our witness matters, our actions matter. Saints lived not only in ages past; there are hundreds of thousands still; the world is bright with the joyous saints who love to do Jesus’ will. You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea, in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea; for the saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too. 

And all the saints of God say, AMEN!