Sunday, March 2

In the Fourth Century pilgrims journeyed to Jerusalem in order to visit the sites traditionally associated with the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Countless people made this journey to learn and experience something more of the final days of Jesus’ earthly life. The bishop of Jerusalem, Cyril created a series of liturgies - which were considered to be one grand liturgy - to mark this Great Week. During Cyril’s time, Egeria, a nun, believed to be from Spain walked to Jerusalem to make this pilgrimage, and spent two years observing and recording all that she experienced. Her diary still exists today and has given the Church insights into how the earliest Christians observed this Great Week. The work of Cyril, captured by Egeria, is the basis for the liturgies of Holy Week now contained in our Book of Common Prayer. My first time reading Egeria’s diary, published under the title Egeria’s Travels, I was struck by her words about Cyril’s remarks to the people during the day on Good Friday: “Then the bishop speaks a word of encouragement to the people. They have been hard at it all night, and there is further effort in store for them in the day ahead. So he tells them not to be weary, but to put their hope in God, who will give them a reward out of all proportion to the effort they have made” (Egeria’s Travels, John Wilkinson, 1999, p.155). As we prepare to enter once more into these most sacred of days, I think we would do well to heed Cyril’s words. On Sunday, Palm Sunday, we begin our pilgrimage. Each day there is at least one liturgy to gather us together to experience what really happened in those days. This is more than some historical reenactment, and we certainly hope to do more than just go through the motions. As is true every time we gather for worship, time stands still: past, present, and future are united as one. In this week we join with Egeria and all those who have walked this road before us, we join with Christians around the world today, and we join with all those who will come after us, not pretending we do not know the end of the story, but immersing ourselves into it that we may experience the events of our salvation once more. We will join with the crowds gathered for Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem with our own shouts of “Hosanna!” which will quickly turn to cries of “Crucify him!” We will witness Judas’ betrayal of Jesus and be reminded that no one, not even Judas, is beyond the redemptive power of God’s love. We will gather in the upper room where Jesus gives the great commandment, the mandatum (Latin for mandate; where the word Maundy comes from) to love one another as God has love us. We will wash each other’s feet in that humble, vulnerable act of tender service and care. We will share in the institution of the Holy Eucharist, the Sacrament of Christ’s Body and Blood, that we might be nourished and transformed into Christ’s Body and Blood for the world. After that meal we will strip the church bare and gather to watch and wait with Jesus through the night. We will gather to stand before the cross facing the darkness and reality of that shameful means of death which becomes for us a means of life. We will witness the very worst that humanity is capable of. We will wait in the stillness of the morning as all creation holds its breath. On Saturday night we return to the darkness. This night is the Passover of the Lord. We kindle a new fire and we follow the Paschal Candle giving thanks for the light of Christ. We will gather to hear God’s saving deeds in history. As Emmett is baptized and welcomed into the household of God, we will renew our baptismal promises and be sprinkled with holy water. And finally we will proclaim Easter – we will shout with joy that Christ is Risen! We will rejoice that death has been destroyed by life, that darkness was vanquished by light, that Love has conquered all. I invite you to make this sacred journey once more. It is demanding. It is exhausting. I know there will be days when you just do not feel like coming to church, days when the demands of life want to capture all of your attention. But the more you give yourself space and permission to share in the fullness of this week the more glorious your celebration of Easter will be. If we dare to walk this road we too will share in the transformative power of this Great Week. Let us remember those words of encouragement from Cyril of Jerusalem, “not to be weary, but to put (our) hope in God, who will give (us) a reward out of all proportion to the effort (we) have made.” I look forward to walking this week with you.

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You may have heard of Dollar Sunday in the past but don’t know what it is, no worries let me tell you. Dollar Sunday was the idea of parishioner Al Parrillo, it was his belief that one Sunday of the month should be set aside to collect money for the maintenance of this wonderful property that we have. This month the Vestry has chosen this Sunday to be that day and we are doing a targeted collection for the front door of the Church Mouse Thrift Store. For anyone who has gone and dealt with that door you’re more than aware that it is a little tired and its season has come and gone. We have a goal of $3500 to complete this project. I both as a Vestry member and parishioner of this church have seen the great love that all of you have for it and know that you give so generously to this place, but I ask if there is any chance that you can spare any bit of money that myself and the vestry would greatly appreciate it. Thank you all so much for your generosity. To make a donation to this project please mail checks to P.O. Box 505, Greenville, RI 02828 with “Thrift Shop Door” in the memo line, or to give online, please click here and select “Dollar Sunday” as the fund and write “Thrift Shop Door” in the memo.

This season of Lent invites us to take on various spiritual disciplines to help us connect with God in new and deeper ways; practices that help us tune our ears to better hear God in our midst. In fact, our Ash Wednesday liturgy calls us to specific practices as part of the invitation to a holy Lent. At the heart of all of this is prayer. But what does it mean to pray? We might imagine prayer is sitting with our trusty Book of Common Prayer, opening to a page and reading. This is a good and important type of prayer, and it is vital for us to carry on the traditions we have inherited. The BCP is a treasurer trove of resources. If you have not spent time flipping through the pages I invite you to do so. If you do not have a Prayer Book and would like one, please let me know. I would be delighted to get one for you. I would also be happy to give tours through the Prayer Book highlighting some especially useful resources for personal devotion. In addition to our beloved BCP there are other ways to pray too. While I use the Prayer Book every day in my own devotional life, there are many times when I find myself praying with it out. Sometimes that is sitting in silence, or using prayer beads; other times it’s while walking through a park, or sitting in an art gallery. I regularly pray while I cook, and find doing culinary prep work like chopping vegetables rather meditative. Of course, my commute from Pawtucket to Greenville along four of RI’s highways has exponentially increased my prayer life as well. I wonder, what are the ways you have found to pray? In his book The Word in the Wilderness: A Poem for Lent and Easter Malcolm Guite includes a prayer by Kelly Belmonte titled “How I Talk to God.” I offer this poem to you, hoping that it will help you expand your understanding of prayer and inspire you to seek God in every moment of your life. Coffee in one hand leaning in to share, listen: How I talk to God. ‘Momma, you’re special.’ Three-year-old touches my cheek. How God talks to me. While driving I make lists: done, do, hope, love, hate, try. How I talk to God. Above the highway hawk: high, alone, free, focused. How God talks to me. Rash, impetuous chatter, followed by silence: How I talk to God. First, second, third, fourth chance to hear, then another: How God talks to me. Fetal position under flannel sheets, weeping How I talk to God. Moonlight on pillow tending to my open wounds How God talks to me. Pulling from my heap of words, the ones that mean yes: How I talk to God. Infinite connects with finite, without words: How God talks to me.

This upcoming Tuesday, March 18, we will have our first session of our Lenten Book Study on Henri J.M. Nouwen’s book Life of the Beloved. The sessions we be on zoom at 7pm, all are welcome. Please let me know if you’d like to join the conversation so I can send you the link. This book was written as a letter to one of Nouwen’s friends called Fred. Fred asked Nouwen to write something for him and his friends about the spiritual life. He desired something to help them, people without deep religious or spiritual connections, in their searching. In response to this request, Nouwen opens the first chapter with how this project emerged: “Ever since you asked me to write for you and your friends about the spiritual life, I have been wondering if there might be one world I would most want you to remember when you finished reading all I wish to say . . . It is the word “Beloved,” and I am convinced that it has been given to me for the sake of you and your friends” (25). The rest of the book, a sort of letter of love, is an intimate and passionate message about what it means to be and live as the Beloved of God. Fritz and I settled on this book for our Lenten program back in the fall. All I can say is, thank you Holy Spirit for the inspiration, because this book is essential reading for these days. Over the last couple of months, there is one particular passage that keeps coming to my mind. Early on in the book Nouwen writes, “It certainly is not easy to hear that voice [claiming you as Beloved] in a world filled with voices that shout: “You are no good, you are ugly; you are worthless; you are despicable, you are nobody – unless you can demonstrate the opposite.” These negative voices are so loud and so persistent that it is easy to believe them. That’s the great trap. It is the trap of self-rejection. Over the years, I have come to realize that the greatest trap in our life is not success, popularity or power, but self-rejection (26-27, Emphasis added). ” The first time I read those words they hit me deep. They touched sources of pain buried in my soul; touching a nerve so raw that I remember being angry at the friend who recommended the book in the first place. Over the years, however, it has become one of my most treasured books - one of those stories I can never stop reading. This book may be a few decades old, but it remains ever true and relevant. We live in a society that privileges productivity and achievement. We are judged worthy not by our character, but by what we have achieved, won, and what our professional output is. When we are constantly surrounded by these voices and messages it can be difficult to not start beating ourselves up. I would hazard a guess that I am not alone in setting the bar just a little too high for myself, of having unrealistic expectations of what I can do and achieve. Then, when I fail to live up to that unattainable standard, to use Nouwen’s words, I fall into the trap of self-rejection. Nouwen’s please for us to claim the identity of Beloved is exactly what Lent is all about. It is the invitation to take off the masks we wear, let go of the baggage we carry, and accept our true identity from God. I invite you to take time this Lent to read Life of the Beloved, no matter if you can join on Tuesdays or not (but I hope you do tune in on Tuesday nights). It might hit you hard, it might even be a challenge to read, and it might stir up things for you that you did not know existed. But maybe that is just the right place to be in when approaching this text. If you need, feel free to get angry with me the same way I got angry with my friend. However, no matter what you decided to do, always remember - especially in those moments when doubt creeps in - that you are Beloved: “All I want to say to you is “You are the Beloved,” and all I hope is that you can hear these words as spoken to you with all the tenderness and force that love can hold. My only desire is to make these words reverberate in every corner of your being – ‘You are the Beloved’” (26).

We are now on our way, having set out on our Lenten journey this past Wednesday. I know I have said this before, but I believe it warrants repeating. Lent is a profoundly misunderstood season. Over the years I have heard many share their dislike of Lent because it is too dour. I have heard people lament that it is all about telling us the ways we are bad people, encouraging harmful self-deprecation. Given this history, combined with the realities of the world since the onset of the COVID pandemic five years ago, some have begun to wonder if we should even keep Lent at all anymore. I have heard it said, “Lent is just too much of a burden.” To be sure, there is good reason for this. The Church has a long history of using language around sin as a weapon to manipulate and control - a tool to demonize those who do not fit narrowly defined standards of being in the world. I have experienced this in my own life. In Sunday School growing up, we did an interactive Way of the Cross every Palm Sunday. As part of the experience we were told to write down our sins and then nail them to a large wooden cross. We were told it was our fault, our sins, that killed Jesus. While never said explicitly, there were lots of little comments and remarks spoken around the parish that led me to believe that who I was, was a sin - that my very existences and being is why Jesus had to die. I know I am not alone in having these painful formative experiences. I do not fault a single person who is wary of Lent, especially if they have experienced such harm. In a renewed way, this same language has once more permeated our political and social culture in the United States further exacerbating the pain. Please know if this is your experience I am here to listen and would be honored if you were to share your story with me. It is my hope that together we can shift our understanding of this holy season from one of shame to one of promise and hope. This Sunday we hear of Jesus’ time in the wilderness. After his baptism, Luke tells us that, “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil” (Luke 4:1-2, NRSV). Our wilderness experience of Lent is rooted in Jesus’ own experience. It is a time to resist temptation, to refuse to put God to the test, to place ourselves firmly in the arms of God - trusting that no matter what God will not forsake us. This is our time to begin again, by honestly naming where we are in this moment. We do this, in part, by naming and confessing our sins. It is important for us to be honest about all the ways we stray from the path of God, to be honest about the barriers we put up to block God’s love from our lives, the ways we do not honor the belovedness of our neighbors. We name these things so that we can refocus ourselves on how God has called us to live, letting go of all that holds us back, opening ourselves up to the freedom which comes from service to God alone. As we set out on this journey we do not need worry about the wrath of a vengeful God. We can stand before the judgement seat of God without shame or fear because our judgment is rooted in love: as the Psalmist reminded us on Ash Wednesday, “The Lord is full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger and of great kindness” (103:8, BCP). Above all else we name honestly the ways we have sinned as a sign of our commitment to strive for that still more excellent way, and our acknowledgement of our utter reliance on the mercy and love of God. The work of Lent - fasting, praying, reading and meditating on Scripture - are the disciplines that help train us to focus on God, not the idols of this world; to remove the blinders and stumbling blocks from before our path; to accept that we can only thrive in this life by the grace of God. We have been offered an invitation to strip away all distractions and return to what matters most - our life with God. Please accept the gift of this season. Enter into it intentionally. Thoughtfully carry out whatever practices you need to guide you along this journey. Take advantage of all the offerings here at St. Thomas to guide you through the season. If you need help navigating your way, please let me know. I’m here to help. Together may we journey well.

In the second act of the broadway musical Hairspray, premiered in 2002, there is a song titled “ Without love ,” which is all about love which crosses barriers and sets people free - which is rather fitting given it is sung while two of the boys are freeing the girls they are in love with from various entrapments. If only real life aligned in the way that is only possible in musical theater . . . but I digress. In this song each of the four characters - Link, Seaweed, Tracy, and Penny - each take a verse to profess their love for their hoped for partner, their desire to be united to those they love, and the dreadful scene of what life would be like without love. As Link professes his love for Tracy he sings, “‘Cause without love / Life is like the seasons with no summer / without love / Life is rock ’n’ roll without a drummer.” And when Seaweed sings to Penny he proclaims, “‘Cause without love / Life is like a beat that you can’t follow / without love / Life is Doris Day at the Apollo.” Each teen, in their own way, describes what would be an incredible horror to them, and thus, to avoid that fate surrenders themselves to love - and they surrender happily I might add. While the tunes might not be as catchy, and the movie adaptation does not star John Travolta, Nikki Blonsky, Zac Efron, and Christopher Walken; Jesus is there with Link, Seaweed, Tracy, and Penny. In the words of the Collect of the Day for this Sunday, “O Lord, you have taught us that without love whatever we do is worth nothing” (BCP p. 216). Throughout the lessons, especially in the story of Joseph in Egypt and the Gospel, we hear about the power of love and how we are called to embody something that is far from sentiment. It is love that invites us to do that which feels impossible, like loving our enemies. It is love that has the power to find grace in tragic situations. It is love that tears down walls, destroys barriers, and has the power to change the world - in fact it already has. I hope you will join us this Sunday to hear of this love that is so strong it has conquered death. For, to quote Miracle Max in The Princess Bride , “True love is the greatest thing in the world . . .”

This Sunday we welcome parishioner Tim Hawk back to the pulpit (or head of the center aisle as the case may be), so as to not take away from his homiletical thunder I want to take a moment to share with you some reflections that I have been doing - unrelated to the Sunday lessons. One of the things Bishop Knisely asks clergy of his clergy is that we have a colleague group. The parameters are pretty flexible: regularly gather with a few colleagues to support one another in ministry. It is up to each group to figure out what the specifics of the group will be. These clergy groups are part of our job that happens away from the parish - as is also true with our time of prayer, study, sermon preparation; and serving on Diocesan and wider Church committee. My clergy group meetings once a month and together we pray, check in about our lives, and then read books together. Be honest, are any of you really surprised that my clergy group would center around a book study? At the moment we are making our way through Marilynne Robinson’s latest book Reading Genesis . This book is part reflection, part commentary, part retelling of the familiar stories of Genesis. Here’s an interview with Robinson from The Ezra Klein Show . where the author shares more about her experience and how the book came to be. Of the many things that I appreciate about the book, one sticks out more than the rest. When Robinson talks about humanity, and the creation of humanity, she regularly references the fact that humans are the only creature of God who has been given the power to create and destroy. Think about that for a moment. God, the author and source of all creation; God, in whose likeness we are made, shares with us one of the most unique powers of God! I have been thinking a lot about how we, as people of faith, are called to use this awesome power; especially as there is such a focus on destruction in the world: war, violence, unjust systems, ecological degradation, the list goes on. I wonder how are we being called to use our gifts of creation and destruction? What is God calling us to tear down, following in the spirit of the great song of Mary - the Magnificat? What are we being called to help build in our community which captures the spirit of God’s creativity? What beauty can we help usher into the world? What works of love? What opportunities can we birth which will invite people to thrive in the fullness of who God has created them to be? I don’t have any answers, but trust that as a community if we use these questions to help frame our discernment we will discover that we are capable of remarkable, dare I say miraculous, things. Beloved of God, I pray that together we may harness this awesome power, sharing with the work God is already doing in the world.

This week we hear Jesus calling his first disciples. Luke tells us that Jesus was standing by the lake near the fishing boats, where the fisherman were tending to their nets after working all night long. Jesus gets into a boat belonging to Simon Peter, and after Jesus has finish teaching the crowd that remained on the shore, he asks Peter to sail out a bit further and drop his fishing nets into the water. Now, Peter is not particularly thrilled by this idea. He had just been out all night, laboring with his crew. To make matters worse, they caught nothing. All that effort and nothing to show for it. Yet, in the midst of his exhaustion, Peter does what Jesus asks of him. When the nets are let down, they become so full that they are on the verge of breaking. Others come to help. Ultimately the boats are so full that they begin to sink. Peter immediately recognized what was happening. Luke writes, “But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ feet, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’” (Luke 5:8, NRSV). Peter expressed his feelings of inadequacy, telling Jesus he is not worthy to experience this miraculous gift from God. After this Jesus says to Peter, “‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’ When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him” (Luke 5:10b-11, NRSV). Jesus does not accept Peter’s sense of unworthiness. Jesus says to Peter that he is worthy: that this awesome wonder is just the beginning. God has called Peter for exactly who he is. The passage ends with Peter, along with James and John the sons of Zebedee, leaving everything behind to follow Jesus. In this Gospel we are reminded that God calls us in the fullness of who we are, with all of our imperfections and shortcomings, to join in the miraculous and abundant work of God in the world. In turn we are called to follow. This past weekend the Vestry gathered for our annual retreat. I left that incredibly energized and excited about what we have planned for the year ahead as we seek to dig deeper into our multi-year plan. I cannot think of a better passage for us to hear as we kick off this next phase of our work. Inspired by the call of these disciples, let us be prepared to do what God asks of us, even if it means trying things we have already done with little to show for it. Let us be prepared to cast our fear, anxiety, and nerves aside. Let us be prepared to follow.