Author Archives: jandrewsweckerly

Sermon – Genesis 12.1-4a, L2, YA, March 1, 2026

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

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We’ve been talking a lot about college in our house.  I recalled my own experience of that first year of college with my older daughter recently.  I was so ready to leave home and start my “adult” life, I was beyond thrilled to be able see Duke basketball games in person, I was eager to start my studies so that I could take on that big job, and I knew I would have a ton of fun.  As I packed my bags, I felt like the world was full of promise and hope and I just knew I was going to have an awesome college career.  In many ways, my college experience was one of the best experiences of my life – one where I learned so much more than I expected, I made lifelong friends, I experienced my first sense of call to ministry, and I did in fact enjoy many a basketball game.  But that first year of college was nothing like the picture looking back now.  I had an awful freshman roommate experience, I struggled with the rigor of classes at first, I had a hard time finding a group of friends I really liked, there were multiple things I either tried out for our wanted to be invited into that I was not, and there were times that I wondered what in the world I was doing there.

As I listened to our Old Testament lesson today, I wondered how much Abram felt the same way about his own journey.  The very short passage from Genesis today says, “The Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.  I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.  I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’”  At first glance, Abram’s invitation sounds awesome!  He is invited on a journey with God and he is promised God will bless him, will give him plenteous offspring and power, and he will essentially be famous.  Who wouldn’t want to pack up their earthly belongings and hit the road with that kind of invitation?  The upcoming journey sounds like one full of promise, hope, and abundant joy.

Of course, there are a few slight indicators of how hard this journey might actually be.  First God tells Abram to leave his country, his kindred, and his father’s house – all without a map of where they will be going.  Scholar Carol Newsome reminds us, “In traditional societies the kin group is the source of identity, economic benefit, security, and protection.  To leave such a fundamental social network is to put a great deal at risk.”[i]  And then there is the text we do not read today.  In the verses immediately preceding this text, we are told that Abram’s father has just died.  We all know what the death of a parent can do to a person, and can at least imagine the intense grief Abram is working under when he says yes to God.  And the text immediately after where we stop tells us that Abram is about 75 years old at this point.  So, a man well beyond the prime of life, who is freshly experiencing grief, who has probably long since lost hope of bearing any children should be able to guess that this journey will not be all roses and rainbows.

In fact, we know that the journey is not as hope-filled as our lesson makes the journey out to be today.  This man whom God says will be blessed and be great hits all kinds of bumps along the way.  If you remember, Abram passes off his wife as his sister several times to avoid danger to himself.  When he still does not have any offspring, Sarai eventually convinces him to sleep with her handmaiden Hagar.  Though Hagar bears him a son, Abram eventually casts Hagar and Ishmael out into the wilderness when his wife Sarai gets jealous.  And of course, we cannot forget that Abram is also forced to take his one son by Sarai, Isaac, up on a mountain to be sacrificed – believing all along that God intends for Abram to kill his only heir.  Sounds like a real journey of blessing, right?

That is the funny thing about journeys.  We are not often promised that our journeys will be blessed.  But even when we hope that they will be blessed, the blessing never comes immediately and is often masked by long intervals of pain and suffering.  We have lived that life here at Hickory Neck.  Almost three hundred years ago, people from Williamsburg were told, “Go.  Go from the conveniences of town and settle in a rural, farmland that I will show you.  I will make of you a great church, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.”  At least, that’s how our histories of Hickory Neck read.  We too were a people of hope and expectation – at least until a certain war broke out and our side lost.  The building had its own adventure with students, residents, and injured soldiers.  And then, over 100 years ago, the dream emerged again.  We took a stab at the dream:  first with a small group of families, and then more and more friends, and slowly strangers gathering.  We had lots of clergy – some staying longer than others – some vicars, some rectors, some associates, and deacons.  We built buildings, bought more land.  We experienced church growth and church decline, budget surpluses and budget deficits.  We welcomed new ministries, a school, and joined the digital world.  When God said, “Go,” who would have ever guessed the journey would play out the way the journey has.

Sometimes our Lenten journeys have that same feel.  We fill ourselves with pancakes, and then the next day, kneel with resolve to take on some discipline.  We look forward to the blessings of Lent – the intimacy with God the journey will bring, the learning will we do, the peace we will gain, or even the couple of pounds we might lose.  And when we hear a story like the Old Testament lesson today, we feel pumped up and ready for an exciting journey.  We may even imagine God making similar promises to us:  You will be blessed in this Lenten journey.  And yet, if we think back to any Lent in the past, we might remember how difficult our discipline became by week four or five.  We might remember how that cool discipline we chose did not really turn out to be as great as we imagined.  And depending on how stable we were at the time, that sense of failure could have brought more of a sense of curse than blessing.

How do we know that blessing awaits and what do we do in the meantime?  What do we do when those days come – because they will – when we feel discouraged and lose that sense of promise and hope that God gives today?  If we look to Abram, we see that our only option is to go – to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  The lesson today says, “So Abram went, as the Lord had told him.”  The journey for Abram is risky, full of potholes, and ultimately full of some wild twists that might have turned Abram back at any point.  And yet, “Abram went.”  We are lucky enough to know that Abram becomes Abraham – the man that would eventually become a father of entire people – in fact of several faith traditions.  But Abraham never got to see the fullness of that blessing.  His life was more one of blessing in hindsight, not really an everyday blessing-fest.

In some ways, that is all we can do too.  God constantly calls us into a journey – whether during Lent or in whole phases of life.  God promises to bless us and love us along the way.  But we know the journey will be hard at times, and leave us feeling discouraged.  And when that happens, all we can do is put one foot in front of the other, and keep on going.  Of course, we have each other along the way, much like Abram had Lot.  In fact, the last words of today’s lesson are, “and Lot went with him.”  So, whether you are in that blessed state of bliss, or you are already struggling in your steps, God still tells you to go.  Our response is difficult, intimidating, and profound, but also extremely simple.  We go, knowing the journey will be blessed.  We go, knowing friends will journey with us.  We go, knowing God is with us.  We go.  Amen.

[i] Carol A. Newsom, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A., Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 53.

Sermon – Jonah 3.1-10, Ecumenical Lenten Worship Series, February 25, 2026

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

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This sermon was delivered at Mt. Vernon United Methodist Church, as part of an ecumenical pulpit exchange that happens with six other churches during in Lent in our county.

On this Wednesday in the first week of Lent, we get a portion of the Jonah story.  Before we jump into the specific set of verses appointed for today, we need to back up and recount the whole of the Jonah narrative so we can hear more clearly what God is trying to say to us tonight.  If you recall, Jonah’s story starts with a call.  God tells Jonah to go to Ninevah to proclaim judgment on their wicked behavior.  Now, “Nineveh was the capital of Assyria, the nation that destroyed the northern kingdom of Israel and held the southern kingdom of Judah as a vassal for almost one hundred years.  Assyria was more than an enemy; [Assyria] was a brutal occupying force that forever changed Israel’s fortunes.  Jonah is called out by God to go and prophesy to the enemy.”[i]

Understandably, instead of heading straight to Ninevah, Jonah goes in the exact opposite direction – hopping on a boat to sail away from the very scary and dangerous job God has given Jonah.  The next part you probably remember from Sunday School:  a storm comes up, the crew on the boat try to survive, Jonah is thrown overboard as a sacrifice and then swallowed by a very large fish, only to be spit out, and then told by God to get up and go do what God told Jonah to do the first time.  That’s where we pick up in tonight’s reading.

This time Jonah obeys – sort of.  He half-heartedly announces judgment on Nineveh.  The words we hear are “Forty days more, and Nineveh will be overthrown!”  In Hebrew, Jonah’s words are just a five-word sermon.[ii]  Despite his half-hearted five-word sermon, Nineveh springs into almost comedic action.  The people proclaim a fast and put on sackcloth.  The king ups the ante and sits in ashes and tells the people to stop all violence and even put sackcloth on their animals, hoping maybe, just maybe, God will relent and not punish them.  A great, all-powerful, brutal people humbly repent.  We are told God changes God’s mind based on their repentance and does not punish them. 

Now, this is where Jonah’s story gets interesting.  We didn’t hear this part tonight, but Jonah does not experience relief, or justification, or even pride, at making something great happen.  No, Jonah is angry.  Old Testament professor Beth Tanner tells us, “The NRSV plays down [Jonah’s] anger with the words ‘this was very displeasing to Jonah and he became angry’ (4:1).  The Hebrew reads roughly, ‘it was evil to Jonah, a great evil, and his anger burned.’  The ‘it’ of Jonah’s anger is the heart of the matter.  He tells God why he ran, ‘for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and ready to relent from punishing’ (4:2).  Jonah is angry at God for the very attributes that Israel has always depended on for [Israel’s] own salvation (Exodus 34:6-7)!  God speaks to Jonah, trying to explain, but the book ends without resolution and Jonah goes away mad.”[iii]

The funny thing about Jonah’s story is that Jonah’s story, if we’re paying attention, hits us right in our gut.  You see, we believe that God is gracious, merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.  In fact, we bet our lives on God’s nature.  We spend forty days repenting of our sinfulness, attempting to amend our ways, seeking and expecting God’s profound forgiveness.  We only engage in this season of self-reflection and self-denial because we know God’s grace and mercy is for us, waiting outside an empty tomb.  But here’s where Jonah’s gut-punch comes from:  we are not always ready for God’s grace to be as available to everyone else as God’s grace is available to us. 

Now before you protest against this guest preacher, saying, “Hey now!  I’m not like Jonah!” I want you to take a moment.  I want you to resist your defenses going up and think of the person in your life who is hard to love.  That person may be a neighbor, or that black sheep in your family, or that friend or lover you cut off years ago.  That person might in a political office despite your vote to the contrary.  That person or group of people, like Nineveh, might be known for oppression and degradation that you cannot abide.  Scholar Tanner says, “My father always told me that if I did not believe that God would save the most foul of humans, then I did not really believe in God’s power to save my own soul.”[iv]  If I do not believe that God would save the most foul of humans, then I do not really believe in God’s power to save my own soul.

That, my friends, is why Jonah goes out into the wilderness in a huff and is angry at God for being God.  Because the bounds of God’s grace, mercy, and steadfast love are endless.  And even if we do not feel like our neighbor deserves that grace, mercy, and steadfast love, God knows a repentant heart much more deeply than we, and our God can change God’s mind. 

In this season of Lent, you are likely going to confess some grievous sins.  In this season of Lent, you are likely going to try to be more faithful – to walk more fully in the light of Christ.  In this season of Lent, you are likely going to come to the cross broken, having just been spit out of the belly of a very large fish, feeling defeated.  And God is going to love you.  God’s grace and mercy are going to envelope you.  God’s anger will be slow enough to not boil over that you will not be burned. 

And.  And, because that is the nature of our God, our invitation tonight is to make room for more people to be welcomed into that bosom of God’s embrace.  That does not mean you cannot speak truth to power.  Jonah certainly did.  But the judgment piece is not ours.  In fact, our speaking truth to power is rooted in the knowledge that there is room for all.  God’s mercy, grace, and steadfast love is for you.  And although you or I may not like sharing that mercy, grace, and steadfast love with certain individuals, the fact that God does makes God’s mercy, grace, and steadfast love even greater, even sweeter, even more humbling.  There is room in God’s embrace – even for someone like us!  Amen.

[i] Beth L. Tanner, “Commentary on Jonah 3:1-5, 10,” January 25, 2009, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-after-epiphany-2/commentary-on-jonah-31-5-10-2 on February 24, 2026.

[ii] Kathryn M. Schifferdecker, “Commentary on Jonah 3:1-5, 10,” January 25, 2015, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-after-epiphany-2/commentary-on-jonah-31-5-10-3, on February 24, 2026.

[iii] Tanner.

[iv] Tanner.

Sermon – Matthew 6.1-6, 16-21, AW, YA, February 18, 2026

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

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I have always regarded Ash Wednesday and our Lenten experience as the ultimate self-directed season.  The ashes on our foreheads remind us of how we came into this world alone and we will go out alone.  The disciplines we assume this day for the next six weeks are catered to our own journeys, focusing on what we have discerned we personally need to right our own relationship with God.  When I confess, I am struck by memories of grievances I have committed – images and feelings flashing before me as a particular set of words hits close to home.

But as I read Matthew’s convicting gospel this year, I remembered the wise words of New Testament scholar Karoline Lewis.  All those warnings Jesus makes, “Beware of practicing your piety before others…whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet…when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites…whenever you fast, do not look dismal…”, all of those warnings are not in the singular.  In the original Greek, they are actually in the plural.[i]  So the words are more like, beware of practicing you all’s piety.  Or maybe in Southern speak, “when ya’ll pray…” Jesus is not criticizing or singling out you or you or me.  Jesus is singling out the community of the faithful.

That may sound like semantics, but there is something quite dramatic about Jesus speaking in the plural versus the singular.  Every week in Sunday services, we confess our sins.  But we confess them communally.  Communal confession is an extraordinary event.  While we may feel lost or despondent about our inability to live in the light of Christ as individuals, when we communally confess, a room of voices is saying with you, “Me too!”

One of the things I grieved the most during the pandemic was our inability to gather in person.  I loved that we had and continue to have an online community – especially when people write things in the comments, greet one another, or meet Hickory Neck for the first time.  But our necessary isolation during the pandemic naturally led to a pattern of looking inward – sometimes so much so that we forgot we are not alone – that there is a whole community of faith who is walking this journey with us and struggling just as we are.  There is something quite powerful about listening to the voices of a 7-year-old next to the 77-year-old – the person who looks so put together next to the person who is clearly struggling – the dad with children next to the widow – all confessing together.  Week in and week out, those myriad voices remind us we are not alone.

Of course, part of that reason we get so focused on the self in Lent is because self-interest and self-focus is culturally entrenched in being a modern American.  There is both a blessing and a curse to the American dream – that any individual can achieve their dreams, if they just pull themselves up by their bootstraps – an argument that assumes everyone has bootstraps.  But indigenous New Testament scholar Danny Zacharias argues that we have a lot to learn from indigenous communities in Lent.  Zacharias says, “Traditional Indigenous cultures practice communal living and redistribution of resources, often rejecting the accumulation of wealth as a sign of individual success.  Indigenous communities also have high social expectations upon wealthier individuals to be the providers, especially for communal events.  Generosity and balance are seen as fundamental to a good life.  Indigenous leaders have historically been known for their generosity, with material lack by a leader being a strong sign of virtue and abundant generosity.[ii]  Jesus’ teaching affirms this principle, calling his disciples to a life where wealth is measured not in possessions but in righteousness and relationship with God.”[iii]

So if Jesus is talking to all y’all this Lent, and if we can learn something from indigenous communities this Lent, what does communal Lent look like?   One model might come from Pope Leo this year.  The pope said, “I would like to invite you to a very practical and frequently unappreciated form of abstinence:  that of refraining from words that offend and hurt our neighbor.  Let us begin by disarming our language, avoiding harsh words and rash judgement, refraining from slander and speaking ill of those who are not present and cannot defend themselves.  Instead, let us strive to measure our words and cultivate kindness and respect in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media, in political debates, in the media and in Christian communities.  In this way, words of hatred will give way to words of hope and peace.”[iv]

Our invitation today as we enter Lent is to remember that the act of reconciliation and redemption does not happen alone.  We all are invited into a holy Lent.  We all are invited into prayer, fasting, and alms giving – even if that fasting looks like fasting from hurtful words.  We all are invited to remember we are dust.  In person, online, and hybrid together, we are not invited into solo, parallel journeys.  Our journeys are strengthened and made possible through the companionship of community.  You are not alone.  We are in this together.  And Jesus lights the way for us all.  Amen.

[i] Karoline Lewis, as described on the podcast, “Sermon Brainwave:  #889: Ash Wednesday – February 22, 2023,” February 17, 2023, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/889-ash-wednesday-february-22-2023 on February 17, 2026.

[ii] Randy S. Woodley, Shalom and the Community of Creation: An Indigenous Vision, Prophetic Christianity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 155.

[iii] Danny Zacharias, “Commentary on Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21,” February 18, 2026, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ash-wednesday/commentary-on-matthew-61-6-16-21-18 on February 17, 2026.

[iv] Pope Leo XIV, as quoted at https://www.facebook.com/FrJamesMartin/posts/pfbid02uQANdoLUZ94niQnhZDvRN1vSQmSG6BckAQ3HwGm2PpLpGUmZtBCqqpKbijunr9Bwl on February 13, 2026.

Sermon/Annual Address – Matthew 17.1-9, LEP, YA, February 15, 2026

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

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Every January, once the year-end numbers are in, the pledges are finalized, new Vestry members lined up, and priorities established, Hickory Neck holds our Annual Meeting.  We celebrate a year of ministry, honor outstanding service, elect and commission new leaders, and get a glimpse of the year to come.  Of course, Mother Nature had something to say about that this year, and so, we rescheduled, and rescheduled, and are now, finally able to take a moment to pause to celebrate where we have been, who we are, and where we are going. 

On this celebration day for Hickory Neck, the assigned scripture for the day mirrors our celebrations.  Now, I am not promising our Annual Meeting or this Rector’s address will be anything akin to the transfiguration of our Lord:  though we are on the highest point in Toano, our location could hardly be described as a mountaintop, and although we are gathered with Jesus this morning, I cannot promise you will see Jesus in dazzling white – let alone Moses or Elijah.  Nevertheless, the similarities have been grounding for me this week as I too have been looking back, looking at our now, and looking ahead.

The three disciples Jesus takes up with him to the mountain do not experience a healing or a miracle like multiplying fishes and loaves.  Instead, the literal mountaintop experience they have is one of reflection, instruction, and action.  As Moses and Elijah appear and Jesus is transformed, the disciples experience clarity and wisdom about who Jesus is and how Jesus fits into their historical identity as the people of God.  As God speaks, saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” God tells the disciples what they are to do:  to be guided and directed by Jesus.  And then, much to Peter’s chagrin, who would like to stay on that mountain and revel in the majesty of the moment, the disciples do what every community does when they’ve been up to the mountaintop:  they come down.  They come down the mountain and if we kept reading chapter 17 of Matthew, we would learn that they get right back to work, healing the sick and casting out demons.

Your Vestry has been through a similar mountaintop experience.  They looked back at an incredible year of ministry:  they saw new ministries begin, like our programming for Middle School aged children – a first for Hickory Neck in over a decade.  They saw the average of individual pledges of giving and our average Sunday attendance increase.  They saw us welcome 15 new households in the last year to Hickory Neck, those experiencing homelessness housed in our buildings and done in partnership with other faith communities, and children taking a lead in worship.  They saw beds built, monies raised and distributed, animals blessed out in the community, and a lending library for adults and children.  They saw new leaders step up, reinvigorating our ministry to families with young children, donations made to seed a new worship service, and a new organ installation complete to help us expand our ministry of music with a new Minister of Music.  They saw a nonprofit organization, the Virginia Episcopal Real Estate Partners offer us a grant to seed new dreams with our Dream Team.  And maybe most importantly, they saw countless testimonies from you – our parishioners – who shared story after story about how even in the changes and chances of life at Hickory Neck, we continue to be a place where people feel a sense of belonging, of purpose, and of being loved. 

One of the things we talk about a lot in Vestry and among the staff is about Hickory Neck’s size – not so much about our literal numbers, but what being a church our size means.  You see, Hickory Neck is what researchers and experts in the field call a “transition-sized parish.”  Of the five size designations, our designation as transition-sized means that we are the only type in those five sizes of churches who lives in a constant state of tension.  The tension is pretty straightforward and one I imagine each of you can recognize:  the tension is in whether to be a parish who shrinks down in size, returning to a size where everyone knows each other and growth is limited or whether to be a parish who is growth-minded, continuing to push into a parish that can offer programming that both serves the needs of our current members and attracts new members.  Almost every time Hickory Neck experiences tension or conflict, the Vestry and staff recall the underlying tension that impacts our life here – that never goes away, but constantly forces us to make choices about how we want to be in the world. 

And so, this year more than any other in my time here, I watched your Vestry do exactly what God asked the disciples to do:  to listen to Jesus.  And so, rooted in prayer and relationship with Christ, sobered by the reality that we, along with most churches these days, must commit to new models of ministry – new ways of structuring revenue that can enable us to keep offering ministry in this sacred place we have come to love.  And so, rooted in that mountaintop experience, your Vestry and I invite you to come down the mountain with us – to get back to the work we have been given to do with Jesus.  We’ll do that in two short weeks when we host our neighbors experiencing homelessness again.  We’ll do that when our new Minister of Music gets settled and starts making a reality our dream of a vibrant ministry of music program that reaches the wider community.  We’ll do that when our leadership teams put in place the elements that can buttress church growth.  We’ll do that when we care for our members, care for our neighbors, and care for the world around us. 

Coming down the mountain is scary.  Jesus would not have come to Peter, James, and John, placed his hand on their shoulders and said, “Do not be afraid” if coming down the mountain wasn’t scary.  Coming down the mountain does not offer the same coziness as those three dwellings or tents Peter wanted to construct.  But coming down the mountain is the only way to get to the good stuff – to the stuff that feeds us, that feeds others, and that glorifies God.  Coming down the mountain is work, to be sure, but coming down the mountain is work that nourishes our souls and the lives of others, gives us purpose and meaning, and happens with a beautiful sense of belonging.  I am honored to join hands with you and come down the mountain together this year to watch and participate in what Jesus has in store for us.  Amen. 

On Politics, Football, and Love…

11 Wednesday Feb 2026

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Photo credit: https://www.harpersbazaar.com/celebrity/latest/g70287539/bad-bunny-hidden-messages-super-bowl-halftime-performance/

I confess that I did not know much about Bad Bunny when he was announced as this year’s Super Bowl Halftime Show artist.  I had seen clips of him guest starring on sketch shows and talk shows, but knew very little beyond that.  I eventually learned that he sings almost exclusively in Spanish, and that lots of folks were upset by the fact that they, as non-Spanish speakers, would not be able to understand the lyrics.  I did not really share that upsettedness.  Even with minimal Spanish myself, I was more curious about how 1) someone who sings exclusively in Spanish could be such a global success, and 2) what he would do with the global stage the Super Bowl provides.

The minute the show started, I was transported.  I have never traveled to Puerto Rico, but I have been to the Dominican Republic several times with church mission trips, and the sugar cane fields, the guys playing dominoes, and the rhythms of dance were immediately familiar.  As the show unfolded, I found not an artist defending his right to be performing at the Super Bowl, but instead, an artist joyfully welcoming everyone into his culture – and as he would likely say, into our culture.  Toward the end of the show, a billboard in the stadium displayed the words, “The only thing more powerful than hate is love.”  And suddenly, I realized Bad Bunny, Benito as he is called by those who know him, took us all to Church. 

You see, in my “purple” congregation, I always tell folks I don’t preach politics – I preach Jesus.  On Super Bowl night, Benito didn’t preach politics – he preached love.  And for those who were frustrated about language, or, more likely, frustrated that a Spanish-speaking singer reminded them of the political strife that the enforcement of immigration regulations has unleashed in our country, I found myself remembering that love, especially Jesus’ command to love, is always political when embraced wholeheartedly.  You cannot commit to love of neighbor without encountering neighbors you would rather not love.  And so, when a worldwide superstar holds up a football with the words, “Together we are America,” he is also holding up a mirror with the question to at least followers of Jesus, “Are you loving your neighbor?”

Most of us do not have a worldwide stage to be agents of Christ’s love.  Very few of us have pulpits from which to preach God’s love.  But all of us, every single day, have the ability and the commission from Jesus to love.  Love God, love self, love neighbor.  Love is hard work – hatred is so much easier.  But being faithful has never been about the easy way.  Being faithful has always meant being a beloved child of God who is then required to gift that love to others.  Sometimes it takes a Spanish-speaking superstar, sometimes it takes a wise grandmother, sometimes it takes an innocent child – but the message is always the same.  We are called to love, and love is so much bigger than we will ever feel comfortable with; and, we do it anyway.  Thank you, Benito, for reminding us whose we are.

On Sharing the Love…

04 Wednesday Feb 2026

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Photo credit: https://www.thebearandthefox.com/easy-peasy-valentine-garland/

With Valentine’s Day approaching, my daughter’s dance studio has welcomed back their “Spread the Love” month.  Paper hearts are cut out and students are invited to write something kind about another student and paste them around the studio.  It sounds very simple, but I loved watching the impact last year.  I was impressed by how eager kids were to write something kind about one of their peers.  But even more noteworthy was watching the kids read something kind about themselves.  As humans, we are often reticent to celebrate our own gifts and talents; and culturally, we do not regularly make time to compliment the giftedness we see in others.  The simple invitation to celebrate each other becomes a profound experience. 

Personally, I have never loved Valentine’s Day, as its focus on romantic love and paired couples creates an environment for uncoupled folks to feel inadequate, lonely, or less than.  The reframing of a day about love like the one at our dance studio reminds me of the kind of love that Jesus asks us to show everyday – not just on Valentine’s Day.  By focusing on spreading love and kindness, the entire community shifts and benefits as both givers and receivers of love.  It is a beautiful expression of the holiest of activities.

So this month, I invite you to spread the love too.  You can certainly cut out some hearts if you like, but whether it’s a text, a phone call, a conversation, an email, or an old school “valentine,” I encourage you to look around at the people in your life – both those people you know and love, and those people who happen into your path.  Take a long look at them and then let them know what about them is special to you – what gifts, or kindnesses do they share with the world for which you are grateful?  Find your mode of communication and then start sharing the love.  I suspect you will find great joy in honoring others. And even if you do not receive similar “valentines” in return, the love will return to you ten-fold.

Sermon – Micah 6.1-8, Matthew 5.1-12, EP4, YA, January 30, 2026

04 Wednesday Feb 2026

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These last 8-9 days have been chaotic.  It seems silly and rather like a first-world problem that ice and snow have messed up so many of our plans here at church, in our schools, at our homes, and around the community.  And yet, cancelling, postponing, rescheduling, calendaring, changing deadlines, modifying modes of operation, problem-solving to ensure folks are fed, sheltered, warm and learning, shortened tempers, and cabin fever have ruled these days.  Perhaps our wells of generosity about the chaos would be deeper if a parallel chaos were not happening throughout our country as political and communal life seems to unravel to new depths.

And so, like I always do, I turn to the scripture for the week, praying the lectionary has something to offer us.  Initially, I was delighted because I love the beatitude from Matthew.  Every time I read them, I instinctively hear the a cappella group Sweet Honey in the Rock singing their version of the Beatitudes[i].  We’ll put a link to the song on our social media.  But even their beautiful voices singing those beautiful words this week could not offer the salve I needed.  You see, in each of the sufferings articulated in the beatitudes (those who mourn, the peacemakers, those hungering for righteousness, those persecuted, and those reviled), Jesus promises future blessings (They will be comforted, they will be filled, they will be called children of God, their reward will be in heaven.). 

But a future promise feels too reminiscent of generations of people who suffered and were offered the same promises.  Be an obedient enslaved person, and you will be rewarded in heaven.  Take the sexism, harassment, and lack of rights, and you will be filled.  Wait for the ability to marry, and you will be called children of God.  Stay in your own country, impoverished, persecuted, and oppressed, and you will find comfort.  When the women of Sweet Honey in the Rock sing, you hear the ache of those generations of people.  And though they articulate the pain vocally, the words in these days do not satisfy the suffering today.

So, what do we do?  Does Holy Scripture offer us no comfort today?  You and I both know that is not God’s style.  Micah screams out to the void today, and cracks open Jesus’ words.   In our text today, the people of Israel and God are in a profound argument.  The people of God complain to God of injustice, and God comes back with a mirror.  “‘What?’ God says.  ‘I have come to you time and again.  I brought you out of Egypt, I gave you leaders, I saved you over and over again.  And you act in this way?’”  The people, humbled, scurry about, wondering what to do:  should they bow down?  Make offerings?  Sacrifice more precious things?  And God reminds them who they are and how they are to be at all times.  Micah reminds them, “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”[ii]  Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly. 

Jesus is not saying in those soulful words that we as his followers are to sit on our hands and wait for some future blessing.  Jesus is telling us that future blessing comes by being who we are called to be and how we are called to act now.  When we do justice, love kindness, walk humbly; when we are meek, when we thirst for righteousness, when we are peacemakers, when we are merciful; or even closer to home, when we seek and serve Christ in all persons, when we strive for justice and peace among all people, and when we respect the dignity of every, every, human being – then we are being our truest self – we are acting like children of God. 

Maybe that still does not feel like a balm for you today.  Maybe the chaos of this life has gotten you so despondent that remembering who you are and how God calls you to be doesn’t soothe the hurt of these days.  What scripture does for me today though is remove the paralysis of overwhelmedness.  That may mean that you go join a protest, or go watch Buddhist monks walk for peace.  That may may mean you write your Congressmember, or join in prayer.  That may mean you grieve, or you go shovel a neighbor’s driveway.  In all those words of Micah and all those words of Jesus, neither says go bury your head in the sand.  Both of them say to us today, “You know whose you are and how followers of Christ are to act.  So, go.  Do justice.  Love kindness.  Walk humbly.  Go be a child of God.”  Amen.

[i] Sweet Honey in the Rock, “Beatitudes,” Live At Carnegie Hall, New York, NY, November 7, 1987, found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXofcD7-VN0 on January 30, 2026.

[ii]Micah 6.8.

On Justice, Kindness, Humility, and the Messy Middle…

28 Wednesday Jan 2026

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Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly; reuse with permission

I serve a parish located in a “purple” county whose political leanings are also quite “purple.”  The political views of our parishioners are widely ranging – conservative, liberal, and moderate; Republican, Democrat, and Independent – we all gather every week around the thing that binds us together:  the Eucharistic Table.  Being determined to stay together across difference is not easy.  But we feel an authenticity about that purple identity – that following Jesus and sharing the weekly feast with people we do not always agree with is a counter-witness to the deep divides we experience out in the world.  It keeps us honest, it forces us to humanize one another, and it definitely deepens our prayer life.

That conviction about identity and practice is under constant strain in these tense politically divisive days.  This past weekend as I learned of Alex Pretti’s death, I knew we were entering even more deeply into that tension.  I even had a fellow clergyperson ask me, “So how is your church handling Minneapolis?”  I confess, I wanted to be able to say that we were encouraging a single, clear response.  I wanted to lean into my personal convictions and comfort zone, and lean away from the messy middle that is being a part of a purple church.

Fortunately, our readings for this coming Sunday have teed us up perfectly for staying in the messy middle.  The prophet Micah in chapter 6, verse 8 says, “He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?”  I always argue that God is not affiliated with American political parties.  And I always argue that that does not mean following God is apolitical.  Now, telling my people to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God, does not mean that justice, kindness, and humble walking will look the same for every person.  But doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with your God does mean that we are required to stop defending political parties and start defending the dignity of every human being.  Doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly means that we cannot hide behind political policies and instead must look our fellow human beings in the eyes, seeing one another through God’s eyes.

Now I know many clergy who avoid “purple” churches because being in churches that align with their personal politics feels more authentic (and, if we’re being honest, easier).  But I love being a part of a purple church because it forces me not to assume political rhetoric blindly when faced with the turmoil of the day, but to pick up justice, kindness, and humility.  I want my parishioners to take action out of their sense of faithful commission.  And that action will look different for each person.  But I will remind them whose they are and what that Lord requires:  do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God. 

Feast of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., January 18, 2026

28 Wednesday Jan 2026

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Artwork by Nip Rogers, created for Learning for Justice.

The following sermon was delivered in multiple voices at Hickory Neck Episcopal Church in honor of the feast of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. The text is exclusively Dr. King’s, and consists of excerpts from Loving your Enemies, from a sermon delivered at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, Montgomery, Alabama, on November, 17 1957, and from Chapter Five of Strength to Love, © 1963 by Martin Luther King, Jr.

“Probably no admonition of Jesus has been more difficult to follow than the command to “love our enemies…”

“…I am certain that Jesus understood the difficulty inherent in the act of loving one’s enemy. He never joined the ranks of those who talk glibly about the easiness of the moral life. He realized that every genuine expression of love grows out of a consistent and total surrender to God…Our responsibility…is to discover the meaning of this command and seek passionately to live it out”

“…How do we love our enemies?

First, we must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. It is impossible even to begin the act of loving one’s enemies without the prior acceptance of the necessity, over and over again, of forgiving those who inflict evil and injury upon us. It is also necessary to realize that the forgiving act must always be initiated by the person who has been wronged…”

“…Forgiveness does not mean ignoring what has been done…It means, rather, that the evil act no longer remains as a barrier to the relationship…Certainly one can never forget, if that means erasing it totally from his mind. But…we forget in the sense that the evil deed is no longer a mental block impeding a new relationship…Forgiveness means reconciliation…The degree to which we are able to forgive determines the degree to which we are able to love our enemies.”

“Second, we must recognize that the evil deed of the enemy-neighbor…never quite expresses all that he is. An element of goodness may be found even in our worst enemy…This simply means that is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies…We recognize that…hate grows out of fear, pride, ignorance, prejudice, and misunderstanding, but in spite of this, we know God’s image is ineffably etched in (them).”

“Third, we must not seek to defeat or humiliate the enemy, but to win his friendship and understanding…Every word and deed must contribute to an understanding with the enemy and release those vast reservoirs of goodwill that have been blocked by impenetrable walls of  hate.”

“The meaning of love is not to be confused with some sentimental outpouring…In the Greek New Testament are three words for love.  The word eros is a sort of aesthetic or romantic love…philia, a reciprocal love and the intimate affection and friendship between friends. We love those whom we like, and we love because we are loved. The third word is agape, understanding and creative, redemptive goodwill for all…An overflowing love which seeks nothing in return…the love of God operating in the human heart…When Jesus bids us to love our enemies…he is speaking of agape, understanding and creative, redemptive goodwill for all…”

“Why should we love our enemies?

(First) …Returning hate for hate multiplies hate adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction. So when Jesus says ‘Love your enemies,’ he is setting forth a profound and ultimately inescapable admonition. Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies—or else?”

“Another reason why we must love our enemies is that hate scars the soul and distorts the personality. Mindful that hate is an evil and dangerous force, we too often think of what is does to the hated…But there is another side which we must not overlook. Hate is just as injurious to the person who hates. Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys…(the) sense of values and objectivity.  It causes (one) to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true.”

“A third reason why we should love our enemies is that love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend. We never get rid of an enemy by meeting hate with hate; we get rid of an enemy by getting rid of enmity. By its very nature, hate destroys and tears down; by its very nature, love creates and builds up. Love transforms with redemptive power.”

“…An even more basic reason why we are commanded to love is expressed explicitly in Jesus’ words, ‘Love your enemies that you may be children of your father which is in heaven.’ …We must love our enemies because only by loving them can we know God and experience the beauty of his holiness. Of course, this is not practical. Life is a matter of dog eat dog. Am I saying that  Jesus commands us to love those who hurt and oppress us? Do I sound like most preachers – idealistic and impractical? My friends, we have followed the so-called practical way for too long a time now, and it has led inexorably to deeper confusion and chaos. For the salvation of our nation and the salvation of humankind, we must follow another way. This is the only way to create the beloved community.

On Peace, Love, and Conduits…

14 Wednesday Jan 2026

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Photo credit: Ken Hicks, as found at https://www.facebook.com/groups/sagingnotaging/posts/25680765434890871/

This past Sunday a parishioner told me about how she had been following the Walk for Peace[i] movement – a 120-day 2,300-mile journey by Buddhist monks walking from Fort Worth, Texas to Washington, DC to raise awareness of peace, loving kindness, and compassion across America and the world.  The parishioner is hoping to see them as they pass a town near us.  I had not heard about the group, and have been fascinated to learn about their journey.  They are not asking for money, do not offer selfies, and ask that no political statements accompany their journey.

Meanwhile, in response to the death of Minneapolis resident Renee Good, the Episcopal Church in Minnesota held an online prayer vigil last night open to the entire country to lament violent immigration enforcement in the Twin Cities area.  Over 3,400 people joined the prayers online, as those gathered offered their fatigue, anger, and heartbrokenness to God.  The bishop in that diocese invited those gathered to “turn the world upside down by mobilizing for love.”[ii]

As I have been thinking about the tumult of theses days and the tensions in our country, I have often felt helpless – as though the division is so deeply embedded and hardening between us that there is little to effect substantive change.  But as I thought about these two groups – simply walking without taking sides, or responding to division with prayer and love – I found myself wondering if I might more intentionally lean into my own faith tradition’s gifts too.

As I was reading about the monks, I saw that the only gift they “allow” in their walk is the gift of flowers.  Later I learned that they receive these flowers as gifts, but then they gift those flowers to people along their walk.  Conceivably, those flowers could be changing hands with people who do not agree on political issues, but who can pass along flowers to one another in gestures of peace. 

This coming Sunday, our church will be honoring Martin Luther King, Jr.’s feast day.  This year, our clergy will be reading excerpts from one of his sermons.  As clergy, we have been amazed at how, decades later, King’s words still resonate powerfully with what feels like problems unique to our generation.  I wonder if his words can be a conduit like those flowers that might pass peace and understanding and grace and love to our community and beyond.  I invite you to consider what conduits might be in your path today, or what conduits you might offer to begin slow, steady change.

[i] https://www.facebook.com/walkforpeaceusa/

[ii] Shireen Korkzan, “Thousands join Episcopal Church vigil to lament violent immigration enforcement actions, unite in pursuing justice,” January 14, 2026, as found at https://episcopalnewsservice.org/2026/01/14/thousands-join-episcopal-church-vigil-to-lament-violent-immigration-enforcement-unite-in-pursuing-justice/