Tag Archives: Jesus

Sermon – John 13.1-17, 31b-35, MT, YA, April 2, 2026

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

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In 1984, the gay community in London was seeing a lot of violence and oppression by not only the police, but also the community.  While busy with their own activism, one gay activist caught wind of the Coal Miners who were striking in Wales.  Upon watching the violence of the police against the strikers, the activist realized the miners’ suffering was not unlike his own, and that of the gay community.  And so, in an act of solidarity and love, he organized his gay community to raise funds to support the families of the striking miners.

But not everyone was on board.  You see, the miners worked in small towns in which many members of the gay community had once lived.  In those small communities, they had been bullied, taunted, and beaten.  And now someone was asking them to come to their aid.  Many in the gay community could not turn the other cheek.  Why should they return hatred with love?  And as the gay activists soon learned, their help would not be readily received.  Why should the gay community risk further rejection, shame, and violence to support an oppressed people who refused to see their commonality?

Jesus shares a meal with his disciples as he has done on so many occasions.  Only on this night, he is among friend and foe.  He knows Judas is about to betray him.  He knows that Judas is about to put into motion a series of actions that cannot be stopped, that will lead to pain and suffering, and ultimately death.  Looking into Judas’ eyes, Jesus must have felt a betrayal so deep that he had to resist hatred as a human response.  “How could you?” would be an easy question for Jesus to ask in this intimate moment.

But Jesus does not do that.  He does not challenge Judas, or reprimand, or even expose Judas in front of the others directly.  No, he takes off his outer robe, takes a bowl and a pitcher of water, and he washes the feet of everyone in that room – not just the feet of those whom he loves – which would have been a poignantly intimate moment anyway.  But as he makes his way down the table, he shifts his bowl under the dusty feet of Judas; feet as dirty as the rest of them.  He takes the feet of this betrayer of his trust and confidence, and he manages to love Judas as deeply as everyone else.  Tenderly, lovingly, he washes the feet of the enemy of the worst kind – an enemy who was once a friend.  Love in the face of betrayal.

This year, Jesus’ tenderness with Judas has been haunting me.  I do not know about you, but the last thing I want to do is tenderly, lovingly care for my enemy.  Society teaches me to have a strong defense, to protect myself, and even to avoid conflict.  The norm is not to kneel down before a betrayer of trust, to make oneself subservient, and lovingly treat someone who acts so hatefully.  Only a fool makes themselves vulnerable before the enemy.  And yet, that is what Jesus does.  That is how Jesus shows the depths of his love.  Jesus does not use his power to thwart the enemy.  He restrains his power to bring the enemy in – always with the offering of love that can transform any heart.

Tonight, we will engage in the tradition of washing others’ feet.  Many of us get caught up the squeamishness of feet and the vulnerability such intimacy involves.  But something much bigger happens in foot washing than letting go of self-consciousness.  In foot washing we enter into the love of Christ:  washing the feet of those we know well and love; washing the feet of those we know only superficially; washing the feet of those who seem to have their lives totally together and those who we know are suffering; washing the feet of someone who has indeed offended you, and washing the feet of someone with whom you wish to reconcile.

But what we do literally here, we take out figuratively into the world.  Washing the feet of someone you know, or even someone you do not know well in church is one thing.  Washing the feet of the people who are not here is another thing entirely.  Though Jesus washed his disciples’ feet, the inclusion of Judas suggests that loving one another cannot be limited to the community of believers.[i]  All we have to do is imagine an actual enemy, someone who has betrayed our trust or offended our values, someone who oppresses the oppressed, someone who embraces hatred and division, and then we know how hard what Jesus does is tonight.  Tonight, some powerful feelings are set loose:  sorrow, loss, regret, even fear; but also, some powerful feelings are set loose by Jesus:  commitment, conviction, and determination.  God lays aside everything tonight.[ii]  Enter into Christ’s love tonight through the example he sets for us.  Know that God will use the power of this act to change your heart.

A year after that bold move by the gay community in London in the 1980s, much had happened.  Horrible things were said, mean things were done, violence erupted, commitments were betrayed, and help was rejected.  But a year later, even after ultimately losing their cause, the mineworkers did something out of character.  Chapter after chapter of mineworkers loaded onto buses, came to London, and marched for gay rights with their new siblings.  God’s love has tremendous power.  Even if that love cannot transform the heart of a Judas, the witness of that love slowly breaks through and transforms communities.  Join us tonight as we start locally.  Know that God will use your small action here to do bigger work out in the world!  Amen.

[i] Susan E. Hylen, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 275.

[ii] William F. Brosend, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 276.

Sermon – Ezekiel 37.1-14, John 11.1-45, L5, YA, March 22, 2026

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

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Today would be an easy day to hear these dramatic lessons and breath a huge sigh of relief.  We come to these texts today with the burden of literal death:  with friends who have recently passed or with those in the final days of life; with more instances of gun violence, killing teachers and students in schools; with innocent lives being caught in the crosshairs of international power struggles; with activists and immigrants dying in custody.  And that does not even touch the metaphorical death around us:  the death of civility and kindness; the death of being able to work across difference for the common good; the death of a shared sense of morality.  In these days of heavy darkness and death, we want nothing more than a breath of fresh air, a promise of hope and resurrection.

In many ways, that is exactly what we get in our lessons today.  Ezekiel shares a vision of resurrection and restoration.  The valley full of dry bones – presumably representing the people of Israel in exile in Babylon[i] – are brought back to life.  Through Ezekiel’s prophesying, God’s breath is breathed into the bones.  Bones reassemble, sinews and flesh come upon them, and even breath fills their lungs.  Reassembled, the bodies feel bereft in a strange land, but the Lord our God promises them they will be returned to Israel – to their land.  The same can be said of John’s gospel.  Lazarus is dead.  Four days dead.  The common Jewish understanding of the time was that the soul hovered near the body for three days, hoping to return; but after those three days, the soul departed for good[ii].  There is no hope for Lazarus.  And yet, in Jesus’ deep love for this man, he weeps.  And then he raises Lazarus from the dead.  Into the next chapter, we even find Lazarus reclining on Jesus – not just alive, but living a life of abundance.

These are texts we want to hear today.  We want Holy Scripture to say, “Everything will be okay.  Everything will go back to normal.  You’re okay.”  And in some ways, that is what the texts seem to say.  The exiled people of Israel will be returned to their land.  The lost brother of Martha and Mary is returned to them in health and vigor.  Suffering is ended for both.  Life is restored for both.  We get to go back to normal.

And yet, I am not sure what our texts today are saying are quite that simple.  For the people of God in exile, Ezekiel’s words are a bit more complex.  The breath God breathes into them helps them remember that even in exile, God is with them.  God is animating them in a foreign land.  Yes, there is a promise to return to the Promised Land.  But we know that any great journey into suffering means that even when we return to “normal,” we are not “normal.”  We are changed.  Health may be restored, land may be restored; but we are forever changed.  The news for Lazarus is a bit more complex too.  Although Jesus brings Lazarus back from the dead, to live an abundant life in the here and now, Lazarus’ resurrection is not forever.  Someday, Lazarus will return to the ground.  We know, like the people in exile, Lazarus’ life after the tomb will not be like his life before.  And we also see in Jesus’ conversation with Martha that Lazarus’ death not just about Lazarus.  Lazarus’ death is merely a foretaste of the resurrection of Jesus.  This return to life is limited to one person.  Jesus’ return to life will change a people.

All of this is to say that today’s good news is good news indeed.  There will be life after this season of deaths.  There will be restored health and community after this season.  There will be renewed strength and vitality after this season.  But we will also be forever changed by this season.  We will see life and the gift of life differently than before.  We will understand our responsibilities for our common life with sharper insight and weight.  We will understand the gift of resurrection in new and deeply moving ways.  The promise of these passages in not simply a return to some “normal.”  The promise of these passages is a journey that will change us all – of valleys with dry bones, of weeping by bedsides, of crying out to Jesus.  The promise of these passages is the destination of Easter.  Not a return to some “normal,” but a new, profound understanding of resurrection in Christ.  In the meantime, Jesus weeps with us.  God is breathing life into us.  And soon, we will know the depths of resurrection life like never before.  Amen.

[i] Kelton Cobb, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 122.

[ii] Leander E. Keck, ed., The New Interpreters Bible, vol. ix (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995), 687.

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

Posted by in Sermons

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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

Posted by in reflection

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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/