Aug. 5, 2019, 3:08 p.m.
A Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
July 28, 2019
Text – Luke 11:1-13
The central focus of today’s gospel is prayer. The idea of prayer got me to thinking of Mother Anita Schell, who was the rector of the parish in Bennington, Vermont that sponsored me for ordination. She talked about a book she read by Anne Lamott titled Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers. So, I quickly ordered a Kindle electronic version of the book to read on my tablet. Anne has a no-nonsense take on things spiritual. Her language feels like talking with a best friend who doesn’t have to watch what they say.
Anne says prayer needs to be kept simple. Help. Thanks. Wow. (1) “Prayer,” she says, “is private, even when we pray with others. It is communication from the heart to that which surpasses understanding. Let’s say it is communication from one’s heart to God.” (2) Prayer is about a relationship to someone who can hear us in our silence. (3)
Help prayers are when we ask for something. We look around us and find the world in a royal mess. We pray for help that it might change. In our prayer we might rail against God in asking for God’s help to make things right. Say you have a friend who has a serious life-changing illness that you ask God to help. And while asking for God’s help we might be courageous enough in the strength of your relationship with God to ask, “If You have a minute: What on earth could You be thinking?” (4) What were you thinking by sending illness to a young mother? Help me understand this situation.
Thanks prayers are for those times when we are grateful for some bit of wonderful that comes our way. Thanks prayers can be the exuberant “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.” It is the prayer of having dodged whatever bullet the world seems to shoot at us. ““Thanks” can be the recognition that you have been blessed mildly, or with a feeling as intense as despair at the miracle of having been spared. You say Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou: My wife is going to live. We get to stay in this house. They found my son: he’s in jail, but he alive; we know where he is and he’s safe for the night.” (5)
Wow prayers are those that come from the experience of beauty or of destruction. It could be witnessing the birth of a child or of seeing the suffering of those in detention camps on our southern borders. Wow is what we instinctively pray when we hear beautiful music, or see a great work of art.
My memory takes me back to a time when the power of prayer was made known to me. It happened during a day as a resident chaplain in a large Level I trauma center and teaching hospital. On my list of pastoral visits, there were the usual stops in the several areas of the hospital that I was assigned. There was a notation beside a name – “patient will be given a poor prognosis today and may need support.” The referral for pastoral care was not from the patient but was from a nurse. This type of referral was not unusual. I would soon find out that this would be one visit that would make an impression on me.
Sometimes a chaplain goes into a situation knowing more than the patient. It is not for me to give the patient news that they have not received from a doctor. I had to allow the conversation to get to a point where it was clear the patient the patient had gotten the diagnosis or had not. During our conversation and my doing a lot of deep listening, the patient said she needed help coming to terms with her cancer diagnosis. She knew for a long time that something was physically wrong with her. Now she knew. Her husband on the other hand knew and was submerged in a deep river called “denial.”
Her husband did not want to hear the “c-word” and would not speak to his wife about it even though she was lying in a hospital bed. She warned me that if her husband should show up, that I was to say I was part of staff checking on her care and not to mention that I was from the Pastoral Care Department. He did not believe in God. The patient described herself in a way that is now all too familiar - she was, “spiritual but not religious.
I let her lead the conversation and I learned about her family and how her and her husband thought they were entering a stage of their life where they could prepare for retirement from their jobs. Her husband, a construction contractor in his spare time was building them a new house. The patient called it her dream house because it had everything she ever wanted in a house. For a few moments the cancer diagnosis was forgotten while she described her dream kitchen and its appliances.
She asked me what a chaplain does as she had never heard of the term. I explained that my role was first to meet people where they were in terms of their faith or no faith, I was to be a listener more than a talker, and I was to present to patients such as herself who had received life-changing news. She asked me about my faith journey which I shared briefly. And on that note, I offered another visit if she wished. She replied, “I would like that.”
The next day when I went to see the patient, I noticed that there was an anxiousness about her that was not present during our first visit. Perhaps the reality of the terminal cancer diagnosis was making a home within her. She wanted to know about life after death to which I replied, “Why don’t you tell me what you think happens after we die.” While I was listening, I thought of my mother who died from cancer – that happens when you work as a chaplain – stories from your life cross paths with those stories of the patient. I mentally drifted back to the patient’s understanding of what happens at the time of death. She asked me what I believed. I told her I think it is an adventure that awaits all of us. It must be a good adventure because no one has come back to complain about it. She laughed and I laughed. But I shared that I believed that death will not be the final word, that life is eternal. We talked about God and how she imagined God.
Then she asked me a question, “I don’t know how to pray. Would you teach me?” I said that I would help her learn to talk to God. I said it would help to think of prayer as a conversation from the heart to God. Most importantly, I told her God had been waiting all her life to have this conversation and that he was going to so happy to talk with her.
The patient wanted to ask God for one thing only. She wanted to be able before she died to spend one night in her new house. It seemed, she told me that her husband who could not believe the love of his life was to be no more was frantically hoping against hope that completing the house would stop his wife’s illness. Sometimes prayer is hoping against all odds that all will be well. Hope might not have been a cure, but it was close enough for the time being.
She learned to pray and after that visit I never saw her again. I was given a gift through this encounter. This visit helped to expand my soul. I learned the importance of not taking prayer for granted. Maybe that was God’s answers to my prayers. When I look back on this experience, I realize it was prayer in the truest form – being attentive to the needs of another just because they are a child of God. In this experience of teaching another to pray the help, thanks, and wow of their life, I understood prayer. At our parting I was able to offer the fourth prayer of “Amen,” which means “and so it is.” (6)
My parting question for you to consider is who or what will you pray for today?
1 Anne Lamott, Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers, [New York, NY] Riverhead Books, 2012, location 45.
Aug. 5, 2019, 2:25 p.m.
As I was preparing this morning’s reflection, I began reminiscing about this morning’s gospel text being one that some three years ago I preached in Concord, NH at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church as part of my interview to come to become your next rector. (1) In that sermon not so long ago, I used a painting by a Spanish painter to inspire my sermon. Three years later, I might have called this sermon, “Guess who’s coming to dinner?” Or now, if I were in a snarkier mood, I might call this sermon, “Jesus is coming! On the count of three, everybody look busy,” but I’m not. Three years ago, I barely scratched the surface of this gospel story that is well-known; today, I want to dig deeper.
Diego Velazquez painted the composition titled “Christ in the house of Martha and Mary.” The painting contains two pictures or scenes in one. The front picture shows two women in a kitchen. One woman might be the scullery maid finger pointing towards Martha, who is ferociously grinding something in a mortar and pestle. There are several fish on a platter, a head of garlic split open (maybe, that’s what’s in the mortar), a chili pepper, some eggs, and a jug. Martha’s face has no joy in it; in fact, she appears to be angry.
The scullery maid’s face in the painting seems to say, “Look at your sister! She couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger to help you! You have to make dinner for Jesus and his crew all by yourself while she sits at his feet like some student disciple. Who does Mary think she is? Phew! Is it hot in here or what?” Martha’s face silently speaks a thousand words, and none of them are charitable towards Mary. I can imagine that it is Mary’s face in the mortar that Martha is pulverizing with the pestle instead of garlic cloves!
Through the frame of a pass-through window in the kitchen, we see the composition of the second picture. The scene is of Jesus speaking and Mary sitting comfortably on the floor at Jesus’ feet. Another house servant stands nearby as a chaperone. The disciples are present, just not included in this small frame.
There are contrasts in how the sisters are portrayed: Mary has uncovered her hair which cascades over her shoulder. Martha, sturdier looking, older has a kerchief around her head, and her hair bound up. One sister is hard at the work of hospitality while the other sister does the hard work of the soul.
Martha protests to Jesus about the lack of help from her sister, Mary, saying, “Lord, doesn’t it matter that my sister has left me with all the serving? Tell her to give me a hand.” Jesus, with the simplicity and the right words for every difficult situation, says, “Martha, Martha, Martha. You are anxious and distracted about so many things. Mary has chosen the one thing most essential here. Let’s not take that from her.”
I’m not sure how Martha took these words, but I’m sure they were words that she who is sweating in a hot kitchen did not want to hear. But in the heated kitchens of our lives, in our overscheduled, overcaffeinated lives we might do well to hear the message that Jesus is offering us in this gospel.
Jesus is telling Martha that what she has chosen to worry about is, at the end of the day, not all that important to who she is as a beloved person of God. This is the truth Jesus wants Martha and us to see. The cult of busyness says that we need to check off each item on our to-do lists. If we do check things off our list, then, we hope our anxiety will be reduced. If we don’t, then we will be more anxious and feel like failures. These lists are part of something called a cult of busyness. And busyness can be a drug that dulls our senses and can ultimately diminish hearing the voice of God. (2)
“Busyness is one of the few socially acceptable addictions in our society.” (3) Busyness be it in our personal lives, or the life of a community of faith can distract us from what is important – following Jesus and being in relationship with each other. Mary chose what was important. What do we choose?
Jesus is concerned that Martha is worried, distracted to the point that she takes no joy in her gift of doing what she does well – hospitality. Because of competition and comparison, Martha’s soul is filled with resentment (and jealousy) towards Mary because her busyness lacks love. Sometimes in our busyness, we can get lost in the do justice, do the right thing kind of ministry that we forget who is at the center of it all – God. Our souls need as much nutrition as does the body. Sometimes we can be so busy making the world better that we forget whose world it is. I think Jesus would have wanted to drag Martha from the kitchen, but he couldn’t do that. Martha needed to learn for herself what was important. If take-out were available, Jesus would have told Martha to order something and get out of the kitchen.
As a priest, there are many times when I long for moments of quiet solitude, for time to write a sermon that might be compared to one of Frederick Buechner or in our Episcopal tradition, William Stringfellow. But as the top of my always cluttered desk will attest, there are things which require action. There will always be things done and left undone. There are people to visit; there are phone calls to be made, people who are in deep spiritual pain who need me to hold open a sacred space for them. I have to be content that sometimes my life is both a Martha laboring away in a hot kitchen punctuated by all too brief moments when I, like Mary, can sit at the feet of Jesus.
The world will still need people to march in the streets and protest in the halls of power as well as those in solitude who pray for the beloved community of God to be made known in the world. Martha, in her busyness and Mary in the role of disciple, have one thing in common – Jesus. Ultimately this gospel is about choices. What will you choose?
When we leave this place and lay our heads down this evening to rest let us remember in the changes and chances of life, in our rising and our sitting down, in our comings and our goings, in our action and our solitude, Jesus is the one thing we all need to choose in order to live. In the meantime, let us not be distracted by the world’s busyness but attentive to the call of God.
1. Then as now, I am grateful to Winn Collier’s blog post for this sermon’s inspiration. http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/4564072-one-true-essential or http://winncollier.com/.
2. Kristin Berkey-Abbott, Reflections on the Lectionary, Christian Century, July 3, 2019, 19.
3. Tim Peek, Meg Dennison, How I Escaped The Cult Of Busyness, April 28, 2015, Huffington Post, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/cult-of-busyness_b_7138840.
March 29, 2018, 6 p.m.
"May you be taught by these words, so you may teach them. May you be served by them, so you may serve all entrusted to your care. And may you hear them, so you may in turn proclaim them with all your heart. " - Lisa Cressman
Welcome to Maundy Thursday. This Thursday before Easter is thought to be the day Jesus celebrated the last Passover with the apostles. Some refer to this event as the “Last Supper.” Jesus knew the hour of his death was fast approaching and he did what anyone else would do in those circumstances – he spent time with the people he cared about. He shared a meal with the apostles and offered advice for the time when he would no longer be physically with them. Jesus even becomes a servant and serves them by washing their feet in an act of humility and love. Jesus gives a new teaching to love one another as he has loved them. This is where the “maundy” in Maundy Thursday originates.
I was at a clergy gathering this week where we renewed our ordination vows and the holy oils used for baptism and for the sick are blessed. The person who gave the sermon asked us to reflect on the absurdity of our Holy Week observances. I have to say that she has interesting friends. They know she is a priest and they seem to ask strange questions in an attempt to understand what it is that their friend does as a priest.
My friends, tend to border on the atheist-agnostic-Easter spirituality spectrum and honestly think the things I do as a priest are at best strange and at worst the stuff of superstition. They’re a bit standoffish. They tend not to ask really thought-provoking questions related to religion as many of them have been hurt by the institutional church and want nothing to do with it. They think I do good works and are glad that someone is doing good works in the world.
So, for the most part, I never receive questions about the odd and absurd things that happen during Holy Week. With one exception – Maundy Thursday and that foot-washing thing. Wash a stranger’s feet they say? Aren’t you afraid of catching athlete’s foot in your hands or something? Do you wear rubber gloves? Why do you do that?
The new commandment to “love one another as I have loved you” has an “ickiness” factor attached to it. There is something uncomfortable about going church to wash a stranger’s feet. In our modern time we have paved roads and sidewalks. We have shoes that protect our feet from dirt and dust better than sandals. We don’t need to wash our feet upon entering someone’s house as a guest.
Maybe that is why some churches in other denominations focus on what is called the “Institution of the Lord’s Supper” on Maundy Thursday. Maybe the “ick” factor is not the prospect of touching a stranger’s feet, but the vulnerability to love another as Jesus has loved us to take place. That begs the question, “What does it mean to love another deeply as Jesus did?” [If we are not loving one another, how can we approach the Lord’s Supper, the Eucharist, a sacrament instituted in love with a less than loving attitude?]
Verna Dozier reminds us that we are in the midst of a love story from the moment God decided to create a world. “Creation, she says, is an act of love, and the Bible begins with a vulnerable God. To love is to be vulnerable.”
Dozier goes on to say the lover seeks the beloved. The lover is not complete without the lover. This is the absurd message of Maundy Thursday – to love others extravagantly, without exception, as Jesus did. God has pursued and loved his creation even when it has been less than loving. God pursues us even when we have been less than loving. God loved us so much he sent his son to live amongst us as the lover who seeks the beloved – which is you and me – don’t forget. We in turn are to love and become complete by loving others. We are called to behave extravagantly and as absurdly as Jesus loved. Even if it means touching feet.
Footnote: Verna J. Dozier, The Dream of God: A Call to Return, “The Biblical Story,” 21.
March 25, 2018, 6 p.m.
Palm Sunday is a peculiar day in the life of the church. It is a day of contrasts and changes in mood. This day reminds me of the section in the Eucharistic Prayer we use for Ageless Worship that says: The crowds came out to see your Son, yet in the end, they turned on him (1). What begins joyously in sung Hosannas, ends in deepest silence as we leave the sanctuary.
This day is also about remembering a love story. The Collect for the day hints at this. We prayed remembering that God in his tender love for humankind sent Jesus to take our human form, to live in our earthly neighborhood, to bless us with the knowledge that the kingdom of God had indeed come near us, only then to eventually be misunderstood, cast aside and suffer death on a cross.
I have a confession to make this morning. I don’t know why there must be a sermon for The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday. What more can be said after hearing the story of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, his trial, conviction and sentence to death on the cross? What would be accomplished by preaching a sermon on a story that is so well known, so much a part of our lives as followers of Christ?
Wouldn’t the easiest sermon to preach be to say, “The sermon has already been preached”? There is simply too much text; that I (and other preachers on this day) run the risk of trying to “control the moment, trying to communicate, persuade, proclaim how important this week is” instead of being a witness to it (2). All you and I need to do is simply let the story be what it is.
Karoline Lewis, a seminary professor of Preaching, says that we should place ourselves in the story and reflect on what we see, what we feel and then ask someone else what they see and how they feel about the Passion story. Professor Lewis says in trying to explain the story, to interpret it, will lead to a loss of deep feeling and meaning that can be missed. [You know how we often try to overexplain something?] She goes on to say there is no explanation…no biblical interpretation that can make sense of the story, no Episcopalian version of the Passion story that will help us make Holy Week tasteful or more tolerable (3).
I so badly want to guide you through the joys and mysteries of Holy Week, for you to be present for the symbolism of this momentous chapter in our faith story as well as those moments of doubt. But I can’t. I have to let the story be strong enough (which it is) to stand on its own and to let it have it’s say to our hearts. I have to trust that you can move through the week having heard the story and are able to make it meaningful for you.
I have to trust that God will be present with each of you and will help you understand the greatest love story ever told.
That is the sermon that will preach. I must let you find your way through Holy Week with God’s help, not mine.
1. Common Worship: Services and Prayers for the Church of England, Prayer D
2. Karoline Lewis, "No Preaching Required," in "Dear Working Preacher." www.workingpreacher.org
March 25, 2018, 6 a.m.
It was two days before the Passover and the festival of Unleavened Bread. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him; for they said, ‘Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people.’
While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an
alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. But some were there who said to one another in anger, ‘Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.’ And they scolded her. But Jesus said, ‘Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.’
Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them. When they heard it, they were greatly pleased, and promised to give him money. So he began to look for an opportunity to betray him.
On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed, his disciples said to him, ‘Where do you want us to go and make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?’ So he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, ‘Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him, and wherever he enters, say to the owner of the house, “The Teacher asks, Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?” He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.’ So the disciples set out and went to the city, and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.
When it was evening, he came with the twelve. And when they had taken their places and were eating, Jesus said, ‘Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.’ They began to be distressed and to say to him one after another, ‘Surely, not I?’ He said to them, ‘It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the bowl with me. For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.’
While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, ‘Take; this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, ‘This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.’
When they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. And Jesus said to them, ‘You will all become deserters; for it is written,
“I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.”
But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.’ Peter said to him, ‘Even though all become deserters, I will not.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Truly I tell you, this day, this very night, before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times.’ But he said vehemently, ‘Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.’ And all of them said the same.
They went to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, ‘Sit here while I pray.’ He took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, ‘I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.’ And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, ‘Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.’ He came and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, ‘Simon, are you asleep? Could you not keep awake one hour? Keep awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.’ And again he went away and prayed, saying the same words. And once more he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy; and they did not know what to say to him. He came a third time and said to them, ‘Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? Enough! The hour has come; the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand.’
Immediately, while he was still speaking, Judas, one of the twelve, arrived; and with him there was a crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders. Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, ‘The one I will kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under guard.’ So when he came, he went up to him at once and said, ‘Rabbi!’ and kissed him. Then they laid hands on him and arrested him. But one of those who stood near drew his sword and struck the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a bandit? Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not arrest me. But let the scriptures be fulfilled.’ All of them deserted him and fled.
A certain young man was following him, wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked.
They took Jesus to the high priest; and all the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes were assembled. Peter had followed him at a distance, right into the courtyard of the high priest; and he was sitting with the guards, warming himself at the fire. Now the chief priests and the whole council were looking for testimony against Jesus to put him to death; but they found none. For many gave false testimony against him, and their testimony did not agree. Some stood up and gave false testimony against him, saying, ‘We heard him say, “I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands.” ’ But even on this point their testimony did not agree. Then the high priest stood up before them and asked Jesus, ‘Have you no answer? What is it that they testify against you?’ But he was silent and did not answer. Again the high priest asked him, ‘Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?’
Jesus said, ‘I am; and “you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power,” and “coming with the clouds of heaven.” ’
Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, ‘Why do we still need witnesses? You have heard his blasphemy! What is your decision?’ All of them condemned him as deserving death. Some began to spit on him, to blindfold him, and to strike him, saying to him, ‘Prophesy!’ The guards also took him over and beat him.
While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant-girls of the high priest came by. When she saw Peter warming himself, she stared at him and said, ‘You also were with Jesus, the man from Nazareth.’ But he denied it, saying, ‘I do not know or understand what you are talking about.’ And he went out into the forecourt. Then the cock crowed. And the servant-girl, on seeing him, began again to say to the bystanders, ‘This man is one of them.’ But again he denied it. Then after a little while the bystanders again said to Peter, ‘Certainly you are one of them; for you are a Galilean.’ But he began to curse, and he swore an oath, ‘I do not know this man you are talking about.’ At that moment the cock crowed for the second time. Then Peter remembered that Jesus had said to him, ‘Before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times.’ And he broke down and wept.
As soon as it was morning, the chief priests held a consultation with the elders and scribes and the whole council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate. Pilate asked him, ‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ He answered him, ‘You say so.’ Then the chief priests accused him of many things. Pilate asked him again, ‘Have you no answer? See how many charges they bring against you.’ But Jesus made no further reply, so that Pilate was amazed.
Now at the festival he used to release a prisoner for them, anyone for whom they asked. Now a man called Barabbas was in prison with the rebels who had committed murder during the insurrection. So the crowd came and began to ask Pilate to do for them according to his custom. Then he answered them, ‘Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?’ For he realized that it was out of jealousy that the chief priests had handed him over. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. Pilate spoke to them again, ‘Then what do you wish me to do with the man you call the King of the Jews?’ They shouted back, ‘Crucify him!’ Pilate asked them, ‘Why, what evil has he done?’ But they shouted all the more, ‘Crucify him!’ So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified.
Then the soldiers led him into the courtyard of the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters); and they called together the whole cohort. And they clothed him in a purple cloak; and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on him. And they began saluting him, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ They struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and knelt down in homage to him. After mocking him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.
They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus.
Then they brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means the place of a skull). And they offered him wine mixed with myrrh; but he did not take it. And they crucified him, and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take.
It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, ‘The King of the Jews.’ And with him they crucified two bandits, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, ‘Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!’ In the same way the chief priests, along with the scribes, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, ‘He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.’ Those who were crucified with him also taunted him.
When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, ‘Listen, he is calling for Elijah.’ And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, ‘Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.’ Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last.
And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly this man was God’s Son!’
There were also women looking on from a distance; among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome. These used to follow him and provided for him when he was in Galilee; and there were many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem.
When evening had come, and since it was the day of Preparation, that is, the day before the sabbath, Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the council, who was also himself waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Pilate wondered if he were already dead; and summoning the centurion, he asked him whether he had been dead for some time. When he learned from the centurion that he was dead, he granted the body to Joseph. Then Joseph bought a linen cloth, and taking down the body, wrapped it in the linen cloth, and laid it in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. He then rolled a stone against the door of the tomb. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where the body was laid.
Feb. 18, 2018, noon
Text – Mark 1:12
February 18, 2018
“And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness.” [Mark 1:12]
The spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness. It is odd that I never focused as much on this phrase in the gospel assigned for the first Sunday in Lent. This is the same spirit that was present at Jesus’ baptism, the same spirit that carried God’s seal of approval. The baptism of Jesus, being marked as God’s own, just as we are marked as God’s own in baptism, was part of being ready to deal with all the not so nice stuff the world was going to throw at Jesus.
Why is the wilderness experience necessary? Was Jesus’ being in the desert part of some rite of passage? Perhaps. The intent of the experience is not stated directly. Maybe because Mark thought future audiences would have to ponder what a wilderness experience would be for them.
I was beginning my sermon prep Saturday evening, and a funny thing occurred to me. I was thinking I did not have one of those “wilderness” tales to tell to illustrate what Jesus must have gone through in the wilderness. I did not get stuck in the desert with only a bottle of water and no foresight to check the day’s weather to see that it might be 120 degrees in the shade and maybe not take that desert hike in the first place! The closest I may have gotten to a wilderness experience was in my college days driving home for the Christmas break through the Adirondacks in a Volkswagen Beetle with no heat on the coldest and snowiest night on record. I remember there were four of us and we were the only car on the road – sensible people closed their restaurants and gas stations and stayed inside. I remember scraping ice off the windshield – inside the car! All I could think of was a warm bed and food. That was the closest I ever got to a wilderness experience.
But I did have a wilderness experience. I realized this while reading Mark’s account of Jesus in the wilderness. My wilderness was spent in the “wilderness” of Rensselaer, NY after graduating from seminary in 2008. During this time, I was starting over a process for ordination in the Episcopal Church in the diocese of Vermont. From June 2008 until January 18, 2014 was a period of uncertainty. Most of my seminary cohorts were ordained shortly after graduation and were working in parishes. I had no guarantee that ordination would happen, and I simply had to trust the discernment process one day at a time. Two years into my wilderness experience I had become comfortable with the waiting and was viewing the time as preparation for the demanding work of ministry. To become what God intended me to be I had to go to a place I had never been.
It is only today that I can look at the period between seminary and ordained ministry as a wilderness experience. If I had my “druthers,” I would have preferred to skip this period of spiritual struggle. We don’t volunteer to travel in the wilderness places of this world because they are scary. We as a people want things easy. We want our faith but without the generous helping of trial, temptation, and struggle (1). Oftentimes in our faith journey, we don’t get the luxury of picking and choosing spiritual challenges. Sometimes they are of our making other times these challenges pick us.
It is important to state that God is not the source of struggle or wants to teach us some divine moral lesson. But when the times of struggle find us, and they will, we need to be open to how God is still present for us and in the experience of wilderness.
When we find ourselves in a wilderness experience, there might be some questions to ask: “Even though I did not wish for this, how might God be at work through this difficult period? What can I get out of this? How might God use me to help someone else? (2) These questions arise so that we might pay attention to the presence of God amid trying times when we don’t have enough strength and courage to meet the challenge. Though not stated in today’s gospel, we need to know that the Spirit that drove Jesus into the wilderness did not abandon him but was with Jesus and brought Jesus out of the wilderness. The same is true for us.
So here we are at the border of the wilderness of Lent. We are not alone in our struggles, God is with us and will carry us through them. The spirit of God just might want us to take a trip into the wilderness to discover something about ourselves. God might want us to be in that wilderness because at some point you or I will be the one of the angels that attends to someone suffering a wilderness experience. “God is in the business of taking that which seems only to cause death and wring from it resurrection life.” (3)
Your homework for the first week in Lent is to think of those wilderness experiences you have gone through. Ask yourself how God was with you and brought you out of that wilderness experience. Then share that story with someone.
1 - David J. Lose, “Wilderness Faith” from the blog …in the Meantime, www.davidlose.net
2 - Ibid.
3 - Ibid.
Feb. 15, 2018, 3 p.m.
One tradition many of us grew up with is the custom of “giving up” something for Lent – like chocolate or alcohol or sweets. This modified fast is rooted in the very early Jewish and Christian practice of fasting on certain days of the week and on holy days throughout the year. In some places, especially in the desert and medieval monastic communities, Lent was indeed kept as a forty-day fast, though acceptance of the practice in parishes seems not to have been widespread even then. In the Middle Ages the keeping of a Lenten fast became associated with Jesus’ forty-day fast in the desert following his baptism. Today the church encourages us to fast on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday during Lent, and many find this way of expressing their Lenten devotion through their bodies very helpful for cleansing the mind and focusing the soul.
Another approach to keeping Lent is to “take on” a spiritual discipline or practice. Some find it is not what they eat or drink that is separating them from God, but their lack of time spent in prayer or study, their neglect of worship, their self-centeredness in relationships, or the ways they spend their time or money or energy. For them, making a commitment to spend a half-hour a day in prayer, or to attend a Bible study once a week, or to devote an evening or weekend to doing something special for a friend or spouse, or to take a meal to a homeless shelter can be a useful Lenten discipline. Lent can be a time for clearing away those things that stand in the way to a vibrant spiritual life, as well as a time for adding practices of prayer, study, and outreach that lead to God.
Feb. 4, 2018, 10 a.m.
A Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
Text – Mark 1:29-39
February 4, 2018
This is a small bit of gospel that contains much for our minds and hearts to “read, mark, and inwardly digest.” I find that I can relate to the predicament of Simon Peter’s mother-in-law. She is sick with a fever. In fact, so sick that she has let go the duties of running a household and receiving visitors. The sickness has removed her from the normalcy of life. Sickness has removed her from her purpose.
In my work as a hospital chaplain, I have seen how illness that requires hospitalization can separate a person from their life of normalcy. The more serious the illness, the more the patient would suffer from the separation from the run of the mill activities of daily living that you or I take for granted. Here is a story told to me by a fellow chaplain.
She went to visit a woman who was suffering from a debilitating illness that the doctors were having a challenging time diagnosing and treating. One thing that was certain – life would not be the same for this woman when she recovered. My friend delved into her joys and sorrows to become familiar with the place where this patient was. It was discovered that this woman was a phenomenal cook and hostess. The patient lamented that she would not be able to host the kinds of dinner parties for which she had become popular in her community. As she was telling the chaplain her story, the patient reached over to a tin that was on the nightstand near her bed. She took the lid off the tin and offered the chaplain a piece of candy. My friend, who never misses an opening remarked, “You’re still a hostess. Your simple offering of a piece of candy is one small way in which you are showing me that you still can perform acts of hospitality. You may not be able to host the dinner parties you used to, you may not be able to cook gourmet meal, but you can still be the consummate host in a different way.”
Simon Peter’s mother-in-law was suffering from a fever. In the time of Jesus, where there were no modern antibiotics, let alone the medical diagnostic tools we have, a fever was significant. A fever might be something serious that could lead to death. The cause of Simon Peter’s mother-in-law’s illness is not mentioned. We know that whatever it was, it kept her from being about the task of being able to run a household and to receive guests. Her life’s work at that time and in that place, was narrowly outlined for her, and a fever was keeping her from what was a normal life in her place and time.
One must understand the context for this gospel story. Sarah Henrich, a professor of New Testament at Luther Seminary offers this view: illness bore a heavy social cost: not only would a person be unable to earn a living or contribute to the well-being of a household, but their ability to take their proper role in the community, to be honored as a valuable member of a household, town, or village, would be taken from them. Peter's mother-in-law is an excellent case in point. It was her calling and her honor to show hospitality to guests in her home. Cut off from that role by an illness cut her off from doing that which integrated her into her world. Who was she when no longer was able to engage in her calling? Jesus restored her to her social world and brought her back to a life of value by freeing her from that fever. It is very important to see that healing is about restoration to community and restoration of a calling, a role as well as restoration to life. For life without community and calling is bleak indeed.*
Notice what the text says Jesus does upon learning of Simon Peter’s mother-in-law’s illness. “He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up.” Jesus, the Word made flesh entered into an intimate interaction with this unnamed woman and lifts her up. God sent his son to earth to be near us. This lifting up should remind us of the end of Jesus’ earthly story with us when after he is crucified he is resurrected and raised up.
The fever leaves this woman, and she is able to return to her role in the world by serving her guests. Some of us might cringe at the notion of a woman who was on her sickbed getting up to take care of her guests, able-bodied men, without a period of recuperation. That’s because we are viewing her from our modern feminist perspective and that is too easy an interpretation of what is going in this portion of Mark’s gospel. Jesus has restored this person to her vocation. Jesus has freed her to be who she was meant to be.
Word gets out that this healing has taken place. And after sundown when restrictions related to the sabbath were lifted, people brought the sick and those possessed by demons to Jesus. Mark exaggerates a bit when he states, “And the whole city was gathered around the door.” Jesus healed them. Jesus heals, frees, and restores people to their place in the world and to their place with God. Jesus even tells the demons who might give away his identity to be quiet. This is known as the Messianic secret and is a theme in Mark’s gospel.
So, what does this gospel mean for us today? Jesus freed Simon Peter’s mother-in-law from illness. Jesus frees the crowds from physical illness and demonic possession.
How is this gospel relevant to my life? Jesus has come to set us free from whatever ails us. It could be sin identified as “fear, loss, despair, insecurity, addiction, racism, sexism, or any other -ism you can think imagine or experience.** Jesus comes to free us from all that. Jesus comes to free us from the things that limit our God-given potential. We are freed by Jesus for living into our God-given potential. We are freed by Jesus for a life that has purpose, meaning and good works.***
Your homework this week is to think about what you have been freed from and what you have been freed for. Then share that story with someone else.
In ending I leave you with a blessing written by Jan Richardson.****
That each ill
be released from you
and each sorrow
be shed from you
and each pain
be made comfort for you
and each wound
be made whole in you
that joy will
arise in you
and strength will
take hold of you
and hope will
take wing for you
and all be made well
* Sarah Henrich, Commentary on Mark 1:29-39, https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1200
** David J. Lose, Epiphany 5B: Freedom For, http://www.davidlose.net/2015/02/epiphany-5-b-freedom-for/
**** Jan Richardson, And All Be Made Well: A Healing Blessing, http://paintedprayerbook.com/2015/02/01/epiphany-5-that-all-be-made-well/
Jan. 21, 2018, 10 a.m.
A Sermon for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany
Text – Mark 1: 14-20
On a trip to Cape Coast, Ghana I remember seeing from the windows of my hotel overlooking the Atlantic Ocean fishermen. These were fishermen who used boats that were cut and shaped from large tree trunks. These were not the type of fishing boats you would see near Cape Cod on the Maine coast in this country. I marveled that these primitive looking boats were able to ply the rough ocean waters with nothing more than an outboard motor. I observed these African fishermen go about tasks. Their life is simple. There were nets to mend and boats to be cleaned. I am sure this scene was a familiar sight for Jesus.
Last week we had Jesus’ direction to “come and see.” In today’s gospel, the idea of invitation is carried further to include simple fisher folk Simon and his brother Andrew, James, the son of Zebedee and John. From these rough, fishy smelling, hardworking people Jesus extends the invitation to follow him so that they might fish for people instead of fish. This, I think is the real beginning of the Gospel of Mark. I think it is the beginning of how Jesus comes to find us in the messiness of our day to day lives.
Jesus calls his rag-tag followers from fisherfolk. Notice where Jesus is when he calls together his followers. Jesus is not getting his disciples from the big city of Jerusalem. Jesus is gathering his followers from the margins of society and not from the centers of influence. He could have but didn’t. This observation is important for us because we all live in “Galilee.” A modern comparison would be any small village, like Coxsackie, where I’m from in upstate New York to the bright lights and hustle and bustle of midtown Manhattan. They are two different worlds. Most of us are from Galilee, doing small, everyday things to get by. “It is in the small out of the way parts of the world, the Galilees of this world, from the simple fisherfolk, or the small villages that can be found anywhere in the world, that Jesus, the Savior comes to meet us, to call us to follow him."1
Jesus uses the occupation of the fishermen to indicate what he wants them to do as his followers – to become fishers of people. Jesus’s invitation was a good hook. Maybe had they been construction workers, Jesus would have invited them to become builders of human hearts. Maybe had they been real estate agents, he would have invited them to become sellers of kingdom turf. These are strong metaphors that Jesus uses to reel in his followers. What metaphor might be used for you to follow Jesus?
And there is another question: What is Jesus offering us? Certainly, the fisher folk who made their living from the sea didn’t see Jesus as some financial guru who was going to help them make lots of money. I would like to think that in Jesus’ invitation to become “people fishers” their hearts were touched. Maybe it was the promise of a kingdom come near; maybe it was the promise of good news. The disciples wouldn’t know unless first, they had answered the invitation and secondly, they followed Jesus.
I can’t help thinking of what our President said some time ago about immigrants who come from less desirable countries. These less than desirable countries that coincidentally happen not to be European are countries that can be seen in the President’s thinking as marginal places not worth the time of day. The President is calling for people to be builders of capitalism rather than builders of human hearts, to sell the land beneath our feet for profit rather than gathering people together to create something sacred.
We are in a time of invitation. No committee, no church growth package or scheme has ever existed apart from the simple one to one relationship that is the opening to invite someone to come experience a community of faith. Notice I say community of faith rather than church. For too long, the church was thought to be the building rather than the church being the people. Shifting from becoming fishers of people to maintenance people for the institutional church has caused many to find their spiritual sustenance elsewhere. People are looking for something different. Many are “too easily satisfied just to make do with what is quick and easy and cheap. People settle for sex or liquor or a rock band or the distractions provided by entertainment. They look to these things to save them, or at least help them move forward in a grim world.”2
We as the body of Christ in the world are called to be “people fishers,” to invite people to another way of being in relationship with each other, the world, and with God. We need to be like Jesus walking on the shores of the Sea of Galilee finding people who are willing to exchange a temporary way of living that feeds the physical body for one that is everlasting, and that feeds the soul.
I think of the lines of a modern hymn by Marty Haugen – “Gather Us In” as what Jesus is calling all of humanity to do from his time to ours. I wish these words had been in the heart of our President before he made the mistake of uttering words that will have the wrong kind of influence on the world.
“Gather us in the lost and forsaken; gather us in the lame and the blind; call us now, and we shall awaken, we shall arise at the sound of our name.
Gather us in the rich and the haughty; gather us in, the proud and the strong; give us a heart so meek and so lowly; give us the courage to enter the song.
Gather us in and hold us forever; gather us in and make us your own; gather us in, all peoples together; fire of love in our flesh and our bone."3
1 Scott Hoezee, Epiphany 3B, Center for Excellence in Preaching, www.cep.calvinseminary.edu
3 Marty Haugen, “Here in This Place Gather Us In”
Jan. 14, 2018, 10 a.m.
A Sermon for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany B
Text – John 1:43-51
Two thousand years ago Jesus issued an invitation. “Come and See.” Down through the centuries the invitation is still the same, “Come and See.” What would it be like to hear these words spoken to you let’s say, as you were standing in the line at Wegmans? I can honestly share with you that I might be taken aback. I might remember those childhood warnings not to speak to strangers, to not accept rides from strangers, and definitely not to take candy from strangers. Or would these words pique your curiosity, make you feel a bit of excitement? Now suppose the context were different, say that of the workplace. “Come and see this new movie with me,” or “Come and see this new art exhibit.” Maybe you might feel grateful that someone thought enough to ask you to join them.
“Come and see” are simple words of warmth, assurance and yes, an invitation to be a part of a group. Such was the case when I was beginning my discernment for ordination. A previous Commission on Ministry in another diocese thought I might be called to the religious life and that I should explore one of the monastic communities to be found in the Episcopal Church.
The Society of St. John the Evangelist located in Cambridge Massachusetts and the oldest monastic community in the Episcopal/Anglican tradition was holding a “Come and See” weekend. It was a full immersion into the life of the monks of this order. The invitation included following a monastic schedule of prayer, work, and recreation. The Prayer part consisted of taking part in the Monastic Hours of Morning Prayer, Noonday Prayer, Eucharist, Evening Prayer and Compline. One hour in the morning was spent in one’s room doing Lectio Divina on scripture. Labor consisted raking leaves in the cloister and polishing the woodwork in the refectory. Come and see was an invitation to be in community with the brothers if only for a few days. It was hoped the invitation would lead some to commit to the life of the monastic community on a deeper level.
All are invited to respond to the invitation to “come and see.” How are we responding to this radical bidding to see what Jesus might be up to in this time and place? Another question to ask is, “What are we called to “come and see?” Let us look at a portion of John’s gospel for a possible answer.
John’s entire gospel is about encounters with Jesus the Christ. The encounters run the gamut from the call of the disciples, to meeting a secret admirer, Nicodemus at night; to the meeting of the Samaritan woman, to the woman caught in adultery, and to the man born blind. The people Jesus encounters have great faith, no faith and everything in between the two extremes. Jesus even deals with Peter’s all too humanness and Thomas’ doubt.
The invitation to “come and see” happens in an early section of this chapter where John the Baptist is with two of his disciples and he exclaims, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” Upon that declaration, the two disciples of John the Baptist leave to follow Jesus. Jesus asks the two, “What are you looking for?” The two disciples reply to Jesus’ question with a question, “Rabbi, (which translated means Teacher), where are you staying?” Jesus tells them, “Come and see.”
Andrew takes that invitation and runs with it to his brother Simon. The invitation continues when Jesus goes to Galilee and asks Philip and the others to follow him. Philip finds Nathanael who sarcastically replies with, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” It’s amazing the invitation didn’t stall at Nathanael!
How often when do we hesitate to extend an invitation to “come and see” because there is a little of Nathanael in each of us? How often do we think that certain places are filled with people who have nothing to say to us or that we can learn from? Such was the case with Nazareth back in Jesus’ time. Nazareth was so insignificant that it is not mentioned in Hebrew Scripture. We might find ourselves asking a similar question as to whether anything good can come from the ghetto, the barrio, the migrant camp or from any other marginalized group or neighborhood or country you can imagine. We see how that kind of exclusionary thinking played out this week.
And this brings me to the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Dr. King’s life exemplified this idea of invitation to come and see what the United States could be if it lived up to the idea (and ideal) that all persons are created equal. I am sure invitations were extended by King and the Civil Rights Movement to diverse types of people from many walks of life to come and see what a truly free society could look like if freed from the slavery of small minds and hearts. The more I think about it, Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech that is often quoted at this time of year was and is an invitation to come and see a new beloved community. Dr. King’s words still invite us to come and see a world where the sons and daughters of former slaves and the sons and daughters of former slave owners can sit down together at the table of harmony as a beloved community where the content of one’s character matters more than skin color.
Come and see.
Jesus was the first evangelist. Jesus used these simple words of invitation as a means call new disciples. We can use them now not to mercilessly proselytize that our way of belief is superior to some other belief. Our invitation comes with no strings attached and no threat that one refusing the invitation will not be saved and will be doomed to hellfire. No, it is not that kind of invitation. It is an invitation that we offer others so that they might come to see what Jesus is up to in our neighborhood and in this community, that we call Two Saints. It is an opportunity, a rare opportunity to experience the blessing of radical welcome, to experience an intentional, multicultural community where deep and lasting friendships across barriers of difference are possible.
Part of that requires us to say to those we meet in the course of our varied and busy lives, “Come and see.” We must have the certainty and ease that we are capable of extending an invitation to join our faith community. You know my favorite saying is, “If you don’t ask, you don’t get.” Church growth is based on how well we extend ourselves. Being the source of the invitation to come and see will mean moving out of one’s comfort zone, to cross borders to be with others. It will mean taking a holy risk.
David Lose again says it better than I can: It’s not the size or reputation of the church; it’s not the beautiful or simple building; it’s not the service times, style of worship, or quality of the music; it’s not even the brilliant preaching of the minister. All of these things have value, but the number one reason people give for coming to church for the first time is someone invited them personally. Just as Philip said to Nathanael, that is, someone said to them, “Come and see.” Which means that the future of the church depends greatly on ordinary everyday Christians summoning the courage to invite someone to come and see what they have found in the community of the faithful that is their congregation.
Your homework is to begin to become comfortable inviting people to come to church with you. Don’t be so afraid of a negative reaction, or of hearing a “no” keep you from asking. Begin by sharing your favorite thing about Two Saints, then invite others to “come and see” what it is you enjoy about Two Saints.
Jan. 7, 2018, midnight
As the Rev. Keith Patterson said in his blog post, most of us enjoy a mulligan. I particularly like the concept of a mulligan because -- at least in cards -- it connotes another draw, but not a complete scrapping of the hand. The cards at hand are modified, and ideally improved -- but not discarded altogether. Like a mulligan, a new opportunity comes to us in the shape of a reformed web presence. Elements of the former Two Saints website are still present, but with the new year comes a new look and feel to the church's online presence.
My name is Brandon Choi, and I am the developer of this new website, the newly remade www.twosaints.org! I invite you to look around, and if there are any questions or concerns, comments or criticisms, I welcome all communication. You need just email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
The site, new as it is, will be undergoing just a few more changes as new needs arise in early 2018 (and beyond). You'll notice that the media page is still in the works. Many positive changes will be featured there in the coming months. Please look forward to it and more! For the latest updates, look to the announcements page, and don't forget to like the Two Saints Facebook page at http://facebook.com/2saintsroc/ for more news as well.
Even though this new site takes the place of the old one, if you need information from the old website that you cannot find here, do not worry! It still exists at the below URL:
Thank you for visiting, and stay tuned!
Jan. 6, 2018, 8:33 p.m.
Who doesn’t enjoy a do over, a mulligan, or a second chance? That’s the opportunity the New Year brings to us. We get another chance to do things differently than we did last year.
Howard Thurman had this observation on the possibilities a new year brings:
One of the simple things that is very good and very positive about a New Year is the fact that one does have another chance, that there is available to the individual the fluid dimension of time that has not been frozen and has passed on into the past. It is liquid, living, vital, quick in the sense of being vital. The individual stands in the midst of a stream of vitality, awareness, and fluidity, and is able, by an act in the present moment, to do for him or for the context in which he is operating, something that nothing else in the world can do. Therefore when thinking about the New Year, we think in terms of the sense of alternatives, the sense of option, that are still available to us. It means that all of the options are not frozen, that it is still possible to do something about a situation. Now, this is one of the very simple things (Howard Thurman, The New Year II).
A new year is opening up for everyone; imagine the possibilities, the alternatives, the options!