Isaiah 35:1-10; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11
Dr. Carol S. Franklin

The last month has been tough. Seeing the writing on the wall, I took to my bed the evening of November 8th and might still be there if the boys hadn’t finally insisted it was going to get ugly if I did not get up and see to them.  My distress was not just about politics or about the fact that my candidate lost. That’s happened before without this deep sense of malaise. More than any other time in recent memory, we seem to be at a turning point. Change is coming, and I don’t just mean politically. As a people, our story is more than a political saga. It is a story of our countless generations, those who have passed to glory, those we journey with now, and those yet unborn. This is the story of a country and a people of every hue and persuasion who toiled and cried, celebrated and worshiped and in the process built a great nation.
 
My malaise is rooted in the realization that the national narrative once grounded in limitless possibility has changed, becoming one of fear and hopelessness, of a deep distrust of the other. It is a sense that the glass is not only half empty, but the odds of it ever being filled are seen as stacked against a broad spectrum of the population. In the face of all that, my next gambit was to declare that Christmas was cancelled. If Christmas never came, then neither would the new year and all the changes it would bring. Then I realized I’d be preaching during advent on Rose Sunday, what Pope Francis calls the Sunday of Joy.
 
Who can feel joyful when our nation has become an alien landscape in which language and action against those who are different is seemingly more acceptable? Though I have no illusions that matters of race, or gender, or orientation were issues of the past, the current social climate seems to have given license to speak what was once at least politically incorrect and publicly unspeakable. Then I remembered what Ghandi said:
 
“When I despair, I remember that throughout history the ways of truth and love have always won.”
 
I acknowledge the reality that I can’t stop time and really don’t want to. At a time like this, the upsurge of hope and joy that Advent heralds is as needful to me, to all of us, as breath.
 
In trying times, when all seems lost, we need to remember that God has not brought us this far to drop us on our heads. The theologian Henri Nouwen defined joy “…as the experience of knowing that you are unconditionally loved and that nothing – sickness, failure, emotional distress, oppression, war or even death – can take that love away. Thus joy can be present in the midst of sadness. …” Instead of despair or that malaise I was feeling, we are called to rise up into that joy. As I read Isaiah, it was like a prayer and a promise offered for those of fearful heart to be strong and not dread.
 
Isaiah reminded a captive people that they were God’s chosen people, being given strength for the journey ahead. In Matthew, John wants to know if we have to wait longer or if Jesus is the one who will lift those who are bowed down. Jesus rephrases Isaiah, affirming that the wait is over. The eyes of the blind are being opened, the lame leap like dear, the ears of the deaf are unstopped, and sorrow and sighing flee away. Advent reminds us that we too are exiles who, living in hopes of God’s liberation, are called to rise with joy and lift our voices with strength, proclaiming the glad tidings – “Here is your God!” and He will save you.
 
In this season of expectation and preparedness, our lessons remind us that Advent isn’t about gift buying and gift giving – it’s about letting go of anxiety and fear.  It’s about being cleansed and reborn, awakened to the saving grace of God. It’s about change and transformation, it’s about being refined, perfected and made ready to engage with God in the work of kingdom-building. As a people in community and a people of God, we are at a crossroads. What we say and do in the coming months and years will matter. Advent reminds us that we are on this journey together. We must also be awake and ready to let God work through us to transform the future we all share.
 
Perhaps my great grandfather said it best in a speech at the Cotton States and International Exposition of 1895 “…Here our dead are buried. Here we are bound by the most sacred ties that ever touched or stirred or thrilled a human soul. …”
 
In the face of hate, God wills us to acknowledge that common bond and to love all of his children enough to make the uneven ground level and the rough places plain. This is the good that God desires us to do.
 
Like John the Baptist, we must move beyond this liturgy of worship to a liturgy of living. Though we may feel that we are crying out in the wilderness, we are the voices that must witness God’s grace in the world. As we await patiently for his coming, we are called to sing a new song, one of hope and redemption, like Andra Day’s Rise Up.  
 
To paraphrase, “we must rise up in spite of the ache. Rise like the day, rise unafraid and together move mountains.”**  Rise up and speak truth to power. Rise up to joy and give voice to the hope and promise of God’s love and care for all of his children and all of his creation.  On this Sunday of Joy, let us rise up and embrace a liturgy of living. This is a liturgy which we will carry the anticipation, hope and promise of that child for whom we await – and the man that he will become into this needful world. Rise up to joy!
 
**Written by Cassandra Monique Batie, Jenifer Decilveo. Copyright Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Jeremiah 22:13-16; Galatians 6:14-18; Psalms 148:7-16; Matthew 11:25-30
Dr. Carol Franklin

​Last Sunday, (Rev.) Rachel (Hackenberg) talked about her rough week and how challenging it was to find hope in the face of evil (especially the evil we do to each other). This week hasn’t been much better, but her powerful message grounded in the gospel of love and hope still resonates with me. For it is love and hope which shaped my reflections on the blessings of our companion animals. Today’s gospel talks of things hidden from the wise, but revealed to those who are spiritually open enough to receive it. What is hidden is the miracle of creation and the power of love. Today we stand with St. Francis to affirm and celebrate that all of creation is divine speech and that each of us, two-footed, four-footed (and maybe even no-footed if there are any snakes here) is an example of creation’s wonder and unconditional love.
 
Hope, love, gentleness, and humbleness of heart… These gifts of the spirit are easily found in our companion animals. Since I am dog crazy you know I’m gonna have to talk about “The Boys.” It has always been boys (cocker spaniel boys to be precise) and puppies until these two (who are rescues). I was known for raising these uniquely spirited creatures, loving and full of personality. This included my last puppy, The Jazzman, whose nickname was The Devil’s Minion. He got into a lot of trouble, and yet he was the cutest loving little thing smiling up at me amid the chaos only he could create.
 
When Maxx died just before we went to Israel, I wasn’t sure I had puppy stamina. A friend suggested I consider a rescue. I was a bit unsure as I would not be the molder of its personality while trauma may have been. But then she sent me a link to Petfinder and the picture of a face – the face of Rocket, who thankfully became Rock the House. Rocket was a 2-year-old purebred raised from puppyhood by his first mom, who surrendered him as she struggled with terminal cancer.
 
When I saw his face for the first time, it seemed full of despair and sadness at being separated from his mom, but it was also full of hope and promise that out of the darkness light and love would be found. What a lesson and gift she gave to him and me out of her selflessness, a gift of hope and love, of gentleness and humbleness of spirit. If you came to my front door, you would probably question the gentleness ‘cause he “rocks the house” with his barking. But if he met you on the street or you came in and stayed awhile, he’s timid and shies away from stranger and friend alike. Just ask Byrdie.
 
For two years, Jazz and Rock were the boys. When Jazz died in 2014, I wondered if Rock and I needed a companion beyond each other. The energy in the house was different, so the search was on as I applied three times more on Petfinder. The third time was the charm as my friend who led me to Rock went with me to Columbus to get Mopsey (now known as Motown), who was found wandering in West Virginia.
 
Blind in one eye and losing sight in the other, we believe Motown was either abandoned or was a runaway with an owner who couldn’t deal with a handicapped dog. The owners didn’t realize they were abandoning a bundle of joy and love. When I saw Mo’s face, I saw joy and openness despite limitations, I saw forgiveness and pardon for any injury or abandonment. Mo is this happy-go-lucky not-so-little boy whose tail literally wags the dog. His inquisitiveness and pure joy on our walks and his open loving personality which greets friends and strangers with excitement epitomizes his amazement with all of creation.
 
My Boys are two uniquely colored dogs with two vastly different personalities. They remind me that each of us and all of creation is a receptacle of divine breath. They are two blessings who exemplify love and hope, gentleness and humbleness of spirit. The want to love and be loved, to offer comfort and understanding even though they have no words. Whatever my mood or if I forget dinner time (although that’s hard to do with Rock the timekeeper), they return only love and acceptance. Our companion animals remind us that it’s not about wisdom or knowledge: It’s about love, about surrendering to the well of grace that is the love of God. In opening my heart and home, I became something new: A rescue mom totally owned by the manifestation of the spirit on four paws who daily questions, “Who rescued who?”  

Amen.

Luke 7:36 - 8.3
Dr. Carol Franklin

​As some of you know, the last few months have been… I could be profane here, but I’ll opt for saying they have been trying at the very least.  I’ve been in a weird place since my father died 33 years and three days short of the day in April that my mother died. This all amplifies thoughts about family relationships and commitments, about love and loss and the ties that bind us. It brings so much of my life full circle, and of course it’s set to a musical theme. As I reflected on the gospel lesson a thread of music, really what I thought was a lyric kept running through my head “what we do for love.” Of course the song really is “What We Won’t Do for Love,” but nonetheless, it gave me a focal point to reflect on my journey these last few months, and indeed most of my life.
 
This journey is about we do out of love and thankfulness for God’s grace and His singular gift of peopling our lives with such extraordinary personalities. Though I won’t talk about them in this sermon, it includes my four footers. A child of divorce, I was raised among a company of women who gave me a unique perspective on self and service, on love and commitment, on struggle and self-worth, in essence those things that make a life of worth. Like the women in our gospel, they gave a full measure of themselves, their gifts and their talents, without counting the cost. They loved expansively; supported each other; served with grace; nurtured and gave direction to me and countless children and adults. They taught me and challenged me to understand that life is full of good and one must be open to seeing and accepting that goodness. They also taught me that walking by faith and in the spirit is more difficult than following an outward law. It’s about listening for the voice of God and then responding obediently to his call.

Many colleagues have said, “Carol you could have been a college president if only you had been willing to do this or do that.”
​
Nobody understood that the kind of ambition they mentioned is not what shaped the choices I made. Now don’t get me wrong – I am ambitious (or I was before I retired). I wanted to do a good job, be recognized for it and advance in my profession. But what mattered (and matters most to me still) is serving and relating to others – being present in their lives and in their need, helping them to grow and find their way. Whether on the job, in the classroom or among family and friends, I have always valued being among us, being among a company of folks striving and journeying together.
 
While most of the company of women I knew were not blood relations, they were family. In most cases, I was their only family. It was more important to me to be present in their lives than president of some college. I learned firsthand that caregiving is not an easy job.  Nor is it easy as they near the end of their journey to affirm to them that they have been a good and faithful servant and it’s okay to let go. But that is why I needed to be present, not out of duty or obligation, but out of love – their love for me and our love for each other. It may not be an alabaster jar of ointment, but what is more priceless than the gift of self to others? It’s about modelling God’s extravagant love in the gift of His son to redeem our lives. It’s what we do for love that matters.
 
It’s about relationships, about caring for each other in the best and worst of times. Caring when it’s easy and when it’s damn hard. It’s about acknowledging that no matter how alike or different we are, we are shoots from the same tree abiding on the same bank, the bank along which the river of living water flows.  Yes, there are the outward facets of the law – honor thy father and thy mother. But that is not why I travelled cross country to abide for a weekend with folks I barely know. For the adult Carol, it was not about what had been done or left undone to Carol, the child of divorced parents. It was about living into God’s love for me. Though I did not have a relationship with my father, I did and do have a relationship with God. Out of that relationship of love, acceptance and grace, I was called to honor my father, to acknowledge his place in my life, and to be open to the gift of life he helped to give me.
 
God knows what our lives can become. It’s not about the law or others’ judgements or expectations of us – it’s about what we do for love. God’s intention is to heal life and restore relationships. A life so restored is focused not on hedging our bets, but focusing on what we do out of love (not duty). The lesson of today’s gospel is that if Christ has taken up residence in our lives, we can’t have it both ways. God’s reign is about love and grace, mercy and forgiveness. If you love God, you can’t love only some of his children. It’s about allowing God to do in and through us what only He can do – love extravagantly.
​
Amen. 

​Luke 24:1 - 12

Dr. Carol S. Franklin
Dr. Carol Franklin is a retired higher education professional and is a member of Christ Church.

Tonight, we gather to hear the story God’s people as we stand in the shadow of the tomb. In the beginning was God, the father and mother of us all, the wisdom-giver and God the Son and Savior. On this night, the story of God’s people comes full circle as God’s divine power turns the world upside down. After the fear, disbelief and confusion over the crucifixion, the Mary Magdalene and Mary, mother of James (“the Marys”), discover an empty tomb at dawn the next morning. We, like the Marys, find an impossible, improbable and joyful truth – there is life in the face of death. Tonight, we join them to proclaim that the story did not end at the tomb. For as this night dawns into a new day, we proclaim:
 
“He is risen! Alleluia! He is risen!”
 
Is the proclamation that “Out of death there is life” simply a glorious end, or is it just the beginning of a new journey for God’s people?
 
I believe there is much more to the story and the journey beyond the empty tomb. As I look around, it seems as if the world is stuck in that tomb, buried in the darkness by fear and hopelessness. And the question is why… why do we continue to look for the Son of God in that tomb, among the dead?
 
Too frequently, we fear what we cannot see, touch, taste or understand. We believe we have been forgotten, marginalized and ignored while others have been lifted up. We see this fear manifested among our sisters and brothers whose religious traditions spring from the same root. We see it in the fear of “the other,” of those whom we believe live differently, love differently and are just not like us. Out of that fear, some set fires seeking to destroy our dwelling places and our peace of mind, while others talk of monitoring neighborhoods, building walls and closing doors.
 
We get stuck in belief that there is only so much space, time or resources to share. Focused on our own self-interests and needs, we are threatened rather than lifted up by Christ’s message of love. So we wait in darkness, longing for the light, afraid that love is not broad enough or deep enough to shelter us all. We have either forgotten or are just too afraid to believe that God has enough love, compassion and grace to encompass and save us all. Tonight, we learn something new, that we do not need to be afraid – because Jesus, the light of God, goes before us.
 
Tonight, we know that death is not the end. Christ’s resurrection has shattered the darkness and opens the way to new life. The belief that he lives uplifts me even in these challenging and anxious times. Although I don’t know what comes next, I do know that God is among us. How many of us have stories about those times, and how God’s love and grace put us back together again?
 
The miracle of this night comes in the midst of a family crisis; when we are lost in our own need; or feel we just cannot go on in that moment. In these moments, God sees us and fully knows us. He knows our gifts, failures and sins. He also knows our life’s promise. God knows and loves us still, carrying us into that new day. On this night, we learn that God will give all and will make us see, hear and know that we matter… and that we are loved.
 
Tonight, we are called to stand against the darkness, to affirm that God’s love is more powerful than fear, death or evil. The empty tomb is neither the end of the story nor simply a tale of fear or death; it is a story about love and life. The empty tomb is about the courage to believe in and witness the impossible through God’s love, that life is triumphant over death.
 
We have been called to tell others how to meet Jesus and how to experience the God who is always with us and supporting us. As Presiding Bishop Michael Curry said in a New York Times Article, the resurrection is about “…a church and world where there is room for everybody.”
​
If we follow that thinking, the church is a world in which we feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, receive the stranger and care for the sick and dying. Easter Sunday special, because we learn that God is not through with any of us and truly loves us!! Like Christ, we must place all that we are into God’s hands so that we may reflect His light and love.
 
I will end this homily interweaving my own thanksgivings with some words spoken by my great-grandfather, the Rev. Dr. M.C.B. Mason, from more than 100 years ago. Let us pray:
 
“Father, we thank thee for…thy Son Jesus Christ…. He came to bring us peace, and deliverance and salvation and eternal life, and we have it; Thank God, we have it. Now help us with renewed energy and enthusiasm to …” meet our brothers and sisters stuck in the tomb and help them find their way into the light of this new day. We are thankful for the breath in our bodies. Let God’s people greet this new day with a resounding “Amen!”

Alleluia, Christ is risen! 

Isaiah 62:1-5;Psalm 36:5-10; 1 Corinthians 12:1-11; John 2:1-11

Dr. Carol S. Franklin
Dr. Carol Franklin is a retired higher education professional and is a member of Christ Church.

As we celebrate the life and witness of The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., it’s easy to talk about “King the dreamer” or “King the drum major for peace and justice,” but there was another side to King.  As Randall Kennedy wrote in a forum article in the Plain Dealer some years ago, King was a boat rocker with a “. . . discomforting willingness to challenge Americans’ accepted ways of life. …” Making them “…profoundly uncomfortable… “  
 
As I read snippets from his speeches and other reflections on his life, I was struck by the fact (and more tellingly that more than 50 years since his death) that we are still a deeply divided nation and a world that needs to be challenged – that needs to be reminded about who we are and what we are called to do.  
 
2016 is vastly different and yet so unchanged from the world Martin walked.  Poverty, inequality, hatred and fear still stalk our streets and the death of all hope in the extinguished lives of children is a daily, if not hourly, occurrence. Like me, I think he would be at a loss to find God (or at least a God recognizable to him in what passes for legitimate sociopolitical debate). In all the noise, the one thing I hear clearly (and which I think would sadden and perhaps frighten him deeply) is this sense of a world still badly divided in which there is not enough:
​

• Not enough time.
• Not enough space.
• Not enough resources.
• Not enough compassion.
• Not enough love for everyone.

​It’s easy in such a world for some to believe they must get theirs first and leave the dregs for the rest and they willingly use their gifts and talents, power and politics to get their way. In such a world, what would Martin say and most importantly what would Martin do?
 
First he’d cry and then he’d raise his eyes to God for his marching orders. Martin would likely make us uncomfortable as he’d challenge us to find and be our better selves.  Toward the end of his life, many saw the Prophet Martin’s powerful oratory and even more powerful witness as way too political. Which begs the question - what’s this thing about the Church and being too political anyway? And yes, I know about the separation of Church and State. But let’s get real, at every turn, Christ spoke truth to power, challenged the status quo, turned the money changers out and taught that the last and the least of us would be first. He was a rabble-rouser and boat rocker and if that ain’t political, I don’t know what is.
 
King’s witness to and engagement in the world reflected his belief in a gospel grounded in the life of an activist Christ.  Shaped by such faith, Martin didn’t mince words. One of King’s most controversial speeches was his eulogy for the four young African American girls killed in the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church in September 1963. King in essence called out faith communities everywhere for their silence and inactivity in the face of such martyrdom stating that:
​
“…these girls have something to say to every minister of the gospel who has remained silent behind the safe security of stained-glass windows. They have something to say to every politician who has fed his constituents the stale bread of hatred and spoiled meat of racism … they have something to say to each of us black and while alike, that we must substitute courage for caution.”
 
Our fear of being seen as too political makes it too easy to allow caution to silence our prophetic voices, leaving us with, as Dr. King said, “a weak, ineffectual voice with an uncertain sound.”  The Prophet Martin would challenge us by asking what is political about the cry for justice and the yearning for peace. He’d want to know what’s wrong with wanting to earn the same wages for the same work or being treated with dignity and respect.

• What’s wrong with wanting to live in a safe and secure home, neighborhood and community?
• What’s wrong with being able to access medical care when you are sick?
• What’s wrong with being able to put food on your table?
• What’s wrong with not wanting to live in fear?
• What’s wrong with not wanting to hear disparaging comments because of your race or gender, faith or sexual orientation?  

 
Dr. King would affirm that the achievement of all of these things are a reflection of the beloved community, of what God’s kingdom in the here and now would and should look like. Just as he spoke such heartfelt truth in that eulogy, he would bluntly tell us that prayer, while needed, is not enough. If we can’t, don’t or won’t advocate for such things, we cannot assert that we are a faith community professing Christ as Lord. If we walk with Christ, we must be Christ’s voice and Christ’s hands in the world. As such, we must not be afraid to speak truth to power and set our hands to work for peace.
 
Thankfully I don’t think that “…an uncertain sound” is a problem in this place, given the diversity of voices reflecting on the intersection of scripture and our journey in the world.  I am sure, given some of the topics God has laid on my heart, that some might say that I am sometimes too political or too focused on African American themes in my sermons. All I can do is own both of those things – as I am an African American women raised during the last half of the 20th century (and all that means). As a deeply faithful woman, I see the African American journey as a reflection of the journeys all of us share on this planet.  
 
Clearly, the African American journey, deeply-rooted in issues of faith and power, is the well from which Martin drew his prophetic vision and voice. I also see the strong link between scriptures’ call for us to bear witness – and what I believe was the call to speak truth to power that Martin heard and acted upon. He didn’t stop there, as his vision led him to give voice to issues many saw as beyond the scope of a black preacher from Georgia. He saw that amidst the challenges that shape our various lives, our concerns are no different as we seek to live in peace; make a living wage; be accorded dignity and respect in our engagements with others; and finally, to leave the world a better place than we found it for our children and our children’s children.
 
What would Martin do? He would say “cry if you must, pray because you must and then lift your eyes to God for your marching orders.”

He would push us to move beyond our red doors and embrace the message at the heart of our scriptures today, which run counter to that narrative of a glass-half-empty, telling us that there is abundance in God’s kingdom and economy.   As Paul tells us, God has chosen and equipped us with the gifts necessary to be his voice and hands in the world. We are witnesses to Christ and the good news revealed at the wedding feast of what the world would and should be like when God is among us - none will go without and the best is yet to come.

​Amen.

Wisdom of Solomon 3: 1-9 or Isaiah 25; 6 - 9; Psalm 24; Revelations 21: 1 – 6a; John 11:32-44

Dr. Carol S. Franklin
Dr. Carol Franklin is a retired higher education professional and is a member of Christ Church.

Given the lessons appointed for this day on which we celebrate the lives of the saints all I can say is WOW!! First up was Revelations and the image of a new heaven and a new earth and of all things made new and of God, God himself coming to dwell among us. The Gospel of John then reminds us that if we believe, we will see the glory of God.  That vision of a New Jerusalem and of God among us speaks to the heart of me – a heart too frequently broken recently by the realities of our world:

• A world in which the lives of our brothers and sisters are held so cheaply.
• A world in which people hunger for justice, thirst for freedom and pray for peace.

 
Who among us in this world does not cry out for the hope and promise that death is not the end? You know that oft-repeated phrase, “…for God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten son that all that believe in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”
 
There’s that thing called love again which has been the focus of my latest homilies. Love and life center on hope and God’s promise. God loves us:

• As we are, whether we be exalted or lowly.
• Whether we be young or old, gay or straight.
• Whatever hue or faith or political persuasion we may embrace.
• With all His being even in our sin, our failure and our brokenness.

 
Our lessons affirm that because He loves us, God and good will triumph over evil and bring to fruition a world transformed. In this world, and earth are knit together in one communion and fellowship.  
 
When I think of the kingdom of heaven and that vision of a New Jerusalem, I know that it cannot be described in terms of geography or even anthropology. Instead, Jesus tells us that God’s kingdom is based on the transformation of human hearts.
 
The image of Jesus, of God made flesh weeping for us, speaks to the heart, turning our traditional ways of thinking upside down. It is a sign that God is concerned about the things that break our hearts and is moved by the tears of his children. Such a concept breaks all the rules for us in this very materialistic world. The imagery of our lessons today calls for us to embrace new attitudes that conflict with the usual ways we tend to approach life.  (The lessons) call for a new discipline which believes that God is not through with us or this world through regeneration and renewal, transformation and change, and a world remade by God’s love.
 
But it’s not just the world that changes. If God is not through with us, it means each of us must go through the process of renewal as well. And there is the rub: If we are honest, none of us really like change because it takes work on ourselves and in our relationship with others.

When we add the element of the spiritual to the mix, what does such change or transformation mean for each of our lives?  In the book Spiritual Transformation and Healing, psychologist Kenneth Pargament states "at its heart, spiritual transformation refers to a fundamental change in the . . . character of the sacred in the life of the individual. …." (p. 18).

When I think of transformation, I remember a period of great change in my life when the only thing that kept me from losing it was my firm belief that God was not through with me yet. He had more for me to do.
 
God had a plan for me which I couldn’t fathom at the time. Though I did not know it at the time, I was experiencing the work of the sacred, of God’s love in my life. I stepped out in faith and relied on God’s amazing grace to see me through.  In my heart, I knew then and joyously affirm now that God was making good on his promise to me and each of us to make all things new.
 
When we often think of saints, we think of perfection. But saintliness is really about transformation, how we grow into the gift God has given us and become what God has called us to be.
 
We are clay in God’s hands and in faith we must allow him to shape our lives, our faith and our service. That is the life in Christ we are called to. Yes, we are works in progress, but it is through God’s amazing and loving grace that we can grow beyond what we think is possible in our lives and this place.
 
As we end the Feast of All Saints, let us pause and give thinks for God’s bounty. As individuals and a faith community, may we be open to God as he seeks to transform the world and ourselves, and our witness to His love and saving grace. May we always celebrate God’s gift of life and the communal spirit that pervades this place.
 
Amen

Job 38:1-7. (34-47); Psalm 104: 1-9, 25, 37b; Hebrews 5: 1 – 10; Mark 10: 35 – 45
Dr. Carol S. Franklin

Dr. Carol Franklin is a retired higher education professional and is a member of Christ Church.
 
You know that old saw that it is difficult to serve two masters?  Well this Sunday, I feel pulled in multiple directions.  First of course is the pull of today’s lessons and how God illuminates them for me.  Second is the fact that I was asked specifically to preach today as part of an Outreach Sunday event.  But then a few weeks ago Peter reminds me that it is also stewardship season, and finally he encouraged me to be short and succinct.  My response to him about that last bit was it depends on how she chooses to speak to me.  Thankfully she did speak, revealing that the heart of today’s lessons was about serving and giving.  Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together and all the stars seemed to align for this Outreach and Stewardship Sunday?  Now let’s see if I can be succinct.

As I read the lessons appointed for the day, especially Mark’s Gospel, the first thing that popped into my head was “Clueless in Jerusalem.”  With their minds more preoccupied with petty thoughts of self at the top of the table, the disciples couldn’t see Christ’s true purpose or understand his service and his sacrifice.  Clearly, clueless the sons of Zebedee and the rest of the crew just didn’t get it, didn’t get the difference between worldly greatness and spiritual greatness.   Then it struck me that many of us, even those of us in the church, can fall prey to that clueless syndrome.   

There is a sharp disconnect between the messages of the culture in which we live and the kingdom of God to which we aspire.   Too frequently, we in the world value celebrity over substance, idolizing the rich, the powerful, the beautiful and the athletic.  Then there are those purveyors of a prosperity gospel that preach earthly rewards in return for our faith, focusing more on what God will do for us rather than what we are called to do or be in and by that faith.

Clueless that’s what we are, expecting seats at the top of the table and the finest of wines rather than seeing where the cup and the baptism of Christ would lead him and us.   The truth is, we didn’t choose God, God chose us.  Let’s be honest, who among us at first blush would choose anything, any seat or any cup from someone who asks so much of his children, of someone who could send his own son to suffer a horrific death?  But we do accept because we realize that such an act demonstrates a singular truth that we are the beloved of God and that He would pay any price, including the life of His son, to ransom our lives.   We are who we are and what we are because of who God is.  God came into this world in the person of Jesus Christ to show us the meaning and power of His love and to remind us that we are His.  

The real question is, are we ready to confront what it means to be chosen?   When we take the cup, are we really ready for the service and the sacrifice?   In his sermon last week, Peter said something that struck a chord with me – in essence if we accept that we are known and beloved of God, we can’t stay the way we are.  We must discover what God desires us to be and what it means to walk that Jesus walk.   With Jesus as our model, we see that God’s kingdom rejects the world’s measures for esteem, for true greatness flows not from dominating others but in giving of self and serving others. Thus acceptance of the cup and of baptism is acceptance of God’s way.  It is accepting Jesus’ invitation to change ourselves and the world we live in by joining him in serving and giving to others.   By following Jesus, we are lead directly into the heart of God, where we find that the message of Christ’s journey is not about worldly riches or a place in the spotlight, it’s about love. 

The Lord instructs us to love and To Love is a verb.  It requires action, for loving God is not measured solely or simply by the law or our adherence to it.   Jesus practiced what he preached, breaking down barriers, loving the outcast and welcoming those on the margins.  He was a rule breaker who moved beyond conventional wisdom to open our eyes and hearts to see a new path and a new life.  We can do no less than to love one another as Christ loved us.   For me it means that loving God is not measured simply by being baptized or going to church or praying regularly or professing to be a Christian.   It’s love that must abide as we gather in worship and in giving of our self, our time, our talent and our silver to the work that God and Christ have called us to.   

Last month, I ended my sermon by stating that “At the end of the day when asked ‘Where is the love?’ I hope we can respond, here in this place, as we reach out to love as Christ loved and heal as Christ healed.” 

Now I could give you a litany of the ways in which we in this parish seek to reflect the priorities of God that Jesus proclaimed.  It would include our outreach and giving, our work to reimagine and renew our parish life and role here at the crossroads.  But if I did, I’d miss the mark on that last injunction to be succinct. 

On this Outreach and Stewardship Sunday, take a moment to explore the many ways in which we in this parish live out that call to serve and to give.  Talk to someone about our stewardship of time, talent, silver and this edifice.  Ask about the ways in which we reach back and lift up those in our community and throughout the world through our outreach initiatives.  I think you’ll discover that we in this place are not clueless, and you will be amazed to learn that we can indeed be known by our love as we walk in Christ’s purpose. 

Amen.

Proverbs 31:10-31; Psalm 1; James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a; Mark 9:30-37
Dr. Carol S. Franklin

Dr. Carol Franklin is a retired higher education professional and is a member of Christ Church.
                                      
I have to tell you that I have struggled this week.  To be honest, I have felt at a loss for words, which you know is not typical of me.  It’s not that God hasn’t spoken.  She has spoken volumes through her tears, the tears of a mother.  I started in one place and you will hear some of that riff on the theme “What’s love got to do with?”  But more and more I heard not Tina Turner but Roberta Flack asking plaintive “Where is the love?” 
 
In recent months, we have been bombarded by chants of “Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, All Lives Matter.”  But the events of the last few weeks make them seem like nothing more than rhetoric.  They are shooting and killing babies on the streets of Cleveland while the body of a child seeking shelter from the storms of war and oppression washes up on a beach in Turkey. 
 
I know that I feel helpless in the face of these mounting tragedies.  How can such things happen in a supposedly civilized world, especially to the innocent and defenseless ones?  Where is the love and where is Jesus in all of this?  Last week the answer to Jesus’ question “who do you say I am?” was the messiah, the embodiment of God’s love, compassion and grace.  Our concern this week is what that means for us in a world in which love and compassion seem in short supply.  We could rightly ask not just “where is the love”, but “What’s love got to do with it anyway?”  At the heart of today’s lessons as Jesus teaches about ministry and about what discipleship ought to look like, I think the answer is love is absolutely everything!    
 
When I look around what I see is a world in which Jesus’ prime directive to love God and love others gets lost in the noise from voices that say doctrine or profit or position trumps love (and I didn’t do that on purpose).  We see it in the hateful speech about immigrants and women and the poor that passes for legitimate political dialogue.  We see it in Kentucky and the fight over marriage equality.  Rather than talk of abundance we talk of building walls or erect real life barbed wire barriers believing that we can isolate ourselves, keeping the cares of the world out of sight and thus out of mind.  We see it in a world in which we seem to cherish the life of the unborn more than we care for or cherish the lives of the children among us.  And this is not about being pro-life or pro-choice; it’s about love and about caring for those among us.  With nearly 20 million children around the world living in orphanages or on the street and 60% of children surveyed indicating that they were directly or indirectly exposed to violence it is clear that we are we living our lives to please ourselves rather than to please God. 
 
Where is the love in that picture… A picture of a world in which the prevailing belief is that there is not enough space or time or money or you fill in the blank for anyone or anything but ourselves...  A picture of a world in which young people, supposedly our future, seem more afraid of living than dying?
 
It is a picture of a world in which there is not enough concern or compassion for others and not enough thought about justice or peace.  This image is in sharp contrast to that of Jesus placing a child among the disciples to instruct them on love the true way of discipleship.  The message seems clear.  A little child shall lead us.  But this week, where will the sight of the bodies of little ones lead us?  In the face of such tragedy and need, whom are we called to be and what are we called to do?
 
The way of the disciple, accepting that “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all & servant of all,” is not an easy path.  Love is not about standing up and lording it over others or being a part of the in-crowd or the clique of the ‘saved.’ 
 
Jesus was a fanatic about love, about caring for one another and welcoming the invisible ones into community.  Love is about reflecting the priorities of the God that Jesus proclaimed.   Love is about stooping down and reaching back and lifting up.  It’s about welcoming the voiceless and those at the margins into community even when it makes us uncomfortable.   
 
The lesson of this week is that the other are no longer invisible because Alyan and Ramon and Major and all those clamoring for refuge from the scourge of war and poverty, oppression and death are no longer faceless or nameless.  From the traffic barricades in Shaker Heights to the barbed wire at Hungary’s borders we can’t build walls high enough or deep enough to isolate ourselves from their anguish.  For that anguish gives voice and meaning to Jesus’ call of welcome.  If we close our hearts and minds to that voice then we are closed off from love which is the presence of God among us.  I don’t know about you but I am not interested in closing the door in God’s face. 
 
As I said in the beginning, I feel helpless, but in the face of today’s lessons no way hopeless, because love is about abundance, it’s about opened hearts and opened doors.  You cannot tell me that there is not enough because God’s grace says otherwise. 
 
So folks, I am here to tell you that we’ve got to figure this out.  We’ve got to do something about violence.  We’ve got to do something about protecting and nurturing the innocence of children.  We’ve got to do something about barriers to justice and peace.  We’ve got to recognize that though God works through us, standing in judgment is not part of the job description; love is.  At the end of the day when asked, “Where is the love?” I hope we can respond here in this place as we reach out to love as Christ loved and heal as Christ healed. 
 
Amen.