The Rev. Eleanor Applewhite Terry

Sermon for 4 Lent B; March 14, 2021

Good Shepherd, Acton

May the words of my mouth, and the meditation of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O God, our Strength and our Redeemer.  Amen.

          The photos on my phone from a year ago capture how quickly things changed.  Snapshots from February vacation week show my 80-something parents, my niece, and my three kids and I enjoying a day at a very crowded New England Aquarium in Boston.  And the weekend we took my Dad to the New England Boat Show at the Boston Convention Center.  We climbed all over the boats, touching handrails, ducking into tight cabins with other guests, breathing air that very well could have contained COVID droplets.  We had no idea what was coming and consider ourselves very lucky.

          Even my pictures from March 11, 2020 show how little we understood.  That’s the day I took off from work to chaperone my daughter’s class trip to the Harvard Natural History museum.  We were a little aware of the need to be extra cautious.  I brought along some hand sanitizer and some disinfecting wipes for lunch time.  But otherwise we roamed the museum freely.  I had no idea that after that day off, I would never return to a normal work day at Old North Church again.  Within 24 hours, like you here, we made the decision to cancel worship.  I remember the Senior Warden arguing passionately that the announcement not say we would be closed “for the foreseeable future” because she considered that too extreme. 

          March 14- a year ago today, my photos show three of us volunteering at Old North’s outreach program that morning, distributing food to North End seniors.  We decided not to invite the guests into the building, as we normally did, but to distribute the bags from the doorway.  Within a month two of the guests, residents of a neighborhood senior residence, would be dead from COVID.

          That afternoon I sent my husband a text from the Acton Trader Joe’s with a photo of completely empty shelves.  “This is getting scary” I wrote.

          None of us, perhaps outside of public health experts, could have foreseen the year that would follow.  And I suppose it’s good we did not know.  I cannot imagine what it would have felt like at the beginning of everything had we been told how long we would have to endure.  That it would be six months before our kids would go back to school- and even then only 2 days a week.  That over 1/2 million Americans would die- (even now, we are averaging well over a thousand US deaths a day as of this weekend).  That, actually, it would be far beyond “the foreseeable future” before church would regather again in person.  And those fun day trips with my parents, for which they had moved from their home in CT to enjoy with their grandkids, those would be replaced by grocery drop-offs on their front porch.  The toll on our collective mental health, economy, elders and children is especially hard to bear.  It has been a very long year for all of us.

           So on this one year anniversary of the week everything came to a halt, it is fitting that our Old Testament lesson takes us into the wilderness with Moses and the Israelites.  Perhaps we can relate to their plight more honestly than we ever have before, having spent the last year of our own lives in the wilderness of pandemic.

          You’ll recall that the Israelites spent forty years wandering, and complaining their way to the Promised Land.  Enslaved in Egypt, their ancestors suffered and toiled for four hundred years until Moses led them to freedom.  They crossed the Red Sea in triumph, only to wander for another forty years in the dessert wilderness.

          God assured them the Promised Land lay ahead, but it would be a long, dangerous, hard journey.  It’s likely that few, if any, of those who escaped Egypt would live to see it.   Forty years is a long time- can you imagine if our quarantine lasted that long?- and back in those days, with shortened life spans, at least two generations would come and go before they reached the Land of Milk and Honey.

          To say, as our Scripture does, “the people became impatient on the way” is a rather big understatement!   They murmured and complained constantly.  “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?  For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.”

          This behavior drives Moses crazy.  For 40 years he endures the complaints of his people, who frequently blame him for their hardships.  He doubts his own ability to lead such a stiff necked and stubborn people.  But God empowers him to continue, so Moses endures their whining and encourages them to maintain their trust in God.  But now, they are starting to “speak against God.”  It is one thing to speak against Moses, and his brother Aaron, but quite another to speak against God and distrust God’s guidance and promise.

          When God sends manna from heaven for them to eat and provides water in the desert for them to drink, they complain and doubt whether God is with them, even though the evidence of God’s care for them is literally falling out of the heavens upon them.  And when, in the verses just before today’s passage, God answers their prayer by helping the Israelites defeat a Canaanite army, they fail to offer thanksgiving, and instead speak out against God.  So God gets angry.  Very angry.  God sends snakes.  Lots of them!  And poisonous ones at that.  And they bite the people and many die.

          Suddenly there are snakes everywhere, and the people quickly realize their need to repent and they beg Moses to pray to the Lord to take the snakes away.  God must have known this would be a good way to get the people to be more faithful.  If daily food and water in the desert aren’t enough to remind them to give thanks to God, then poisonous snakes ought to get their attention!  God knows our human nature well.  How often we neglect to offer thanksgiving when good things happen, but we sure are quick to turn to God when we need help. 

          Perhaps, particularly so, when snakes are involved, as I know full well.  I am terrified of snakes.  All snakes.  Doesn’t matter what size.  What kind.  Whether a pet, or a harmless garter snake in my yard, or a lazy sleeping snake behind thick glass in a zoo.  They all scare me equally, whether poisonous or not. 

          Or at least that is what I thought until the night we discovered a rattlesnake coiled up near our campground in the Grand Canyon.  I shared about that trip in a sermon a few weeks ago.  I neglected to mention The Snake.

          Our guides on that trip said the usual, unhelpful things when the rattlesnake was spotted: “Don’t bother it and it won’t bother you.”  “It’s more scared of you than you are of it” - Which I doubt.  That snake probably saw people every night at that campground and I was encountering my very first wild rattlesnake within an uncomfortably short slither away from where I planned to sleep.  When I pointed this out, one of our guides offered this especially reassuring piece of advice: “If you notice a snake in your sleeping bag, just lie still and let it crawl out first.”  Needless to say, my fear of harmless garter snakes in no way compares to the terror of being in the presence of a wild, loose rattlesnake.               

          So I get the fear of the Israelites.  I can relate to their desperate plea that the Lord take the serpents away.  I’ve been known to pray that prayer myself, under far less dangerous circumstances.  And if God ever feels I’m not devoted enough to my prayers, a snake or two will certainly get me praying right away.

          Luckily, for the Israelites, God answers their prayer.  He hears their confession, their admission of sin, and he commands Moses to make a bronze serpent and put it on a pole so that from then on, “whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.”

          And just like that the very thing they were afraid would kill them, becomes the means to healing and life.  Sound familiar?  It’s the paradox of our faith.  The story of the cross as well.  An image of terror and death that becomes the way to new life- for Jesus.  And for us.

          God takes the objects of our fear and death and turns them into the way to new life.  Thus those who look at the serpent of bronze will live.  And those who gaze upon the cross of Christ will live eternally.

          And perhaps this gives us a way to think about this year of pandemic as well.  Because God will never abandon us in our suffering and death.  God will never leave us to face our hardships alone.  God will not allow our fears to conquer us.  And throughout this year of isolation… this year of sickness for so many, and death for too many, God has been in the midst of us. 

          It’s a bittersweet milestone we are passing this week — a full year into the pandemic.  And even though there is much reason to hope that it will all be over soon… there is a lot that has been lost forever.  My own emotions have been all over the place this week— I’m delighted by the prospect of a more normal life come summer and encouraged by the increased availability of vaccines.  Yet, I am exhausted when I consider all we have endured, the burdens we have carried, and the challenges which lie ahead. 

          I have always appreciated the stories of the Israelites in the wilderness.  -Maybe not the part about the snakes so much- but it feels very real to me that God’s chosen people grumble and complain, get lost, and can be both incredibly faithful and hopeful and also distrustful and unfaithful.  They slog along toward the Promised Land.  It takes a very long time.  It is hard.  It is not always fun.  There are snakes along the way— the really scary kind.  And yet they persevere because that’s the stuff of which we are made.  We are people who live by God’s promise.  Who try our best to be faithful, and succeed sometimes, but fail along the way too.

          We wander.  We complain.  We try and fail and try again. 

          And God never leaves us.

          Not Ever.

          And that’s a message that I am grateful to hear right about now.  -A year into the pandemic.  When we are worn out from wandering.  And hopeful, but still a little fearful too.  We’re getting tired of the manna of this wilderness and are ready for some fun again, but we are not at the end of our journey just yet.

          And that’s ok.  Because God will see us through to the end.  As God has always done.  And God will always do.  Helping us face all that scares us so that we, too, may live.

          Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Greetings from Rolando Javier Guzman and Elvin David Argueta Nolasco

Guest speakers for 3 Lent; March 7, 2021

Words from Rolando Javier Guzman – 3/7/21

Hello dear friends and brothers of Good Shepherd! So, it is a pleasure for me to talk a litle bit about the scholarship project. So that the community of Good Shepherd to continue to promote in Ocotillo community, right. As we well know, this scholarship project over time has benefited young people here in the community. As we know, we have many of us who have gone to university and studied. For example, we have a lot of professionals here thanks to God. For example, we have professionals in public accounting. We have teachers in middle education. We have professional agronomic engineers and also, we have teachers in mathematics and teachers in language. Also, we have professionals in sociology. Do our professionals direct our thanks to this project? Many young people actually have a career in our community. So, from this project, there are middle educators (currently 2) in our community. Well, dear friends, I will tell you a little bit about my experience as a young man benefiting from this project. Thanks to God first, to my family, and to the community of Good Shepherd because all of you have been believing in my capacity and my responsibilities with each of them and mainly with myself. And also thank to my father, Samuel Guzman, for being a continued presence in our community. So, as we know, Samuel Guzman, was a good person to both communities. So now I will tell you a little bit about my person. I am Rolando Javier Guzman, son of Claudia Perez and Samuel Guzman, graduated from Gerrardo Barrios University with a bachelor’s degree in English. My commitment as a young man is to motivate children and young people in our community to follow their dreams and to value the sacrifice that Good Shepherd made for each of us. We are really very very grateful for this scholarship project. We hope to continue with this and other projects. We are hoping to you have you in our community soon to share new experiences, to share with joys, and to share a lot of experiences with all of you. So, blessing brothers and hoping you will soon be in our community again!

Here’s the video of Mr. Guzman’s message.

Words from Elvin David Argueta Nolasco – 3/7/21

Hello, my name is Elvin David Argueta Nolasco and I am part of the community of El Ocotillo. By this video recording, I want to talk a little bit about myself and how blessed I am by the scholarship program and the sister community Good Shepherd has here in this place. Well, in the first place, I want to tell you that I actually live with my mother who is one of the pioneers of the sister community relationship. Her name is Candida Nolasco. I also live with my wife. Her name is Beatriz Amaya. And I am studying English at the University. And I have been part of the program since I was in high school. I really think that this program has changed not only my life but also the whole community because of the improvement in the level of education in its youth people. Nowadays, there are a lot of professional people in different fields such as teachers, professors, engineers in different areas. For me, this has been a blessing because I was not going to continue studying because I didn’t have enough resources to continue studying. However, I have my goals which I want to accomplish. So, I started to work hard to do that. I was called to be part of the program and now that is the reason why I am so thank you, thankful, sorry, with all of you. Unfortunately, during this (pandemic) period of time it has been difficult to study online but I am trying to do my best in order to continue my learning process. Thanks to God no one in my family has been affected by the virus and hopefully nobody will neither in the community. And again, I want to thank you for all of your support, and I hope that this program can help more students who want to achieve their goals and dreams in the future. Thank you so much. I send you a big hug and may the Lord bless you always! Thank you so much.

Here’s the video of Mr. Nolasco’s message.

Thanks be to God.

          Amen.

The Rev. Eleanor Applewhite Terry

Sermon for 2 Lent; February 28, 2021

Good Shepherd, Acton

.          Our Gospel this morning is a pretty standard text for the season of Lent.  You’ll recall that in three of the Gospels, Jesus predicts his suffering, death and resurrection three different times.  Three times the disciples fail to understand.  And three times Jesus uses this context to teach about the meaning of genuine discipleship.  Today’s lesson being, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

          I found myself in conversation with a clergy friend this week about today’s Gospel lesson.  We both are preaching today- and at first glance, neither of us found the Scripture from Mark to be particularly compelling.  My friend John joked, “I just can’t find the juice in it!”

          So what is it about this familiar teaching that we find so uninspiring?

          Can’t you just see Jesus shaking his head at the two of us, well-intentioned priests in his Church, and rebuking us, along with Peter: “Get behind me, Satan!  For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

          And so we are!  There is probably no harder directive than the one which asks us to deny ourselves and take up our cross to follow Christ.  And I think part of our aversion to a text like this is our honest admission that actually, we don’t want to do this.  Not really.  Not completely.  Who among us is willing to lose their life for the sake of the Gospel? Who is motivated by this particularly challenge?  Isn’t it more human (and more honest) to be like Peter, and object to Christ’s need to suffer, while avoiding our own suffering at all costs?

          Historically, of course, there have been magnificent examples of courageous and selfless Christian faith— often from times and settings when Christians were persecuted for their faith, when faithful followers of Christ really did give up their lives for the sake of the Gospel.  When rather ordinary folk really did bear the cross, with their lives on the line.

          My daughters were quite taken aback by the description of young Tarcisius, who was featured in Lent Madness last week.  He was a 3rd century child martyr who died at the hands of an angry mob while bringing the Sacrament to prisoners, on behalf of the priests.  It was a dangerous time to be Christian, and the priests were easily recognized.  So young Tarcisius, an altar server, was tasked with bringing the consecrated Eucharist to the jail.  When a Christian symbol was spotted on the lid of the box he carried, a mob turned on him.  He preferred death to allowing the Sacrament to be spilled or desecrated.  Is this what it means to bear the cross?

          Consider another 3rd c. example- that of Cyprian of Carthage in North Africa.  In a letter to his friend, Donatus, Cyprian wrote:[1]

          “This seems a cheerful world, Donatus, when I view it from this fair garden under the shadow of these vines.  But if I claimed some great mountain and looked out over the wide lands you know very well what I would see. Brigands on the high roads, pirates on the seas, in the amphitheaters men murdered to please applauding crowds, under all roofs misery and selfishness.  It is really a bad world, Donatus, an incredibly bad world…”

          Would we say the same of our own contact, eighteen hundred years later?  We may not have brigands on the highways, or pirates on the seas, but our lives do know something of theft and greed.  Humans in every time, it seems, have been known to take delight in the misfortunes of others.  And in these hard times of our own, it is not difficult to find examples of misery and selfishness in our own context.  What would we see if we climbed some great mountain, or the tower above our church, and looked out over our own community?  -An environment in peril?  Avarice and greed?  Rising economic disparity between rich and poor?  A nation divided by politics?  Relationships in trouble?  People frustrated by the ongoing pandemic while more than half a million American families mourn their dead?

          Cyprian goes on to write, “Yet, in the midst of it I have found a quiet and holy people.  They have discovered a joy which is a thousand times better than any pleasure in this sinful life.  They are despised and persecuted but they care not.  They have overcome the world.  These people, Donatus, are the Christians, and I am one of them.”  Cyprian himself became a bishop.

          What if this were said of Christians today?  Wouldn’t it be something if people looked upon us, worshipping and praying and trying to lead faithful lives in the midst of these challenging times, and knew us to be a quiet and holy people, who have discovered a joy a thousand times better than any pleasure in this sinful life?

          Sometimes, we achieve this.  Sometimes our faith can free us to a peacefulness that surpasses human understanding.  Sometimes we can experience a grace so special, we know ourselves to be held in the embrace of a loving God.  Sometimes our experience of Christian community can be so fulfilling that it overcomes the burdens of the world.

          Other times, we find ourselves in Jesus’ words, setting our mind on human things, rather than on divine things, and we are far from Cyprian’s loving description.

          Jesus’ challenge to us, one that Cyprian’s community seems to have met well, is to overcome the world for the sake of Christ.  I suspect that most of us find this neither desirable nor easy.  For the truth of the matter is that we do live firmly rooted in this world.  Even in these days of quarantine, none of us are free from the demands, temptations and burdens of everyday life.  Christians we may be, but we are also mothers and father and grandparents, children and caretakers, workers, and retired folk.  We have obligations and desires that are not necessarily grounded in Gospel values, but that define our lives nonetheless.  We worry about worldly things: our income, our health, our families, our homes.  We pursue pleasures that bring meaning and happiness to our lives, and while not necessarily harmful, may not always be of God.  More often than not, our minds are set on human things because we are human and we do the best we can.

          Yet, Lent is a time for us to challenge ourselves. To face the Scriptures that demand much of us.  To acknowledge the commitment and devotion that Christ does ask of us.  It is tempting to explain away the Scriptures like our Gospel.  We convince ourselves that while Jesus may have needed his disciples to take up their cross, to lose their lives for his sake, such a demand is not relevant to us.  Perhaps in Cyprian’s day, when Christians were being persecuted, it was necessary that they overcome the world- but in our time- our world’s not so bad that we must forsake it completely.  Right?  We even trivialize the notion of taking up our cross: equating it with that annoying neighbor or our chronic back pain: “I guess that’s just the cross I have to bear!”

          The reality of the Gospel, however, is that the cross is not just some unfair burden we must bear, but a means of death.  To take up the cross is to take up that which would kills us, break us… not just annoy or pain us.  And most of us choose to avoid this at all costs.  In fact, I’ll suggest that it is likely we will always fail this challenge.

          I guess that’s why my friend John and I were resistant to this Gospel.  Here again is Jesus demanding something of us that we are loathe to do.  Here is that age-old challenge that we know we will always fail.  Take up your cross.  Lose your life for my sake.  Deny yourself.

          In our Gospel, Jesus directs his comments to Peter, the other disciples, and the crowd.  But he is also speaking about himself.  For it is Christ who will take up the cross, who will lose his life for the sake of others and the Gospel.  It is Christ who will forfeit his life, rather than gain the whole world.  It is Christ who gives his all to us, in return for his life.

          We may be expected to do the same, but the truth is that we will fail in our attempts every time.  It is only in our dependence upon Christ, to walk the way of the cross on our behalf, that we are saved.  It is not by our own doing.  But by the selfless act of Christ, who does for us what our own selfishness prevents us from doing on our own,

          I once heard someone suggest that Lenten disciplines are most effective when they really challenge us.  For what do we gain from giving up coffee or chocolate for 40 days, other than the self-satisfaction of having met a goal?  But by choosing a discipline that challenges us to fail, we come to recognize that they only way we are to grow spiritually is through our dependence upon Christ.

          Our Gospel provides a similar challenge.  Christ calls us to bear our own cross, to lose our life for the sake of the gospel, to follow him, even into suffering and death.  He sets the bar high.  His standards are impossible to meet.  And, ultimately, it is Christ who must do it for us, since we cannot do it ourselves.  By failing this challenge, we come to recognize our dependence upon Christ for our salvation.  We cannot do it alone.  It is the cross Christ bears for us.

          And for this we say, with upmost humility: Thanks be to God.

          Amen.

The Rev. Eleanor Applewhite Terry

Sermon for 1 Lent B; February 21, 2021

Good Shepherd, Acton

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts, be always acceptable in your sight, O God, our Strength and our Redeemer. Amen.

It’s been hard to get through the last month without thinking about the weather. The cold and snow here has been manageable, but I’m hearing more complaints about it, especially as we endure the isolation of the pandemic on top of winter. The real weather news, of course, has been out in Texas and the Pacific Northwest, as millions in those regions have experienced uncommon winter storms resulting in horrific challenges. Our hearts are with those who have lost their lives and all those suffering as a result of loss of power, water, and access to help. For those of you who might be able to assist, I commend the efforts of Episcopal Relief and Development. Their disaster relief fund is providing much needed assistance to communities affected by these winter storms across many states.

When I lived in Portland, Oregon for three years, the only significant snow I ever saw was in the mountains. But rain, as you might imagine, was plentiful, especially in the winter. Their rain, however, is very different from our rain. Oregon winter rain is like mist— damp and fine. Thunderstorms and heavy downpours are rare. I never quite got used to the odd phenomenon of “rain with sun breaks” out there- which often meant you needed to drive with both your windshield wipers and your sunglasses on at the same time. Bright, glaring sun would shine down between clouds that drizzled damp, cold rain. A meteorological oxymoron — but one that produced brilliant rainbows.

Rainbows are always a welcome and stunning sight, don’t you think? In Oregon, they helped keep me sane in the midst of the otherwise dreary winters. -A promise that the rains would eventually end, and a sign that, yes, the sun still shines up there somewhere. I pray that those who suffered through the Portland snow and ice storms recently, will soon be treated to rainbows instead. And may they shine over Texas, too.

Rainbows, as we are reminded in our first Scripture today, are a sign of God’s promise and covenant with us. In this passage from Genesis, the great flood has ended. -Perhaps all that is left of the rain is the light mist of an Oregon drizzle. And Noah and the animals and his family are invited by God into an eternal covenant. “Never again,” God promises, “shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” A rainbow is given as a sign and reminder of the covenant God has established with Creation. And from this point on in Scripture, water becomes a sign of life, rather than death.

So it’s fitting, that as Jesus begins his public ministry, he does so after rising from the waters of the Jordan River. Jesus’ baptism, like our own, inaugurates and empowers his ministry. In baptism, that which has always been true becomes known: Jesus is named, and claimed, and loved by God. And it is through the waters of baptism that Jesus is strengthened for the challenges which lie ahead. Immediately after his baptism, the Spirit drives him into the wilderness, where for forty days he is tempted by Satan. How quickly the glaring light of God’s Spirit, descending like a dove on Jesus, is overshadowed by the wilderness of temptation!

I have never been to the Holy Land, but I am told that the contrast between the lush fertile valley where the Jordan River flows and the barren desert just over the mountains is startling. Martin Smith, in a wonderful little book of Lenten reflections called A Season for the Spirit describes the landscape as viewed from the ruins of the ancient city of Jericho. “Imagine yourself sitting with me in these ruins,” he writes. “We are looking south down the deepest cleft in the earth and in the distance the Dead Sea is shimmering in the intense heat like a lake of mercury. To the east the river Jordan snakes towards it, and the mountains of Moab from which Moses had seen the Promised Land tower beyond. To the west rise the massive brown hills of the wilderness, rent by deep gorges… This is the place where we are all invited to stand at the beginning of another Lent to take in the meaning of this movement from the river to the desert, and to be caught up in it ourselves.”

Another book of Lenten reflections, A Spring in the Desert, which we will be discussing in our Lenten forum beginning today, explores a similar theme, “rediscovering the water of life in Lent.” As we come upon almost a full year of pandemic life, the images of desert and water, resonate with me as I thirst for new life after so much time in the metaphorical desert of quarantine.

The closest I have ever come to being in desert wilderness was in the Grand Canyon where my husband and I once spent 17 days hiking and rafting and camping along the Colorado River. One day our guides took our group on what affectionately became known as “The Death March.” -An 11 mile hike up a side canyon, across a desert plateau, and down another canyon, where we would meet up with our rafts (and the less adventurous members of our group) five miles down river from where we had begun. Because the rafts would need to travel these five miles to meet us, there was no turning back. Once we committed to the hike, we had to go all the way through.

It was an extraordinary day: exhausting, exhilarating, hot and amazing. After hiking all morning up the tedious switch-backs of the first, steep, side canyon, we came to a lush oasis, where a spring of water gushed from the side of a canyon wall. Trees suddenly appeared. There was shade and cool breeze, and even a somewhat tame wild turkey that begged for scraps from our lunch. It was amazing to experience the life that suddenly sprung forth in the midst of a desert wherever there was water. After our lunch break, we hiked away from the spring and across a flat, barren, hot desert plateau. It took hours to cross. And there was nothing around us except low desert brush, the occasional cactus, and the potential for rattle snakes.

The difference, of course, between the lush oasis and the total desolation of the desert was the presence of water. It was not something created or controlled by human beings. And as we hiked across the swath of desert, it was easy to feel insignificant. Nothing in that landscape relied upon us. And the landscape offered us nothing back in return.

Lent invites us to enter the desert landscape of our spiritual lives. To journey to that place where the only life-giving essence comes from God. Where we are forced to realize that we neither control nor create anything that we need. We are utterly dependent upon God.

Often, such experiences of spiritual wilderness sneak up on us when we least expect it- and when we are least prepared to handle it. We don’t always get to the choose, as Bronson and I did, to enter the wilderness as tourists, accompanied by our beloved, and some skilled guides who know the trail and how much water we would need for our journey. Instead, the landscape of spiritual wilderness often overtakes us uninvited, and catches us off guard- making us profoundly aware of how much we must rely upon God for our survival and well-being.

Yet even though we can’t always know when the spiritual wilderness will overtake us, the Church, in her wisdom, has set aside these forty days each year as practice for when the going get really tough. If we take its disciplines and challenges seriously, Lent helps us get spiritually in shape for the trials that may be yet to come. For Jesus, his forty days in the wilderness prepared him to better face the challenges of ministry, and eventually, the cross. And for us, these 40 days of Lent provide the opportunity to develop spiritual disciplines that can sustain us for the long haul.

As we enter Lent this year, consider how God might be calling you to use these forty days as you travel the landscape that lies between us now and Easter. What intentional practice of prayer, Scripture reading, study and service might you take on? What habits, temptations, and parts of you might best be let go?

In the words of our Ash Wednesday service, “I invite you therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.”

We pursue these disciplines not because we have to, but because they can be life-giving. Like the water in the desert, and the sun-splashed rainbows on a rainy day, they can sustain our spirit and make us ever mindful of the need we all have for a deepened relationship with God.

May yours be a holy and life-giving Lent. Amen.

The Rev. Canon Martha Hubbard

Sermon and Postscript for Morning Prayer on Sunday, October 11, 2020

recorded via Zoom by

The Rev Canon Martha L. Hubbard

Canon for the Northern & Western Region

The Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts

The Rev. Melissa Buono

Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost 6.28.2020

Church of the Good Shepherd, Acton, Massachusetts

Rev. Melissa Buono, Interim Priest

Readings: Jer. 28:5-9; Ps 89:1-4,15-18; Romans 6:12-23; Matthew 10:40-42

Welcome back to the final installment of Jesus’ “Missionary Discourse” “How to Follow Jesus,” brought to you by Matthew Chapter 10.

The first installment was a lesson in Jesus showing his disciples how it’s done - moving from town to town and sharing the message of God’s love and mercy, and having compassion on God’s people by feeding and healing them and tending to their needs.

Having shown them, Jesus then sent out his followers, called Apostles meaning “those sent out” to go out and follow his example. They were to take no payment for their service, bring no bag of coins, no extra clothes, sandals or staff. They were sent out as sheep in the midst of wolves.

The second installment brought understanding that they would be rejected by some people, mocked and criticized by others, but through it all they need not fear. God would be their rod and their staff along the way. But they should be forewarned that the message of salvation that they bring to the weak and the marginalized will cause your closest relationships to be challenged, father and son, mother and daughter, as those who challenge you will likely be members of your own household.

And finally in this last bit, the last couple of verses of Matt. chapter 10, we learn a little something about hospitality.

At first read, this week’s Gospel lesson might sound like a directive to simply be hospitable to others by serving them with a cup of cold water on a hot muggy day or with a cup of hot coffee with steamed milk on a beautiful Sat. morning, for doing so will bring great reward. However, that’s not where Matthew has Jesus go with this teaching.

A closer reading of the text says, “whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”

Did you catch that subtle difference? It’s not asking you or me to welcome others, but it’s charging us to be the ones welcomed by those willing to accept the message of God’s love for the building up of God’s kingdom on earth.

If you think about it, the whole text has been about what Jesus’ disciples should expect when they are sent out as sheep among wolves. So far, Jesus has been teaching the warnings of what to expect the reaction of some people to be. But in this lesson, Jesus speaks of the promise that is to come for one who is faithful in bringing the message of God’s kingdom.

And the promise is connected to the ancient understanding of hospitality. Throughout the Bible, the gift of showing hospitality especially to the stranger in your village was very important. No one was ever to be left outside to sleep in the town square. Doing so, would leave one vulnerable to the bandits and thieves who were most active at night.

The thing is, in the ancient world, there’s no such thing as the “rugged individual” that we know today. Instead one’s identity was connected to one’s family and the community in which one lived. Therefore, it was understood that in showing hospitality, one welcomed not just an individual, but wholeheartedly accepted the community who sent the person and all that they represent. The connection being that those who welcomed a disciple of Jesus, welcomed the very presence of Jesus as well as God, the Father who sent him to earth in the first place.

This passage therefore is speaking about the people that do the welcoming to you and to me and to all Jesus’ followers. We are not the ones welcoming anyone, instead it is about the disciples being welcomed by others. They and we, are to go out and preach like the prophets of old, bringing a word of God’s love, and in turn they will receive a prophet’s reward.

Here we must ask ourselves, what is a prophet’s reward?

Think about John the Baptist. He was sent as a prophet to prepare the way for Jesus’ coming. What happened to him when he took on the King and pointed out his adulterous behavior? His head was cut off.

Think about the prophets of the Old Testament? How was Moses received by Pharaoh when he came with a message from God to let God’s people go? Let the slave labor that was enriching Egypt’s economy go free? He was told no, and no, and no again - that was until God made it clear who Pharaoh was really dealing with.

What of Ezekiel, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos? Each one faced very difficult challenges because they brought a message that was not all peaches and cream. Their calling, their mission was to speak to God’s people to remind them of their sin and call them back to relationship with God. How popular do you think the prophets were in their time?

The reward of the prophet is not welcome parades and be pampered with hospitality. The reward of the prophet is less tangible in that one is seen as righteous in the eyes of God. In other words, being seen as doing the right thing according to God is more important that being liked by members of one’s community.

The reading from the book of Jeremiah is a classic example of this. The true prophets usually came with a message of war, famine, and persecution of some kind. But they weren’t the only players in town. There were also false prophets - fair weather friends - who said that they spoke a message from God, but in fact, they were just telling the people what they wanted to hear in that moment to make them feel better.

Hmmm, by this understanding, and in our own 21st c, might this be one of the reasons that immunologist Dr. Fauci is being vilified in social media by those who don’t want to hear that the Coronavirus pandemic is real and that everyone needs to take precautions to prevent its spread?

Idk, that’s something you need to decide for yourself.

See even in the time BCE (before the Common Era), people had to decide for themselves what prophets to believe.

In the Jeremiah lesson, the ancient people of Judah were taken captive by their enemy, the Babylonians. They were ripped from their land, no longer able to worship in the Temple and some of the sacred vessels used in worship were stolen by the Babylonians as well. The people’s live were so uprooted and they were living much like we are today with coronavirus not knowing what was next and what to do.

And there were these two prophets: Hananiah and Jeremiah each proclaiming different messages. And they had to choose.

Would they accept the message of Hananiah that their time of exile at the hands of the Babylonians would be over soon and their lives would be restored? Or would they listen to the weeping prophet Jeremiah, who showed up wearing a literal yoke around his neck, as a sign that they were going to live under Babylonian rule for quite some time and they might as well begin to build houses and plant gardens and live out their lives in this new reality because it wasn’t about to change back anytime soon?

Who do you think the people listened to?

The prophet with the rosy message? or the just hang in for this rough ride?

Jeremiah said to all those gathered, yes indeed, I hope all ends as Hananiah prophesies, wouldn’t it be great. But that’s not the word that I received from God. But the only way to find out who was telling the truth was to wait and see how things played out.

In the meantime, which prophet’s word will you live by?

In the case of Jeremiah, he was telling the truth even though many people thought his prophecy felt like they were giving in to the oppressors. But Jeremiah also announced a prophecy of judgment against Hananiah, that came to pass two months later. The last sentence of Jeremiah chapter 28 reads, “In that same year, in the 7th month, the prophet Hananiah died.” That was 2 months after the two prophets clashed.

So what does all this mean for us as church in the 21st century?

Who are the ones sent out to proclaim the Kingdom of God today?

Who are the prophets of our day calling people back to the Lord?

We are.

We are a people who are sent out to bring good news to the poor, the sick, and those living in the margins of life.

And we can no longer expect or wait for people to come to the church for spiritual nourishment.

Instead we need to find ways to be the church beyond our walls. We need to be out in our communities, whether it’s standing with Black Lives Matter - like the folks at ACC, or with Mothers Out Front, or reaching out to the police departments in each of our communities to ask how can we help? Finding ways to support immigrant communities through volunteering with groups like Progente to teach English.

This is the reality of the world - there are powers and principalities at work seeking to snuff out the Gospel. We can’t sit back and wait for someone else to make things better. We need to continue doing our part to share the message of God’s love and salvation through Jesus Christ in our words and our deeds. But we can’t do it having an eye focused on some immediate glory.

Our call given in baptism, is to be a people of justice and mercy, even when it’s not popular to do so, but to know at the end of the day, that it’s the next right thing to be done.

AMEN.

The Rev. Melissa Buono

Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter 5.3.2020

Church of the Good Shepherd, Acton, Massachusetts

Rev. Melissa Buono, Interim Priest

Readings: Acts 2:42-47; Ps. 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25; John 10:1-10

I’ve been looking to buy a bike for quite some time, to ride on the bike trails in the area and, as it turns out, the options are endless. John and I have rented bikes the last couple of years to try out different models and get a feel for what we like and don’t in a bike. Apparently electric assist bikes are all the rage now. I didn’t go for one of those, a decision I might regret later on. I have a cousin who has been an avid cyclist for many years and I’ve asked him on occasion about what to get for a bike, and without fail, he suggested I call Joyce at Pedal Power in Acton. She knows all there is to know about bikes. So about a week ago, I picked up the phone and called Pedal Power. I was glad when the voice on the other end said “this is Joyce, how can I help you?“

I asked Joyce how one buys a bike in this time of social distancing. As it turns out, there’s no trying out different models, (though I feel as though we did some of that already with our rentals). I explained where we expected to ride - basically on a bike trail, and told Joyce my height and she said, This is the bike I recommend for you and I have it in stock, and a week later, I was off to pick it up from the shop.

It wasn’t quite that fast and that’s not how I would normally make such a decision, but these are unusual times. In this case, I felt comfortable with Joyce’s recommendation. It was her down to earth manner and explanations that put me at ease with the decision, not to mention the number of people in town who recognize Pedal Power as THE place to buy a bike. In our conversations, she went over the features of the bike she was recommending and suggested that I look it up for myself and let her know if I wanted to proceed with that bike.

After my first ride, I’m quite pleased with my new wheels. And you might even say that in a manner of speaking, Joyce “shepherded” me through the decision, which on this 4th Sunday of Easter - sometimes referred to as Good Shepherd Sunday - seems rather apropos.

Each year of the 3 year lectionary cycle, the reading for the 4th Sunday of Easter is a selection from chapter 10 of the Gospel of John. It is the point in the story where Jesus describes himself with various aspects of the good shepherd and hence the name for this Sunday. In this morning’s reading, Jesus begins with a parable of sorts (the closest thing to a parable in John’s gospel). In it, he extolls the virtues of the shepherd who cares for his flock as one who enters by the gate, is known by the gatekeeper, and who’s voice is familiar to the sheep. Above all, the shepherd’s sole aim is to care for and protect the flock.

Seeing that his audience was confused by this imagery, Jesus went on to explain that he is not just the shepherd but he is also the gate through which the sheep enter and exit. To which I think, ah yes, much clearer now. - not really.

The sheep follow the voice of the shepherd relying on him to protect and provide for them. In the 1st c, several shepherds would lead their flocks into the sheepfold at night to protect them from predators like poachers and thieves, as well as other animals like wolves. And in some cases, the shepherd would lay down in front of the entrance to the sheepfold, literally laying down his life for the sheep. In the morning, each shepherd would call his sheep and lead them out of the sheepfold and out to pasture where they would graze in the fields.

At first glance, it might seem that Jesus was talking with his disciples and sharing this image of the shepherd. However, this passage is meant to be understood in the context of the events of the previous chapter - chap 9 - which is the story of Jesus healing the man born blind (which we heard during Lent). The numbered verses and chapter breaks make this seem as if it’s a separate event, but most scholars agree that this is the commentary that follows that earlier healing story. This means that the audience includes the Pharisees, the newly seeing man, perhaps his parents, and members of the synagogue as well as the disciples.

In essence, Jesus was trying to show the Pharisees that in their harsh treatment of the man born blind - questioning him again and again as to who and how he received his sight, rather than giving thanks for the healing - that they were like the bandits trying to sneak into the sheepfold by ways other than the gate; that they were making rules for the people that were above and beyond what God required, and thus were not protecting the sheep as they were supposed to do.

I admit, it’s a bit of a confusing analogy. And the text says more about who Jesus is and isn’t, than anyone else. There isn’t a one to one correspondence with the characters of the parable. Instead it calls us to reflect on what does it look like for us to follow the voice of Jesus?

What does that mean and how do we recognize Jesus’ voice among the many others we hear each day? And how do we discern the difference?

Think about all the voices you hear every day - The voices of the household you live in, those you work with, your friends and neighbors.

There are advertising voices trying to convince us that we need xyz product or service. There’s the music we listen to. There are journalists and reporters, bloggers and “experts”, talk show hosts, radio broadcasters - like sports radio announcers - news media personalities, Late show comedians? and more.

There are a lot of voices that bombard our ears each day. Have you ever considered what kind of influence that might have on our way of seeing the world?

What about the voice of Jesus? Where and when do we hear that voice? Presumably, we hear it in our Sunday worship in the readings, the prayers, and the hymns. If we have a practice of praying or listening to one or more of the daily offices, morning prayer, evening prayer or compline. And by spending time in prayer with the Scriptures, we cultivate a kind of listening of the heart.

And it’s a process and it’s part of the journey of faith to grow in our understanding of what it means to follow the voice of Jesus.

We listen to the stories of the Bible each week so as to learn something about how to conduct ourselves in the world in ways that convey the love of God to all people. It just so happens that it’s easier to convey that love to the people who think like we do, but it’s equally important to share God’s love with those who disagree with our point of view.

In the midst of this time in which people are so polarized in their views about almost everything, from the mundane of do you like coffee from Starbucks or Dunkins, to the more serious do you believe in climate change or not, there’s a sense in which this time of stay at home orders has been like a “time out” for the world. It can be an opportunity to dig deep within ourselves and find the reset for humanity.

What if we were to turn off the tv and the radio, shut off facebook and twitter, and focus on what really matters; taking care of ourselves, our families, and our neighbors. Get out and garden and cultivate a love for the earth; take stock of the flowers and trees growing and the grass under our feet. Think about the gift of water, clean and fresh from the tap and what does it take to keep that water clean and flowing for whole communities?

The 23rd psalm seems to bring it all together. Jesus is the Good Shepherd who provides for all that we need - time and space for rest in green pastures and still waters; restorative measures for the soul. Direction that leads to abundant and fruitful life. Comfort and presence, food and anointing. A song of trust in the midst of life’s challenges.

I encourage you to take time this week to listen to Jesus and hear the voice of our trusted Good Shepherd.
Amen.

The Rev. Melissa Buono

Sermon for the third Sunday of Easter 4.26.2020

Church of the Good Shepherd, Acton, Massachusetts

Rev. Melissa Buono, Interim Priest 

Readings: Acts 2:14a,36-41; Ps. 116:1-3, 10-17; 1Peter 1:17-23; Luke 24:13-35

This story of the Emmaus road reminds me of my visit last year to Minneapolis where I thought I’d get to see my dear friend and former seminary roommate Dawn, one more time before the ravages of colon cancer would take her life. But alas, I was too late. She had died 2 weeks earlier in the early hours of Easter Sunday morning.

It was the first time in the 9 years they lived in MN that I visited their home and saw the church where her husband was the Sr. Minister and she had done a great deal of teaching as well.

And on my visit, her husband Daniel and I walked for about an hour through their neighborhood, traveling our own Emmaus Road, and remembering Dawn. Our conversation was of happier times of their vacations back East in MA and RI, recalling our days at the seminary, her life before cancer and her struggle in it, and how bleak the future looked without her.

Unlike the 2 disciples of Luke’s story, I don’t recall being joined by any strangers on our walk, but I think Jesus was with us all the same, in our heartbreak and grief.

The Gospel lesson from Luke this morning takes us on a journey down a long and difficult road of heartbreak and grief as well. It’s the story of 2 friends or a married couple, both followers of Jesus and known to the other disciples. They are deeply upset and grieved by the events of Jesus’ death, the unfairness, the cruelty, along with the fact that he simply is no longer with them.

They’ve heard the story of the women at the empty tomb and how they saw Jesus, but the friends don’t know what to make of that tale. Peter and John went to the tomb after the women and confirmed that it was empty but they didn’t see Jesus.

They are confused, maybe even feeling silly for having believed that Jesus would be the Savior of God’s people Israel. Their hearts are filled with grief for Jesus as far as they know is dead. They didn’t understand resurrection any more than we do. They knew of Lazarus and a few others being raised from the dead, but resurrection? that was complete mystery.

While some of the other disciples hunkered down together in an upper room in Jerusalem, hiding out and wondering what’s next, Cleopas and his companion want to get away from it all; away from the crowds, the noise, the Roman soldiers, the smell of the air, and the anguish. A long walk to the countryside might help clear their heads and give them some perspective.

Ken GIre in his book Moments with the Savior, writes that they had several options as to where they could go. “The road north leads to Ephraim, but that was too far. The road east leads to Jericho, but that was too dangerous. The road south leads to Bethlehem but that was too glaring a reminder of all they were wanting to forget. And so they take the road west. The road to Emmaus.”

We’ve all been on the road to Emmaus at one point or another in our lives. It’s the road travelled when the things we had hoped for don’t work out: the marriage or relationship that failed; the business that went south; the school application rejected; the life lost to cancer or COVID or other disease.

And along that road, friends walk and talk, and share with each other all that had transpired as they tried to wrap their heads around it.

The conversation of Cleopas and the unnamed companion was probably not unlike the conversations we are having with family members and friends, (albeit 6 ft apart), whether out for a walk in the yard or the neighborhood, or on zoom or FaceTime. Together we go over all that’s happening right now and expressing the sadness and frustration and revealing a piece of what we are all experiencing.

Cleopas and his companion walk and talk and at some point they find themselves joined on the road with a stranger. They wonder, who is this one that knows nothing of the events of Jesus’ death and rumored resurrection? It’s all everyone is talking about, how could he not know?

And as they articulate their struggle to comprehend the events of the last days, the stranger lightly chides them asking, wasn’t this all necessary? Wasn’t this what Jesus said would happen? And to help them see the bigger picture, the broader history, Jesus shared with them the stories of the Scriptures from Genesis on through the prophets, helping them to see the bigger picture of life and why things unfolded as they did.

But it wasn’t until later in the evening, when they had invited the kindly stranger home with them, and gathered at the table, that suddenly their guest took on the role of host as he took the bread, blessed and broke it and gave it to them to eat. It was then, in that moment, that they recognized the Savior Jesus, and their grief turned to joy as they recalled the warming of their hearts in their earlier conversation with him. Oh how life had been transformed in that moment and oh how life continues to be transformed for each of us today as it has in every generation.

In 2020, COVID-19 has certainly changed the way of life for people around the world. And yet, probably one of the hardest challenges of this coronavirus outbreak is the social distancing - not being able to get together with extended family or friends, be it for celebrations or in mourning.

Granted some people have been able to find some creative ways to see loved ones they’ve been separated from - like the 88 year old Watertown man (Nick) whose wife has been in a nursing home for the last year. He sat by her bedside every day until precautions were put in place and the facility had to stop allowing visitors. Seeing his father’s devastation at being separated, the couple’s son put out a plea on FB for a bucket truck and shortly thereafter he had plenty of offers to help with his mission to get his dad to see his wife of 61 years. Strapped in and hoisted 3 stories up, Nick was finally able to see Marion through the screen of her window, and it was such joy.

In this time we must look for ways to journey with one another and to be the good news of Christ’s resurrection in the world. The Mission Outreach team has been thinking about this recently and later in the service, Barb Magee and Helene Gagliano are going to share with you some ideas of how you can get involved.

In the meantime, let’s remember that even in our darkest moments, we are not alone. The Lord Jesus is with us and gives us the strength to journey on. And so we must keep walking and listening to one another, welcoming the stranger and breaking bread together. For in these simple acts, we are neighbor to one another as we are gathered into one in Christ.

Amen.

The Rev. Melissa Buono

Sermon for the Easter Sunday 4.12.2020

Church of the Good Shepherd, Acton, Massachusetts

Rev. Melissa Buono, Interim Priest 

Readings: Acts 10:34-43; Colossians 3:1-4; Ps. 118:1-2, 14-24; Matthew 28:1-10

In the name of Our Risen Lord, Alleluia! Amen!

Alleluia! Christ is Risen! He is Risen indeed! Alleluia!

Happy Easter my dear friends! and while this has been a most unusual and certainly unforgettable Holy Week and now Easter, I want to thank you for your prayers and your virtual presence throughout this difficult and challenging time.

I began my first sermon on zoom quoting the Grateful Dead and little did I know just “what a long and strange” Lenten and now Easter journey this would be.

The thing is, despite all the inconvenience of working remotely, and not being able to gather in person, there has been the joy of connecting with you by phone and email. And if we’ve not had a chance to connect as yet, do not fear, members of the Vestry and congregation and I are continuing our parish wide outreach to you all and will do so in the weeks ahead.

I’d like to encourage you to look at who’s on this call and think about who’s not here and maybe reach out to them by phone or with a card this week, so that they know they are missed.

But it’s good to hear your voices and see your faces on the zoom sessions! I think we realize in these calls how much we miss one another and how much we care about each other.

Being able to meet online though doesn’t take away from the unsettling fact that everything about this Holy Week and Easter is different this year! From the social distancing and stay-at-home orders, to the zoom gatherings and technical glitches, even the liturgy itself is different with weekly Morning Prayer and the unusual Triduum or 3 Days observance. My apologies to you if you got bounced out of the meeting last night. I had to close out the meeting and start it again and I fear some of you got lost in that transition.

How we long for what used to be - to gather in this space, to greet one another with the sign of peace, to hear the footsteps of the children as they run pell mell up the stairs and into the sanctuary after their lessons, to lift our voices in prayer and song, and of course to share in the Holy Eucharist, as well as our coffee hour gatherings and celebrations.

Let us sit with that longing for a moment. Let us take in this sabbath rest from our usual practice as we pause to reflect on the Easter story. For there are things about this story that we can perhaps relate to in ways that we likely couldn’t in years past. Our customs and patterns of being in Holy Week and Easter are so in-grained that perhaps we missed parts of the Easter Resurrection story because after all, we know how this story ends.

This year, we’ve not had to worry about the accoutrements of worship - no banners to hang, no ceremonial stripping of the altar, ... and not that these things are unimportant, but without them, it’s given us more time to reflect on the story without being swept up in the busyness of the season’s preparations. It’s allowed us space to think about what really matters in this season.

Although in other ways, we are more distracted on the home front from juggling working from home, and online learning for our children to worrying about whether you’ll have a job or a small business to return to. There are fears about lost income and getting needed medications, anxiety about vulnerable loved ones with activities and learning curtailed. There are fears around testing positive for COVID-19 and enduring the awful effects of the virus. Indeed it is a time fraught with worry and fear as we consider the bigger picture of what is happening to the world as we know it.

We all long for an end to this coronavirus and for things to get back to “normal.” But what is normal and what if this is an opportunity to create a new normal? What shall we keep? What needs to change? The text this morning from Matthew even feels strange; I’m so used to hearing the Easter proclamation from the Gospel of John. And reading the account of the women at the tomb has made me go back and read it again as the details are not so familiar.

For unlike the other gospel writers, Matthew does not mention the women’s task of bringing spices to anoint the body of Jesus as the burial happened so quickly in order to finish before the sabbath had begun. Instead Matthew has the women going back just to see the tomb. They had been there earlier; they had watched as Joseph of Arimathea laid Jesus’ body in the new tomb and then rolled a great stone to the door and went away. But Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb until the start of the sabbath when they returned to their home.

What was that Sabbath like for the women? Surely it was unlike any other. They must have been reeling from the events of Jesus’ death and the unfairness of it all - what wrong had he done? No wonder they went back to the tomb at the first opportunity when sabbath was ended and the light was just beginning to break in the day.

In his account, Matthew describes the scene with “dramatic effect” recalling a great earthquake and the descending of an angel of the Lord with a dazzling appearance who then rolled back the stone and sat on it. There were guards who fell over like corpses and the 2 women were filled with fear and awe.

I wonder if the earthquake was an aftershock or even set in motion by the shaking of the earth and splitting rocks that occurred when Jesus drew his last breath on the cross? it was during that shifting of earth that the understanding of the centurion shifted as did that of the others who were keeping watch over Jesus. With their new realization, they announced, “Truly this man was God’s Son.” Was it seeing the mighty hand of God rumble the earth that convinced them? What would they think of the greater act of God’s power that would come in the morning?

The appearance of the angel proved too much for the guards at the grave. They shook and became like dead men themselves, and as such they missed the messenger of the Lord. But the angel spoke to the women bringing a word of comfort: “Do not be afraid.” The angel went on to confirm what had taken place saying to the women, “I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has been raised, just as he said would happen.” And then he invited them to come and see the place where Jesus’ body had been laid.

Again, Matthew’s gospel leaves out some of the details of the other accounts; there is no sharing of what was seen inside the tomb, no talk of the burial clothes left behind. The sense is that we need not linger at the tomb, and the time for grieving is done. Instead we must go and share the good news of Jesus’ resurrection, for he who was dead, is now alive.

Having heard that Jesus would meet them in Galilee, the women immediately left the tomb to go and find the others and tell them what they had seen and were told. They were filled with both fear and great joy. Would the others believe them? They were women after all, living in a culture that did not count women among those to be trusted or believed. But things had happened just as Jesus said they would when he told them that he would die and on the 3 day be raised again.

You can almost feel their excitement and curiosity, the mix of emotion running through them as they try to make sense of the messengers’ news. And if all was not feeling surreal enough for the women, suddenly they were joined on the road by a figure who said to them “Greetings!”

Who was this? Could it be Jesus? Surely they recognized him as they came to him. They took hold of his feet and worshipped him. Then Jesus echoed the words of the angel saying “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

The joy of Easter is that though the tomb is empty, Jesus is with us still. And though he died, he lives again in glory. Like the message to the Mary’s, Jesus calls to each of us, Be not afraid! for despite the dangers of this world, we are forever in God’s care.

Things are changing all around us, some more rapidly than others, and it’s hard to take it all in, and it’s easy to be filled with fear and dread, but know that because Jesus lived and died and rose again, God is with us. Listen to Jesus and do not be afraid. May we sing with the psalmist who said, “On this day the Lord has acted, we will rejoice and be glad in it.”

In whatever you are facing this day, may you know the comforting presence of the Risen Christ!

A blessed Easter to you my sisters and brothers!

Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Amen.

The Rev. Melissa Buono

Sermon for the Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday 4.5.2020

Church of the Good Shepherd, Acton, Massachusetts

Rev. Melissa Buono, Interim Priest 

Readings: Matthew 21:1-11; Psalm 31: 9-16; Isaiah 50;4-9a; Philippians 2:5-11; The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ according to Matthew (26:14-27:66)

This week I’ve been wrestling with the question: What is the significance of Palm Sunday? 

Yes, it’s our remembering of Jesus’ Triumphant entry into the city of Jerusalem. 

You will recall, the population of Jerusalem had swelled as 1000s of pilgrims journeyed to the Holy City to celebrate the High Holy day of Passover. Many of the people gathered there in Jerusalem, were from the villages of Galilee and had witnessed Jesus’ healings, and heard his teaching. And having seen Jesus enter the city, they gave him a hero’s welcome, as he too came to observe the Passover. 

The picture though is not one of military strength, but of a humble king riding not on a well decorated steed, but on a donkey - and not even a donkey, but the calf of a donkey. He wasn’t dressed in the finest royal capes with rings on his fingers - he wore his usual garb - a tunic and sandals. There were no trumpets blaring “Hail to the Chief” - just the cheers of the crowd as they gathered and reached out to touch Jesus and moved with him through the crowded narrow streets. And instead of the Hollywood red carpet, the peasants laid down their cloaks (probably the only one they owned) and laid them on the ground for Jesus and the donkey to walk on. Others cut branches from palm trees to lay before his path. Dating back to ancient Egypt, the palm branch is a sign of victory, triumph, peace and eternal life. Even in ancient Greece, winning athletes were awarded a palm branch. 

The peasants loved Jesus. They saw in him someone who was on their side for a change. He gave them hope in God’s vision for a new kingdom, a world without pain and suffering and hardship. And they were excited for Jesus to enter the city because they expected that he had to finally clash with the powers that be, and free them from the occupation they were living under with the Roman Empire. 

But of course, that’s not what Jesus rode into Jerusalem to do. He knew it would be his last visit to that city. He knew the end of his life was near. And he braced himself for the betrayal and arrest and false charges and mockery that was to come. 

The thing is, Jesus wasn’t the only parade in town that day. Because the city would be overflowing with visitors and pilgrims to celebrate the Passover, the Romans wanted to make sure there were no uprisings among the people, no one causing any trouble. So, on the opposite side of the city, at the western gate, Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor entered the city with the Imperial procession of calvary and soldiers and all the fanfare you would expect from a mighty leader. This royal parade was meant to show off the power and authority of the Roman Empire, lest the pilgrims forget who was in charge. Yes, they could have their festival, but it would not get out of hand. You see, the Romans were particularly vigilant about Passover because it was the celebration of the liberation of Israel from the violence of another empire that once ruled - Egypt and Pharaoh. And they didn’t want the Jews to be getting any ideas about another possible escape. 

Ultimately, Jesus’ crucifixion was the result of the clash between these two claims: Jesus and the Kingdom of God versus Pilate and the Roman Empire of which Caesar considered himself to be god. 

The significance of Jesus’ life and death for us today is located in the fact that Jesus did not succumb to the temptation, to the taunts and jeers of his captors. Just as Satan had done to Jesus in his 40 days in the wilderness after his baptism in the 3 temptations: turning stones into bread to eat; jumping off the peak of the Temple and asking God’s angels to rescue him; and bowing down to Satan in exchange for immediate power and authority over all without dying on the cross. The tempter had returned - as the voices say: Rescue yourself from the cross; come down here and prove to us that you’re the Son of God; He saved others, but he can’t save himself. 

The thing is, if Jesus had called on God to rescue him, we would have missed the greatest sign of God’s power over all, the Resurrection. In this one act, God shows ultimate power, taking on death and the grave, and showing that death does not have the final say, but that there is life in Christ after death. Why is this significant? 

Because today as we are living through this coronavirus outbreak, we know and can trust that God is with us - in our homes, in the hospital wards, the ICU, in hospice, in the ER and in the morgue. God is in the prisons, and in all the places where hope is diminished, God brings light and life. WHY? 

Because God is ALL IN. God doesn’t leave the scene when the going gets tough. God is ALL IN with us throughout the horrors of this pandemic - and God’s promise to be with us (Emmanuel) means God is with us to face whatever life throws our way - the loss of a spouse, of a parent, of a child, of a job, a home, a limb, one’s memory, whatever befalls us, God is with us in it. And when we think we can’t take another step or face another day, God is with us to be our companion, our strength, our whatever is needed in that moment to get us through. Think about Jesus, when he could barely carry himself to Golgotha let alone the heavy cross beam of his execution, Simon of Cyrene was pushed into service to help carry Jesus’ cross. 

God is ALL IN and doesn’t bail when the going gets tough. Jesus knew the difficult road before him, the brutality of the soldiers and the mocking of the people, and instead of rescuing himself from that moment, Jesus trusted in God to see him through to the other side - to the resurrection and life in God’s glory. 

Jesus is not afraid of the hard times; Jesus is not afraid of the pain of life; And that’s not to say that we’re supposed to behave in the same way as Jesus. Not at all. The point is, we don’t have to be the strong independent brave one facing every difficulty alone. Jesus is there for us to lean on, and Jesus has been through it before. And until Jesus returns to earth, he comes to us in the Body of Christ which is the church. and it is in that imperfect body that God works to provide what is needed at the right time. 

The last point I’ll make is that God is ALL IN for each and every one of you. And the beauty is that, it is true whether we believe it or not - because, our belief doesn’t change who God is. 

God is our creator and God loves who and what God has made. and while God may not like the choices and decisions we make in the way we treat one another (immigrants, poor people, prisoners, enemies), God is still ALL IN for us ALL.

AMEN