We all are Witnesses

Easter-tide, thank goodness, is a time of refreshment, rejuvenation, reorientation to life without holidays –a kind of opening of the way of normalcy. With any luck the weather will get better and soon spring sun will be the norm instead of a rare surprise. My tulips are beautiful on the rare occasion when there is enough sun for them to open up! This sense of return to normal is, I think, a major aspect of faith. It is easy enough to get whipped up by holiday hype, it is another thing to walk in love, to live the love that God asks us to live into. God asks us to understand in resurrection the idea that there is always renewal where there always is love in action. Resurrection is within us.

So it is that like Peter (Acts 2) and the other disciples, we are witnesses—[Acts 2:32] “This Jesus God raised up, and of that all of us are witnesses.”  Yes, Peter means that he and the disciples were witnesses of the risen Jesus. But he also means that all of us, you and me, if we have faith, if we live into our covenant with God that we love our neighbors as ourselves—we are witnesses of resurrection.

In this, then, is our joy. In the leaves popping out on stems that remind us spring is coming and life is abundant and that there is always renewal. This is our joy in the smiles and hugs of loved ones, in the greeting by the nice lady at the supermarket, in the sweet sound of a familiar voice—in a hundred moments in each day is the proof that resurrection is within us, that God has raised us up too, that our joy is complete in the fullness of the path God has pointed out for us, the doorway into the dimension of love [Psalm 16:11].

In his first epistle [1 Peter 1:3-9] Peter speaks of hope, of that sense of trust that is the essence of faith that our inheritance of love is “imperishable, undefiled, and unfading.” It is this hope that is the catalyst for Easter joy, the sense of renewal, or if I may, of salvation, which is “more precious than gold” because like all of life it has been “tested by fire.” We know that resurrection is within us if we can keep our feet on the path into the dimension of love.

John’s Gospel account of the risen Jesus’ visit to the upper room [John 20:19-31] leads usually to the focus on Thomas, whose “doubt” is revealed not only as very human but also as very intimate. Whatever Thomas’ failings, however momentary, the love he shares with Jesus is so powerful that the risen Christ comes to him to say “Do not doubt but believe.”

Jesus ends the story with the pronouncement “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Thus belief completes the circle of faith, the route back to love, the sure way to the dimension of love.

And so even we, the LGBTQ Thomases of our own time, we who are oppressed and outcast and reviled and distrusted even in our own “enlightened” day, we still believe, because we know the power of the love we have been given in our creation in God’s own image as inheritors of God’s love, as gatekeepers of God’s dimension of love. We know that resurrection is within us because we experience it every day, every moment, in the love we share. We all are witnesses. We all are blessed.

Second Sunday of Easter Year A 2023 RCL (Acts 2:14a, 22-32; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31)

©2023 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Rejoice

Happy New Year!

It is such a time of hope, the new year.

I find that in my own life it is the love my husband and I share that is the most important source of life and hope at the new year. Every year now we joke we should toast it early and pretend—“it must be the new year someplace!”—and every year we sit by the fire and listen to music until the magic hour. And then we toast the new year. We wake up to music from Vienna on our favorite radio stations and then we work on our hoppin’ John and collards and corn pones (my husband grew up in the south).

As I give thanks for the love we share, I remember that there was a time in my life when I could not have imagined that I could be married to a man. I recently shared in an online forum that back in the day it wasn’t so much that I was in the closet hiding, it was more that I didn’t know what it was or that it had a name or that it could actually “be.”

LGBTQ people all have some version of, some variation on, this sort of story. For many there is not so much a muddle as the face of oppression and the search for the dimension of love, in which it is blessed to be who we are, created as we are in the image of God, who after all, is all, who is love.

No wonder we enter each year with hope of the fulfillment of the realization of the manifestation of our own creation as God’s LGBTQ heirs.

And so the hope we carry all of our lives is rooted in the love with which we were created and nurtured, it is borne with the love that is in our hearts, it is the hope of the fulfillment of creation. The New Year is a good time to look forward, with hope.

In the church this year this Sunday is the feast of the Holy Name of Jesus, which means roughly “God is salvation.” It is this idea, that the manifestation of salvation eternally is being born among us, because after all, love is our salvation and love is our creation and love is all eternity within and through us. In Numbers 6 God teaches us that blessing comes from joy that love brings into our lives. In Galatians 4 we are reminded that we are heirs of God’s loving creation. And in Luke 2 we have the continuation of the story of the shepherd’s on the hillside tending their flocks when the angels appear to tell them of the birth of Jesus, who is salvation come among us. We forget these shepherd’s were at work, at night! And yet the story is full of the forward motion of the action of their response to the angels’ news—they went to Bethlehem, they saw, they proclaimed what they had seen and heard, and then full circle they returned to their work where they loved and rejoiced—they carried salvation with them in their loving joy.

Christmas is the certainty of the hope of God’s love for all of creation, The new year is a reminder to manifest, to fulfill, to realize, to see, then to “return,” to “proclaim,” to “rejoice,” to love.

The Holy Name of Jesus Christ (January 1) RCL 2023 (Numbers 6: 22-27; Psalm 8 Domine, Dominus noster; Galatians 4:4-7; Luke 2:15-21)

©2023 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Intersecting Dimensions of Love

It is interesting to ponder the intersection between the dimensions of the natural world and those of the soul. Of course, the soul inheres in us and we exist in the natural world. But do we inhere in the natural world, or do we only reside alongside it? In the Pacific Northwest now we are enjoying a few days of relatively cool weather, but the rain that was forecast never appeared. The trees are still stressed. Although the air smells clean and moist, we see another heat wave is coming in a few days and we wonder when we can look forward to our trademark rain. Even in Oregon, there usually is some rain in summer. If the trees are stressed, if the air seems thin with heat, are we stressed as well? Yes, of course we are. So, does the longing for rain inhere in our souls or in our minds or in both? And, where is the intersection between the dimensions of the soul and those of the natural world?

Psalm 130 is a lament of the soul longing for forgiveness “Out of the depths have I called to you … hear my voice … I wait …, my soul waits …, more than watchmen for the morning.” My immediate reaction was that at the moment we in the Pacific Northwest are watchpeople waiting less for morning than for rain. But you could say “I wait for rain, my soul waits for rain, more than watchpersons wait for the morning.” Thus, here we find a parallel between the dimension of the natural world and the dimension of the world of the soul. The truth of the dimension of the soul is that the forgiveness the lament awaits already has been given, the redemption, the salvation of unity with God already has been given. It is eternal. It is not that we wait for it so much as that we struggle to align our way of being with the dimension where salvation already exists. As Jesus says in all of the Gospels, the kingdom has come near. The question is can we get on the frequency of that dimension, can we learn to see the truth of our own salvation?

The letter to the Ephesians is clearly not written by Saint Paul, but is thought to embody his Gospel, as set in writing by one of his disciples. The essence of Paul’s Gospel is that we are intertwined by love. Again, it is about intersecting dimensions. Can we live in the dimension where love unites us with creation? In this week’s portion (Ephesians 4:25-5:2) we are given the tools we need to hone in on the dimension of God’s love: do not let the sun go down on anger; put away all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander and malice; be kind, tenderhearted, forgiving. This is how to live in love. This is how to occupy the dimension of God’s love. This is how to occupy the dimension of the soul. This is how the dimension of the soul intersects the dimension of the natural world. Love creates, love builds up, love is the source of all power.

I relish life in the dimension of the natural world, where, when I remember to dwell on the frequency of the dimension of love my soul melds with the natural world. Where my skin reflects the moisture in the air that I see in the trees. Where the flowering shrubs respond as quickly to the motion of the sun and the gentle breeze as does my heart. I am eternally grateful that the trajectory of the dimension of God’s love brought me back to this life in nature. I am even soothed by the new ways in which I see my sibling LGBTQ heirs of creation finding new forms of community, new ways to let our love shine as a light to lead the way to the dimension of living in the love which is ours in creation.

I give thanks for the mornings when the watch of God’s creation brings gentle peace to my soul in the intersection of the many dimensions of creation. I rejoice in the intersection of the dimensions of love.

Proper 14 Year B 2021 RCL (2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33; Psalm 130 De profundis; Ephesians 4:25-5:2; John 6:35, 41-51)

©2021 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

The Potential Moment of Love

Life is full of “surprises.” It is what makes life “interesting.” I’ve been having a string of these “interesting times” lately.

And yet, love keeps pulling me through.

And that is God’s message to us through Christ, that love is always the answer.

Today I look out my window at lush greenery under gentle almost-summer sunshine. My little family is slowly coming back together. My husband smiles; he is so filled with love it is at once a surprise and a comfort. But it clearly is his clue to resilience and longevity.

God tells us that as a church of believers God is our sure foundation. We have to translate that language a little bit. We have to understand that the “church” is a community designed for the building up of love. After all, that is what “worship” is all about, that we should all give as much love as we can in community. Think about how your heart melts during worship and how much love is built up in you before the end. Now, think about how that is true of every person in the worship. Now do you get it? It is for the “us” that we gather to worship, because when we do we build up that sure foundation of love.

When I first began evangelism (in the Episcopal way, I mean) in the LGBTQ community, I think the most striking reality for me was the sheer number of faithful LGBTQ people in the pews. It was a sign of the love in the hearts of our LGBTQ friends, that our love was helping to build up the community. And in the Episcopal Church, where we experienced not only tolerance, not only acceptance, but full communion and full community in the ordination of LGBTQ clergy and the support of adoption for LGBTQ families and the equalization of the marriage rite to apply to all humans—these all were signs of the active shared love of God. The second striking reality, then, was my discovery that everywhere I went in the Philadelphia gayborhood I encountered faithful LGBTQ people who were not members of any faith community but who were committed to walk in God’s love. I discovered walking those brick sidewalks and cobblestone streets, dropping by the William Way LGBT Community Center, tending a booth at PrideFest and OutFest, that there was a large community of LGBTQ people walking in love. Evangelism in this community was a joy. It was primarily the action of being lovingly present together.

Time is that inexorable human creation that we use to sequence events in God’s space that all always exist. Last Sunday I was unable to post here but I was able to celebrate on Facebook the 23^rd anniversary of my ordination as a priest. In the secular world today is Father’s Day. June is LGBTQ Pride month in the USA so many cities (like Portland, Oregon) are having pride festivals today (the traditional celebrations likely still virtual in places such as San Francisco and New York will take place next week, to coincide with the anniversary of the June 28, 1969 Stonewall Rebellion). In the church calendar it is the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost. The lessons include the stories of David and Goliath (1 Samuel 17: (1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49) and Jesus’ stilling of the storm (Mark 4:35-41). Both are fine examples of faith in the salvation of walking in love. David, facing the challenge of his life with love in his heart is confident that God’s love will prevail. David knows that God’s love is salvation in every aspect of life and that giving love is the deliverance God promises to all of us. Jesus is sleeping in the boat being tossed about on a stormy sea while the disciples tremble in panic. When their panic reaches a fever pitch they wake Jesus who rebukes them for forgetting to love, for letting their focus settle on fear instead of faith. The fact that Jesus is asleep shows us the power of the love of God that is full within him. The sea is stilled because love demands it.

In celebration of the anniversary of my ordination I posted this photo of me blessing folks immediately after the ordination.

As I look at that smile on my face I remember the feeling I had at the time that was not unlike the metaphor of the calm after the stilling of the storm that had been my decade-long walk toward that moment. The love in that moment was what set me out on those brick and cobblestones to bring the Good News to those in the LGBTQ community who so eagerly walked already in love.

In 2 Corinthians (6:1-13) Paul reminds us that “now” always is “the acceptable time … the day of salvation.” It is his way of reminding us that it is always the time for walking in love. The inexorability of space-time in the dimension of love means that now is always the culmination of all time and thus the culmination of our calling to walk in love. And now is always the potential moment of salvation because now is always the potential moment of love.

Our job as Christians is to keep God’s love uppermost always and never to give into fear. Our job as LGBTQ Christians is to continue always to walk in the love that is the God-given trait that defines our very creation. The potential moment of love is now.

Proper 7 Year B RCL 2021 (1 Samuel 17: (1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49; Psalm 9:9-20 Confitebor tibi; 2 Corinthians 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41)

©2021 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

To Be is to Love

There are so many ways of experiencing love it is at once awesome (in the original meaning of that word) and impossible to contemplate. I love a beautiful day, I love the sun and warmth that signal a beautiful day, I love the aroma of pine needles in the warm sun on a beautiful day, I love how my heart sings when I experience a beautiful day, I love loving on a beautiful day, I love loving, giving love makes my heart sing—and on and on I could go. To say “I love” is at once the most beautiful and intimate thing any human ever can say because it is not just an expression of affection but it is also an expression of trust. It means “I trust”—I trust how my heart sings on a beautiful day, I trust how my singing heart embraces you on a beautiful day. To love is to trust with our entire being.

It is this kind of love, trust in being, that God asks of us. Indeed, it is all God asks of us, because if we can love, then we love God and each other and creation all at once. God creates us in God’s own image, and God gives us all of creation to nourish and nurture us, and all God asks of us is that we return the favor, that we love God by creating love in every relationship, by mirroring the images of the beloved people in our lives, that we nourish and nurture each other and thereby we trust God and each other and all of creation with our entire being. To be is to love.

The story of the Passover (Exodus 12:1-14) is a core liturgy of Judaism. In the traditional meaning of “liturgy,” which is “the people’s work,” remembrance of the Passover is an expression of faith that takes place through actions of families. It is interesting that much of Jewish faith takes place in the family. The Passover seder is more than a ritual meal, it is ritual action that in its performance stirs the love of the people participating. This love, once stirred, insures the awareness of the presence of God. Like the original narrative from Exodus, it is the expression of trust among the members of a community in each other, in God and in all of creation. In particular, as God has given it to be “the beginning of months …,” it is not just a day but it is a ritual of the eternal beginning of redemption, for it is in the eternity of beginning that redemption finds its realization. When we begin to love, we begin to be, and to be is to love. In this remembrance we experience God giving God’s people, who are eternally created in God’s own image, God’s eternal promise of love.

Of course, LGBTQ families are more often “logical”—made up of people we love and who love us whose life trajectories have brought together—than biological (see “The Majesty of Love” https://rpsplus.wordpress.com/2020/07/26/the-majesty-of-love/). Our families are created by the outpouring of love—trust with our entire being—from our own hearts. God redeems God’s families created by the love of God’s children. God protects the families truly created by the outpouring of God’s love.

“’Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law”—(Romans 13:8-14). I think Paul is trying to say first and foremost that love is all, therefore love must be pure and unfettered. When we love, Christ (who is God with us) is loving through us. Paul goes on to say that “now is the moment to wake from sleep” because salvation is ours if we can be awake to it, if we can be alert to love, if we can trust God and each other and all of creation with our entire being. Paul says “lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.” He means to leave the night behind and embrace the morning, the day, the light, the beginning—it is this light that is the cloak of Christ—for it is in the eternal beginning that we embrace not only our redemption but, indeed, our very salvation. To wear this cloak is to love, to embrace beginnings.

In Matthew’s Gospel (18:15-20) Jesus says “whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.” Love is the binder; to trust with our entire being is to bind ourselves to each other, to God and to all of creation. Whereever love is, Christ who is God with us, also always is. It is for this reason that “if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. ” Whatever is bound with love is eternal. Whatever is bound with love is the eternal beginning of being, which is love.

 

Proper 18 Year A 2020 RCL (Exodus 12:1-14; Psalm 149 Cantate Domino; Romans 13:8-14; Matthew 18:15-20)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Great is our Faith

Staying connected during the pandemic has been an interesting challenge, one might even say it has been an interesting opportunity. Forced to “lock-down” or “quarantine” or “distance” we all have had to find ways to reach out for human contact. The need for human contact, of course, is more than social it is spiritual, because it is through our connections with each other that we manifest connection with God and with the energy we recognize as a universal life force (which, is God). It has been said more than a few times that introverts (like me and most of the people closest to me) have had a better time of it, given that we are already accustomed to the notion that it is by being most in touch with ourselves that we achieve close connection with God, which then allows or assists us in being in touch with other people. An interesting question might be how much inwardness during this time skates close to sin. Another way of asking the question might be to ask how much connectedness does godly life, the very definition of full connection, require of us?

Of course, we all are forced to pay attention to safety first, the very continuation of life requires that of us. Once certain of safety we then can turn our attention to the idea of healing in the community. I know that it was the duality of these two needs that had me calling almost everybody I ever knew in the first weeks of the first lock-down. It seemed everybody had the same idea judging from the number of calls and texts I received then. It was as though we all took a deep breath after locking the door and thought at once “how can we maintain a community of healing love in this time?” and the answer was “reach out however you can.”

Now we are months and months into this; we begin to hope for a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel but there is more difficult news every day, at least in the United States. Where, then, is connection and where is disconnection and how does any of it relate to sin?

In the story of Joseph’s revelation to his brothers (Genesis 45: 1-15), who we might recall sold him into servitude in Egypt, the surprise is that Joseph does not resent his brothers but rather forgives them because, as he says, “God sent me before you to preserve life … so it was not you who sent me here, but God.” It is one of those neat twists that make up good literature, I guess, except in this case it is the revelation of God’s work. Sometimes surprises in life are, in fact, intentional revelations of the action of God in the world. The upshot is that these twists, which sometimes unsettle us, are intended to increase the love and welfare of the whole of creation. Of course, that means that we will, in the end, see love and welfare increase for us as well. We receive when we give. We give when we follow in faith.

It all raises the question then, what if this time of indwelling was called by God for the benefit of creation, the increase of love, the end of sin?

In Romans 11:29 Paul writes “for the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.” All of life is called by God, all of life is called into mercy which is the ultimate elimination of sin, therefore all of life is called into connectedness. We all are called into connectedness. We all are called into the increase of love and this is God’s mercy.

In Matthew’s Gospel (15:21-28) Jesus reminds us (warns us actually) that it is through our human actions—words mostly—that what is in our hearts is expressed. The words we speak come from our hearts; all of this connectedness through conversation during this time of trial is, indeed, increased love. It is love given freely by each of us, and each time we give love we increase the love that is available for everyone. Love builds up.

Later in the same passage Jesus is approached by a woman who is not Jewish whose daughter is tormented. She asks and asks and asks him for help. Although the human Jesus resists at first the godly Jesus sees her faith and heals her daughter by the words, which come directly from his human and godly heart. His words heal because they give love. His action heals because it overcomes social constrictions to acknowledge the universality of God’s promise of salvation.

It is yet another sign of the present times that we can find so much connection in this scripture to our own times. We are connected to each other, we build up love by our connection, we heal by building up love, and we know that our love reaches out past social constrictions. Certainly we who are God’s LGBTQ people know well enough what it is like to be from a social group that is “other.” And certainly we who are God’s LGBTQ people know the power of sharing love. Great is our faith.

 

Proper 15 Year A 2020 RCL (Genesis 45: 1-15; Psalm 133; Romans 11: 1-2a, 29-32; Matthew 15: (10-20), 21-28)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Love is Always the Answer

We are living in a very strange time; one might even say a paradoxical time. As I seem to say over and over, there is the constant cognitive dissonance of this beautiful early summer, on the one hand, and the horrific threat of Covid-19, on the other. There is the cognitive dissonance of ongoing demonstrations by millions for equality, on the one hand, and other millions clogging bars and beaches despite the need to distance to avoid the virus, on the other; and the churning of these two dissonant vortices is itself a source of cognitive dissonance. Then, too, there is the threat to social liberty—after decades of work at gaining equality for gay and lesbian people we find that everything we have worked for is threatened, not alone by the usual oppressive forces, but also by the threat of the virus, which requires a different expression of individual liberty to embrace life but at the same time leads to social requirements like stay-at-home orders that are critical to preserve life itself.

But here we are.

I love with all my heart every day, or at least I try.

Do you?

I hope so.

It is the only way. We must all love, meaning we must all give love. Which means we must all feel love. We must all embrace God’s love, feel it in our hearts, and give it to each other with acts of justice and respect and grace and, of course, affection.

Today’s scripture all points to the conclusion—the eternal revelation—that God’s love, which is eternal, is eternally given to us through the small things that make up everyday life. In Genesis (24) we have the end of the saga of Abraham and Sarah, which in turn is the beginning of the saga of Isaac and Rebekah. It is the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham in acts that are turning points in human life. God’s love is complete, God’s love is eternally given, and God’s love is the miraculous action of a woman bearing a child, a child growing into adulthood, a woman with a water jar, a blessing, a camel mounted and ridden, a marriage—miracles of everyday things.

Paul (Romans 7) struggles with the everyday paradox of disconnection—sin—aligned with connection—faith. The eternal battle we all take up in every waking moment between the chatter in our heads that occupies our feelings and prevents us from experiencing the love that is all around us, and the very expression of God’s eternal and eternally promised love that is the tonic that fills the soul like water filling a tide pool when we allow ourselves to feel love. Grace again.

Jesus (Matthew 11) interprets the paradoxical clutter of social forces experiencing that same battle over love. Jesus recites a hymn of thanksgiving that god’s promise of eternal love is complete in the epiphany of Christ, he reminds us that love is best embraced by those closest to God’s gracious will, the “infants” of God’s kingdom. We are (as we learned last week too) the “infants” of the kingdom when we quell the noisy paradox and embrace God’s love fully and purely. It is in this embrace of love that we receive the “rest” Jesus offers to all of us who “are carrying heavy burdens.” He tells us to take his yoke—the mantle of love—and from it to learn to be gentle, humble, gracious, affectionate and just.

In other words, take on the yoke of love and you will find rest. The rest Jesus points us toward is the grace of God, the salvation of creation, which is always and only and eternally the embrace of love. Love is always the answer.

For we who are God’s lgbt disciples, for whom our very identity is the expression of love, the job of life is to embrace the love that is within and all around us, to share it with each other, and in so doing to reveal the march of the miracles of love in everyday life. Life each day is a miracle of God’s love.

 

Proper 9 Year A RCL 2020 (Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67; Psalm 45: 11-18; Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Intertwined in Love

It seems to be summer. I mean, it’s pretty much sunny all the time and very warm in the daytime. The last drenching rains were over a week ago (then again, it can rain year-round in Oregon …). I find myself learning to shift now from protecting potted plants on the deck from the downpour to having to water the garden every few days. At least it gives me an excuse to get up from my desk and go outside.

I miss going to the gym of course. I really miss going to the supermarket or the hardware store on a lazy afternoon and just wandering along looking at the shelves of stuff I never buy, just to learn what’s there. Since “re-opening” began a few weeks ago cases of Covid-19 have climbed steadily all around us, so even my weekly foray to the store now takes on new menace.

Zooms have been a good way to stay connected but I also find myself overbooked, at least during the mornings, which have been my time for meditation and writing all of my life. So I space out my participation to preserve contemplative time but it means I miss out on chances to socialize. It’s a good thing I’ve got my roses and geraniums to commune with, I guess.

I’ve always been a sort of reluctant gardener. I love planting something and tending it and watching it grow. As a youth in Hawaii, where we all took horticulture classes and learned how to create functional gardens, I remember serious all-out gardening. Our family moved into a new house there all surrounded with challenging red clay soil. I planted Bermuda grass, then when it had spread I planted coleus that grew into a hedge (!) and propagated papaya trees from the seeds in a papaya I plucked from a tree nearby. These days I’m more a mulch and bright colorful flowers kind of guy. The red and orange blossoms give me pleasure and (I hear) increase our chi. But in my garden as in my personal life I value space.

An interesting theological puzzle has been lurking in the scripture over the past few weeks; this is the idea that the unity of all creation–the unity of God with us and us with each other and therefore all of us with God—this unity is the effect, the crop as it were—of being joined together, which means grown together, like the intertwining trunks of a banyon tree, on the one hand, but also like my zinnias and dahlias and roses and geraniums, nicely separated by pots and mulch but growing together simultaneously and joyfully coloring my garden. They are joined together, but separate too.

Like us, right?

As I said up top, I find myself less inclined to go out where people are these days. I also find myself waiting hopefully for a decline in disease that will make it safe to gather again, especially for loved ones at a distance to gather. We know from epidemiologists as well as from just watching the parts of the world that have successfully reduced transmission of the virus that it all depends on social distance. That the key to any sort of normalcy in the absence of a vaccine or a cure is separation, isolation ….

Pride month, the annual celebration of lgbt lives, has to be virtual this year. No singing, dancing or hugging. As lgbt people we are like my zinnias, I guess, grown together, joined together with our neighbors, yet apart. Our unity, we must always remember, is in God’s love, which is everywhere and eternal.

In the story of the testing of Abraham in Genesis (22:1-14) we learn that God always provides. The outcome of the test lived through with faith is that God provides. It doesn’t make the test go away, it doesn’t make the test less challenging. But the outcome of faith, which is the continuance of love, is always more love. Faith yields love, which yields the joining together that unites us with each other and with God. Love is the answer.

Sin is the theological term used for disconnection, and disconnection only takes place in the absence of love. In Romans 6 (12-23) Paul writes that we must not let “sin exercise dominion.” He means we must be alert to keep love uppermost at all times so that we maintain connection with each other, which is connection with God. Disconnectedness has no power except the power that we give it. Love, the opposite, is the answer to firm everlasting connection. Love is the fertilizer that keeps us growing together. Love is the freedom of knowing we live in God’s creation secure in connection.

Of course, freedom is not license. Love gives us freedom from disconnection. The love that yields freedom requires. at least for now, separation. Because it is only in this separation that we can be certain we are giving love at all times by protecting each other.

Jesus’ sermon in Matthew’s Gospel (10:40-42) is directed to all who are faithful. The essence of the message is that all who love welcome God. “Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple …” will be rewarded as righteous. By “little ones” Jesus means all of us—you and me—all of us who are the regular peeps trying our best to walk in love. It reminded me of a time now many years ago when I walked with the Episcopal Church in the pride parade in New York City. Somehow I got to be one of the people carrying the banner at the front of our delegation. My end of the pole was along the east side of the avenues as we paraded down Manhattan. I remember it was hot and sunny. I remember being stunned that so many people were calling my name as I passed them. It turned out lots of people I knew from Philadelphia had made their way to New York for the parade so I was doubly blessed, especially with fellow parishioners (LOL, fellow “little ones”) from churches in both cities (not to mention my model railroading buds). I remember the long line of collared clergy just behind us arms intertwined (grown together in love?) dancing down the avenues to shouts and cheers and applause. And I remember that every block or two when we stopped for a moment a group of volunteers would emerge from the crowd to hand us little cups of cold water—salvation, love, pride, all intertwined, all grown together.

Christian life in a nutshell is walking in love, intertwined in love, living always full out in love, trusting in God’s eternity, which is love.

 

Proper 8 Year A 2020 RCL (Genesis 22:1-14; Psalm 13 Usquequo, Domine?; Romans 6:12-23; Matthew 10: 40-42)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Awe and Abundance

So how’s it going? Still locked down? I find that I am living in a kind of weird space—who remembers Twilight Zone?—I get tired of washing down delivered packages and groceries (although I can see that the delivery people are mostly not gloved or masked). When I have to shop I want to forget to stay 10 feet from everybody, especially when I see people I know and like, and I don’t like to remember that the groceries I just paid $200 for are maybe lethal. I want to forget that the consequences of forgetting are very real. When did normal life become lethal? When did it become dangerous to forget? Welcome to life in the pandemic.

It is spring out there in the real world–did you see Venus at its brightest in the western sky this past week? Here in Oregon tulips have been brilliant, the sky is crystal clear, the tree pollen is denser than ever, and now rhododendrons and roses are blooming. How can such a beautiful world be such a twilight zone?

It is Eastertide in the church—specifically it is the Fourth Sunday of Easter. Scripture appointed for these days has moved beyond post-resurrection appearances and is more focused on critical theological points—specifically today we have images of sheep and shepherd, which is ultimately the message of love shared by God, with God, and among God’s creatures. This is the true message of the Gospel—God’s love is the substance of God’s kingdom and we all already dwell there, where love generates life, where life leads to more love, where all of us created in God’s own image are eternally electrified by God’s love flowing through us and among us—this salvation is the gift of Resurrection if only we can grasp it. When we can grasp it, true awe overwhelms us.

The Acts of the Apostles (2:42-47) tells us of the first believers, not just the disciples but all those who were coming to believe in the light of Jesus’ resurrection, to all those who “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship [and] to the breaking of bread and the prayers,” that “awe came upon everyone.” This awe is what happens when the power of love is discovered. And reflected here is the simple truth that it is day by day that people learn to walk in love, to give love, to experience the awe of love. We also learn that these folks, living in the euphoria of love (which, after all, is what “awe” means), “were together …,” “spent much time together …, “broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God.” Sounds nice, doesn’t it? What would we give to break bread together again?

At the end of the Gospel story (John 10: 1-10) Jesus says “I came that they may have life and live it abundantly.” “They” are the sheep, those who have passed through the gate that is Jesus himself, those who have entered into the dimension of God’s love. Us in other words, if we have grasped God’s gift. Jesus says abundance means salvation. How is that meaningful for us? What is the abundance we experience now in this pandemic? Abundance is the nurture we offer each other. Abundance is in the phone calls and Skypes and Zooms and Facetimes with old friends and relatives and neighbors—especially neighbors—we are new in our neighborhood but we have been touched by the smiles and waves from neighbors we’ve only barely met and cards from neighbors we hadn’t had time to meet before the lockdown. Abundance is in the love we offer each other and in the love we accept—especially in the love we accept—from each other.

It is God’s love, the most awesome gift ever, that is the Resurrection message for us now. This was the gate that God opened to us through Christ. This is the place of abundance that is our salvation. This is the awe of the sustenance of love even in a pandemic, even in a twilight of confusing signs, even in all the ways in which people who love each other are together in our separation.

For LGBT people it is a time of enlightenment. It is astonishing to see how many of us are reaching out to each other. It is awe inspiring how fully our lgbt families are functioning at a high level of love and care in the community. It is a time for those of us whose God-created LGBT lives forged in love are being called to heal the world with our love.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen. The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!

 

4 Easter (Acts 2:42-47; Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25; John 10:1-10)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Love, for the sake of all of us

Who remembers what week it is of this event? I remember they told us to ready ourselves for two weeks of less outside travel. Now it seems we might endless isolation.

I love my home and the beauty of our surroundings. I have rarely witnessed so beautiful a spring, treasured so much each tulip blossom as the color increases in my garden day by day, breathed deeply the scent of the fir trees as the winter rains moderate. I treasure my health, and I am grateful that whatever thing I was dealing with last week has resolved. Still and all, it is easy to be worried these days.

It is Palm Sunday, the opening of the Christian Holy Week, which leads to the celebration by participation in the remembrance of the resurrection of Christ, which by grace is our salvation. This year (as many clergy have reminded us online) we will keep this feast as the earliest Christians did, as small family units, in isolation from the community, alone in our homes.

Isaiah wrote “The Lord GOD has given me the tongue of a teacher, that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word.” (50:4). With what word shall I sustain us now? There is only one word, the word of God given freely to all who can or will embrace it—love.

Love, people.

Love, for the sake of all of us.

Love.

Philippians 2:5 says to “let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” How are we to do that?

Love, people.

Love, for the sake of all of us.

Love.

The passion narrative from Matthew’s Gospel is read aloud in liturgies on this day. Through it we remember the agony, the trial, the persecution, the crucifixion, the death. The story ends today with a sealed tomb—desolation, despair.

But we know the rest of the story. We LGBT Christians know as people of oppression what it means to take up our cross and follow Christ. We know that this via dolorosa leads eventually to salvation, and that salvation is the triumph of God’s love.

We all know what we need to do—social distance, at least six feet separation, mostly stay home, do not let the “bubble” around you be penetrated from outside.

What else can we do? We can give love with all our hearts, all our souls, all our minds. We can give thanks all day each day that we are safe. We can give thanks for the beauty of God’s creation that surrounds us. We can give thanks for the heroes of this time who are caring for us—healthcare workers, grocery and pharmacy staff, broadcasters keeping us in virtual community. If we can all give love, we can overcome this too.

Love, people.

Love, for the sake of all of us.

Love.

 

Palm Sunday (Sunday of the Passion)

Liturgy of the Palms: Matthew 21:1-11; Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

The Liturgy of the Word: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 26:14- 27:66

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.