Category: Sermons

Matthew 5:1-13    

All Saints Day

The word “blessed” is used in different forms, all of them with nuanced meanings. “You are truly blessed.” “You have my blessings.”  “Have a blessed day!”  Those who are mathematically inclined say, “Count your blessings.”  When I moved to the South, I learned the real meaning of, “Bless your heart,” and its more emphatic form, “Bless your little heart!”

In the spirit of blessing, a friend just shared with me an article about a new priest in the town of Wittenberg.  To mark the anniversary of the Reformation, the Protestant church has engaged a robot named “BlessU-2.”  The mechanical priest delivers blessings in five languages AND beams light from its hands.  They explain, “’We wanted people to consider if it is possible to be blessed by a machine, or if a human being is needed.’”[1]  I have no comment.

Today we hear Jesus’ version of blessings.  Blessed are the poor in spirit, and blessed are the meek.  On this All Saints Sunday, we hear blessed are those who mourn.  We began our service by naming loved ones who have died in this past year, and this afternoon we will commend Dan Stimson to the mercy of God. Today is a day when we grieve collectively. There is blessing in that.  Grief can be so raw that some may feel that mourning and blessed don’t belong in the same sentence.

Although grief is an unwanted companion who shows up uninvited, mourning the death of a loved one is normal.  But we sometimes forget that the losses we grieve come in many different shapes.  Losing someone to dementia is devastating.  It’s as if a dark shadow came and stole a part of the person.  The loss of our own health, children graduating, and moving out of our home into someplace new are endings, too. Retirement can be both a loss of self and of purpose.  What are the losses that you are grieving?

Blessed are those who mourn, Jesus says, while our culture tells us it was for the best, and to keep our chin up.  Blessed are the poor in spirit, and the meek and the merciful, Jesus says, while the world tells us we are blessed if we are strong and powerful.   We are blessed when we succeed, they say, but Jesus says we are blessed when we fail.   Exposing our vulnerability may not give us society’s approval, but it opens us up to experience God’s blessings.  In exposing our weakness, we discover God’s unconditional love. In our struggles and in our doubts, God calls us faithful.  Isn’t that just like Jesus to turn our world-view upside-down?

The Beatitudes help us to challenge our perspective and our understanding of blessedness.  They are descriptive, not prescriptive.  They state who we are. If you were to write your own beatitude, what would you say?  Blessed are you who are providing care for someone you love, for God will give you compassion for others.  Blessed are you who are struggling with addiction, for God will provide someone to walk the path of recovery with you.  Blessed are you who are scared, for God will not leave your side.  Blessed are you, …fill in the blank.

Today, we remember those who have completed their baptism. In affirming our own baptism, we participate in this upside-down kingdom of God. God sees creation, you and me, as so precious that its redemption is worthy dying for.  Our worship today sings out God’s promise that there is more to life and to death.   There is someone in your life, a saint living or dead, through whom you learned that, and that is why you are here today.  Someone promised in their baptism to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through what they say and through the things they do, with the help of God.  It is through Christ that their witness with their lives has drawn us here.

Blessed are you who have come this morning not feeling blessed, or loved, or worthy of God’s blessing.  We who are meek, and grieving, and doubtful are blessed, whether or not we feel that. We will all fall short, or simply fall, at one point.  Well, to be honest, more than once. The blessing is that in the community of faith, even as we fall, we hold on to each other, and Jesus is holding on to us.  The blessing is that God shows up in the middle of our muck and mire, just where you least expect God to be.  God’s blessings come unconditionally.  Blessed are you with mercy and grace, and the Easter promise of resurrection to new life.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2017/may/30/robot-priest-blessu-2-germany-reformation-exhibition

Matthew 22:15-22    

Lectionary 29 ~ 20^th Sunday after Pentecost

They weren’t even friends!  The Pharisees and the Herodians couldn’t even agree on paying taxes! The Pharisees wanted to maintain separation from the Roman government, while the Herodians sought to collaborate with them.  It is said that “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”  So the Pharisees and the Herodians came together to concoct a plan to discredit Jesus.

Showing Jesus a coin, they asked, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” Looking at the coin used to pay the taxes, Jesus asked, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” Of course, it was the emperor’s.   “Give the emperor things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s,” Jesus instructed.  Jesus knew their hearts.  He knew that there was malice in their question.  Their question was legalistic, just like their hearts.

God’s heart isn’t like that.  When Jesus said to give to God the things that are God’s, what the Pharisees and the Herodians did not realize is that everything is God’s.  All that we have is because God is generous.  Scripture tells us about God’s generosity and abundance right from the beginning.  God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.  Calculations place the number of stars at 70 thousand million, million, million.   As many as this number of stars are the number of H2O molecule in just 10 drops of water. There are 1.4 billion cubic kilometers of water in our world. Those oceans, lakes and rivers are bordered 7 quintillion 5 hundred quadrillion grains of sand. Scientists calculate the existence of 370,000 species of flowering plants, and 30 million different species of animals. The average cat has about 40 million hairs, 30 million of which will end up on your furniture.  God’s generous abundance is revealed in the 5,140 trillion tons of air in our atmosphere.[1]

You may think some people are full of more hot air than others, but try this:  Breathe in a bit and hold it.  Breathe in some more, still holding your breath in.  Breathe in again.  Hold it.  Now let your breath out.  Feeling better now?  Taking in the air God gives us is wonderful.  But don’t you feel good when you give some back out into the world and stop holding it all?

We need to give away some of what we have been given. The in and out of breathing echoes the rhythm of life. Like breathing in and out, both receiving and are giving are necessary for wholeness.  Our breathing, and our receiving and our giving are holy matters.  (As a side note, for all of you who are wonderful at cooking meals for people in need, or building ramps to enable access, or any of the thousands of other things we do to help others, but won’t let others help you, know that you are denying someone else similar pleasure you get in giving and doing for others.)

Breathing in, and breathing out.  Like the waves of the ocean scrambling for the shore, and then pulling back, again and again and again. Like the sun coming up in the morning, and setting every night.  That’s part of God’s generosity today, and tomorrow, and the next.  Every day, over and over, without end.

Sometimes I forget how generous God really is, but then I come to worship.  I hear about the kingdom of heaven being like a treasure in a field, and like a pearl of great value.  I hear the story of Jesus feeding thousands upon thousands of people with only five loaves of bread and two fish, and healing people regardless of age, or gender, or race, or economic situation, or political affiliation.  I hear about Jesus extending God’s love and forgiveness to those whom society has condemned.  He broke social, religious and political norms enacting God’s generous love, and he was killed for it.

From the cross, Jesus said, “Father, forgive them.”  When we come to the Lord’s table, where Jesus is present in, under and through the bread and the wine, God’s love and forgiveness become a part of us. We are filled, like breathing in again and again. Breathe in so deeply that the abundance of God’s love and forgiveness poured out in Jesus pours out of us.

We are here in this community to hear, and see and taste and touch God’s love because of those who came before us and those among us.  Our community here has been built through generosity and gratitude. From the bricks in these walls to the to the finely tuned organ rejoicing through Karen’s gifts, it is through our gifts of ministry and money that we reflect God’s generosity.  Our calendars and our checkbooks bear witness to our gratitude for the gifts God has given us.

Through your generosity, we are able to respond to God’s call, and become part of God’s on-going story. With grace and abundance, we can shower those who will live in houses built through Habitat for Humanity. We provide hot meals to those with no permanent home, help with education costs for young people in Tanzania, and buy a tank of gas for a single mom whose work hours have been slashed in half.  We are able to provide space for families of the mentally ill and to those suffering from addiction and to their families so that they can learn and support one another through challenging times. These ministries, and more, require working heat, and roof that doesn’t leak, clean restrooms and someone to keep track of who is where and when.  We have come together to learn about our relationship with brothers and sisters in the Catholic faith.  It takes computers and paper and people to make that happen.

Thank you for your generosity.  Thank you for breathing in God’s love so deeply that when you let it out God’s love spreads among us here, and flows out in our community, and even around the world.

Today is Stewardship Sunday. Take a deep breath, and prayerfully consider how you will respond from your heart to God’s generosity in this coming year. As we read this morning in St. Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians, We always give thanks to God for all of you and mention you in our prayers, constantly remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] http://www.sciencealert.com/how-much-water-and-air-sustains-the-earth

 

 Matthew 21:33-46

Lectionary 27 ~ 18^th Sunday after Pentecost

Through knocked-out windows on the 32^nd floor of the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino in Las Vegas, Stephen Paddock shot into a crowd of 22,000 concert goers.  It was only a week ago, on a Sunday night, that Paddock committed the deadliest mass shootings in the United States.  After putting what is known as a “bump fire stock” on his semi-automatic rifles so that they would shoot 9 rounds per second, 59 people were killed, and over 500 more were left injured. At least a dozen of the 23 firearms recovered were semiautomatic rifles legally modified to fire as automatic weapons.

While we count the number of dead, those who were shot are more than statistics. Steve, a 44-year-old financial advisor, husband, and father, was among those killed.  He was in Las Vegas to celebrate his birthday.  There was Michelle, who was the youngest of four siblings.  She loved to cheer for the Golden State Warriors.  Father and husband Christopher, a 28-year-old Navy veteran who handled dogs that searched for explosives, was the kind of person you could call in the middle of the night for help.  He was also killed in the rampage.[2] Fifty-six more men and women, who had people who loved them, died.

Our minds draw back to the mass shootings at The Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, and Sandy Hook Elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut.  C. S. Lewis says that grief accumulates.  May we not become so accustomed to acts of violence, be they shootings, domestic abuse, or violent crimes, that we fail to express our outrage and silence our lament.

You are not to kill, God tells us.  This is the fifth commandment.  Luther interprets this broadly.  He explains in the Large Catechism:

We must not kill, either by hand, heart, or word, by signs or gestures, or by aiding and abetting….The occasion and need for this commandment is that, as God well knows, the world is evil and this life is full of misery.  …We must live among many people who do us harm.[3]

There was a rich farmer who planted a vineyard.  Leaving behind farmhands to care and nurture the soil, and the vines, and the grapes, the owner went on a trip.  He sent someone to collect his profits, but the tenants beat him up.  The owner sent someone else, and the workers murdered that person.  Then they stoned the next.  Again and again this happened until the farmer sent his very own son.  “They will respect my son,” he thought, he hoped. But the tenants believed that they would get the inheritance that was due the son if the son were dead.  So they killed him, too.

After Jesus told this story, the religious leaders wanted to arrest him right then and there, but they feared the crowds, so they waited.  They ended up not only arresting Jesus.  They killed him.

In Jesus’ parable, the landowner expects the best from the tenants, over and over again, giving second chances, third chances, even fourth chances to do what is right.  Lord knows we need that many. As Luther expresses in his explanation of the fifth commandment, we kill “by hand, heart, or word, by signs or gestures, or by aiding and abetting.”  After we murdered Jesus, God did something only God can do.  God brought life out of death.  Jesus’ grave was empty.  On the third day, God raised him from the dead.  Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.[4]

God does not respond to violence with violence. God takes the consequences of violence in our world, and changes it.  God responds to death with life.  In the cross of Jesus, God does not respond to the worst we have to offer with vengeance.  God does not respond to violence with more violence.  God responds with light that overcomes darkness, love that overcomes hate, and   life that overcomes death.  Out of violence, Jesus brings peace.

Frederick Buechner writes:

The peace that Jesus offers…is a peace beyond the reach of the tragic and terrible.  It is a profound and inward peace that sees with unflinching clarity the tragic and terrible things that are happening and yet is not shattered by them.  It is a peace that looks out at the friends, whom he loves enough to be concerned for their troubled hearts than he is for his own, and yet his love for his friends is no more where his peace comes from than his impending torture and death are where his peace will be destroyed.  The place that his peace comes from is not the world but something whole and holy within himself, which sees the world also as whole and holy because deep beneath all the broken and unholy things that are happening in it, even as he speaks, Jesus sees what he calls the kingdom of God….To be whole is to see the world like that, as Jesus saw it…Sometimes even in the midst of our confused and broken relationships with ourselves, with each other, with God, we catch glimpses of that holiness and wholeness that is not ours by a long shot and yet is part of who we are.[5] 

How do we move and live in these days of all kinds of violence from all kinds of motives? Hold fast to each other, like sea otters.  A mother sea otter holds hands with her baby so that while they are sleeping, they don’t drift away from each other into dangerous waters.  Work for justice, and be instruments of peace. Remember Luther’s thoughts, expanding even more his explanation of the fifth commandment, You shall not kill:

It is God’s real intention that we should allow no one to suffer harm but show every kindness and love.  And this kindness…is directed especially toward our enemies.[6]

Come together around the table, Christ’s body and blood, to experience again unity and hope, and catch glimpses of wholeness and holiness.  Be open to God’s love that can transform.

We walk in the light of the God who creates our world and give us life. Carry the light of the one who lived and died and rose again into the darkness.  Hold onto the one who reconciles and heals, so that, even in the midst of our anger and grief, we can go forward with God’s comfort and hope, praying to God, Your kingdom come.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] My title was taken from an article by Frederick Buechner.  http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/004057369304900402?journalCode=ttja.

[2] http://www.cnn.com/2017/10/02/us/las-vegas-shooting-victims/index.html

[3] Kolb, Robert and Wengert, Timothy, eds.  The Book of Concord.  Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2000.  410-413.

[4] Matthew 5:4.

[5] http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/004057369304900402?journalCode=ttja.

[6] Kolb, Robert and Wengert, Timothy, eds.  The Book of Concord.  Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2000.  410-413.

Jonah 3:10-4:11, Matthew 20:1-16

16^th Sunday after Pentecost    Lectionary 25

What makes you angry?  Do you lose your patience with impatient people?  Are you intolerant of intolerance? What makes you angry? I floated this question on FaceBook, and there were a variety of answers. I had thought most of them would be political, but that was not the case.  It turns out that people are really aggravated by how other people drive! Being ignored or underestimated, ignorance and stupidity are difficult for some. Several people said that people who hurt or abuse animals or people sparked their anger.  In fact, one woman said she wanted to beat up people who hurt others.

The prophet Jonah was an angry prophet. Most people know that Jonah was swallowed up by a whale.  The whole story is much better than that.  God had sent Jonah to preach repentance to the Ninevites, residents of the Assyrian capital.  Assyrians were a people known for their acts of violence and cruelty.  They were Israel’s enemy, and Jonah did not want to go into the heart of enemy territory. Ninevah was west. He ran away, 750 miles or so east, not just to escape this mission, but to escape God.

In case you have not experienced this yourself, you cannot outrun God. God has a way of persuading people to do things they never imagined they would, or even could, do.  In Jonah’s case, God’s convincing involved a storm and a whale.  Arriving in Ninevah, Jonah preached a sermon that every church-going person would like their pastor to preach.  It was 8 words long.  “Forty days more, and Ninevah shall be overthrown.”  Every preacher prays for their sermon to be this effective!  The people of Ninevah believed God’s words spoken through this prophet.  Like all good sermons, this word spread across the city.  When the king heard it, he declared that all people and all cows and goats and dogs and cats,—especially the cats,– were to repent.[1]  He ordered them to give up their evil ways, and they did.  And God changed God’s mind, and did not destroy the Ninevites.

Jonah’s face got red, he stopped breathing for a minute, and said, in his most sarcastic voice, “I knew you are gracious, and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.”  Then he stomped his foot, and shouted, “Lord, just take me now!”  God looked at him sideways and asked, “Is it right for you to be angry?”  Jonah did not answer God, and, instead of doing the happy dance because his preaching was successful, Jonah stomped off to pout.

“Is it right for you to be angry?”  Perhaps Jonah would not be so angry if God’s mercy had been given to someone other than Israel’s enemy.  Assyria will soon come to be the empire that destroys the northern kingdom of Israel. Isn’t it right to be angry that God’s forgiveness extends to these violent Assyrians?  Aren’t people supposed to get what they deserve?  Isn’t it right to be angry when bad people are not punished?

God, in God’s way, offers Jonah an object lesson.  He grew a bush so that it gave the prophet shade from the heat of the sun.  Jonah was happy about the bush.  The next morning, God arranged for a worm to attack the bush so it withered. Once more, he asked that he might die.  “’Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?’”  And he said, ‘Yes, angry enough to die.’”

Frederick Buechner defines anger in this way:

Of the seven deadly sins, anger is possibly the most fun.  To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back—in many ways it is a feast fit for a king.  The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself.  The skeleton at the feast is you.[2]

Anger can be used in productive ways, especially when it motivates us to challenge discrimination, or to help the poor and those who are suffering.  But Jonah’s anger was based on his judgment, not God’s.  Jonah made himself the determiner of who deserved forgiveness and who did not.  And then Jonah took his anger, and turned it inward, so that he wanted to die.

Every person in Ninevah may have done evil things, but they were God’s people.  The bush and the worm were God’s, too. When the people turned back to him, when they repented, he had compassion on them.  He saw them as people “who did not know their right hand from their left,” people who were lost and broken.  God prefers second chances instead of punishment, and rehabilitation to revenge.  Does God’s generosity make you angry?

It did for the laborers in the field who were hired first.  The landowner in our parable hires laborers in the early hours of the morning, at 9, at noon, and at 3 in the afternoon.  Then he hired more just one hour before quitting time.  He not only paid everyone the same amount for the whole day, he made certain the worker hired first saw the people who only worked an hour get the same paycheck they were promised.  They were angry, and said, “You have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.”

The landowner fulfilled the agreement he had with those who were hired first.  “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?”  We are reminded of the bush God gave to Jonah.  The landowner asks, “Are you envious because I am generous?”  The Greek literally translates, ““Is your eye evil because I am good?”

“Is it right for you to be angry?”  “Is your eye evil because I am good?”  From the time we recognize ourselves as distinct human beings, we appoint ourselves as judge of what is fair and what is not. “He got cookies than me!  It’s not fair!” We do it as adults, too, only in a more mature way, of course. Sometimes.  How strange and even offensive it is, to our way of thinking, that the last shall be first.  How we receive that news perhaps depends on where we stand in the line.

Remarkably enough, God did not desert Jonah in his disobedience, or even give him up to his own poor choices.  God, as the landowner, went out over and over, all day long to find people who needed to work, and he hired them to work in the vineyard.  God does not give up on those who are in need of grace and mercy.  God does not give up on us.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] As you may already know, I really do like cats.

[2] Buechner, Frederick.  Beyond Words:  Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith.  New York:  HarperCollins Publishers, 2004. 18.

Romans 12:1-8   Matthew 16:24-28    

Lectionary 22   13^th Sunday after Pentecost

At the advanced age of four, an intelligent young man who has exceptional grandparents rode a Busch Gardens roller coaster for the first time.  As the coaster climbed the hill to its crest, and then immediately plummeted, Jonathan screamed, “Help! Somebody save me!”

I imagine that’s how Jesus’ disciple Peter felt.  It wasn’t that long ago that he and his brother Andrew were casting nets into the sea. Jesus walked by and “said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.  Immediately they left their nets and followed him.”[1]  Peter, his brother and the other disciples followed Jesus, watching him as he made lepers clean, and made those who were not able to even wiggle their toes walk again.  Peter and the others heard Jesus call those who mourn and those who are meek blessed.  He heard Jesus teach about the law and the prophets, anger and adultery, treasures and judgment. On top of the mountain, Peter and the disciples experienced the feeding of thousands with only a few fish and some loaves of bread.  With all this in mind, when Jesus asked, Peter said, “You are the Messiah!”

On this Labor Day weekend, it is good to remember that in Peter’s time and place, struggling farmers and fisherman and laborers paid more than half their income in taxes.  Most people lived in poverty. Slavery was common.   The oppressive government could make people like John the Baptizer could lose their heads.  The people cried, “Help!  Somebody save me!”  And along comes Jesus, healing and feeding people.  “You are the one to save us,” Peter says.

But then Jesus told them that he will suffer and die.  Maybe the shock of that overshadowed the part where Jesus said he would be raised on the third day, or maybe the disciples didn’t understand.  “God forbid it!” Peter said.  “’Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me…’” Jesus replied.  Jesus called Peter a stumbling block because Peter put himself in front of Jesus, in front where he could be tripped over.  As a disciple of Jesus, Peter should have been behind Jesus so that he could follow him.

“’If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.’”  This verse has been misinterpreted to try to justify abusive relationships.  It’s been cited to prove that God says suffering is God’s desire for us, but that’s a misreading not only of the text, but of Jesus and Jesus’ mission, and God’s desires for us.  God want us to flourish.  Not only us, but our neighbor.  Jesus gives us a better way to do that than our way.  “’For those who want to save their life will lose it,’” Jesus says.  Do you think maybe Jesus needs to re-consider his advertising campaign for Christianity?

There are all kinds of ways that we try to save our own lives.  We try all kinds of things to overcome our problems without depending on God.  We have ways of protecting ourselves. We have worked out our own ways of staying in control of our lives, thinking that’s how to save it. We turn to and invest in things to give us life that simply can’t.  In what or in whom do you put your trust and faith?  Is it your perfectionism, or perhaps your intellect? At the end of the day, what has given you life?

Jesus says that he is the one who gives life.  “’If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it,’” Jesus says.  It is not command, but an invitation. Denying ourselves does not mean that we give up cookies. Denying ourselves means that we choose either the life we thought we wanted, or the life God offers us through Christ.

In our reading of Romans, we hear St. Paul elaborate on what a life of following Christ entails.  “Let love be genuine,” he writes.  That’s easy, right?  Then Paul reminds us that love should include actively extending hospitality to strangers, and blessing those who persecute you.  Associate with the lowly, and don’t repay evil for evil.   If your enemies are hungry, feed them, and if they’re thirsty, give them something to drink. This is a good time to remember that we do not do these things on our own.  Jesus gives us the courage and the strength and the power to do the things he wants us to do.

“Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone wants to come behind me, that person must turn away from oneself and take up one’s cross and live a life following me.’”[2]  “’For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it,’” Jesus says, “Love me.  Let go of things that can’t love you back.  Stop protecting your own ego.  Love me more than life itself.  Love me enough to be willing to be laughed at, spit upon, and mocked.  Be willing to suffer and to die, to die even to yourself, on account of me.  Follow me, and I will give you life that never fails.”

Let Jesus be in the first car, and you are in for a wild ride!   Sometimes we will be up, and sometimes we will find ourselves plummeting.  But Jesus promises to lead us through it all.   “Help!  Somebody save me!” Jonathan screamed as the coaster crested the hill and he plummeted down.  And as he stepped off the car, he was heard shouting, “Let’s do it again!”

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Matthew 4:19.

[2] Translation by Bruner, Frederick Dale.  The Churchbook, vol. 2.  Grand Rapids:  William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2004.  139-163.

 

Matthew 16:13-20

12th Sunday After Pentecost ~ Lectionary 21

Who is Jesus?  The answer to this question depends upon when, where and whom you ask.  Your 10-year old self will answer differently than your 45-year old sel.  Someone in Tanzania may answer in a way unlike someone from London or New York, or Williamsburg.  For Muslims, Jesus is one of the greatest messengers of God.  Jews have respect for Jesus, but do not view him as the son of God.  Some people say Jesus was a good teacher, or simply a moral person.

When Jesus asked his disciples this question, they answered, “’Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’”  At the time, Jesus and his followers were in Caesarea Philippi, formerly known as Panias. It was in this place that the Canaanites built a sanctuary to their god Baal.  It had been the place of the Gate of Hades for pagans, and Greeks received revelations from their god Pan.  In this setting, Jesus’ question had theological implications.

But there were political implications, too. It came to be that the Romans replaced the Greeks in this region, and Herod the Great’s son, Herod Philip, became ruler.  To honor both the Roman emperor Caesar and himself, he changed the city’s name to Caesarea Philippi. This Roman government was an oppressive system.  Standing among reminders of other gods, and in the midst of Caesar and Herod’s domain, Jesus asked, “Who do people say that I am?”[1]

Jesus followed this question with another, “But who do you say that I am?”  Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”   The Roman emperors called themselves sons of gods, and the Hebrew term Messiah means “God’s anointed one,” the one who would set the oppressed people free.  Jesus patted Peter on the back and said, “Well done! You got it!”  That was true in that moment.   Only a short time later, Jesus will reveal that he is going to be tortured and killed, and Peter will question his confession. The question of who Jesus is got quite confusing.

 

“Who do you say that I am?” If someone were to ask you who you say Jesus is, or what you believe about Jesus, how would you answer? [2]  What do you tell your children, and your children’s children about Jesus?  Jesus’ question was more than a question about theology and doctrine.  What does your life and how you live it say about who Jesus is to you?

This matters now, in this time and this place, as much as it did when Jesus asked the disciples in Caesarea Philippi.  When Jesus asks us, “Who do you say that I am,” it is, in fact, an urgent question.  When we call ourselves Christians, what is it we are teaching others about Jesus through what we say and what we do? Who we say Jesus is determines who we are.  It establishes what we are willing to do, the risks we take, and the hope we have.  Maybe the real question is, “Are you in love with Jesus?”

The depth of our love for Jesus becomes evident not only in our relationship with him, but in our relationship with one another.  Our kindness, our spending, and how we use our time are all reflections of who Jesus is to us.  Our relationship with Jesus shows when we choose to stand with those who are victims of hate and violence, when we vote for justice, and speak for those who have no voice.  Every time we choose forgiveness over retribution and love over hate, we confess Christ.  Who we say Jesus is shapes every part of our lives.

But we are not perfect.  Like Peter, we will confess Jesus as Lord one day and deny him the next.  Like Peter, we mess up. Not all the time, and maybe not even most of the time.  But sometimes. Sometimes we stay silent when we should speak the truth that every person is equal in the eyes of God.  Sometimes we provide food, but don’t sit down at the table together.  When we don’t trust that God empowers us to do those things God tells us to do, or ail to call on God when we are afraid of the storm, we deny Christ.

Thank God that who Jesus is does not depend upon who we say he is. We give thanks that, for all those times that we do not confess Christ with our lives, Christ comes to us. Christ comes confessing who he is in the faces of beautiful children, and in the words of scripture.  Jesus comes to us in the wine and the bread, in his body and blood, in forgiveness, given for you.

~ Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] I am indebted to Brian McLaren for his insights into the implications of the geographical location of this text.  See McLaren, Brian D.  We Make the Road by Walking.  New York:  Jericho Books, 2014.  116-124.

[2] Kolb, Robert and Wengert, Timothy J., eds. The Book of Concord.  Minneapolis:  Augsburg Fortress, 2000.  434.    What is it that Lutherans confess about Jesus?  Here’s how Luther answers that question in his explanation of the second article of the Apostle’s Creed:

I believe that Jesus Christ, true Son of God has become my Lord.” What is it “to become a lord”? It means that he has redeemed and released me from sin, from the devil, from death, and from all misfortune.  Before this I had no lord or king, bur was captive under the power of the devil.  I was condemned to death and entangled in sin and blindness. …[T]he little word ‘Lord’ simply means the same as Redeemer, that is, he who has brought us back from the devil to God, from death to life, from sin to righteousness, and keeps us there.

 

Matthew 14:22-33   

10^th Sunday after Pentecost – Lectionary 19

Yesterday, Charlottesville, VA was filled with fear.  The alt-right community, which is a white supremacist, neo-Nazi community, protested the removal of the statue of the Confederate General Robert E. Lee.  Clergy, members of Black Lives Matter, along with others, gathered there to counter-protest, to confront, racism.  The event turned violent and deadly.  The pinnacle of violence, as of the time I am writing this, occurred when three cars plowed into a group of peaceful counter-protestors, and one driver then backed up, injuring more people.  One person has died from this event, two state police died in a related helicopter accident, and nineteen were hospitalized, thirty-five more were hurt.

At the heart of this prejudice and discrimination demonstrated by the alt-right is both ignorance and fear, fear of those who are different.  White supremacists fear the loss of their place of privilege. Fear can be contagious.  The alt-right’s fear, manifesting itself in violence, also brought fear to those who were there not only to confront racism and to condemn hatred, but to affirm God’s love.  Love is stronger than hate. God’s light will overcome all darkness.  We pray for both perpetrators and victims of violence.

On a larger scale, at the heart of the issue of discrimination of any kind are systems that promote evil against others, and rationalize that evil by blaming the victim.  But God created us all in God’s image.  What we heard this morning in  St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, he expands in his letter to the community in Galatia, “ There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (3:28). In our sinfulness, sometimes we refuse to acknowledge that.  Even worse, we knowingly or unknowingly participate in systems that contribute to and enable prejudice.  It is frightening.

Is it discrimination that scares you the most?  Is it nuclear weapons in the hands of North Korea?  Are you afraid for your children’s children and their children because our climate is changing?  Fear can also be deeply personal.  Maybe you are losing physical function, and worry because you don’t know what your future holds.  Maybe you are scared of being left alone.  What is it that you fear?

If you have been out in the ocean during a storm, or standing in the middle of a sea of hate-full and fear-full people, you may be able to identify with the disciples and Peter.  Our gospel story of tumultuous waves rocking the disciples’ boat follows another fear provoking event, that of John the Baptizer having his head chopped off by King Herod.  After hearing this news, Jesus tries going into the desert to be alone so that he could process his emotions, but over 10,000 people found him. When it was dinner time, he took five loaves of bread and two fish, blessed them, and gave the food to the disciples to feed the people, all the people.  There was more than enough.

Our reading begins with Jesus trying once more to be alone.  Immediately after feeding the crowds, he made the disciples get into the boat and go across the water ahead of him.  Jesus, in the meantime, went up the mountain to pray.  In the dark of the night, the waves became bigger and stronger, and, fighting the force of the winds and the water, the boat did not make it to the shore as expected. It must have been a restless night for the disciples.  By early morning, the boat and the people were still bouncing around. The disciples were soaked to the skin. Suddenly, they were terrified by someone walking on the sea.  They cried out, “It’s a ghost!” “It’s me!” Jesus said. “Don’t be afraid!”

Peter’s response to seeing Jesus is curious. He did not say, “Jesus, stop the storm!”  What he does say is, “IF it Is you, command me to come to you on the water.”  Peter, the one who will confess Jesus to be the Messiah, and then say he does not know the man.  Peter, the bold and brash disciple who speaks before he thinks.  Peter, the one who loves Jesus and yet disappoints him.  Peter, the one whose faith reminds us of our own.

“Command me to come to you on the water,” Peter says.  Jesus doesn’t respond, “Peter, don’t be ridiculous.”  Jesus honors his request.  “Come,” he says.  Peter moves forward, across the water, until he becomes aware of the wind. He looks at the boat behind him, Jesus in front of him, and the water underneath of him.  The more scared he gets, the deeper he sinks.  “Lord, save me!” Peter shouts.  Immediately, without any hesitation, Jesus reaches out.  As Jesus extends his arms, he says to Peter, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”  Can you hear the lament in Jesus’ voice?  “Oh, Peter. Again?”

Have you ever been in a situation, and looked around, and began to feel as if you were sinking deeper and deeper?  Have you ever been in a place where you feel like the storm will never end?  Part of being human is living in the not-yet kingdom of God where storms come and go, some more quickly than others.  Storms take all forms.  Storms show up in chaotic and violent demonstrations of hatred. Tempests arise when systems of oppression are confronted. Personal storms come when unemployment compensation runs out, and there are no job offers coming in, and when a family member or friend is addicted to drugs, and cannot break free from the demons.  Storms intensify when illness changes how we live.

Despite the storms, we believe in God.  We cling to God. We pray for a miracle.  But, if we are honest, we will confess that fear and doubt creep in.  The sinking, and the fear, and the doubting,—which comes first doesn’t really matter.  The winds are so strong, the sea is so big, and they, along with many things in our lives, are beyond our control. “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”  Why?  Because as human beings, that is who we are.  We are people of courage, and people of fear.  We are people of faith and people of doubt.  Not just once, but over and over again.  “Save me, Jesus,” Peter cries. “Save us, Jesus,” we cry, too.

We are saved.  We are saved every day.  Martin Marty in his book, Lutheran Questions, Lutheran Answers, the book which is the object of our next book study, writes, “To be saved is to be appraised by God and found lacking—and then being picked up by God and placed in a new situation.  Whatever held me back— ‘sin, death, the devil, or the self,’ [or fear, or the hatred others have] has lost its hold and I am made free.” In both our life and in our death, “Whatever we picture and however we picture it, ‘to be saved’ means to be situated where God’s presence will never be revoked and where God’s light will shine.”[1]  To be saved is to be given God’s grace that empowers us to live our lives differently than we would have had we not been met by God in Christ Jesus.  To be saved is to stand witnessing to God’s love for all people despite our fear.

“Save us, Jesus!”  Save us from the storms that terrify us.  Hearing Jesus’ response, our ears sting. “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”  Then we remember Jesus telling us that a tiny mustard seed grows into the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree in which birds will make nests.

If we could walk on the water in the middle of a storm all by ourselves and not sink, we wouldn’t need a savior.  But we can’t, and we do. In the chaotic waters of our lives, we realize both who we are, and whose we are.  “Save us, Jesus!” we cry, and immediately, Jesus reaches out his hand.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Marty, Martin E.  Lutheran Questions Lutheran Answers.  Minneapolis:  Augsburg Fortress, 2007.  80-82.

Romans 8:26-39   Matthew 13: 31-33, 44-52

Lectionary 17 ~ 8^th Sunday after Pentecost 

If you were to design and create your own kingdom of heaven, what would it look like?  Would there be crystal blue oceans and diamond like sand?  Would mountains be made especially for hiking?  Would cookies always be served warm?  And would cats really be necessary?[1]

We have, over the past weeks, heard parables about the kingdom of heaven, to use Matthew’s terminology.  This kingdom has seeds falling all over the place—on rocky ground, on dry, sun-bleached earth, in the middle of thorns, and some fell on good soil, too.  While we would not let weeds into a kingdom of our own design, Jesus’ does, and those weeds are mixed right in with the good wheat.

This morning, we hear that the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, and yeast.  We diverge from the agricultural metaphors, and hear that the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, a pearl of great value, and a net thrown into the sea, catching fish of every kind.

After saying these things about the kingdom, Jesus asks the people, “Have you understood all this?”  “Uh-huh,” they assure him.  How about you? Have you  understood all this?

Each “the kingdom is like” comparison is unique. Someone plants the mustard seed, which then grows to a shrub, and houses birds. Someone uses the yeast to make bread, which then feeds people.  The treasure in the field is found, bringing the finder tremendous joy, and so the finder sells everything to buy the entire field.  Like the treasure finder, a merchant finds one fine pearl, and sells all that he has to buy it.  The fishing net, which went out empty, came back full.

God has hidden the kingdom of heaven in ordinary things,– in fields, and seeds, and yeast, in things that are in plain view, where we don’t think to look. The kingdom of heaven is here, hidden in the everyday-ness of our lives.  It’s there in the bread, in the giggles of a child, and the smell of fresh cut grass.  This is where you will find the presence of God.  God is in our love for family, and for those whom we choose to be sisters and brothers.  God is in crocheting hats for children who might otherwise be cold in the winter, giving sneakers to children in need, and in our work, paid or unpaid.

There are places, though, where we think we will never find God. Because we live in the now-but-not-yet kingdom of heaven, not only are there platypuses, music by Mozart and cookies, there are also diseases, cancers, and dementia. Our chances of reaching God’s ultimate healing of death without first experiencing declining health are slim. That’s true not only for us, but also for those we love.  Serious illness can diminish the self, and challenge our dignity.  Relationships are impacted. Caregivers struggle to manage their exhaustion and emotions.  We come to the place where we don’t even know what to ask for, and need the Spirit to intercede with sighs too deep for words.   When the Spirit intercedes for us, in those dark places where the sound of sighs is deafening, in that place where we run out of words, the Holy Spirit is right there with us.  This is the promise of our baptism, that Christ is joined to us, and we are joined to Christ in his suffering.

What does this have to do with mustard seeds, and yeast and pearls, and treasure?  Our parables tell us is that things are not always what they seem.  Our parables tell us to look our everyday lives in that which is ordinary to find God.  In the case of illness, a smile, and a caring touch bring blessings to the one who gives and the one who receives.

Our parables of the mustard seed and the yeast teach us one more thing—to let go.  It is when the seed leaves our hands, and when the yeast is left to rise, that God grows them into something new.  We try so hard to hold on to what was, and how things used to be, and even the way we think they should be, that we may miss what God is doing this day, this hour, this moment.  In the case of illness, it is when we let go of who our loved  one was in health that we can see who they are now.

Live in the kingdom right here, right now.  God is present. Who will separate us from the love of Christ?  Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?…  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. We are more than conquerors. Because of, and through, Christ’s suffering, death and resurrection, what we experience today, and what we can expect of tomorrow, are transformed.

We have glimpses of the kingdom of heaven in those who overcome the challenge of addiction, and those who are struggling to be restored to wholeness. We find the kingdom  of God in the partner who faithfully cares for an ailing spouse.  We see the presence of God in those who are suffering, as they into the fullness of their baptism.

The kingdom of God is here, now.  It is here, in this promise:  Neither death, nor life, nor cancer, nor health, nor dementia, nor functionality, nor depths of depression, nor heights of joy, nor exhaustion nor great energy, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] I actually do like cats.

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

7^th Sunday after Pentecost – Lectionary 16

It’s been called the mile-a-minute vine, and other things that I cannot say in church.  Yes, I am talking about Kudzu, the vine that ate the South. It came to the United States through the Japanese government, which had constructed a beautiful plant exhibit for the 1876 Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, and this vine captured the attention of American gardeners.  We can thank our government for the plethora of Kudzu.  During the depression of the 1930’s, hundreds of workers for the Soil Conservation Service planted kudzu for the purpose of erosion control.  And it grew.  And it grew.  And it grew.  While the Japanese brought Kudzu to our country, they left its natural enemy at home.   In 1972, the USDA declared kudzu to be a weed.  Herbicides have actually been found to help it grow. Our only hope is goats.  Goats find Kudzu as delicious as a hot fudge Sundae made with coffee ice cream, topped with nuts, whipped cream and a cherry.

Jesus taught us that wise people build their house on a solid foundation, and foolish ones build it on sand (Matthew 7:24-27).  Jesus was a much better construction engineer than he was a master gardener.  “Keep the weeds!” Jesus says in our parable this morning.  Keep the weeds?

Just as there are only two kinds of engineers, civil and uncivil, there seems to be only two kinds of people, wheat or weeds.  To the overzealous weeders, Jesus says leave the weeds alone!  I will take care of them! Jesus says the weeds will be collected, and they will be thrown in the fiery furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Our sense of justice gets great satisfaction out of hearing this.  We love to think that our enemies will get their due in the end. An eye for an eye, after all.   Don’t you just love eschatological vengeance?

Those pesky weeds!  Maybe Jesus’ parable makes us feel good, not just because “they will get theirs in the end,” but also because we think of ourselves as wheat.  Or maybe this parable scares us to death because we think we are the weeds.  Wheat or weeds, – sometimes it is hard to tell the difference.  You know, while some see Kudzu as an uncontrollable menace, others find the good in it. A woman named Nancy Basket makes paper from Kudzu, and then turns the paper into beautiful works of art.  Diane Hoots’ company manufactures delicious Kudzu blossom jelly and syrup. Henry Edwards makes Kudzu hay when the sun shines.  Regina Hines has discovered that Kudzu’s rubber-like vines can be woven into unique and functional baskets.  Medical researchers are working with a drug extracted from the kudzu root which may help in the treatment of alcoholism.

I read this parable of the wheat and the tares, which seems to say that there are good people, and there are evil people, and the evil people will be thrown into the furnace, and I cannot help but wonder, was Jesus just having an off day when he told this story?  Or maybe there is another way to look at weeds among the wheat.  Wheat or weeds? There is good and bad in everyone.  We are, as Luther frames it, simul justus et peccator.  We are simultaneously both sinner and saint.

Think about Peter, Jesus’ disciple, the one to whom Jesus said, “Get behind me Satan!  You are a stumbling block to me!” [Matthew 16.23].  And yet the one whom Jesus called Satan and a stumbling block, he also called the rock, the one who would be foundational for building the church.  Then there’s Judas. Jesus washed his feet knowing Judas would betray him with a kiss.  There is Paul, who used to be known as Saul – the Jew who persecuted Christians. God used him to further God’s church.  The same Paul who declares in his letter to the Romans, “For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” [7.15], is the same Paul who planted churches across the Mediterranean world the way Johnny Appleseed planted trees.

Weeds are not that cut and dry, pardon the pun.  Weeds can be useful in ways we do not understand.  We live among both wheat and weeds, but both wheat and weeds also live in us. God knows this about us, ever since Adam and Eve and the whole naked missing apple incident. There will always be weeds in the wheat field.

God never promised us that we would become so good or so wise that that weeds would find somewhere else to grow instead of in and around us.  Whether we like it or not, God made both wheat and weeds, growing together in the field, and Jesus tells us, Live with it.  Trust God to take care of it, in God’s time.  Things happen in our world and in our lives that are beyond our power to prevent, and beyond our power to fix.  But nothing is beyond God’s power. Through Christ’s life, his death, and his resurrection, God reaches his hand down into the muck and mire of our lives, forgives us, and purifies us, and makes us holy. What God does for us, God also does for our weedy neighbor. Through Christ, none of us is beyond God’s redemption.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

 

Romans 6:12-23  Matthew 10:40-42    

4^th Sunday after Pentecost – Lectionary 13

 

Americans are celebrating 241 years of freedom this week.  We do it with picnics, fireworks and shopping the sales in stores.  Freedom always comes at a cost, and ours is no different.  One of the many stories from the Revolutionary war is the pivotal battle on Kings Mountain.  Patrick Ferguson led British Loyalists against the Overmountain Men. Ferguson was certain that the trees and rocks on top of the mountain gave him a military advantage.  It’s reported that Ferguson declared that, “he was king of that mountain, and God Almighty could not drive him from it.”’[1] What Ferguson had not taken into account was that his men needed to step out from behind the cover of trees and rocks and out into the open in order to fire.  The results were devastating.  This battle proved to be the beginning of the end for the British.

Americans became free from British rule, but there are many ways to be in bondage, and there are other types of freedom.  Not all people were set free as a result of the Revolutionary War.  The American Civil War in the 1860’s determined that the states would remain united in one nation, and that it would be free from slavery.  There are many types of freedom, and in the 1960’s Dr. Martin Luther King would work for the freedom of equality.  The sixties were about being free from many things, especially societal and moral rules.  Have you heard about Woodstock? Woodstock celebrated the breaking of boundaries, and burst the seams of freedom, yet Janis Joplin sang, “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.”

Freedom.  A six-foot tall monument of the Ten Commandments was recently erected at the state capital of Arkansas.   This past week, it was reported that a 32-year-old man drove his car over it.  Those who were watching it on FaceBook Live heard music, and then, just moments before he sped up, he said, “Oh, my goodness—freedom!”

Freedom.  We all want to be free, free from something— free from debt, free from illness, free from someone, free from doubt.  What is it that something for you? From what would you like to be free?

As the Declaration of Independence speaks to our freedom as Americans, Paul speaks of freedom in his letter to the Romans.  He explains that through his death and resurrection, Jesus fulfilled the law.  If Lutherans have a motto, it is, We are justified by grace through faith.  Paul writes, For we hold that a person is justified by faith apart from the works prescribed by the law (Romans 3:28).  What does this mean?  It means that we are made right with God. What is it that we must do go get on God’s good side?  Nothing.  We are saved by grace through faith.  Not only that, but that faith is the gift of God.  We are set free from having to prove ourselves worthy of love and free from having to earn our own salvation.  Joined to Christ in his life, death and resurrection through the word and waters of our baptism, we are set free from the bondage of sin and death.

We are set free!  Now what?  We know what to do with conditional gifts, if you do this, then I do that.  If you study hard and do your homework, then you will get good grades.  If you eat all your spinach, then you can have cookies.  With an if-then promise, we maintain some control. But God’s gift is free. There are no conditions.  The promise is not if-then, it is because-therefore.  Because Jesus died and was resurrected, therefore we are justified.  Because Jesus suffered the sins of the world, we are free from sin. Now what? How do we live in God’s freedom?

The theological term for this is sanctification.  What does that mean? It has been said that sanctification means learning to accept our justification. Sanctification and justification are intertwined. Lutherans and Luther don’t talk much about sanctification, however, Luther rightly tells us that we are both saints and sinners at the same time. While we are sinners, we are also being made holy. We are already and not-yet.  We are living into our baptism.  We are set apart for God’s use even while we are sinners.  Sanctification is learning to trust God. It is relational.  Sanctification is the work of the Holy Spirit.

Through God’s grace, we are set free from the power of sin and death. God’s grace is bigger than our sin.  God’s grace is more powerful than death. When we are set free from the law and from sin, the question then becomes, free for what.  The for what question relates to the process of sanctification.  Paul writes, But now that you have been freed from sin and enslaved to God, the advantage you get is sanctification. We are set free to be obedient to God, to do God’s will.  The results of our sanctification are, in Paul’s language, the fruit of the Spirit.

Hospitality is one of the fruits of the Spirit to which Jesus refers when he says, Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.  Jesus is telling us to bring the presence of Christ to everyone we meet, the same Christ who loves us unconditionally, who extends grace and mercy. What would that look like at the gym, or at work? What does that look like outside the walls of church, the borders of our neighborhood, or on the other side of our country’s borders?  What does unconditional hospitality look like inside the walls of our church?

God’s grace is hospitable and inclusive.  Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones, Jesus says. It is that simple. Care for others in helpful ways.  Visit someone who cannot get out.  Drive someone who can’t drive themselves.  Listen with a compassionate heart to someone who is grieving. During worship, help a visitor find their place in our worship book, walk with them to the communion rail.  Find out if you can help them navigate Williamsburg’s many gems.  Graciously let others sit in your self-assigned seat in the pew. Remember, those in our church every Sunday may need a glass of water, too.  The hospitality of welcome includes calling someone who was not here, and telling them you missed them. Wherever you are, make Christ’s presence known in things you do and the words you say.

One cup of water to one person can bring life.  This is beautifully illustrated by the story of the Star Thrower.  Maybe you have heard it.  There was a man walking on the beach.  As he looked along the shoreline, he saw a boy reach down and pick up a starfish.  The boy then threw it into the ocean.  As the man came closer, he called out, “Hello!”  The boy looked up, and the man, now standing next to him, asked, “What are you doing?”  The boy looked up and answered, “I’m throwing starfish into the ocean.”  “I see that, but why?” asked the man.
The tide has stranded them.  If I don’t throw them back into the water before the sun comes up, they will die,” the boy answered.  “Surely you know that there are miles and miles of beach, and thousands of stranded starfish.  You’ll never throw them all back.  There are too many.  You can’t possibly make a difference.”  The boy listened quietly, and then picked up another starfish.  As he threw it back into the sea, he said, “It made a difference for that one.”[2]

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1] http://www.learnnc.org/lp/editions/nchist-revolution/4272

 

[2] Written by Loren Eiseley.  https://starthrowerfoundation.org/about-starthrower-foundation/the-star-thrower-story/