The Easter Way of Life

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

March 31, 2013

Year C: The Sunday of the Resurrection - Easter Day

Isaiah 25:6-9

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

Acts 10:34-43

John 20:1-18

The Easter Way of Life

            Alleluia! Christ is risen!

            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

            This year the timing could not have been any better.

            On Friday, we had a very powerful three-hour Good Friday service.

            For three hours, through readings, meditations, music and silence we grieved the tragic death of Jesus of Nazareth – the horrifying and shameful death of the prophet who preached repentance, forgiveness, and love.

            We grieved the senseless execution of the meek king who had so recently been greeted with waving palms and cloaks on the road and shouts of Hosanna as he rode on a donkey into his capital city.

            We grieved the death of the Son of God.

            For three hours we were in the land of darkness and shadow.

            And then the service was over.

            The choir and the altar party processed out, rounding right here in front of the pulpit and out the side door.

            And as we exited the church we just about literally collided with a riot of color and fragrance – nearly crashing into the Easter flower delivery.

            Suddenly and unexpectedly, we moved out of the old and tired land of shadow, darkness and death and into the new and joyous land of light, color and life.

            Alleluia! Christ is risen!

            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

            One of the great themes of the Gospel of John is the move from darkness into light, the journey from unbelief to faith.

            And that move, that journey, is at the center of John’s account of the Resurrection. The way John tells the story, Mary Magdalene moves from darkness to light, journeys from unbelief to faith.

            As we just heard, the story begins with Mary Magdalene visiting Jesus’ tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark. When she sees the stone had been removed she didn’t dare to look in but instead ran to get Peter and the Beloved Disciple. They look in, don’t understand, and return home.

            But, not Magdalene - she stays, weeping, beginning her move from darkness to light, starting the journey from unbelief to faith.

            Mary Magdalene doesn’t know what to do but she stays – and out of what must have been a desperate hope, now she looks into the tomb, suddenly and unexpectedly seeing the two angels in white.

            Then in one of most moving and powerful moments in all of Scripture, she hears the voice of Jesus call her by name, “Mary!”

            And finally, Mary Magdalene made her move from darkness to light when she followed the command of Jesus, going to the disciples and telling them, “I have seen the Lord.”

            Alleluia! Christ is risen!

            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

            And then, what?

            Well, the Resurrection of Christ is a once and forever event. But, Easter is much more than just a one-time occurrence.

            Over the course of the next fifty days, we’ll remember stories of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances. Just next Sunday, we’ll hear the familiar story of the Apostle Thomas making his own journey from darkness to light, from unbelief to faith.

            And then the Great Fifty Days of Easter will culminate in Ascension Day – acknowledging that we no longer see the resurrected body of Christ the way the first disciples did – and the great feast of Pentecost when, with gusts of wind and like tongues of flame, the Church first received the Holy Spirit.

            But Easter is more than today and it’s even more than the next fifty days.

            Easter is a way of life.

            With God’s help, it’s the way to move out of the old and tired land of shadow, darkness and death into the new and joyous land of light, color and life.

            Easter is – and has to be - a way of life because it’s not a straight line from darkness to light.

            In the New Testament, we never hear from Mary Magdalene again. But, although she had encountered the Risen Christ, I bet later there were times that she journeyed back from belief to unbelief, drifted back to the old and tired land of shadow, darkness and death.

            And the same is true for us.

            Last night at the Great Vigil of Easter, as always we began the service in the dark church. And then when the Paschal candle was lit, the cantor – Dr. Anne, in this case - sang out, “The light of Christ.” And we replied, “Thanks be to God.”

            And later, the light of Christ illuminated the whole church, bells peeled, and we sang out our Alleluias. Last night the Resurrected Christ was almost as palpable in this room as he must have been to Mary Magdalene outside the tomb long ago.

            But then, we left church and went home. And for many if not all of us, that meant back to our lives with all of their challenges and worries – back to doctor’s appointments, unbalanced checkbooks, stacks of bills, aches and pains, children and grandchildren on the wrong path, fears, resentments, regrets and grief.

            And when we woke up this morning it was dark. Whether we were here last night or not, once again, many of us were living in the old and tired land of shadow, darkness and death.

            And so we come here this morning, like Mary Magdalene, desperately hoping, peering into the empty tomb, and once again meeting the Risen Christ.

            But, if we really want, with God’s help, to move out of the old and tired land of shadow, darkness and death then we need to be here, week after week, fed and strengthened by God’s Word and by Christ’s Body and Blood.

            If we really want, with God’s help, to move from darkness into light, to journey from unbelief to faith, then, like Mary Magdalene, we need to go boldly out into a broken and hurting world, proclaiming, “I have seen the Lord.”

            If we really want, with God’s help, to move into the new and joyous land of light, color and life, then we need to generously follow Christ’s command to wash each other’s feet, to love God and to love one another, most especially the poor and the outcasts.

            If we really want, with God’s help, to move from death into life, then Easter has to be much more than a day, much more than the Great Fifty Days.

            Easter has to be a way of life.

            On Friday, as we exited the church we just about literally collided with a riot of color and fragrance.           

            For a moment, suddenly and unexpectedly, we moved out of the old and tired land of shadow, darkness and death into the new and joyous land of light, color and life.

            Alleluia! Christ is risen!

            The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

            May the Easter moment truly become our way of life.

            Amen.

Kenosis

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

March 29, 2013

Good Friday

Isaiah 52:13-53:12

Psalm 22:1-21

Hebrews 10:1-25

Psalm 69:1-23

John 18:1-19:37

Kenosis

            I remember the first time I attended a wake and a funeral. I was a kid, not sure how old exactly. I remember my parents explaining what it was going to be like visiting at the funeral home and then later what the funeral mass would be like. I remember being sad, frightened, and worried. I remember wondering how I – or anybody else – would be able to get through such a hard and painful experience: the death of someone we love.

            Since then, like most of us, I’ve been to more wakes, memorial services and funerals than I can count – more than I would want to count.

            These gatherings are always daunting and sometimes so painful, especially when we mourn someone young or someone who has died suddenly or someone who had an especially difficult or troubled life.

            But, still, we go and we gather.

            We gather to grieve.

            But, at wakes, memorial services and funerals, we gather also to remember – to remember happier times, yes, but more than that to remember and even to celebrate the core – the essence – of the one who has died.

            And, that’s what we are about today.

            Good Friday is a day of grief and it’s also a day of remembering – and, ultimately, it’s even a day of celebration.           

            We grieve the tragic death of Jesus of Nazareth – the horrifying and shameful death of the prophet who preached repentance, forgiveness, and love.

            We grieve the senseless execution of the meek king who had so recently been greeted with waving palms and cloaks on the road and shouts of Hosanna as he rode on a donkey into his capital city.

            We grieve the death of the Son of God.

            And maybe, on this day, we also grieve the deaths of so many other innocent people who have died and are dying even today at the hands of 21^st Century counterparts of Caiaphas, Herod and Pilate.

            We gather to grieve and we gather to remember.

            As an act of grief and memory, on Good Friday it’s been the custom since very early in Christian history to read the Passion according the Gospel of John.

            It’s a beautiful account, but one that needs to be put into some context. Listening to the story of betrayal and abandonment and calls for crucifixion, we need to remember that Jesus and all of his first followers were Jews. What we are hearing is a tragic conflict within Judaism and among Jews of the First Century. It’s a tragic conflict that has nothing to do with Jews of today or of any other time.

            It is an act of memory when we cry out “Crucify him!” But, we’re not standing in for Jewish people of two thousand years ago. No, we’re playing ourselves. We’re being reminded of the ways that we ourselves have crucified and still crucify Jesus when we turn away from his command to love God and to love one another.

            We grieve and we remember and, ultimately, we celebrate.

            So, what is the core – what is the essence – of Jesus that we remember and even celebrate today?

            Well, for me, nobody says it better than St. Paul:

            Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross.

            That familiar passage is from Paul’s letter to the Philippians but most scholars think Paul is actually quoting a very early Christian hymn – an early Christian reflection on the core – the essence – of Jesus and the core – the essence – of the Gospel.

            The core – the essence - of Jesus Christ is self-emptying love.

            Open up just about any page of the gospels and you’ll find it.

            But, we see the self-emptying love of Jesus most clearly at the end of his life.

            On Maundy Thursday morning we remembered John’s story of the Last Supper. John tells us that Jesus “got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.”

            There it is: the core – the essence of Jesus Christ – self-emptying love.

            And, on the cross, Jesus gives way - empties out - his life for us all.

             “It is finished.”

            Of course, if the story ended at the Cross, if Jesus and his mission were really finished on that first Good Friday, none of us would be spending part of our afternoon here today.

            But, we know on that first Easter God did what God always does, turning death into life. God refills the empty vessels. Faster than we can give away love, faster than we can pour out ourselves, God always manages to replenish us with more love - more of us - so there’s always even more love and more of us to give away.

            Back at the Last Supper, after Jesus was done washing the disciples’ feet, he explained to them why he did it:

            “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”

            The core – the essence of Jesus Christ – is self-emptying love.

            And as Christians, our core – our essence – is meant to be self-emptying love.

            Two thousand years ago people didn’t know what to make of the self-emptying love of Jesus.

            The religious and political authorities saw him as a threat.

            For the most part, even Jesus’ closest disciples didn’t get it – didn’t understand Jesus’ self-emptying love. Instead they jockeyed for position or prestige. They were suspicious and jealous of others who healed in Jesus’ name. They dozed off – they betrayed – they abandoned Jesus in his time of greatest need.

            But, there were some who understood and imitated the self-emptying love of Jesus.

            Mary of Bethany got it when she anointed Jesus’ feet with perfume worth nearly a year of wages – giving away - pouring out - all she had as a gift to Jesus.

            Two thousand years later people still don’t know what to make of the self-emptying love of Jesus.

            Look at all the attention Pope Francis has gotten by doing things like carrying his own bags, paying his own hotel bill, personally canceling a newspaper subscription, preferring to live in a simple apartment instead of a palace, and yesterday washing the feet of prisoners  - even some women! - at a youth detention facility.

            Of course, he’s just doing his best to imitate Jesus.

            But, we don’t have to look all the way to Rome for examples of Christians following Jesus’ example of self-giving love.

            In my time here at Grace I’ve seen it over and over again. I’ve seen self-giving love when a bunch of girls and their moms decided to put on a play, raising money to help pay tuition for a girl whose mother had died far too young.

            I’ve seen self-giving love in times of tragedy and loss when we sign up to provide meals for grieving families, when we offer shoulders to cry on, when we make time to visit people in hospitals and nursing homes and even jail.

            I’ve seen self-giving love when I recently bumped into a parishioner at Shop Rite pushing a cart filled with groceries – groceries bought not for her family but for a family in need.

            I’ve seen self-giving love when parishioners create a delicious gourmet dinner for homeless people and when on “Souper Bowl” Sunday our soup pots overflow with cash and checks for soup kitchens in Morristown and Dover.

            Right here at Grace Church, over and over again, I’ve seen the self-giving love of Christ.

            Today we’ve gathered together to grieve the tragic death – the senseless execution of Jesus of Nazareth.

            And we’ve gathered to remember the core – the essence of Jesus: the self-giving love that he poured out throughout his life and finally when “he stretched out his arms of love on the hard of the cross, that he might draw the whole world to himself.”

            Then and now the world doesn’t know what to make of self-giving love – is still surprised and confused by it.

            The Evangelist John tells us that just before Jesus took his last breath on the cross, he said, “It is finished.”

            But, we know on that first Easter God did what God always does, turning death into life, refilling empty vessels.

            Faster than we can give away love, faster than we can pour out ourselves, God always manages to replenish us with more love - more of us - so there’s always even more love and more of us to give away.

            May it be so.

            Amen.

New Things

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

March 17, 2013

Year C: The Fifth Sunday in Lent

Isaiah 43:16-21

Psalm 126

(Philippians 3:4b-14)

John 12:1-8

New Things

            OK, let’s start with a show of hands.

            Grown-ups: how many of you have already completed and filed your 2012 tax returns?

            Sue and I are almost there. Sue had done the prep work and on Monday we sat at the dining room table and went through it all before handing over our tax stuff to our accountant. And now we wait – hoping not to owe too much and maybe even daring to hope for a small refund. We’ll see.

            Tax season can be a time for reflection. For some of us it may be a time to get mad at the government. And for some of us it may be a time to reflect on how we spend, save and invest our money. Like the start of a new year, for some of us tax season may be a time when we make resolutions – maybe promising ourselves to be more careful and more frugal with our money.

            Tax season can be a time when we decide to do a new thing.

            And, like us, sometimes God decides to do a new thing.

            But when God does a new thing, God never chooses to be more careful, never chooses to be more frugal.

            Just the opposite. When God does a new thing God is always bolder and ever more generous.

            Throughout the Bible there are stories of God deciding to do a new thing.

            There’s the story of creation itself. There’s the story of God making a covenant with Abraham. There’s the story of God leading the Israelites out of bondage in Egypt.

            In today’s Old Testament reading, God speaking through the Prophet Isaiah says, “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”

            In that case, God’s “new thing” was restoring Israel after defeat and exile in Babylon.

            Throughout the Bible, over and over there are stories of God deciding to do a new thing. And when God does a new thing, God is always bolder and ever more generous.

            For us Christians, God does the ultimate and greatest “new thing” in and through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

            It’s hard to imagine that God could be any bolder and any more generous than becoming one of us.

            And, when Jesus was rejected and killed, God paid a very heavy price for that boldness and that generosity.

            Over the past month some of us read a book called, The Wisdom Jesus.  In that book the author argues that a big part of Jesus’ ministry and teaching was “pushing us into new ways of seeing.”

            And it was often hard for the first disciples – and hard for us today – to wrap our minds around the new thing God does in and through Jesus. It’s hard for us to grasp this new way of seeing.

            Think about last week’s gospel: the parable of the Prodigal Son.

            As Lauren pointed out in her sermon, like so much of Jesus’ teaching, this familiar story of a son wasting his inheritance, a loving father rushing to welcome him home, and a resentful brother wondering he never got a party, has a bottomless depth. We could preach about it and talk about it all day.

            In The Wisdom Jesus, the author points out that in this story Jesus challenges our basic assumptions and beliefs about ourselves and about the way the world should work.

            Here’s the way we think: it’s not fair that the prodigal son who wasted it all gets to have a big party. His brother is right to complain.

            But, through this story Jesus teaches us that God is bolder and more generous than we ever imagined. God is certainly bolder and more generous than we deserve. God doesn’t keep score. And God doesn’t want us to keep score, either.

            Most of the time we don’t really get that – or accept that.

            And, reading the New Testament, it seems that usually the first disciples usually didn’t get that – or accept that God doesn’t keep score.

            But, in today’s gospel we meet an exception.

            In Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, we meet someone who gets it – who gets that God is doing a new thing in and through Jesus.

            In Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, we meet someone who gets it – who gets that God doesn’t want us to keep score – someone who gets that God wants us to be bolder and more generous than we ever thought possible.

            All four gospels tell stories of Jesus being anointed by a woman – so most likely there was a common tradition that was remembered by the first generations of Christians.

            In John’s version, which we heard today, the anointing is a richly symbolic act.

            John places the story at the beginning of the end. Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem to meet his destiny but first he visits in Bethany with some of his closest friends, Mary, Martha and Lazarus –raised from the dead by Jesus not long before.

            Although Lazarus has been brought back to life, death overshadows the whole scene.

            Mary anoints Jesus not as one would anoint a king but how one might anoint a corpse.

            She anoints him with very, very expensive perfume. Like most of us probably would, Judas complains about the extravagance, arguing that the perfume would have fetched 300 denarii – not much less than a year’s worth of wages. Judas rightly complains that this money could have been shared with the poor.

            But, in this symbolic act Mary shows that she gets it – she gets who Jesus is – and she gets that God wants us to be like God – God wants us to do a new thing – God wants us to stop keeping score - God wants us to be bolder and more generous than we ever thought possible.

            One last thing. I looked into it and I’m not allowed to change the Bible, but if I could I think I’d delete – or add a little explanation to – the last line of today’s gospel lesson.

            Responding to Judas’ complaint, Jesus says, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

            Unfortunately, Jesus’ words have often been interpreted as being fatalistic – implying that there’s nothing much that we can do about poverty.

            But, that can’t be what Jesus meant.

            No. Instead, Jesus is looking ahead to his death and the time when it will no longer be possible to anoint his body.

            But, Jesus expects that the poor will always be with us – that we, his followers, will always be close to the poor. And Jesus expects that we will do a new thing – that we will stop keeping score - that we will be bolder and more generous than we ever thought possible by serving and blessing the poor the way Mary served and blessed Jesus with expensive perfume.

            And this past Wednesday some of us felt a little of that boldness and generosity when we presented the people of Trinity Lutheran Church with the check from half of our “Souper Bowl” collection.

            We were shocked to learn that they somehow run their amazing program on $50,000 a year.

            And they were shocked when they saw our check for just under $4000 – about 8% of their annual budget.

            For a moment, the fragrance of our generosity filled that parish hall in Dover just as the sweet smell of Mary’s perfume filled that house in Bethany long ago.

            Throughout the Bible and throughout history God has decided to do a new thing.

            And when God does a new thing, God never chooses to be more careful and more frugal.

            Just the opposite. When God does a new thing God is bolder and ever more generous.

            We see God’s boldness and generosity most clearly in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

            And we also see God’s boldness and generosity in disciples like Mary of Bethany who boldly and generously served and blessed Jesus.

            And, every once in a while, we see God’s boldness and generosity in us – we see God’s boldness and generosity in us when we serve and bless the poor – when we choose to do a new thing.

            Amen.

           

           

           

           

            

God the Seeker

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

March 3, 2013

Year C: The Third Sunday in Lent

Exodus 3:1-15

Psalm 63:1-8

(1 Corinthians 10:1-13)

Luke 13:1-9

God the Seeker

            Many of you know that I grew up a Roman Catholic. When I was a kid my parish in Jersey City was big and active. At Mass on Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings the pews were crowded with people of all ages. And the parish elementary school – where both my sister and I went – was bursting at the seams with girls in plaid jumpers and boys wearing clip-on ties.

            There were lots of programs and groups for adults and kids. And Bingo. Can’t forget Bingo!

            The church had a group for teenagers. The group had a pretty cool, very 1970s sounding name, “The Seekers.”

            The Seekers.

            Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much more than that about the Seekers because, maybe being a little standoffish, I never joined the group. The Seekers always seemed kind of cliquish to me and, frankly, as a teenager I wasn’t really interested in talking to my peers about my spiritual life, such as it was.

            I was reminded of the Seekers when I first started reflecting on today’s psalm. Psalm 63 opens with a very beautiful expression of our longing to know God, our desire to be in God’s presence:

            “O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you, as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.”

            Seeking God is one of the great threads running through our tradition.

            Since the beginning, people have sought God - some by going into the desert and others by climbing a mountain. People have sought God - some by making pilgrimages to holy places and others by losing themselves in prayer and meditation.

            And that search for God – that seeking God – continues today. It’s why at least some of us are here today.

            People have always sought God and I suppose we always will seek God.

            “O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you, as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.”

            We are seekers.

            But we’re not the only seekers.

            Seeking God is one of the great threads running through our tradition, but there is an even greater, and much more comforting, thread that also runs through our tradition.

            We may or may not be seeking God, but God is definitely seeking us.

            Since the beginning, Jews and Christians have experienced God seeking us out, reaching out to us over and over, looking for us over and over, wanting to be known by us, to be loved by us.

            I’ve mentioned before in sermons how for me one of the most painfully, heartbreakingly beautiful passages in all of Scripture comes right near the beginning - when Adam and Eve have disobeyed God and are hiding in shame and fear.

            We are told that God comes through the garden, searching for the first humans, seeking his beloved creation, asking, “Where are you?”

            And, in a sense, God has never stopped seeking us out – has never stopped asking, “Where are you?”

            God, the Seeker.

            Today’s reading from Exodus gives us another glimpse of God the Seeker – the famous scene of God calling to Moses out of the burning bush.

            Notice a couple of things about this story.

            First, Moses isn’t seeking God. Instead, that day, that ordinary day, on Mt. Horeb, Moses is minding his own business – or actually his father-in-law’s business - keeping his flock. We are told that Horeb – better known to us as Sinai – is the “mountain of God,” but Moses doesn’t seem aware of, or interested in, that fact. Moses isn’t on a pilgrimage seeking God. He’s just in the middle of everyday life, doing his job, keeping the flock.

            Suddenly, though, God the Seeker appears in the burning bush and tells Moses to remove his sandals because he is standing on holy ground.

            God seeks us in our everyday lives.

             God helps us see that the ordinary is holy.

            And since God the Seeker wants to be known by us, God reveals God’s mysterious name to Moses: “I AM Who I AM.”

            Which might be better translated as “I Will Be What I Will Be” – the future tense tipping us off that God will continue to act, will continue to seek us out, will be known to us through these acts and this seeking.

            God the seeker seeks us in our everyday lives.

            God helps us to see that the ordinary is holy.

            We Christians believe that God’s greatest act of seeking us out is living among us in and through Jesus of Nazareth.

            In and through Jesus, God reveals much more than God’s name. In and through Jesus, we learn what God is really like. In and through Jesus, we experience the depths of God’s love – we come to know that God is willing to go to unimaginable lengths to seek us out, to be known by us, to save us.

            In today’s gospel lesson, we heard a passage that is unique to the Gospel of Luke.

            And it’s a passage with a very clear Lenten theme: everybody needs repentance.

            In the First Century it was understood that painful experiences were signs of God’s judgment. And, many people today wouldn’t disagree with that idea. We’ve probably all asked, “Why is God punishing me?” when bad things happen.

            In today’s passage we hear about two painful experiences.

            The first is a result of human evil: people tell Jesus that the Roman governor Pontius Pilate has killed Galileans and mingled their blood in their religious sacrifices – something that would be especially horrifying for Jews.

            The second is what we might call natural evil: eighteen people were killed when the tower of Siloam fell. Jesus pointedly asks if the eighteen victims were worse offenders than everybody else living in Jerusalem.

            So the question is: Did these bad things happen to these people because they were they worse sinners?

            But, reflecting on these examples of human and natural evil, Jesus completely reframes the discussion. Asking if certain people are punished because they are worse sinners than others misses the point.

            The point is we all need repentance. And in the parable of the fig tree, Jesus reassures us of God’s patience, God’s willingness to give second chances, God’s openness to giving us more time to repent. Though in the parable of the fig tree, Jesus also reminds us that we don’t have all the time in the world – we need to repent before it’s too late.

            We all need repentance.

            We all need to confess our sins to God and one another. With God’s help, we all need to change our ways, to change our minds, to change our hearts.

            Repentance is important because repentance allows God the Seeker to find us.

            Repentance can only happen if we pay attention – if we pay attention to what’s is going on inside our hearts – if we pay attention to what we’ve done and not done – if we pay attention to what’s going on all around us.

            And when we repent, when we pay attention, we allow God the Seeker to find us.

            And, sure enough, God seeks us and finds us in our everyday lives just like God sought and found Moses long ago.

            God helps us – like God helped Moses - to see that the ordinary is holy – that we stand on holy ground.

            If we pay attention we realize how amazing it is that today, this ordinary day, we’re alive! It’s amazing that we are all here together on this beautiful and fragile rock sailing through the vastness of space – it’s amazing that we can love and be loved – it’s amazing that we can create – and it’s amazing that God the Seeker, who began and sustains all that is and all that will be, loves each one of us and wants to be known and loved by each one of us.

            Repentance begins when we pay attention. And when we pay attention we allow God the Seeker to find us.

            Now, the Bible doesn’t tell us what was going through Moses’ mind that ordinary day when he was keeping his father-in-law’s flock on Mount Horeb.

            But, who knows, maybe that day, that ordinary day, Moses was paying especially close attention. Maybe that day, that ordinary day, Moses was amazed to be alive, amazed by all that had already happened in his life, amazed by the flock, amazed by the beauty of the mountain, amazed by a bush that burned but was not consumed.

            Maybe that day, that ordinary day, Moses made just enough room in his life and in his heart that God the Seeker was able to find him, to speak to him, and to transform his life.

            God the seeker seeks us in our everyday lives.

            God helps us to see that the ordinary is holy.

            O God, you are our God; eagerly we seek you;

            O God, you are our God; eagerly you seek us.

            Amen.