Several weeks ago I looked to see what the readings would be for today, my last Sunday to preach as your priest. My first thought when I read today’s gospel (Luke 8:26-39) was, Aw, come on God, really? The Gerasene demonic? An exorcism for my last Sunday? My second thought was, Am I the one being cast out?

All: For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven. (Ecclesiastes 3:1) V: So teach us to number our days:R: That we may apply our hearts to wisdom. (Psalm 90:12)Let us pray. O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquility the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Most of you won’t be surprised when I tell you that I’m going to begin with a couple of questions. You might, however, be surprised or even startled by the questions. Don’t try to immediately answer them. I’ll give you a moment to sit with them. Just pay attention and see what they bring up in you; feelings, thoughts, memories, fears, hopes, other questions.

For thirty-eight years the man in today’s gospel (John 5:1-9) has sat on his … mat. That’s a long time. Every day for thirty-eight years doing the same old things. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. Wondering if today is the day. Sitting on his mat has become a way of life for this man. His life is stagnant. He’s unable to see that the deep well of life is within him.

“Where I am going, you cannot come,” Jesus says to his disciples in today’s gospel (John 13:31-35). It’s the night of the last supper and Jesus knows his time to depart this world has come. “Little children,” he says to them, “I am with you only a little longer.”  Peter wants to know where Jesus is going and why he can’t go with him.

To whom or what are you dedicating yourself these days? Whose voice are you listening to and following? Who or what is shepherding your life today? On a Sunday morning in church the obvious and correct answer is Jesus. But I don’t want us to settle for the obvious and correct. Today, I want us to do some soul-searching. I don’t want us to proclaim Jesus as the answer.

Last Sunday, Easter Sunday, I said that when the stone was rolled away from the tomb the door to our future was opened to us. The obvious thing to do when someone opens the door for you is to say thank you and walk through. It may be obvious but that doesn’t necessarily make it automatic or easy. In the first half of the gospel (

Below are my sermons from the Triduum this year: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter. Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and giving life to those in the tomb. ____________________________________________________________ Featured Image Credit: Photo by Ashlee Marie on Unsplash.

I’m going to ask you what I think is a very simple question with an obvious answer. But you might surprise me, you have before. So we’ll find out together. You ready? What do you do when someone opens the door for you? Yes, you say thank you and walk through it. Well done. You just might go to heaven!

Today the shadow of Good Friday is long and dark. Yesterday’s nightmare did not end with this morning’s sunrise. If anything, today, Holy Saturday, only confirms what has been lost. It really did happen. The messenger of God’s love, peace, and nonviolence; the one who was anointed to bring good news to the poor, release to the captive, sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed; the one who stood with and for the powerless; that one has been disappeared.

“‘It is finished.’ Then Jesus bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” “It is finished.” Those are not the words of a winner who accomplished his task. They are the words of a witness who, God help him, testified to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth: – The truth about violence.– The truth about abusive power.

I've come to believe that this night, Maundy Thursday, just might be the most difficult day of Holy Week. I think we would rather glory in the cross of Christ than expose our feet. I think we would rather marvel at the empty tomb than feel the altar of our life stripped bare. Maybe that's just my stuff about this night, but I don't think so.

It's easy and tempting to look at today's gospel (John 13:21-32) and cast Jesus as the victim and Judas as the villain. It seems to be the usual interpretation. Maybe that's a projection of our own experience of being betrayed. We feel like the victim. But Jesus never cast himself as the victim. He doesn’t play the victim. He doesn’t take offense.

I have a lot of ambivalence and hesitancy about today. It’s one thing to hear the story of Jesus riding a donkey into Jerusalem knowing what will happen to him. It’s another thing when we realize it is our story too - and it always is. Let me give you a few examples, some modern day versions of going to Jerusalem.

By now many of you have heard that Tom died Wednesday afternoon. He was one of the great men in this parish and town. His wife and children were with him the last few days as he was crossing over. Grandchildren and other family members spoke to him by phone or video call. I got to be with Tom and his family several times last week.

Last week I received an email from a woman who said she was unable to keep our appointment. It was the second time that had happened. I know from our first meeting a couple of months ago that she’s having a difficult time in her life. She ended her email by saying, “I hope you will not give up on me.” The day before I received that email someone told me their adult child had said to them, “Please don’t give up on me.”

The Why Question Years ago I was talking with John, one of my best friends. I was telling him about something that had happened to me. I no longer remember what it was but I vividly remember wantin…

The Why Question Years ago I was talking with John, one of my best friends. I was telling him about something that had happened to me. I no longer remember what it was but I vividly remember wanting to know why it had happened. I wanted an explanation, a sense of security, maybe even a culprit to blame. Haven’t you had conversations like that?

Last Sunday I spoke about the decisive moments in our lives. You may remember that I distinguished them from the routine and ordinary decisions we make every day. They are the kind of decisions tha…

Last Sunday I spoke about the decisive moments in our lives. You may remember that I distinguished them from the routine and ordinary decisions we make every day. They are the kind of decisions that reveal who we are and what it means to be uniquely us, decisions that ask something of us, decisions that reveal our values, priorities, and commitments, decisions that shape and change our lives and impact the lives of others.

Decisive Moments When you look back on your life what have been some of the decisive moments?  I’m not asking about the routine decisions and choices we make every day. I’m asking about those …

Decisive Moments When you look back on your life what have been some of the decisive moments? I’m not asking about the routine decisions and choices we make every day. I’m asking about those decisions that have profound and lasting consequences. They are the decisions that reveal who we are and what it means to be uniquely us, decisions that ask something of us, decisions that reveal our values and priorities, decisions that sometimes involve a sacrifice or a deeper commitment to someone or something.

Years ago I heard a story about a priest who went to a new parish. I don’t know if it really happened; it probably didn’t, but I think there’s some truth in the story.  Anyway, the priest was …

Years ago I heard a story about a priest who went to a new parish. I don’t know if it really happened; it probably didn’t, but I think there’s some truth in the story. Anyway, the priest was meeting and getting to know the people and would ask about their relationship with God. Most responded with the usual and expected answers, the kind of things you and I might say.

“Life is so beautiful. Life is so hard.” That’s a phrase the author Kate Bowler often uses. It’s a reality we’ve all experienced. It’s a truth today’s gospel (Luke 9:28-43) holds before us.  I…