The first thing I noticed in the readings for today brought an echo of a familiar voice – perhaps you heard it too. I read the last line of the epistle, “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have…” and thought “Oh that’s where that comes from!!” It is of course the sentence that our rector Jeff just recently moved to Connecticut, used at every offertory I remember at St. Paul’s – I could even hear his voice saying it. What a lovely memory and connection – a reminder, with joy, of past gatherings of this community in praise and worship of God.

Our reading from Isaiah this morning speaks to a people in transition. It is part of what we sometimes call “Third Isaiah,” chapters 56-66, written after the people return but before the rebuilding of Jerusalem and the temple. The people of Israel have been allowed by Cyrus, king of Persia, to return from exile in Babylon to the land that is so sacred to them. They have been gone for half a century, and for a hundred years after their return, Jerusalem is still very much a pile of rubble. This is a time for rebuilding and restoring, for learning from the sins of the past and pledging anew to faithfulness to God.

The gospel reading for today is part of a somewhat longer teaching from Jesus about our relationship with material possessions. In it Jesus is telling those who would listen – telling us – what most of us already know at a deep level but have a hard time living into, that things and money will never make us happy, and that trying to hold on to them will only push us farther and farther away from what is truly worthwhile. There’s nothing new or distinctive about this insight; it is shared by Jews and Muslims and Buddhists and Hindus and countless other people from all sorts of religious and philosophical traditions.

To view a video of the Rev. Elise A. Feyerherm’s sermon, click HERE.

Our readings for today have much to say to a people in transition, wondering what God has in store for us next. A prophet nearing the end of his tenure passes on his mantle to a new prophet. A rabbi sets his face toward the place of his death and resurrection and calls people along the way to follow him, keeping their eyes focused on the road ahead of them instead of what lies behind. An inveterate letter writer reminds his readers of how easy it can be to fall prey to the impulse to grab everything for oneself and despise one’s neighbor, and calls them back to root themselves in the Spirit of love. And a Hebrew poet turns to God to find the path of life, giving thanks for the goodly heritage that is all around. Each of these has wisdom for us who are wondering what is around the corner, what we need to do to prepare for the journey, and where our guidance and sustenance will come from.

Elijah and Elisha could not be more different as men and as prophets. Elijah is, as Daniel Hawk writes, the “quintessential outsider.” He works on the periphery of Israel, scrounging for food and hanging with the poorest of the poor. He is irascible, cranky, and persistent in his critique of power and idolatry within the royal household of Israel. Elijah is also a loner, which perhaps is one of the reasons he is so exhausted at the point we meet him in the story today.

To view a video of the Rev. Elise A. Feyerherm’s sermon, click HERE.

Genesis 11:1-9, Psalm 104:25-35, 37, Acts 2:1-21, John 14:8-17-27

It is so hard to compose a sermon about the joy of baptism and the Holy Spirit, when just a few days ago this nation experienced a fourth mass shooting in less than three weeks. On Thursday I sat in the Lichtenberger Room and saw through the windows the children of Pine Village preschool in the backyard, immersed in the joyful and serious work that is play, without a care, and I hoped, I prayed, that they would never know the terror that has unfolded elsewhere in this country.

In her poem, Hymn For The Hurting, Amanda Gorman, a practicing Roman Catholic, writes what many of us are feeling:

To view a video of the Rev. Jeffrey W. Mello’s sermon, click HERE.

Acts 16:16-34; Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20; John 17:20-26

Why is freedom so very scary? Why is it all we cry out for, and yet hesitate to embrace? How can it be a central value of a country that, at the same time, seems so determined to prevent it from happening? On this Memorial Day weekend, how can we imagine honoring those whose lives were taken while carrying out their pursuit of freedom, when we won’t allow the freedom they fought to protect to rule?

Though the particulars change from generation to generation; though the weapons of fear get more sophisticated in carrying out their task, the truth remains that humanity has always had a love/hate relationship with freedom. Not the concept. Not the political idea. But the real, empty tomb, abundant life, Jesus Christ freedom he gave up his life that we might know.