We are coming close to the end of the Easter Season. This past Thursday, the Church celebrated the day Jesus ascended to Heaven, and next week is the great feast of Pentecost. But this week, we are in this liminal space, the space in between, and John gives us the High Priestly Prayer of Jesus and his desire that all of us may be one.

Being one is essential, but does being one, united in a single thought or purpose, mean we cannot be individuals?  I don’t think so, and I don’t believe Jesus thought so either.

Last week, I talked about the spectrum of belief and practice amongst the 12 Apostles. Matthew, the Tax Collector and representative of the Roman government stood in direct opposition to everything that Simon the Zealot represented. Then there was Judas, who I believe was a pawn and did what he had to do to fulfill the mission. And Ole Peter, the denier. And who can forget our friend Thomas?

All of them were specifically chosen because they were not perfect. Listen, if you think your minister, bishop, rabbi, or other religious leader is going to be perfect, I have news for you. Ordination does change some things, but it does not alter the fact that we are human and, like the rest of you, we will make mistakes and disappoint people. I say this to you as much as to myself: stop looking for perfection from the clergy.

Although they were all Jewish and came from a similar general area, there were as many opinions on various matters as there were people, and that remains the case. Unity does not mean uniformity. Psalm 133 says in part, “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!” It’s certainly nice when we can all agree, but sometimes, a minor disagreement can lead to essential changes.

Today is the 7th Sunday after Easter, but it is also the Commemoration of the Bishops who gathered 1700 years ago in a small town called Nicaea. Nicaea is located in what is now Turkey and was the site where approximately 318 bishops gathered from May to July 325 CE to address a heresy that was emerging within the Church.

 This was not the first time a council had been called. In Acts, we see James, the Bishop of Jerusalem, calling the others together to discuss an issue that had arisen between Peter and Paul. But this was the first time that almost all the bishops of the world gathered in one place. It is called the 1st Ecumenical Council, not because people of different faiths were present, but because they were all present.

The issue at hand was the nature and divinity of Jesus. Until this Council met, there was no established doctrine or single belief about much of anything other than that Jesus was born; he did certain things: he was crucified, died, rose again, ascended to Heaven, and sent the Holy Spirit. There was agreement because there had been eyewitness testimony. But the nature and divinity of Jesus?  How do we figure that out?

Without going into too much detail, the issue arose over Jesus’ divinity and his relationship to God. Was Jesus a created being? Was Jesus divine from birth, or did his divinity attach itself to him at some point? What is the nature and essence of Jesus about God? Although a decision and doctrine were made at the Council, I am not sure there is agreement on any of these questions even today.

At this time, there were two schools of thought, one in Alexandria and one led by a bloke called Aruis who, you have heard me mention before, was punched in the face by our very own Saint Nicholas.

Anyway, the Alexandrian school stated that Jesus was not created. Jesus was with God since the beginning. They point toward Genesis and God, saying, “Let us make them in our image.” Although Jesus was born a human, He was also divine from the beginning, and there was no time when Jesus was not. This is where the Trinitarian nature of the Church came about. Although God, the creator, was a separate entity, the essence was shared in equal parts with God the Redeemer, Jesus, and God the Sustainer, the Holy Spirit.

Okay, you all have the same look on your faces that I had when we discussed this over and over in seminary, so I will quickly move to Aruis, who believed none of it. Jesus was created at birth. His divinity was attached to him at his baptism. Etc.

I have been in church council meetings when there has been a knockdown, drag-out fight over the color of tablecloths for a church banquet; I cannot imagine what this must have been like. But they debated, discussed, fought, I am sure they laughed and cried, and, in the end, they had a statement, and part of the Church had been excommunicated and branded heretics so much for being one.

What came out of this Council is a creed, or the first part of a creed anyway. The creed lays out fundamental beliefs; these are the things we agree with. We don’t have to understand them fully, but we can all agree that this is a good starting point.

But what the creed hoped to do was to bring people together, which it did, but, at the same time, it divided people. Previously, people were doing their own thing. Churches had been founded all over the place, from Jerusalem to southern Africa, to India, and as far-flung as what we now call England.

The Church was local, governed locally by its bishop, who was usually, but not always, one of its members. The point is the Church existed at the regional level. Sure, there was a Bishop of Rome and a Patriarch in Constantinople and other places, but their jurisdiction did not extend beyond the boundaries of their cities.

The basics were present, but worship looked very different. The Church often adopted the local culture, incorporating the dress and heritage of the place where it existed. Many of the “saints” we have today were borrowed from the culture of the time and place. One example of this is Brigit, who was and is a significant influence on Celtic culture. There is a belief that Bridgit was one of the gods that the Church adopted, Christianized, if you will, to make the Church more palatable to the locals. Do not destroy the culture; adapt to it.

For me, there are certain fundamental beliefs one must have if one is going to call oneself a Christian. That makes us one. But at the same time, there are many, many ways to express that oneness and live it out. The greatest challenge for the Church is to make this 1700-year-old document relevant for today. Belief is not stagnant; it is organic and must adapt to the times. Belief might not change, but the language we use to express that belief does need to change.

I have often spoken of my Chaplaincy work. For me, Chaplaincy is the best expression of this idea of unity but not uniformity. The greatest gift Chaplaincy has given me is getting to work with people of different expressions of faith. I don’t just mean different expressions of Christian faith for which there are legions, but working with Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and those who have no faith or a faith so radically different from mine. I have learned a great deal from these dedicated men and women.

One of the duties of a military chaplain is to occasionally advocate with command of what we call religious accommodation. This might involve ensuring that there are kosher or halal meals available. I once had to advocate for a soldier who identified as a Norse Pagan, and he wanted permission to wear a gold bracelet, the symbol of his faith. Army regulations specify that when wearing a camouflage uniform, nothing shiny can be part of it: no gold rings or other jewelry.

My job was to sit with this soldier and not judge his faith but to get a sense of the seriousness of his faith and then write a letter that would eventually end up on the desk of the Secretary of the Army for a determination. I never thought I would be sitting with someone who identified as a Norse Pagan, but I learned a great deal from him, and we discovered that we shared many commonalities. We used different terms to describe things, but we found common ground. I did not judge him, and he did not judge me.

Several years ago, a scandal came about because a Roman Catholic deacon baptized someone in the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. The “rules” say that baptisms are to be in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It was revealed that this deacon had committed this act not once but on numerous occasions, and it now invalidated all those baptisms. I’m all about the rules, but…

John, in the Gospel we heard today, relates Jesus’ prayer that just as he and God are one, we are one with each other. Although they share the same essence, Jesus and God are different. Just as you and I share the same belief, we express that belief differently. Even within denominations, there are other expressions of faith. Our worship service looks different than the worship service in Scituate, but the essence is the same.

Do we always have to agree? No. Martin Luther did not disagree with any part of the Church’s belief, nor did Zwingli, Calvin, or any of the other reformers. John Wesley agreed with the theology and doctrine of the Anglican Church; he just expressed that belief differently.

The Council that met in Nicaea provided us with a roadmap, a starting point for discussion. Unfortunately, it has become a litmus test for who is and who is not part of the club. So fine does this become that entire churches excommunicated the other over three words, “and the Son.” This is ridiculous.

As a Chaplain, I am part of a group of very diverse religious individuals who work together to further the mission. We share the essence of ministry with one another and serve a diverse population, but we are also individuals who practice our faith differently; for the most part, we respect those differences. My faith works for me, but that does not mean it will work for you.

Jesus prayed, “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

Jesus prayed that the world would know that God loves them, and that is my prayer, and that is my ministry.

Amen.

Matthew 2:1-12

“On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”

There is an Italian legend of an old woman who travels the night sky on Epiphany Eve, bringing sweets and toys to the good children and coal to the bad ones. She is often depicted as a witch with a black scarf on her head, carrying a sack or a basket, and riding on a broom. The legend of La Bafana has an unknown origin but has meaning for us today.

Like most legends, hers has become complicated. There is a belief that she is of pre-Christian origin, but today, we will stick to how La Befana and the Wise Men come together.

La Befana is said to live in a mountain cave outside a city. One day, three strange men came to visit her. They were from a far-off land and were following a star searching for a child who had been born. They told her they had brought gifts for the child and asked if she knew where this child might be. La Befana was very busy cleaning, and she told them she did not know and ran them off.

Later, she regretted her decision and decided to find these men from the East. She packed gifts for the child, mounted her broom, and flew off searching for the visitors. She did not see them or the child they sought, but she had all these gifts. La Befana decided to stop off at other places with the children and leave the gifts for them.

Our Scripture lesson from Matthew, which we heard this morning, tells us what happened to these men from the East. They found what they were looking for and more.

We know very little about these men from the biblical account. Their story only appears in Matthew’s Gospel and is vague. Matthew calls them “wise men from the East” and never mentions their occupation or number. Traditional Western Christians set their number at three, corresponding to the number of gifts they bring. Still, Eastern Christianity, specifically the Syriac tradition, has 12, corresponding to the 12 days of Christmas.

They are essential to the story regardless of who or what they are.

We also do not know when they will arrive. Again, Matthew only says this event took place in the time of King Herod, roughly 72 BCE to 4 BCE. Some scholars believe the Wise Men came many years after the birth event and visited him in a house that was not stable. Scripture tells us that upon hearing the news of the child’s birth, Herod orders the slaughter of all male children under two years of age, which would point to the idea that this even took place up to two years after Jesus’ birth. Still, the exact time and place do not matter; they came, which is essential.

The research will suggest that these men did come from the East. By the 3rd century, they had been identified as Kings, which would conform with Christian interpretations of prophecies in the Hebrew Scriptures that Kings would worship the Messiah.

Matthew calls them Magos in Greek, from which we derive the Latin term Magi. Mago comes from Old Persian magus, which refers to the Iranian priestly class of Zoroastrianism. They were known for their ability to read the stars and gained an international reputation for astrology. By the way, the word Magi is where we get the English word Magic.

Again, there is no evidence that they were Kings, and the first English reference to such was the interpretation of the word “Magi” in the King James Bible, probably to lessen the idea that these men were astrologers. The Reformer John Calvin thought that these men were not kings and that the term was invented to sanitize the story and make it more acceptable in society.

Although Matthew does not provide their names, several legends give their names, as Melchior, Caspar, and Balthazar. The most notable of these legends come from an 8th-century Latin text and the apocryphal text, The Acts of Saint Thomas.

Matthew gives only the evidence of their place of origin from the “East,” but using the name Magi points to the Parthian Empire centered in Iran. This is an integral part of the story because the Parthian Empire was known for tolerating other religions and religious practices. It is also important to note that these men are usually depicted as being of various ages and races, which will become important later.

Matthew tells us that when they found Jesus, they entered the house and knelt down to worship him. This is where the practice of kneeling in worship comes from. Jewish worship, where most of our Christian practice comes from, did not include kneeling or prostrating; all those Christian practices came from the Magi worshipping Jesus. One might argue that kneeling in worship is as old as Christianity itself.

The gifts are significant as well. All three were ordinary, and the usual gifts were offered when one paid homage to a king. These men knew this child was not some ordinary child and brought the appropriate gifts.

These gifts also have spiritual significance: gold symbolizes earthly kingship, frankincense, in the form of incense, symbolizes deity, and myrrh, an oil used for anointing, symbolizes death. This is where we get another of our Christian traditions. Incense is used in worship, signifying our prayers being lifted to God, and myrrh is often an essential ingredient in the oil used for anointing the sick and other rituals.

In my message on Christmas Eve, I pointed out that all of creation was present at the birth of Jesus. Animals and shepherds were there to worship this tiny baby that would transform the world. The men from the East signify another aspect of it all, that the message of Christ was to transcend not only geography but also culture, time, place, race, and religion.

These men were on pilgrimage; they had searched the sky for a sign and found it. They were seekers like many of us are or have been. It is interesting to note that these men practiced a religion that the Christian Church would later condemn as witchcraft, yet they were among the first to not only pay homage but bring gifts and humble themselves by kneeling to worship. This may be why La Befana is often depicted as a witch.

Later in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus preaches to a gathering of people on a hillside. This is often called the sermon on the mount, where the beatitudes come from. These beatitudes are central Christian teachings, and it is essential to note that people of multiple races, ages, genders, and even religions were on that hillside. Jerusalem was a crossroads for trade, and people from all over the world would come and pass through it. The message of Jesus is for everyone, not just those we think fit into a specific mold or way of life.

Each person present that night and in the days after was a seeker of a sort. Something drew them in and brought them to the place where they found Jesus. Many came with nothing, only an openness to what was possible, and others came with precious gifts. Regardless of what they brought, they all came and worshipped and, no doubt, left changed.

Everyone is invited to God’s party, even those who have been traveling radically different paths. Those who have made this journey many times in their lives are invited to take a new look at Jesus and his message of love and acceptance of all, not just some. It is important to remember Jesus’ saying, “The last shall be first, and the first will be last.”

It is important to remember that this was not an ordinary birth, and by that, I do not suggest anything to do with the supernatural circumstances of how they found themselves where they were. The birth story reminds us that the creator became part of creation to show us a different way to live. But it is also a story that invites everyone to come; whether you are a shepherd or king, young or old, astrologer or believer, there is a place for you at the table.

The story of the Magi reminds us that God initiates the call to come and find, to knock, and to seek. Our job is to come with an open mind to find a story that might challenge our traditional beliefs about many things. The Magi’s journey to seek the child exposes God’s intention to welcome everyone “into the joy of God’s hoe not made with hands, but eternal in the heavens” and, remarkably, on earth as well. Amen.

“What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.”

In 1779, a new hymn book was published in rural England. At a time when printing was not easily accessible, it was not uncommon for a local congregation to publish its own hymnal for Sunday use in that church. But this hymnal contained a special hymn that would eventually become so well known that it is estimated to be performed 10 million times per year.

This hymn was written by John Newton, who was raised without any particular religious conviction. His life took many twists and turns based on what others thought he should do. He reluctantly joined the Royal Navy and, after leaving service, became involved in the Atlantic slave trade.

In 1748, a violent storm battered his ship off the County Donegal, Ireland, coast. So severe was this storm that he called out to God for help and mercy. Although this moment marked his conversion, he continued in the slave trade until about 1755, when he gave up his seafaring career altogether.

Newton began studying Christian theology and became an abolitionist. He was ordained in the Anglican Church in 1764 and assigned to the rural parish of Olney. While there, he met the poet William Cowper, and the two began to write hymns.

The relatively unknown hymn I mentioned earlier is Amazing Grace, and it was written to accompany a sermon Newtown preached on New Year’s Day 1773. It is unclear if there was any music that accompanied the words. It was common practice for hymns to be chanted by the congregation rather than sung to any particular tune. One of the many artifacts we have in the display case at the back of the church is a plainchant hymnal from the very early days of our congregation.

Amazing Grace was unknown until it started to be used in the early 19th century by Baptist and Methodist preachers as part of evangelization during what is known as the Second Great Awakening. America was coming to grips with the horrors of slavery and the Civil War and was looking for answers and redemption for the sins committed not only individually but nationally.

Amazing Grace is a song about redemption and forgiveness, and it reminds us that both are possible regardless of the sins we have committed. God’s All-Sufficient Grace can deliver the soul from despair if we just open our eyes.

If there was ever a time that we needed to hear the message of Amazing Grace, it is now!

Today, the writer of Mark’s Gospel introduces us to Bartimaeus son of Timaeus. This story of the healing of Bartimaeus appears in all three of the synoptic Gospels, although Mark is the only one who gives the blind man a name. Naming is important in Scripture, and we need to pay close attention to it.

Jesus and his Disciples were in Jerico, and as they were leaving, a blind man called out to him, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Bartimaeus had heard about Jesus and thought that this was his big chance to obtain his sight. Not wanting to cause a problem, those around him tried to silence him, but it only made him shout louder, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus stops, calls the man to him, and asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus replies to Jesus, “My teacher, let me see again.” That word “again” is going to prove very important.

This passage from Mark is only seven verses long, but it is filled to the brim with meaning if we just open our eyes to see past the magic that is taking place.

This is the last of the healing stories in Mark. Healing stories, like all the miracles of Jesus, contain a much deeper meaning than we see on the surface, and this one is no exception. Typically, the person being healed is not mentioned, which usually means the story is meant for all; it is an amalgamation of healing that had taken place. This is not to say that Jesus did not heal people; rather, the Scriptures contain only a small section of what Jesus did.

The man is named Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus. The name is interesting as Bartimaeus literally means son of Timaeus. Again, it is unusual that the man is named at all, and his name is a strange Semitic-Greek hybrid. Scholars agree that this person is a reference to an actual person from history.

But is it the person in front of Jesus, or is it someone else?

Some scholars point to Timaeus in Plato’s works, who delivers Plato’s most important cosmological and theological treatise, which involves sight as the foundation of knowledge. If you have read Plato, you understand that sight was an essential part of his philosophy, and we must look for answers before we can find understanding.

But there is more. When Bartimaeus stands to walk to Jesus, Mark tells us that he “throws off his cloak.” Keep in mind that everything written has meaning; nothing is put in Scripture just to take up space. Bartimaeus not only removes his cloak but also “throws it off,” signifying he will no longer need it. He also signifies that he is throwing off all his possessions to follow Jesus. This is to remind those around him, and especially his Disciples, of the need to rid ourselves of those things that hold us back.

Bartimaeus’ response to Jesus’ questioning is that he wants to see again. So, Bartimaeus was not blind from birth but lost his sight at some point for an unknown reason. The ancients believed that there was a connection between our health and our sin. Was it something he did that caused his blindness? Was it something that someone else did that caused it?

Blindness in Scripture is often a metaphor for spiritual blindness or being blind to Jesus’ message of love and acceptance. For sight to be recovered, we must first acknowledge that we are blind, and only then can we seek solutions and healing.

But we can be blind to many things, especially things that do not directly involve us, like the suffering and pain of others. It is easy to shut ourselves up in our own world and keep others out. If we close our eyes tight enough, it will go away.

What else blinds us? There is some truth to the idea that sin can cause blindness. When we are filled with hate, we are blind to the truth. Far too often, people believe that narrative is placed before them, blinding us to the truth. When people say what we want to hear and hate the same people we hate, we become blind, and our blindness causes all sorts of problems.

But before we start to feel all righteous in our position, know that righteousness can also blind us. Just because we have the right beliefs does not give us a license to ignore or disdain those who do not. If we are to obey Jesus’ command to love all, then we have to be willing to see the other and to listen. People suffer for all sorts of reasons. We may not agree with how they express their suffering, but that does not diminish the fact that they are suffering.

Yes, our own ignorance can cause us suffering, but sometimes, we need someone to help us find our way back. Love is the best way to help someone regain their sight.

Bartimaeus acknowledged that he was blind and needed help to change his life. He acknowledged Jesus’ kingship and asked him to help him regain his sight. Bartimaeus cried out in faith and despair, just like John Newton did on the deck of that ship. In both cases, God reached out his hand and provided what was needed.

Jesus tells Bartimaeus that his “faith has made him well.” Bartimaeus received his sight but did not go away; he followed Jesus. Newton’s life was changed, not instantly, but from one of slavery to service, and that service continues to this day.

How many lives have been changed by Amazing Grace? The song is popular not only in religious circles but also in secular circles. My guess is it would be hard to find someone who has never heard the words, “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.” I was lost, but now I’m found. I was blind, but now I see.

What blinds us? Whatever it is, know that God’s all-sufficient Grace can restore your sight. All we need to do is ask.

Amen.

Mark 10:35-45

“…but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.”

Perhaps you have heard that there is a rather important event coming up on November 5th. Although I will never tell you who to vote for, I will point out the importance of exercising that right of citizenship, and please vote. I am sure I will make the same plea in the coming weeks.

But with the election on the horizon, I have turned my thoughts to what comes after—what happens in the days and weeks after November 5th? What happens after the confetti has fallen and the speeches have been made? In every election, some win, and those, whether they choose to believe it or not, lose.

Regardless of what happens on election day or in the days after, life will go on.

It has been said that we are more divided now than we were prior to the Civil War. I am a student of that period of our history from a theological perspective, and by that, I mean what role did the church play in the events leading up to and after the war?

We are called United Methodists largely due to the split before the war. The theological and ideological split divided the church along northern and southern lines. It took only a few years to break apart, but it took more than 100 to come back together, and it is still not fully restored.

For the last couple of weeks, I have been wrestling with this question of what’s next and what our role should be in what’s next.

In Paul’s Letter to the Hebrews, he writes to the church about the type of leaders we should want and what we should be. Paul writes that the High Priest does not perform his duties for his own glory but for the glory of God, “…one does not presume to take this honor, but takes it only when called by God.” But Paul also reminds those he is writing to that the High Priest is a human and suffers from the same weaknesses that we all do, sometimes more.

Two weeks ago, I had the pleasure of participating in an ordination service in Plymouth. It has been several years since I attended an ordination service, and it was nice to be reminded of the obligation we take when we submit to being set apart for leadership in God’s Church.

The first lesson is leadership, not about us. None of this can be about us. In last week’s lesson from Mark, the Rich Young Man calls Jesus “Good Teacher,” and Jesus rebukes him. “No one is good except God,” Jesus tells the man. Jesus constantly and consistently points away from himself and towards God. When they want to make him King, he runs away. When he faces temptation in the desert and is offered everything, he turns it down. None of this is about me.

The second lesson is that to be leaders, we first have to be servants. A true leader must be willing to wash the feet of those they lead. Some of the best leaders I have had in my military service have stood beside me in the rain and mud. The leader who does not wish to get dirty is no leader, and the leader who is aloof is no leader.

Marks’s Gospel sums it up rather nicely for us today, “…but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.” And Jesus continues, “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.” Must be a slave of who? All. Not some, not just the ones we like, but all.

Here is that radical Jesus again telling me that I have to love everyone and now serve them. This message is for us as individuals and for the church.

The church is at its best when it serves as a moral compass. I am not talking about forcing people to think a certain way or even to force conformity upon them, but rather offering an alternative and providing forgiveness and reconciliation. And doing it all with grace and love.

But the church is also at her best when she speaks the truth in love and rebukes. We must never compromise for the sake of unity. Jesus was all about bringing people together, but he was also aware that there were those who would not wish to come together.

After Jesus told the Rich Young Man that he would have to sell everything to follow him, the man turned and walked away. Jesus did not chase after him, nor did Jesus change his mind; he let the man walk away. Part of leadership is recognizing when it is time to let people go and watch them walk away. But we should never close the door because they might come back one day.

The question remains: what do we do?

Can we reconcile? Should we reconcile? Can we repair relationships? Should those relationships be repaired?

I will admit that I don’t know, but I believe we have to try.

Not too far from here, out there in the harbor, stands a light that has been warning mariners about the dangers in the area but also lighting the way to safety. A lighthouse is a symbol of hope, a sign that just past the light, we will find sanctuary from the storm, a place of refuge from all that troubles us. The church can and should be that lighthouse, lighting the way to hope in the present and the future.

The sign that stands in front of our building boldly claims that we are a reconciling congregation. That means that, as a community, we decided to come to grips with the past hurts and divisions we have caused and promise not to cause those same hurts in the future. It is a recognition that we are not perfect, but God’s all-sufficient grace will help us get there.

But if that sign is to have any real meaning, we have to live out that principle of reconciliation in all aspects of our lives as individuals and as the church. We must be willing to open our doors to all, not just some.

The twelve that Jesus picked to help him were the most unlikely bunch ever assembled. Among them was one who despised the government and everything it stood for, but their number also included a tax collector, one who represented that government.

There was Judas, who never understood nor appreciated what Jesus was doing and would eventually turn him in. My friend Peter, who was bold in his faith and proclamation of who Jesus was and is, and of whom Jesus said that his faith was like a rock, would deny Jesus to save his own skin.

The two we encountered today were James and John, the sons of Zebedee, boldly asking to be put in seats of glory. And then, when Jesus needed them most, they all abandoned him. These twelve were imperfect, but they were able to spread the message of love and acceptance to the farthest reaches of the world.

All of this is possible if we are willing to humble ourselves and be of service to others. We bring about reconciliation through love and peace, but it all begins with us and our ability to reconcile and forgive.

We have a great and important task before us, and we must be ready. Our work will not end next month; it is only beginning.

Amen