“One-Way Ticket. No Refunds. No Exchanges.”

Homily for the Feast of Saint Peter & Saint Paul   29 June 2025
Episcopal Parish of All Saints - Ashmont, Dorchester, Massachusetts
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Interim Rector

To cross and sword they yielded and saw the kingdom come.

Derrick Johnson. Not a household name, but he aimed to be. Right up there with Christopher Columbus, Lewis & Clark, Neil Armstrong, and Buzz Aldrin.

How? Johnson — along with about 2,700 others — applied to be among the first cohort of humans not only to land on Mars, but to build a permanent, self-sustaining colony on the dusty hulk.

The name of the mission — not affiliated, by the way, with Elon Musk’s SpaceX: Mars One, as in "one-way."

Yes, until it went belly-up in 2019 for lack of backers, the mission aimed to launch the successful applicants into space, land them on Mars, and attempt to keep them alive there until the end of their days. As advertised, one-way.

That meant, however, Mars One had lots of critics: Was it even ethical? Was it a scam?

But let’s say it was all on the up-and-up: Would you do it? Would you sign up for a one-way trip into the history books via the Red Planet?

I suppose it would depend on a lot of factors: What you want to do with the rest of your life … the ties that bind (spouse, family, friends) … the lure of fame … or the gravitational pull of going boldly where no one has gone before.

A one-way/no-exit enterprise raises questions like that.

That’s why Derrick Johnson eventually got cold feet. The trigger? What else? Love. Johnson wasn’t in love when he applied for Mars One. Back then, he thought he would never fall in love, never find the “one.” But, in light of a law he never saw coming (equal marriage the Law of the Land, the 10-year anniversary of which many of us celebrated and gave thanks for this past Thursday), love (earth-bound Jonathan) found Mars-bound Derrick. Aw-w-w-w-k-ward!

That meant Derrick had to decide what he really, really wanted to do with the rest of his life … what he really, really had to do.

In other words, he discovered that bumping into the future — in his case, two competing futures — has a way of changing your life … changing your mind … changing the course of just about everything.

That’s Jesus’ point when he asks Peter — in our Gospel reading this morning — once, twice, three times, “Peter, do you love me?” hitched once, twice, three times to Jesus’ invitation, “Follow me.”

Why the repetition? It’s Jesus’ way of saying, “‘Follow me’: It’s a one-way mission. What, then, do you really, really want to do with the rest of your life? What do you really, really have to do?”

Peter doesn’t quite know what to think of the question. From where he stands, the future looks pretty good. The trauma of Good Friday is far, far behind him. He has just realized the perfect day: caught a mother lode of fish … on a glassy sea … dug into a steaming breakfast … on a pebbled shore … with each and every one of his best friends in the world … and with Jesus, alive once more.

Now, not all our tomorrows end in gloom-and-doom. I mean, we don’t get out alive, true, but getting there isn’t necessarily a steady loop of “Ask not for whom the bell tolls.”

And yet, where will a one-way future lead Peter? A future not on his bucket list. Destination, as it turned out? Death on a cross — like Jesus — only for Peter, hung upside down.

That future, hinted at by Jesus and punctuated by his "Follow me" invitation, pushes Peter, even in that sublime seaside encounter, to answer in his heart of hearts, “What do I want? What am I driven to do?”

It’s a question no less urgent for Paul, whose witness, ministry, and martyrdom we also commemorate today.

When we first meet Paul, the world is his oyster: Grand Inquisitor commissioned to stamp out the newly-minted Christian sect … stamp out Christians. Period. And Paul is very good at it — killing them, that is, without pity, without regret. With fanatical efficiency. Zero tolerance.

But if his victims are anything like the deacon Stephen — whose state-sponsored stoning Paul personally supervised — guileless Stephen, who knew what he had to do … and — even as life escaped him — prayed, “Lord do not hold this sin against them” … this grisly prelude-to-holocaust appears to have taken its toll on Paul, eroded his confidence, challenged him to humanize his victims …  look at them as neighbor.

Because he, too, soon comes to a point in his life (that point being the road to Damascus … Damascus, where he hoped to spread even more mayhem — more death! — for the Christians there) … right there, like Derrick Johnson, under totally unexpected circumstances, Paul comes to the point where he must determine his true love.

And being confronted by Jesus, no less, that road becomes a one-way highway into Paul’s future … because he knows that, in choosing Jesus, he is signing he own death warrant.

And so, like Peter, Paul chooses the costly one-way mission Jesus offers him.

And, like Peter and Paul, each of us — all of us — are offered a one-way future … a future framed by Jesus’ answer to the all-important question: “Who is my neighbor?”

With that future in focus, Jesus challenges each of us to discern and commit to: What do we want? What — with the needs of the real world staring us in the face — do we need to do?

For example, reality: Would Jesus (or Peter or Paul) … would we … stand by — without condemnation — as more than 30 persons, some in wheelchairs, were zip-tied on Capitol Hill this past Wednesday and dragged out by Capitol officers. Their offence? Protesting, “Please, don’t kill us by cutting off our healthcare.”

That’s just one outrageous example among so many and, sadly, more to come. Each requiring a response from each of us who claim to follow Jesus.

Are you clutching your pearls, thinking, “This is all too political for Sunday morning pulpit fare”?

Well, yes. Political. Too political? Then answer this: What do courage, truth-telling, risk — action! — have to do with the one-way future Jesus proposes for his followers? Absolutely … everything.

Not convinced?

Check out the ticket Jesus issues to each and all eager for the adventure of a lifetime. Stamped “ONE-WAY.” Turn it over. Printed on the reverse? “Follow. Me.”

Amen.

“This Property is Condemned”

Homily for the Day of Pentecost   8 June 2025
Episcopal Parish of All Saints - Ashmont, Dorchester, Massachusetts
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Interim Rector

And they left off building the city. Genesis 11:8a

Requiem for a Language Lost. That’s what the Endangered Languages Center at the City University of New York is trying to avoid: Requiem for a Language Lost.  A host of languages lost.

Why New York?

Simple. Languages born in every corner of the globe are now more commonly heard in neighborhoods of New York than anywhere else. That means New York City — a magnet for immigrants speaking languages that are even disappearing in their countries of origin — has become “Babel in reverse.”

But why save a language? NYU linguistics professor Yezdana Vérizik has an answer. “A language,” she believes, “reflects the singular nature of a people speaking it.”

Read: When a language dies, something unique and personal is lost.

Robert Holman, of Columbia University, elaborates: “Every immigrant wants to speak English,” he says. “But those non-English lullabies that allow you to go to sleep at night and dream: that’s what we’re talking about saving.”

And this is what is lost in the confusion God sows in the city we know as Babel: The singular nature of a people, and perhaps more tragically, those “lullabies that allow you to go to sleep at night and dream.”

That’s a lot to lose for so simple a story. But, why the story at all?

As with the rest of Genesis, Babel is a myth, a myth of origins. It is not history. The myth answers the question: Why do we have so many languages when, as another legend puts it, the survivors of the Flood (Noah and family) only spoke Hebrew? You know, you can’t make this stuff up. (Well, turns out you can!)

At any rate, the Babel myth starts out with the generation after Noah. Multiple nomadic groups, perhaps, but all sharing a common culture: one language, one grammar, one vocabulary. And one place to which they’ve migrated: the plain of Shinar. Life is sweet. The consensus? “Let’s stay put.”

And yet, the people recognize the centrifugal impulse in their genes. They’re afraid they’ll scatter and lose their hard-won sense of community, their culture.

So, they decide to make something: something so big its sheer gravitational pull will compel each and all to make a go of it right then and there.

Upshot? They invent a city. They invent the whole concept of “city.” A city not of tents, or grass huts, or mud houses, but a city of solid brick.

The city’s crowning achievement? A tower, its top piercing the heavens. A skyscraper!

But what’s missing? A brand. “Let’s make a name for ourselves.”

Their brand? Anyone’s guess. City Heights? High Society? Metropolis? Whatever. It’s enough to trigger an on-site inspection. The inspector? God, no less.

And the city, the tower … they do not go over well. Not well at all. God projects, “Even the sky — the vault of heaven itself — won’t be the limit of what these people can do!”

The culprit in God’s eyes? The common language.

So, God goes all Red Alert, mingles with the people, and plants one language-per-person like so many viruses.

The result? Giga-miscommunication! There goes commerce. There goes shopping. There go the Rules of the Road and the Rule of Law. There goes sanitation! There go “those lullabies that allow you to go to sleep at night and dream.”

Fall-out? The people desert the city and scatter. They leave behind a crumbling ghost town, a phantom city. The tower — a shell — unfinished.

But why would this endgame please God? Doesn’t our experience show that God prefers harmony to discord … communication to misunderstanding … healthy collaboration to corrosive competition?

And hasn’t God given us the gifts of curiosity and creativity and a hunger to defy the laws of physics — and the means to do it — in order for us to become all we can be?

So, there would appear to be a disconnect here between God’s ideal and what God does, at least at Babel.

That’s what happens when you start with a myth of origins … and the myth morphs into a morality tale.

Take the tower, that “proud tower.” God smashes it to smithereens? Right? Wrong! Not in the Bible. Credit Hollywood, which is always game for a good smash-up. But the Bible doesn’t go that far.

How far? Their language lost, “they left off building the city” and scatter. Period.

But what if they had decided to stay?

What if they had decided to stay … and learn each other’s language — or learn enough languages to communicate (even sign language!) … enough to resume building the city and the tower, but this time, with a hard-learned humility to listen to each other … and listen to God? To learn from each other … and learn from God?

And, in the process, become a new people shaping a new culture altogether: a culture that values and profits from difference?

That “what if” occurs at what we call the Day of Pentecost in a clear re-working of the original Babel myth … when — as the story is told in Acts — the disciples, fired-up by God’s Spirit, hit the streets of Jerusalem and preach the Good News to complete and utter strangers in creative ways that people from all over the map understand: that, though many, we are one in Christ.

And that same “what if” is our opportunity — our Pentecost opportunity — to save an endangered language: the language that reflects our “singular nature” as followers of Jesus Christ … an inclusive and including language riddled through and through with dreams, dignity, and decency that establishes the reality that:

When we affirm, in the face of divisive and systemic racism, our Christian faith demands we treat all persons — regardless of color and origin — equally and with magnanimity …

When we make a stand against homophobia and transphobia …

When we reject erecting walls that keep out families and individuals fleeing violence in their own country…

When, as daily (every … single … day … 24/7), our liberties and those of our neighbors are coming under mortal threat, we choose instead to re-build together institutions that will create justice for all, for all time …

When we fully embrace the spirit of Pentecost …

It is then — and only then — that we will engage in just the first stages of learning — and speaking — the language of God.

Amen.

“Risky Business”

Homily for the Fifth Sunday of Easter  18 May 2025
Episcopal Parish of All Saints - Ashmont, Dorchester, Massachusetts
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Interim Rector

“What God has called clean, you must not call unclean.”  Acts 11:9b

My hunch is, it’s a question few — if any — of us have ever thought about. But it’s the kind of question that bugs the heck out of rogue economist Steven Leavitt: Given the choices — a gun or a swimming pool — which is more dangerous?

Well, let’s see. Take the parents of eight-year-old Molly, Leavitt suggests. Molly’s two best friends (Amy and Imani) each live nearby. Molly’s parents know that Amy’s parents keep a gun in their house. So they forbid Molly to play there.

They do let Molly spend a lot of time at Imani’s house. It has a swimming pool in the backyard.

The parents think — in terms of answering the question “How can we keep Molly safe?” — it’s a smart choice: guns vs swimming pool. The gun is more dangerous. It’s a no-brainer.

Until … until you run the numbers. According to the data, the parents’ choice isn’t smart at all. That’s because, in a given year, there’s one drowning of a child for every 11,000 residential pools in the United States. In a country with 6 million pools, this means that — tragically — roughly 550 children under the age of 10 drown each year.

What about guns? What’s the data on that score? In a country with an estimated 300 million guns, every year, one child is killed by a gun for every million-plus guns. And, no argument, that’s tragic, too.

Now, it comes as no surprise: I’m a proponent of stringent gun control. But focusing on our case study, the point for Molly’s parents is that the likelihood of death by a swimming pool (1 in 11,000) vs death by gun (1 in a million-plus) isn’t even close. Molly is roughly 100 times more likely to die in a swimming pool accident at Imani’s house than in gunplay at Amy’s.

As risk consultant Peter Sandman says, “The basic reality is, the risks that scare people … and the risks that kill people are very different.”

To make good choices, then, the challenge is getting the right information.

And that’s Leavitt’s argument. According to the conventional wisdom, because the world is riddled with obfuscation, complications, and downright deceit, it’s pretty impossible to get to the bottom of anything.

But the conventional wisdom is wrong, according to Leavitt. The world isn’t impenetrable and unknowable at all … if you ask the right questions … if you learn a new way of looking … if you learn to see through all the clutter.

And this is certainly Peter’s experience.

When we first encounter Peter this morning in our reading from Acts, what question does he think the people in his circle should be asking? He thinks it’s “How are you going to keep the Church pure?”

That’s because before his vision — the one about the massive sheet coming down from heaven bursting-at-the-seams with all sorts of goodies forbidden to Jewish people — like the rest of the leaders of the fledgling Church, Peter thinks that the Church is an exclusive club: only Jewish people who choose to follow Jesus need apply.

But that intensely narrow focus hits a speed bump when Gentiles (non-Jews) start getting the mind-boggling idea that Jesus got the whole God-humanity, humanity-God, love-love-love thing right. They choose to follow Jesus, too!

This triggers migraines … because the Jewish Christians ask: “Is a Gentile Christian even a thing?” And, if so, the Jewish Christians fear — “fear” being the operative word here — they’ll get bumped off their “God made us Number One” pedestal.

So, their response is a variation on Replacement Theory: fear of your own group’s extinction or eclipse by another group. Scratch the surface today of just about any charge that dark-skinned people are “invading” our country, and you’ll find Replacement Theory. Or, “How are we going to keep the country white?”

Only, remember, the first Christians are asking: “How are we going to keep the Church pure?” Their answer? “Keep out those unclean Gentiles!”

Peter agrees with the purists … until … until God whacks him up one side of the head with that vision and subsequent data:

The vision makes mincemeat of the conventional wisdom with God’s unequivocal message: “What God has made clean you must not call unclean!”

That’s God’s progressive starting point for “church” … for this parish … for everything.

Score? Purists: 0 … Progressives: 1

And then God whacks Peter up the other side of the head when Peter runs the numbers … and hears with his own ears … and sees with his own eyes real, lived experience: that the very same Spirit that has filled the Jewish discoverers of Jesus now fills the Gentile seekers as well.

Read: “If it quacks like a duck, chances are!”

Score: Purists: 0   Progressives: 2

This is revolutionary.

As revolutionary, in its day, as ordaining in The Episcopal Church people of color … and then women … and then gay and lesbian people … and then transgender persons.

As revolutionary, in its day, as marrying in church a mixed-race couple … a same-sex couple!

Meaning: As Peter learned, the question “How are you going to keep the Church pure?” It’s the wrong question! … because reality always intrudes. And, as headlines from reliable media show, reality is always a problem for purists.

That’s because the Holy Spirit sometimes shows up in the form of reality!

As 19th-century hymn-writer (and sometime Anglo-Catholic priest) Frederick William Faber observed:

    We make God’s love too narrow
    by false limits of our own,
    and we magnify God’s strictness
    with a zeal God will not own.

When confronting new realities, then, as Church, as parish: What’s the risk? What are we afraid of? Whom are we afraid of — invaders, usurpers, infidels?

Or just new — let’s say, different — persons different from us moving into whatever we call neighborhood.

The point? God has made them … God has made them … God has made us all! … clean.

Amen.

“Unjust Desserts”

Homily for the Third Sunday in Lent  23 March 2025
Episcopal Parish of All Saints - Ashmont, Dorchester, Massachusetts
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Interim Rector

“The Lord has not dealt with us according to our sins.” Psalm 103:10

A visit to the morgue. Our guides? The Simpsons’ astronomically wealthy Montgomery Burns and his personal assistant, Smithers.

Wandering among the cadavers, Mr. Burns oozes, “Ah, nothing lifts my spirits like shopping. Let’s see, Smithers. I’ll take his liver … a case of Adam’s apples … and that motorcyclist’s mustache.”

“Oh,” Smithers gushes, “the money you’ve contributed to anti-helmet laws has really paid off, sir.”

“Well,” Mr. Burns sniffs, “young people are my future.”

A body parts shopping spree. Funny? Yes. Far-fetched? Not if you’ve ever spoken to futurist Paul Saffo.

Saffo, who bills himself as a “technology forecaster,” believes that in the future, the super-rich — rich enough to grow their own replacement organs — may evolve into a separate species altogether from the rest of us.

With a future like that out-of-reach for the likes of you and me, you have to ask, “Is life fair?” Or, more to the point (because … church!), “Is God fair?”

That’s the question critics put to Jesus as they file late-breaking news about a bloody massacre: True to form, Roman Governor Pontius Pilate has slaughtered key political opponents of his ― a cabal of Galilean rebels ― as they were worshiping in the Temple. “Their own blood mingled with the blood of their sacrifices!” the critics charge. “Jesus, do you think this sacrilege is right?”

Of course, it’s a trap. They’re trying to get Jesus to come down on the side of the rebels vs. the Roman occupiers, trying to get Jesus to say,“It was wrong for the Romans to do that.” An answer like that would put Jesus squarely in the sights of the authorities.

But, Jesus deflects by reframing the question, basically asking, “What do you think is fair?”

That is, Jesus challenges a view of justice wildly popular in his time and, sadly, still alive-and-kicking in ours. It’s called “retributive justice.” It goes like this: “Bad things don’t happen to good people. If the Galilean rebels met up with tragedy ― if they were massacred — even by the perfidious Romans — they must have done something morally reprehensible to deserve it.”

Or updated to just about any natural disaster you can imagine: Hurricanes? Tornadoes? Earthquake and fire? To the conspiracy du jour set, they’re God’s punishment for letting trans persons use the bathrooms of their gender choice. Yep, if you’re not keen on science, you can always blame the LGBTQs when your house slips into the ocean.

Now, if that’s your take on justice, you have to conclude two things (for sure) about God: God makes bad things happen to bad people … only! And good things happen to good people … only! Why? Because God is keeping score.

But, Jesus counters, “That ... just … isn’t … true. Because if fairness — justice — is a matter of getting what you deserve, what about people who happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Take those 18 people killed when the Tower of Siloam collapsed awhile back.” (It must have been a horrific disaster.) “Can you honestly say,” Jesus presses, “each of them did something bad to deserve that kind of death? ... because, in one way or another, you’re all guilty of something ... and you’re all still standing. Pure survival isn’t a measure of how good you are!”

That’s because, Jesus points out, God has nothing to do with the arbitrary nature of life, a take Jesus files elsewhere under Meteorology 101. “Rain? Sun? Good people? Bad people? Weather — just like being in the wrong place at the wrong time — happens. ‘Stuff’ happens.”

And in one stroke, Jesus sounds the death knell of retributive justice.

But what does he replace it with?

For that, we have to look beyond this episode to the trajectory of Jesus’ ministry, which echoes the question raised by the prophet Micah: “What does the Lord require? Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with your God.”

Put another way, Jesus frames justice as fair treatment. To the delight of Good News-loving and Good News-needing people everywhere, it’s the “equity” part of DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion). Meaning: It’s not about what we deserve as good or bad people, but what we and each of our neighbors are owed as persons created in God’s image.

So, if you’re down on diversity, equity, and inclusion — especially equity — Jesus would like a word.

Now, if you take away retributive justice — an eye-for-an-eye — does that mean fair treatment is soft on crime? Does that mean people aren’t held accountable? No. Fair treatment means also providing, in criminal situations, redress to the victim … because, what is the victim owed? Redress, justice.

It also means preventing a perp from victimizing others — by incarceration, if need be — because all those others out in the community — the rest of us — are owed life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

So, the way Jesus lives it, in God’s book, everyone is owed fair treatment … from playground to mall … from church to City Hall ... border to border ... sea to sea. That’s God’s agenda. And consequently, the agenda Jesus gives us to complete.

For example …

Are we treating everyone fairly when we give whopping tax cuts to multi-billionaires and robber barons, while struggling families and seniors face the prospect of life-endangering cuts to Social Security and Medicaid?

Are we treating everyone fairly when some of our neighbors’ votes get counted … while others’ don’t?

Are we treating everyone fairly when ours is the only industrialized nation in the world without a system of affordable universal healthcare? I mean, FWIW Jesus provided healthcare free of charge.

Are we treating everyone fairly when some of our immigrant neighbors are arrested, jailed, and deported without benefit of due process?

Bottomline: If God’s justice requires treating everyone fairly, given the dire straits so many of our neighbors find themselves in, it means this Lent and beyond, expanding our sense and our practice of fairness.

If that’s the case — and it is — as followers of Jesus, the burden is now upon each of us to be all the more fair ... all the more kind ... all the more just ... just like Jesus.

Amen. 

“Heading for Trouble”

Homily for the Second Sunday in Lent  16 March 2025

Episcopal Parish of All Saints - Ashmont, Dorchester, Massachusetts

The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Interim Rector

Some Pharisees came to Jesus and said, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.”

Tricky situation: Eyewitnesses to injustice lack the nerve to speak up. What are the consequences?

Take this photo:

A sunny spring morning 1942 — a Sunday morning — on Eutérpestraat in Amsterdam, an area populated mostly by Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany.

Marching down the center of the street, 36 people — 36 Jews — dressed in everyday hats and coats, head in the direction of the headquarters of the SD, the Nazi Security Police.

On their left, in front of the group, a German solider armed with what appears to be a machine gun.

But there are others on Eutérpestraat this morning heading in the same direction: A cluster of five people. And then, behind them, a well-dressed couple calmly strolling to church. One or two turn their heads in the direction of their neighbors in the middle of the street.

NYT photo critic Errol Morris asks, “It all looks so neat and orderly. Do those people on the sidewalk know what’s happening?”

Yes. At least that’s what sociologist Diane Wolf suggests. In Beyond Anne Frank, she writes:

Holland did quite well on the Nazi report card: Even Holocaust architect Adolph Eichmann is reported to have said, “It was a pleasure to do business with them.”

“A pleasure to do business with them.” That’s what people who have an interest in exterminating Jesus might say about the Pharisees. Is it so hard to imagine the High Priest Caiaphas and his colleagues or Herod Antipas (who provided a Final Solution to the John the Baptist problem) saying of Jesus’ most vocal critics, the Pharisees, “It was a pleasure to do business with them”?

And yet, who leaks news about a credible plot against Jesus as he heads from Galilee to his date with destiny in Jerusalem? A group of Pharisees — Pharisees! — the people we love to loathe. The “whitèd-sepulcher” Pharisees.

And yet they have the moral edge over those people on the sidewalk on Eutérpestraat, because at least these Pharisees — against all the odds we’ve come to expect — act. They warn Jesus: “Get away from here. Herod wants to kill you.”

That moral edge. What is it? Courage. The virtue of courage. In the face of what they perceive to be a gross injustice, these unlikeliest of whistleblowers have the courage to speak up — at great personal risk — to save the life of a fellow human being from Herod’s political killing machine.

But what exactly is courage?

Courage is the virtue we exercise when we’re in a jam — or see our neighbor in a jam — and we have to make a gut-choice. Courage is doing what you have to do. Doing what what we have to do.

It’s like Jesus saying, as he takes in the Pharisees’ credible warning, “I must be on my way. I have to be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed here, outside of Jerusalem.”

But Jesus’ intent to move on beyond Herod’s grasp doesn’t diminish the Pharisees’ courage in raising the alarm.

That’s because courage is a cause-and-effect virtue. It’s a response to a threat. A situation (a cause) triggers courage (the effect).

For instance: Did any of the Pharisees wake up that morning and say, “You know, today I’m going to be courageous”? I doubt it!

But the Law for them looms large, and they get wind of a threat to a person the Law defines as their neighbor. Result? They make a gut choice to push Jesus out of harm’s way.

I think, then, we should give these Pharisees credit as they stood on the sidewalk watching Jesus headed for imminent extermination. I think we should give them credit for jumping off the sidewalk and body-blocking Jesus: “Herod wants to kill you. Run!”

So, if these Pharisees — unlike those calm churchgoers on Amsterdam’s Eutérpestraat — model for us the virtue of courage, what would they tell us about how we get it? How do we learn to do what we have to do?

Preparedness. We can’t do what we have to do if we don’t know who we are. We can’t do what we have to do if we don’t have core values and deeply-held convictions. They’re what courageous people access in threatening situations: in spontaneous emergencies ― when, say, a mother rushes into a burning building to save her children … and in long-term threatening situations, like the real-and-present danger of authoritarianism — Fascism — in this country.

¿An example of acting on core values? Admiral Mike Mullen, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff — a few years back, when he urged the Senate Armed Services Committee to dismantle the homophobic policy of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” when repeal looked like a pipe dream.

As Admiral Mullen tweeted after his testimony: “Allowing [gay people] to serve openly [in our Armed Forces] is the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do.” That is the vocabulary of courage. Like those Pharisees … prepped to stand up ... to resist ... to do the right thing. And eager to help each of us up our “courage” game this Lent by challenging us to answer what may be life-or-death questions ... or basic questions of Christian backbone and human decency. Questions like:

§  What work does each of us have to do — now — to prepare ourselves to act with courage ― in a split-second, in an emergency ― when a neighbor’s safety is clearly in jeopardy?

§  What work do we have to do — now — to prepare ourselves to act with courage in less high-risk situations, like standing up to bullies or ill-informed or just plain bigoted people who, in our presence or on social media, make racist, sexist, or homophobic comments?

§  Who are people at risk God calls us to be in active, hands-on solidarity with (let’s say, immigrants and pro-democracy resistors)?

§  Baseline: Do we know who we are? Do we know what we have to do? What, for each of us, is the “right” thing that reflects the hard truth: silence, appeasement, and denial are not options. They are not the mind of Christ.

Yes, hard questions. But as unlikely as it seems, our neighbors the Pharisees show us how to exercise courage, because they made a choice to be personally responsible for the life of their neighbor Jesus.

And perhaps Jesus, as he goes on his way, might be heard to say, “Those Pharisees? You know, it was a pleasure to do business with them!”

Amen.

“Why Should the Mice Get All the Good Tunes?”

Why should the mice get all the good tunes? Well, one of them. Take the mice in Babe, the fantastic pig epic, and its sequel, Babe: Pig in the City. The tune? For some, the most nettlesome earworm of all time: the 70’s pop hit “If I Had Words,” itself a re-working of the so-called ‘Symphonic Hymn,’ from Saint-Saëns’ Symphony No. 3 in C Minor. For those in the back, that’s the one with the organ blast near the end.

Now, that portion of the symphony may be called a hymn, but, as majestic as it is, you’d be hard-pressed to come across it in mainline English language hymnals. I found a lone link online to “O Lord, I love you, my shield, my tower.” If you know the music, try singing that first line and already, there’s a problem. As we used to say, the emPHAsis is on the wrong syl-LA-ble. We’ll ignore the fact that the text is utter drivel.

Why, then, aren’t there more texts set to this tune? It’s the meter (9.9.9.9 or 9.10.9.10, depending on how you deal with two eighth notes in the second and fourth lines of each stanza). Go to the back of your average hymnal and check under Metrical List of Tunes. If your hymnal collection is like mine, you won’t find one single 9.9.9.9 or 9.10.9.10 tune. And that’s a shame. I mean, the tune is iconic in its hymniness.

So, I’ve given it a shot. To while away the longeurs of my occasionally aimless retired life, I’ve been contending with John Mason Neale (1818-1866) and some of his creakier metrical translations of medieval Office hymns and the like. While it merits an assist from F. Bland Tucker et al. for “O Lord, Most High, eternal King” (#221, 1982 Hymnal), Neale’s now-dated take on Aeterne Rex altissime has been on my mind. I believe the original deserves a new look to match the high tone of the ‘Symphonic Hymn.’ Linked here is my translation paired with my adaptation of Saint-Saëns for congregational singing. (I’ve created another version for choir and organ that more closely hews to the original symphonic finale.) While intended for Ascension, it might work well on Christ the King or Easter.

Be aware that an aspect of that new look is nonetheless retro. Read: I haven’t eliminated sovereignty language. A lot of my other translation and adaptation work does, so, please, call off the hounds. This time around, Aeterne Rex altissime (“Eternal King most high”) is what it is.

'Amazing Grace' revisited

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, so here goes: Absolutely sick to death of 'Amazing Grace' ... to the tune of New Britain, that is. Sick. To. Death. And if you're going to suggest, as an alternative, the tawdry crack-up of John Newton's text paired with 'The House of the Rising Sun' -- yes, hard to believe that was a thing back when I had shoulder-length hair and sported Nehru shirts -- save your breath. The Newton text is in Common Meter, so there are a gazillion options to choose from. Since my Boston Camerata days, I've been more than fond of Southern Harmony tunes. Here I've paired the text with Dove of Peace. You're welcome.

“It’s Now or Never”

Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent  22 December 2019

Trinity Episcopal Church, Topsfield, Massachusetts

The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Bridge Priest

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”

No need to Google it. Everyone knows that’s St. Nick’s parting shot from “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.”

Now, it’s not quite the “night before Christmas,” but with under three shopping days remaining, it’s now or never if we’re going to wade into this whole “Merry Christmas” vs. “Happy Holidays” mess everyone with an axe to grind has their knickers in a twist about.

So, as we lurch inexorably toward the Christmas meltdown, just how are you going to extend greetings of the season?

St. Nick’s all-points "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night"? Slim it down and you get “Merry Christmas!”

Or do we expand our best wishes for the season to be more inclusive? Something like “Happy Holidays”?

Well, if you choose the “Merry Christmas” option, it all depends on what you mean … how you mean it … and to whom you say it.

That requires getting into motives — maybe even agendas — when we express best wishes of the season in stores, at the mall, at the post office, here in the parish, among friends, among strangers ... total strangers.

Read: How likely are you to be the perpetrator in an incident like the one outside a Phoenix, Arizona Walmart a few seasons back?

Salvation Army volunteer Kristina Vindiola was doing what the Salvation Army folks do this time of year. She was ringing a bell and had a red kettle prepped to receive donations to fund the Salvation Army’s charitable work: feeding the poor … caring for the lonely … clothing people down on their luck. In other words, helping our neighbors who have fallen into the cracks.

Truth-in-advertising: This isn’t a plug for the Salvation Army. I’m not at all keen on their anti-LGBTQ stances. No, not at all. Your mileage may vary.

Nevertheless, clanging her bell and staffing her kettle, Kristina Vindiola wished a passerby “Happy Holidays!” The woman reeled around and snarled, “You’re supposed to say, ‘Merry Christmas!’” And no-sooner-than-you-can-say, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” she hauls off and slugs Vindiola, knocking her to the ground.

Triggering the question: On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely are you to be charged with assault-and-battery if someone wishes you “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”?

Because this incident has me just gobsmacked. I’m wondering why “Merry Christmas” is such a sacred cow — you might even say, idol — to some people.

So, I’ve done a quick survey of news stories, blogs, and what passes for critical thinking by the pundits on Fox yelling the loudest this season of peace, love, and joy.

And my admittedly unscientific survey suggests three possible meanings behind the greeting “Merry Christmas”: political … commercial … and Christ-centered.

First, “Merry Christmas” as politics.

What does that sound like? It begins with the president boasting, “Thanks to me, you can now say ‘Merry Christmas’ again.” I can’t tell you what that even means, but I do know it plays funny with the Constitution.

Reality: This is nothing less than a skirmish in the so-called “War on Christmas” or, “War on Christianity.” It’s an utter fabrication. It has absolutely nothing at all to do with religion. And everything to do with politics and ginning up the base.

Proof? No one — least of all the government — has parked a tank on the parish lawn. Trust me. It’s the sort of thing you notice.

And those stories you hear about Nativity crèches being banned from public buildings? For the life of me, I can’t think what they’re doing there in the first place.

Do we erect crucifixes on Statehouse property on Good Friday? Statues of Buddha on Buddha’s birthday? Or Krishna’s. Or the Mormons’ Joseph Smith?

More to the point: Would you want your heard-earned tax dollars used to clutter up public property with symbols of sects you don’t believe in … or religions you consider downright heretical, even satanic?

Meaning: What’s under attack isn’t Christianity. What’s under attack is privilege — privilege bestowed by the accidents of history.

That’s because some of these folks who’ve had it pretty good since 1776 are feeling a loss of privilege: the perceived right of some to clobber all with their brand of Christianity.

It seems, however, Jesus has a few things to say about privilege, like, “The last shall be first, and the first shall be last.”

And what Jesus has to say on this score has everything to do with how we say “Merry Christmas” and to whom.

For example, to those who communicate an in-your-face “Merry Christmas” — bullying total strangers, I ask, “Where ― in that ― is Jesus … Jesus, who suffered and died at the hands of bullies?”

What, then, about the commercial meaning of “Merry Christmas”?

Factoid: Except for the crèche ― courtesy of mild-mannered St. Francis of Assisi ― and St. Nicholas ― now a bleached bloviation of the olive-complected fourth-century Bishop of Myra (in present-day Turkey) … and except for a smattering of carols and chorales, just about all the trappings we have of Christmas today are the products of 19^th and 20^th century merchandising.

In other words, “Merry Christmas” means good business.

So, I have a problem when sales personnel are ordered to wish customers, “Merry Christmas.” Because all I’m hearing is “Fa-la-la-la-la! Ka-ching, ka-ching!”

But all is not lost. Plotting a course through the minefield of “Merry-Christmas” as bad politics and good business, a lot of people — and I mean a lot — have been circulating on social media the “Happy Holidays Meme.” It’s gone viral because the optics are good and the sentiment appears to make so much sense.

The optics: It’s a JPEG of a sheet of paper torn from a legal pad. The text is handwritten in block letters, a different rainbow color for each statement:

I don’t understand what the big deal is.

If you’re Jewish, wish me “Happy Hanukkah.”

If you’re Christian, wish me “Merry Christmas.”

If you’re African-American, wish me “Joyous Kwanzaa.”

If you don’t prefer those, wish me “Happy Holidays.” I will not be offended. I will be thankful you took the time to say something nice to me.

Look, great sentiments. But there’s a problem: They don’t reflect Jesus’ idea of hospitality to strangers. And Jesus is where we’re coming from, at least.

That is, the meme puts the focus on the disposition of the greeter (let’s say, a salesperson). “If you, salesperson, are Jewish … if you are Christian … if you are African-American and so on … wish me, the customer ….”

So, I’d like to flip it to shift the focus from the greeter to the person being greeted. That is, from the customer's point of view:

If you can tell I’m an observant Jew, wish me “Happy Hanukkah.”

If you can tell I’m a follower of Jesus, wish me “Merry Christmas.”

If you know I celebrate Kwanzaa, wish me “Joyous Kwanzaa.”

In the absence of any other data? Wish me “Happy Holidays.”

And if you don’t wish me anything … who … cares?!! Life is too short to shorten it further by carrying around a chip on your shoulder!

Because the point isn’t politics. It isn’t sales revenues. For us — as followers of Jesus — it’s funneling all our energy into Jesus’ take on Christmas … Jesus’ take on any holiday, any day:

If you can tell I’m hungry, give me food.
If you can tell I’m thirsty, give me something to drink.
If you can tell I’m a stranger, welcome me.
If you can tell I’m shy a warm coat in the shivering cold, give me clothing.
If you can tell I’m sick, help me get well.
If I’m in prison, visit me.

Bottom line: Nothing. Else. Matters … when we mean what we believe: “God bless us … everyone!”

Amen.

"Crazy for Castanets"

Homily for the Feast of Christ the King  24 November 2019

St John’s Episcopal Church, Gloucester, Massachusetts

The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Guest Celebrant and Preacher

And the people stood by, watching.  Luke 23:35a

Sometimes, you’ve got no choice. Ask Gene Kelly and Cyd Charisse in “Singin’ in the Rain.” Sometimes you “g-o-o-o-o-tta dance.”

Proof? I’m not sure Teresa of Ávila could hold a candle to Cyd Charisse, but one gray day in the bone-chilling cold of her unheated convent — during the one hour she allowed the sisters to gather for recreation — Teresa shocked the life out of every last one of them.

Without introduction, without warning, without so much as a “5-6-7-8,” Teresa leaps to her feet, grabs her castanets from the far reaches of her habit, and launches into a “Dancing with the Stars”-worthy flamenco.

The look on the other nuns’ faces? “Well, that was unexpected!” Teresa’s defense? “Some days, you’ve got to do something to make life bearable!”

“You’ve got to do something. Someone has got to do something … to make life bearable!” Certainly, that was on the minds of those who eye-witnessed Jesus — victimized Jesus — being led to Jerusalem’s “killing field,” nailed to the cross, and hoisted high for maximum and prolonged murderous effect.

Given the injustice of the whole affair, who among us, looking on, wouldn’t be thinking, “Someone has got to do something”? That someone being God. Surely God would intervene. God would have to do something.

But that “something” did not materialize that day. And — that day — hard reality prevailed. The power of the State was just too strong for ordinary people — paralyzed by grief, shock, and despair — to mount organized resistance.

Result? Luke tells us: “The people stood by, watching.”

And we’re now caught in a similar, standing-by, watching moment. What are we standing-by, watching?

Newly-released data: A record number of migrant children held in US government custody over the past 12 months: 69,550. Enough infants, toddlers, kids, and teens to overflow the typical NFL stadium, putting each of those children at risk of long-term physical and emotional damage. A hate crime by any measure.

Other hate crimes: According to a report released by the FBI two weeks ago, an alarming 12 percent uptick in hate crimes involving violence for 2018. Driving the surge? Domestic terrorism linked to white supremacist activity.

Digging deeper:

A nearly 14 percent increase in hate crimes against Latinos in 2018.

An 18 percent increase in anti-LGBTQ hate crimes.

27 percent of all hate crimes in 2018 — the largest share among all categories — motivated by anti-black bias.

And, given base-baiting, extremist rhetoric from the highest office in the land, it’s not surprising that reported hate crimes motivated by religious bias accounted for 20 percent. Of those incidents, the lion’s share — 57.8 percent — were anti-Jewish, with anti-Islamic (anti-Muslim) a distant — but no less troubling — 14.5 percent.

Looking at these numbers — and the upward trajectory of these numbers — is it unreasonable for our Jewish and Muslim neighbors, for immigrants, women, and LGBTQ persons to suspect that in the next 12 months conditions — for them — for many of us — may become unbearable?

Leading us to side with Teresa of Ávila: “Some days, you’ve got to do something to make life bearable.”

Or, as Elie Wiesel said (and he knew a thing or two about standing up for a victimized neighbor): “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

Supporting factoid: Neutrality was never Jesus’ strong suit. Jesus took sides. Jesus’ project was a study in dissent. Nonviolent dissent … with the exception of his attack against exploitation by the religious-political apparatus, when he targeted the moneychangers in the Temple. Yes, three words come to mind: Out. Of. Control. But, it could be argued that was more street theater than a cruisin’-for-a-bruisin’ riot.

Pushing us to conclude: As followers of Jesus — Jesus, who relentlessly advocated for the rights of our neighbors — we have no other option than to resist. We have no other option than to resist nonviolently when our neighbors’ well-being, freedom, and rights are threatened. Standing by and watching is not an option now because when we sing “Lift every voice and sing till earth and heaven ring, ring with the harmonies of liberty,” we ain’t just whistlin’ “Dixie”!

Read: Against those who are turning bigotry into action, for followers of Jesus, activism is the answer.

Now, we don’t have castanets (or my hunch is most of us don’t). But we do have awareness, frustration, anger … and opportunity. What then, will we do? What will you do?

Well, where can you push back — in real time — in the moment — to overcome bigotry, racism, misogyny, and homophobia?

This Thursday is Thanksgiving, but it always applies: When a bloviating uncle (or whoever) — in the throes of alcoholic euphoria — makes degrading comments about a minority or women (like profiles-in-courage Marie Yovanovitch and Fiona Hill), push back … with respect, but firmly. Don’t let the swipe slide. Call it what it is: racism, sexism, homophobia, anti-Semitism, anti-Muslim bigotry … whatever fits. Name it. Name where you stand — and this is key — as a follower of Jesus. Do something!

But if that sounds like a bridge too far — maybe you’re afraid of curdling the gravy, I dunno —  here’s another way to frame it … from the lips of Jesus, who said famously: “Just as you did it — gave me food when I was hungry … something to drink when I was thirsty … gave me clothing when I was naked … took care of me when I was sick … visited me when I was incarcerated — just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

Consider, then, a member of Jesus’ family — a neighbor — who might say:

I’m an illegal immigrant. ICE agents tell me they’re going to tear me away from my children, who were born here. They’re Dreamers. Is this what it means to “Make America Great Again”? I’m Jesus. Do something. Make my life bearable.

Or: I’m a Muslim-American woman in Walmart. Someone is shouting, “Go back to where you came from.” I’m Jesus. Do something. Make my life bearable.

I’m a transgender person. My neighbors throw rocks at my house as they drive by at night: “Freak, we don’t want your kind here.” I’m Jesus. Do something. Make my life bearable.

I’m a parent worried that each day I send my child off to school, she’ll become another statistic in this country’s fevered obsession with guns-guns-guns. I’m Jesus. Do something. Make my life bearable.

Each and every one a neighbor pleading with us not to stand by and watch … but to do something … neither hedging nor passing the buck … but in very real, generous and daring and brave ways … in real time … making things good-better-best for real people.

… because Captain Jean-Luc Picard and the crew of the Starship Enterprise got it right and proved the Borg wrong: Resistance isn’t futile.

Bottomline: Lobby. Cajole. Blog. Tweet. Stand up. Speak out. Push back. Donate. Vote. Resist. Resist. Resist. Do something to make life bearable!

Amen.