June 2020
"The Holy Trinity," by presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton
Based on Genesis 1:1-2:4a, Psalm 8, 2 Corinthians 3:11-13, and Matthew 28:16-20
June 7, 2020
"Called to Hope"
Based on Matthew 9:35-10:15 (reading at the end of the sermon)
June 14, 2020
One day this week, I decided to renew a credit card. You know what it’s like. You get a new card in the mail with instructions for activating it. And if you deal with it like I do, that new card sits there on your desk for days or weeks until you start worrying that it might expire.
So, I decided to register my card online—hoping that it would take less time than by phone. Hoping for a quick and easy process. I logged onto the website. Entered the card number and my name.
Then the site told me it needed to send me a confirmation email. A simple request. Except the email address was an old AOL account that my husband Charlie and I no longer use. Thankfully, I remembered that password and got the access number.
At that point, I was feeling pretty hopeful. I put in the code and it worked! Woo-hoo! Then I decided that it would be a good idea to update my contact info, so I’d be ready next time.
After a few more clicks, I found the place to make those changes. I put in my current email, but when I tried to enter my cell phone, the screen locked up.
After several attempts—even after logging out and logging back in—it still didn’t work! I finally gave up in frustration—hoping I wouldn’t have to do that again anytime soon.
In retrospect, that kind of frustration used to be a big deal four months ago. Right? But now it’s a minor irritation compared to the major stresses we face today.
With new worries each news cycle. Rising cases of COVID-19 in nearly 20 states. New stories of African Americans killed unjustly. Angry debates over Confederate statues. The stock market crashing again. The whole world on the brink of chaos.
For many of us white Americans, the past few weeks have been a rude awakening. Opening our eyes to the evils of racism and oppressive systems that control much of what happens in our society, church and politics.
The death of George Floyd has sparked a worldwide cry for justice. But, based on our previous history, it can be hard to feel hopeful. We long for a voice to show us the way back to peace and normalcy. To give us space to breathe.
In that context, our Gospel lesson sounds familiar. During the ministry of Jesus, the times were no less oppressive. A cruel Roman empire dominated the world. And used its power to terrify the people. Defenseless sheep without any hope.
Nevertheless, the rulers were worried. For them, Jesus and the crowds that followed him were a threat.
Matthew’s Gospel makes that point early on. When King Herod becomes so alarmed by news of the coming of a new Prince of Peace, he orders his soldiers to kill all the baby boys in Bethlehem, the town of Jesus’ birth. Back then, anyone offering hope to the beleaguered masses was a challenge to those in authority.
And now in Matthew, this same Jesus has organized a peaceful movement in his country. A movement that inspires hope. The hope Jesus preaches is centered in his deep compassion for the assembled crowds, because as Matthew puts it, “they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Words that could describe us today.
Yet, unlike many movements, Jesus doesn’t set himself up as a lone ranger. An irreplaceable CEO or civil rights hero. For Jesus knows that as a brown-skinned messiah, one day he will be killed by those in power. And that hope can die when it’s centered in one charismatic leader.
So instead, Jesus sends out his followers to bring peace and healing to the gathered people.
But Jesus warns those early preachers and healers to be prepared for disappointment and rejection. Jesus also tells them not to give up in frustration if things don’t go as expected.
But to keep sharing God’s peace, God’s shalom. No matter what they face. And, as Jesus says, “If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if not, let your peace return to you.”
Behind those words of Jesus is a message of hope. Hope is the basis of the ministry of Jesus. Hope is the vision that inspired his followers. Hope is the path to peace and shalom.
The Rev. Dr. Ted Jennings once wrote:
“Hope is not a sedative that tranquilizes us in the face of the world’s pain, brokenness, and bondage. It is instead that which for the first time genuinely awakens us to our situation.” *
Today our black and brown siblings are calling us to that kind of awakening. An awakening to the pain they experience every day. An awakening to our blindness to their centuries of suffering.
An awakening to our bondage to systemic racism. An awakening to the brokenness of our past attempts to become a “woke” Church.
An awakening where I acknowledge that the lens through which I speak to you today is my own. As a gay man, yes—with its own kind of oppression.
But also as an individual whose perspective is shaped by my identity. As a white man. A cisgender male. A pastor. A husband. A homeowner. A Christian. A person with privilege and power.
For each of us, recognizing our privileged position in this world is the first step in our personal and spiritual awakening. An awakening that will be difficult and painful, uncomfortable and frustrating.
A process that leads us back to hope, as St. Paul writes in our first reading:
“But we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”
Today, Jesus pours that love into our hearts. Love, that despite all that’s happening, still gives us hope. For just as Christ died for us, while we were yet sinners, so Jesus still sends us imperfect followers into this chaotic world.
And as long as God continues to call Spirit-filled believers like you and me to do the transforming work that heals, restores, and brings hope to others and to ourselves, our labor will not be in vain. Amen.
--------------------------
* Jennings, Theodore W. The Liturgy of Liberation: The Confession and Forgiveness of Sins. Nashville: Abingdon, 1988; p. 68.
+ + +
GOSPEL READING: Matthew 9:35-10:15
35Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. 36When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 37Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; 38therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” 10:1Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. 2These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; 3Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; 4Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.
5These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, 6but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. 7As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ 8Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment. 9Take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, 10no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff; for laborers deserve their food. 11Whatever town or village you enter, find out who in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave. 12As you enter the house, greet it. 13If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you. 14If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town. 15Truly I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that town.
So, I decided to register my card online—hoping that it would take less time than by phone. Hoping for a quick and easy process. I logged onto the website. Entered the card number and my name.
Then the site told me it needed to send me a confirmation email. A simple request. Except the email address was an old AOL account that my husband Charlie and I no longer use. Thankfully, I remembered that password and got the access number.
At that point, I was feeling pretty hopeful. I put in the code and it worked! Woo-hoo! Then I decided that it would be a good idea to update my contact info, so I’d be ready next time.
After a few more clicks, I found the place to make those changes. I put in my current email, but when I tried to enter my cell phone, the screen locked up.
After several attempts—even after logging out and logging back in—it still didn’t work! I finally gave up in frustration—hoping I wouldn’t have to do that again anytime soon.
In retrospect, that kind of frustration used to be a big deal four months ago. Right? But now it’s a minor irritation compared to the major stresses we face today.
With new worries each news cycle. Rising cases of COVID-19 in nearly 20 states. New stories of African Americans killed unjustly. Angry debates over Confederate statues. The stock market crashing again. The whole world on the brink of chaos.
For many of us white Americans, the past few weeks have been a rude awakening. Opening our eyes to the evils of racism and oppressive systems that control much of what happens in our society, church and politics.
The death of George Floyd has sparked a worldwide cry for justice. But, based on our previous history, it can be hard to feel hopeful. We long for a voice to show us the way back to peace and normalcy. To give us space to breathe.
In that context, our Gospel lesson sounds familiar. During the ministry of Jesus, the times were no less oppressive. A cruel Roman empire dominated the world. And used its power to terrify the people. Defenseless sheep without any hope.
Nevertheless, the rulers were worried. For them, Jesus and the crowds that followed him were a threat.
Matthew’s Gospel makes that point early on. When King Herod becomes so alarmed by news of the coming of a new Prince of Peace, he orders his soldiers to kill all the baby boys in Bethlehem, the town of Jesus’ birth. Back then, anyone offering hope to the beleaguered masses was a challenge to those in authority.
And now in Matthew, this same Jesus has organized a peaceful movement in his country. A movement that inspires hope. The hope Jesus preaches is centered in his deep compassion for the assembled crowds, because as Matthew puts it, “they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Words that could describe us today.
Yet, unlike many movements, Jesus doesn’t set himself up as a lone ranger. An irreplaceable CEO or civil rights hero. For Jesus knows that as a brown-skinned messiah, one day he will be killed by those in power. And that hope can die when it’s centered in one charismatic leader.
So instead, Jesus sends out his followers to bring peace and healing to the gathered people.
But Jesus warns those early preachers and healers to be prepared for disappointment and rejection. Jesus also tells them not to give up in frustration if things don’t go as expected.
But to keep sharing God’s peace, God’s shalom. No matter what they face. And, as Jesus says, “If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if not, let your peace return to you.”
Behind those words of Jesus is a message of hope. Hope is the basis of the ministry of Jesus. Hope is the vision that inspired his followers. Hope is the path to peace and shalom.
The Rev. Dr. Ted Jennings once wrote:
“Hope is not a sedative that tranquilizes us in the face of the world’s pain, brokenness, and bondage. It is instead that which for the first time genuinely awakens us to our situation.” *
Today our black and brown siblings are calling us to that kind of awakening. An awakening to the pain they experience every day. An awakening to our blindness to their centuries of suffering.
An awakening to our bondage to systemic racism. An awakening to the brokenness of our past attempts to become a “woke” Church.
An awakening where I acknowledge that the lens through which I speak to you today is my own. As a gay man, yes—with its own kind of oppression.
But also as an individual whose perspective is shaped by my identity. As a white man. A cisgender male. A pastor. A husband. A homeowner. A Christian. A person with privilege and power.
For each of us, recognizing our privileged position in this world is the first step in our personal and spiritual awakening. An awakening that will be difficult and painful, uncomfortable and frustrating.
A process that leads us back to hope, as St. Paul writes in our first reading:
“But we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”
Today, Jesus pours that love into our hearts. Love, that despite all that’s happening, still gives us hope. For just as Christ died for us, while we were yet sinners, so Jesus still sends us imperfect followers into this chaotic world.
And as long as God continues to call Spirit-filled believers like you and me to do the transforming work that heals, restores, and brings hope to others and to ourselves, our labor will not be in vain. Amen.
--------------------------
* Jennings, Theodore W. The Liturgy of Liberation: The Confession and Forgiveness of Sins. Nashville: Abingdon, 1988; p. 68.
+ + +
GOSPEL READING: Matthew 9:35-10:15
35Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. 36When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. 37Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; 38therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.” 10:1Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. 2These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; 3Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; 4Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.
5These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, 6but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. 7As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ 8Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment. 9Take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, 10no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff; for laborers deserve their food. 11Whatever town or village you enter, find out who in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave. 12As you enter the house, greet it. 13If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not worthy, let your peace return to you. 14If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town. 15Truly I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that town.
"It's in Your Hands"
Based on Matthew 10:24-31 (reading at the end of the sermon)
June 21, 2020
Once upon a time, there was a wise old woman who lived in a small village. The children of the village were puzzled by the woman’s great wisdom, her gentleness, and her strength.
Though some of them didn’t believe that she could be as wise as everybody claimed. They were determined to prove that the old woman wasn’t very wise at all.
One day the children found a baby bird and decided to put the old woman to a test. An older boy cupped the bird in his hands and said to the other children, “All we need to do is ask the old woman whether the bird I have in my hands is dead or alive. If she says the bird is dead, I will open my hands and let the bird fly away. If she says it’s alive, I’ll crush it in my hands, and she’ll see the bird is dead.”
So, the children, went to the old woman and presented her with this challenge. “Old woman,” the boy demanded, “Is this bird in my hands dead or alive?”
The woman became very still and studied the boy’s hands. Then she looked carefully into his eyes and said, “It is in your hands whether the little bird will live or die.” The wise old woman smiled and repeated the wisdom from within, “It’s in your hands.” *
In today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus sounds a lot like that wise old woman. “Don’t be afraid,” Jesus says, “of those who can kill you. Rather, fear the One who can destroy both soul and body. For not a single sparrow falls to the ground without your God knowing about it. No, don’t be afraid of anything—you are worth more than an entire flock of birds.”
Wise words from Jesus. But hard words to take to heart. “Don’t be afraid of those who intimidate you. Don’t be afraid of those who can kill you. Don’t be afraid of anyone or anything.”
I want to ask: Really, Jesus? Have you listened to the news lately? COVID-19 continues to kill thousands. One in five workers have lost their jobs. People of color are still dying. How can you say, “Don’t be afraid”? Maybe you’re not as wise as the Gospels make you seem.
From the day of our birth, we humans learn to fear. To fear danger. To fear change. To fear people who look different than us. To fear sickness and death.
Politicians know the power of fear. They board up buildings and declare a state of emergency. Fear is the engine that drives corporate decision-making.
And Jesus knows that fear can cause his followers to lose heart. In the years following his death, Jerusalem and its Temple were destroyed by soldiers of the Roman empire. An empire built on instilling fear in its subjects.
After seeing Jesus crucified, his followers knew they could face the same kind of death. And many did. Yet they had to master their fear and keep following Jesus.
Doing the things Jesus sent them to do—healing the sick, caring for the downtrodden, preaching the good news. No matter how vulnerable it made them, they knew the Gospel was in their hands.
Historically, forces of hatred have used fear to drive out love. Nevertheless, over and over again, people of faith have found the courage to resist .
Archbishop Desmond Tutu is one of those people. Thirty years ago, Tutu was a major figure in the battle against apartheid in South Africa. During the fall of 1989, the streets of Cape Town were filled with marchers—people like those of us who have marched in Fargo during the past week or month.
In his book, Made For Goodness, Archbishop Tutu describes how a coalition of civic and religious groups organized a campaign of civil disobedience.
In the downtown district, police used nightsticks and water cannons on the demonstrators. White protestors were stunned by the use of force, which they had never before experienced.
On Election Day, September 6, 1989, the media reported that twenty demonstrators had been killed. So, Archbishop Tutu planned a memorial service.
But a few days later, after hearing that the number of deaths was much higher than earlier estimates, Tutu struggled with what to do. He went into his chapel to pray—something he often did when faced with a difficult decision.
During a sleepless night, Tutu became convinced that he must organize another march—despite the risk of more violence and deaths.
Tutu admits that his decision was not a logical one. Instead, he was moved by what he calls a “God-pressure” from deep within. He writes:
“I don’t know quite how to describe ‘God-pressure.’ There is a physical sensation, breathlessness, and a sense of being weighed by a heavy burden. But neither of those is the main thing. The main thing is the sense of compulsion…. a loving compulsion. ‘God-pressure’ is a feeling of being compelled to act even against the voice of reason.” **
The response to Tutu’s God-inspired march was unprecedented. 30,000 demonstrators of every race and creed. Walking peacefully to City Hall. Muslim imams joining hands with Jewish rabbis and Christian bishops. United under a brightly colored banner that read, “Peace in our city: Stop the killings.”
Today, I think it’s easy for us Christians—especially us white Christians—to view Archbishop Tutu as a special saint. A kind of super-hero faith leader and civil rights activist, like Mahatma Ghandi or Martin Luther King, Jr.
But in reality, extraordinary individuals like them started out and lived as regular people just like us. People who listened to their own “God-pressure.” People who heard God’s call and responded. Without knowing exactly where they were going or what was the logical next step.
Only that God was compelling them to move beyond their fears and doubts. And handing them a mission—a question to be addressed. And saying to them, “It’s in your hands.”
Today, God is saying the same words to us: “It’s in your hands.”
It’s in your hands how you people of faith will respond to the killings of black and brown siblings. It’s in your hands how you white Christians will overcome the racism of Church and society.
It’s in your hands how each of you will follow Jesus along the threatening streets of our present reality. It’s in your hands how you will continue to show love and compassion to the isolated and hopeless among us.
It’s in your hands. And it’s in my hands. It’s also in God’s hands. For no matter what we do or what happens during these difficult days, Jesus promises that God is always with us.
That our God who cares for each little sparrow, also cares about each one of us. About you and me. Even during the darkest night of our soul. Even when we are most afraid. God’s pressure fills our hearts.
And God holds us with a love that will never let us go. Safe in God’s hands. Amen.
-----------------------------------
* Quoted in Heywood, Carter, Touching Our Strength: The Erotic As Power and the Love of God (Harper San Francisco, 1989) p. 73.
** Tutu, Desmond and Mpho Tutu, Made for Goodness: And Why This Makes All the Difference; (Harper Collins, New York 2010), p. 170.
+ + +
GOSPEL LESSON:
Matthew 10:24-31 (The Inclusive Bible)
[Jesus said to the twelve:] “Don’t let people intimidate you. Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed. What I tell you in darkness, speak in the light. What you hear in private, proclaim from the housetops. Don’t fear those who can deprive the body of life, but can’t destroy the soul. Rather, fear the one who can destroy both soul and body in Gehenna. “Are not the sparrows sold for pennies? Yet not a single sparrow falls to the ground without your Abba God’s knowledge. As for you, every hair of your head has been counted. So don’t be afraid of anything—you are worth more than an entire flock of sparrows.”
Though some of them didn’t believe that she could be as wise as everybody claimed. They were determined to prove that the old woman wasn’t very wise at all.
One day the children found a baby bird and decided to put the old woman to a test. An older boy cupped the bird in his hands and said to the other children, “All we need to do is ask the old woman whether the bird I have in my hands is dead or alive. If she says the bird is dead, I will open my hands and let the bird fly away. If she says it’s alive, I’ll crush it in my hands, and she’ll see the bird is dead.”
So, the children, went to the old woman and presented her with this challenge. “Old woman,” the boy demanded, “Is this bird in my hands dead or alive?”
The woman became very still and studied the boy’s hands. Then she looked carefully into his eyes and said, “It is in your hands whether the little bird will live or die.” The wise old woman smiled and repeated the wisdom from within, “It’s in your hands.” *
In today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus sounds a lot like that wise old woman. “Don’t be afraid,” Jesus says, “of those who can kill you. Rather, fear the One who can destroy both soul and body. For not a single sparrow falls to the ground without your God knowing about it. No, don’t be afraid of anything—you are worth more than an entire flock of birds.”
Wise words from Jesus. But hard words to take to heart. “Don’t be afraid of those who intimidate you. Don’t be afraid of those who can kill you. Don’t be afraid of anyone or anything.”
I want to ask: Really, Jesus? Have you listened to the news lately? COVID-19 continues to kill thousands. One in five workers have lost their jobs. People of color are still dying. How can you say, “Don’t be afraid”? Maybe you’re not as wise as the Gospels make you seem.
From the day of our birth, we humans learn to fear. To fear danger. To fear change. To fear people who look different than us. To fear sickness and death.
Politicians know the power of fear. They board up buildings and declare a state of emergency. Fear is the engine that drives corporate decision-making.
And Jesus knows that fear can cause his followers to lose heart. In the years following his death, Jerusalem and its Temple were destroyed by soldiers of the Roman empire. An empire built on instilling fear in its subjects.
After seeing Jesus crucified, his followers knew they could face the same kind of death. And many did. Yet they had to master their fear and keep following Jesus.
Doing the things Jesus sent them to do—healing the sick, caring for the downtrodden, preaching the good news. No matter how vulnerable it made them, they knew the Gospel was in their hands.
Historically, forces of hatred have used fear to drive out love. Nevertheless, over and over again, people of faith have found the courage to resist .
Archbishop Desmond Tutu is one of those people. Thirty years ago, Tutu was a major figure in the battle against apartheid in South Africa. During the fall of 1989, the streets of Cape Town were filled with marchers—people like those of us who have marched in Fargo during the past week or month.
In his book, Made For Goodness, Archbishop Tutu describes how a coalition of civic and religious groups organized a campaign of civil disobedience.
In the downtown district, police used nightsticks and water cannons on the demonstrators. White protestors were stunned by the use of force, which they had never before experienced.
On Election Day, September 6, 1989, the media reported that twenty demonstrators had been killed. So, Archbishop Tutu planned a memorial service.
But a few days later, after hearing that the number of deaths was much higher than earlier estimates, Tutu struggled with what to do. He went into his chapel to pray—something he often did when faced with a difficult decision.
During a sleepless night, Tutu became convinced that he must organize another march—despite the risk of more violence and deaths.
Tutu admits that his decision was not a logical one. Instead, he was moved by what he calls a “God-pressure” from deep within. He writes:
“I don’t know quite how to describe ‘God-pressure.’ There is a physical sensation, breathlessness, and a sense of being weighed by a heavy burden. But neither of those is the main thing. The main thing is the sense of compulsion…. a loving compulsion. ‘God-pressure’ is a feeling of being compelled to act even against the voice of reason.” **
The response to Tutu’s God-inspired march was unprecedented. 30,000 demonstrators of every race and creed. Walking peacefully to City Hall. Muslim imams joining hands with Jewish rabbis and Christian bishops. United under a brightly colored banner that read, “Peace in our city: Stop the killings.”
Today, I think it’s easy for us Christians—especially us white Christians—to view Archbishop Tutu as a special saint. A kind of super-hero faith leader and civil rights activist, like Mahatma Ghandi or Martin Luther King, Jr.
But in reality, extraordinary individuals like them started out and lived as regular people just like us. People who listened to their own “God-pressure.” People who heard God’s call and responded. Without knowing exactly where they were going or what was the logical next step.
Only that God was compelling them to move beyond their fears and doubts. And handing them a mission—a question to be addressed. And saying to them, “It’s in your hands.”
Today, God is saying the same words to us: “It’s in your hands.”
It’s in your hands how you people of faith will respond to the killings of black and brown siblings. It’s in your hands how you white Christians will overcome the racism of Church and society.
It’s in your hands how each of you will follow Jesus along the threatening streets of our present reality. It’s in your hands how you will continue to show love and compassion to the isolated and hopeless among us.
It’s in your hands. And it’s in my hands. It’s also in God’s hands. For no matter what we do or what happens during these difficult days, Jesus promises that God is always with us.
That our God who cares for each little sparrow, also cares about each one of us. About you and me. Even during the darkest night of our soul. Even when we are most afraid. God’s pressure fills our hearts.
And God holds us with a love that will never let us go. Safe in God’s hands. Amen.
-----------------------------------
* Quoted in Heywood, Carter, Touching Our Strength: The Erotic As Power and the Love of God (Harper San Francisco, 1989) p. 73.
** Tutu, Desmond and Mpho Tutu, Made for Goodness: And Why This Makes All the Difference; (Harper Collins, New York 2010), p. 170.
+ + +
GOSPEL LESSON:
Matthew 10:24-31 (The Inclusive Bible)
[Jesus said to the twelve:] “Don’t let people intimidate you. Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed. What I tell you in darkness, speak in the light. What you hear in private, proclaim from the housetops. Don’t fear those who can deprive the body of life, but can’t destroy the soul. Rather, fear the one who can destroy both soul and body in Gehenna. “Are not the sparrows sold for pennies? Yet not a single sparrow falls to the ground without your Abba God’s knowledge. As for you, every hair of your head has been counted. So don’t be afraid of anything—you are worth more than an entire flock of sparrows.”