Drunken Sailors for Life

The Book of Esther

September 30, 2018

The Rev’d. Dr. Gretchen S. Grimshaw

Episcopal Parish of St. Paul, Newton Highlands, MA


Good morning! I am so relieved to be here with you.

It has been a tough week in our national arena. A week that demands an assessment and accounting of our values as a nation. Much is at stake. And although it is hard to believe, I think we have even more at stake than the tie-breaking seat on our Supreme Court which is accorded the ultimate jurisdiction over the constitutional and statutory laws of our land, and all of the people therein. That,in and of itself, is quite a lot to have on the line. But after a rash of accusations of sexual assault against the current candidate and the gripping testimony on Thursday of the first, and thus-far most compelling accuser, the stakes have risen.

They have risen past politics. They have risen past ideology. They have even risen past the constitutional rights arbitrated by that highest court in the land. Now we are down to the nitty gritty of what we value as a culture. Now we are debating the character of justice – which always begins with an assessment of power and privilege. Who has it? Who does not? And how will it be used? The character of our justice depends on the answers to these questions.

I think it is not a stretch to say that in our culture the root of most, if not all, evil has to do with privilege. From the Latin: privus legit literally means “private law.” Like private property, privilege is not available to the public, but belongs only to those who can afford it. In our culture, unearned privilege is an undeserved entitlement that offers a special advantage to some at the expense of others. Unchecked privilege is the very antithesis of our Christian teaching that every child of God is intrinsically and equally worthy. And unearned privilege is the currency that fuels and funds the destructive structures of oppression and fragmentation that plague our culture, like racism and misogyny.

Privilege has been in high relief this week. Both the candidate for the Supreme Court and his accuser are very privileged people. But they have chosen to use their privilege in very different ways. And the impact of privilege comes down to the way it is used; how it is hoarded or how it is spent. And sometimes how it is completely ignored as it wields its almost invisible sway.

For those of us who care about the building of the Kin-dom of God the question always comes down to this: how much of our privilege are we willing to spend; how much are we willing risk?  How much of our privilege are we willing to spend to protect our own “good names” and our reputations and our ambition? How much are we willing to risk to protect and value the human rights of others; in this case, of the millions of women who have been subjected to physical mental and emotional abuse that has scarred their lives? Because as our nation’s most famous Sunday School teacher has been quoted as saying: “The abuse of women and girls is the most pervasive and unaddressed human rights violation on earth.” Those, of course, are the words of Jimmy Carter.

When it comes down to one or the other:  personal reputation or basic human rights – which do we choose? Which do we who have the privilege to choose, value more?

With this question in mind, we are more than blessed to be hearing from the Book of Esther this morning. It is our only lectionary reading from this unique and wonderful Book. Like this week’s circus of hearings, it is a wild story of Shakespearian proportion with the life of an entire class of people on the line. And although we do not have the time in this short sermon to delve into the full depth and breadth of this story, but there are a couple of notable things about this short, but powerful Book in our canon, that might help us to think about our contemporary predicament more ….theologically.

The first notable thing about the Book of Esther is that it is the biblical source for the Jewish holiday of Purim – which is an annual celebration of the deliverance of the Jews from the threat of annihilation by their Persian overlords. One cannot help but think of the Holocaust. In the Jewish tradition, this Book is read aloud in its entirety twice during Purim. And we have celebrated thusly at our Family Compline services in past years.

The second notable thing is that the hero of this canonical book is a woman. Actually, the second notable thing is that the hero of this book is human.  But that human is a woman. And not just a woman, not just a female, but a female who is an orphaned refugee. She is the very definition of marginalized in her social and political context; akin to Mary the mother of Jesus in terms of her P rating (you know, the power, prerogative, privilege, property, etc.). Esther’s P rating, like Mary’s, is less than zero.

Esther’s ancestors were captured in Jerusalem when Nebuchadnezzar sacked and burned that city a century earlier. And when her exiled parents died, Esther was entrusted to her cousin Mordecai, an advisor in court of the Persian emperor Xerxes (known in today’s reading by his Hebrew name Ahasuerus). And so the Book of Esther is essentially about an orphaned Jewish exile who becomes the queen of Persia, and eventually the veritable savior of the Jewish population in that realm. Until she is chosen by the king to be his queen, Esther is a nobody, less than a nobody in terms of social, political or economic power. Especially in the highly stratified social structure of the 4thcentury before the common era, when this text was thought to have been written.

And so this is a story of the ways in which the power and identity of even the most marginalized people can beconstituted within a society that values privilege above almost all else, a society not unlike our own. This is a story of justice and the risks that we are willing to take for the things about which we care most.  And it is a story of supreme hope; of how anything can happen in this world, no matter how many cards we might think are stacked against us. And Esther had a few stacked against her, starting and ending with her gender and her ethnicity. Her Jewish name was Hadassah. But no one knew she was Jew. And she would not reveal that identity until everything was on the line. We might ask why she not reveal that truth earlier? But we know the answer without even asking the question.

The third notable thing about the Book of Esther is that God is never, ever mentioned in this book. The Bible is generally described as the story of God’s presence in and through history. There is hardly another story so devoid of the explicit mention of the central character.

But God’s presence is not absent here. Some call the Spirit of God in this story coincidence, others call it divine providence, but as I tell you, briefly, the story of the orphaned Jewish refugee who became the Queen of Persia and saved the whole of her people, note the places where God appears; usually, as in our own lives, when things are inexplicably turned on their heads, when fortunes are reversed and lives rise from the ashes. When we are faced with an unexpected opportunity to make a whopping big difference for the good in this world, God is always there. Esther shows us that when we are brave enough to speak truth to power, to risk one’s own self for the life of God’s people, the structure of that power changes and anything becomes possible.

So the story goes like this, King Ahasuerus was the ruler of all of Persia, from India to Egypt says the text. And one fine day, during one of the king’s many banquets he summons his queen, Vashti to show her off to his guests. But she refuses to come.[1]  The king is outraged. “What,” he asks his trusted counselors and sages, “shall be done according to the law, to Queen Vashti for failing to obey the command of the king?” And one of the wise men surrounding the king replies:  “Queen Vashti has committed an offense not only against your majesty but also against the officials and against all the people of your kingdom. [read “the men of your kingdom”] Because the Queen’s behavior might rub off on other women and they too might refuse to come when their husbands call them.” This is really what the text says. And I’m guessing along the lines of what many privileged men of our own kingdom have been thinking this week.

So the counselors tell the king to write an edict and sign it into law that Vashti shall never again enter the presence of His Majesty.  And they set about to find another queen who is more worthy. Every available young woman in the land is summoned to the king’s palace. Among them is beautiful young Esther, the ward of one of the king’s advisors, Mordecai. But since the king is not likely to select a refugee as his new Queen, Esther’s guardian tells her to conceal her identity as a Jew. And she does.

All of the beautiful young virgins of the land are taken to the royal fortress and assembled in the harem under the guard of the chief eunuch. And of course, as you might have guessed, as soon as the king lays eyes on Esther, he is smitten. The scripture reads: “the king loved Esther more than all the other women…so he set a royal crown on her head and made her queen…” No one knows her true identity. No one knows she is an orphaned refugee; a survivor.

And from here the story gets a bit hairy and somewhat farcical, you will need to read it for yourself to get the full on effect, but here is the gist.

Mordecai, Esther’s guardian, overhears a plot to kill the king. Mordecai exposes the assassins. They turn out to be guilty. And Mordecai the Jew is thanked for his loyalty. But instead of promoting him for his good work, the king promotes a dastardly devil named Haman.  Haman is a Persian whose ancestors opposed the first Israelite King Saul way back in the book of 1 Samuel.

The king passes an edict that all of his subjects shall now bow down before Haman the Persian, but Mordecai the Jew refuses. And like the king who was enraged by Vashti’s disobedience and disrespect, Haman is incensed by Mordecai’s. Privilege was not invented in the 20thcentury. And neither have we learned a lick since the dawn of time!

And because one Jew refuses to bow to him, Haman decides that he will punish every Jew in the land. And not just punish, the text says that Haman vows to “destroy, massacre, and exterminate the Jews.”  The plan is to slaughter the Jews on the 15thof the month of Adar, which is, the date on which the festival of Purim is celebrated today.

Mordecai sends a messenger to alert his cousin Queen Esther to Haman’s intention to slaughter their people. Esther says that she cannot possibly intervene, she cannot possibly get involved. It would be too dangerous to her. She has too much at stake. She could lose her own status, her own position, her own newly acquired privilege as queen of the kingdom. She could even lose her very life, as an unbidden approach to the king is punishable by death.

And here is the meat of today’s passage in the context of today’s national distress:

Mordecai says to her: Esther, remember who you are. Remember you are a part of a wider community of people whose lives are also at stake; who will suffer if you are not willing to sacrifice your personal place for their collective peace. Their suffering is your suffering. You can no longer pretend to be a Persian, you must stand up as a Jew. And do not think that you will be spared just because you live in the palace. On the contrary, if you do not speak up, help and deliverance will come to your people from somewhere else, and youwill perish for your cowardess. Who knows, perhaps you have become queen for just this purpose. Maybe the privilege that is yours is the meant to be providence for your people.  Maybe yourpower is meant not for you, but for your them.

I don’t know about you, but I cannot help but hear the consonance between Esther and Christine; between the woman who risked her own life for the life of the many who were her fellow refugees and the woman who risked her own peace for the peace of the many who are her fellow survivors. It is the difference between using our power for the wellbeing of the world and hoarding our power to serve our own ambition. Esther and Christine chose the former.

And so like Dr. Ford, Queen Esther gathers her courage and heads out on that shaky unprotected limb where every truth is told to power, for the sake of her people. Esther puts herself aside and does the right thing.

She invites Haman to a banquet. And at the banquet the king asks Queen Esther (whom he adores): “What is your wish? It shall be granted to you.” And Esther replies, “If your Majesty will do me the favor, let my life be granted me as my wish, and my people as my request. [this is it – she is offering her life for the life of her people] For we have been sold, my people and I, to be destroyed, massacred, and exterminated ….” The king is shocked and demands to know who has dared to threaten his queen. Esther replies, “it is the evil Haman!”  And, as the scripture says, “Haman cringed in terror before the king and the queen.”  The king, in his fury, storms out of the banquet and Haman proceeds to beg Queen Esther for his life.  But the king has Haman hanged on the gallows that Haman has prepared for Esther’s guardian, Mordecai.

The very ending of the story is a bit violent and vengeful, but the story of its heroine, the orphaned refugee who rose from rags to privilege and then risked it all for the life of her fellow refugees is worth our attention. Because it is the story of the way God works in this world. Very often through the most marginalized among us. But also through those who have deep privilege and are willing to spend it with wild abandon on those who have none, even at the risk of draining their own well.

My friends, we are such privileged people. You and I. Like Queen Esther and Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, we have a level of power and privilege that I am sure our God hopes is burning a hole in our pockets….just dying to be spent on the life of the world. As Mordecai said, maybe we have been afforded this power for something other than our own enjoyment and gain; maybe we are meant to risk it all for the justice that honors every life in equal measure.

And so if we truly believe this morning’s psalm; if our help truly is in the name of the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth, then we will have no fear in spending our privilege for the life of the world…..and spending it like drunken sailors!




© September, 2018 The Rev’d. Dr. Gretchen Sanders Grimshaw



[1]I just heard the story of someone who named their dog Vashti because she never came when she was called!

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May the Words of My Mouth….

Psalm 19

September 16, 2018

The Rev’d. Gretchen S. Grimshaw

Parish of St. Paul, Newton Highlands, MA


1 The heavens declare the brillianceof God, *
and the firmament shows thehandiwork of its Author.

2 One day tells its tale to another, *
and one night imparts knowledge to another.

3 Although they have no words or language, *
and their voices are not heard,

4 Their sound has gone out into all lands, *
and their message to the ends of the world.

5 In the deep has the divineset a pavilion for the sun; *
it comes forth like a bridegroom out of his chamber;
it rejoices like a champion to run its course.

6 It goes forth from the uttermost edge of the heavens
and runs about to the end of it again; *
nothing is hidden from its warmth.


7 The law of the Lord is perfect
and revives the soul; *
the testimony of the Lord is sure
and gives wisdom to the innocent.

8 The statutes of the Lord are just
and rejoice the heart; *
the commandment of the Lord is clear
and gives light to the eyes.

9 The fear of the Lord is clean
and endures for ever; *
the judgments of the Lord are true
and righteous altogether.

10 More to be desired are they than gold,
more than much fine gold, *
sweeter far than honey,
than honey in the comb.

11 By them also is your servant enlightened, *
and in keeping them there is great reward.

12 Who can tell how often he offends? *
cleanse me from my secret faults.

13 Above all, keep your servant from presumptuous sins;
let them not get dominion over me; *
then shall I be whole and sound,
and innocent of a great offense.

14 Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my
heart be acceptable in your sight, *
O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.


May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be acceptable in your sight,
O God, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Every Sunday, at least every Sunday when I am preaching, this last verse from this morning’s psalm 19 precedes my sermon. Every time. I always begin this way because it frames my fundamental hope for every homily. It says that the message to be offered from both my lips and my heart is offered on behalf of God; God’s wordis the word that matters. Because God is the rock on which we stand, and the redeemer who lifts us to our fullest stature. Everything we are, we are because God brought us into being to do God’s work in the world. And so, my mouth belongs to God and my prayer is that every utterance will be to God’s liking.

This short prayer is the foundation upon which I build every sermon. Regardless of the topic. And it is a good short stand-alone statement. But a couple of times a year, when Psalm 19 is appointed in the lectionary, we get to hear this pithy little mission statement in its context. And for me, that amplifies and expands its power exponentially.

C.S. Lewis call Psalm 19, “the greatest poem in the Psalter and one of the greatest lyrics in the world.”  It is short. It covers roughly all of the bases generally addressed in the five books of the Pentateuch. And it is jam-packed with theology.

It is divided into two almost distinct parts. The first 6 verses address Creation. The glory of God in the created world. In this section, the word for the divine in the Hebrew is el, as in Elohim. God the giver of Creation. But beginning in verse 7, the word for the divine in the Hebrew changes to YHWH, God the giver of the Law. And the subject changes from creation to torah, God’s Law, God’s Wisdom.

And so this short 14 verse psalm is a microcosm of the torahitself, the five central books of the Hebrew Scriptures. Like Genesis, this psalm begins with God’s creation. The heavens as the firmament. The day and the night. The sun and all that is warmed by its rays, which is to say everything; for nothing is hidden from the warmth of God’s sun says the psalm. Just like Genesis. And then the psalm turns to the glory of God’s Law and God’s power of redemption as in the books of Exodus and Numbers and Leviticus and Deuteronomy. Psalm 19 could be characterized as a micro torah.

And from my lips to your ears, and acceptable in God’s sight, it is well worth keeping on speed dial!

The first six verses set the stage. They remind us in no uncertain terms, that God is bigger than we are. That God is capable of anything, and the proof is in the pudding. Don’t trust my word, says the psalmist, just take a look at the world in which you exist. God created that.  And despite God’s big picture handiwork, God neverloses track of us individually, personally. Nothing escapes the warmth of God’s sun.

And that is the Good News in this psalm. That in the dankest regions of our darkest nights; in the places where we are hard pressed to find our faith or maintain our hope; when we feel overwhelmed, underprepared, out of our depth, deep in the weeds, thoroughly discouraged, enveloped by despair, afraid, ashamed, a failure, a fraud, alone. When we have no idea how we will get through this night, the psalmist reminds us that both the day andthe night belong to God and once this night is over it will befollowed by another day. And in that day, the warmth of the sun will find us. Where ever we are. However far we have strayed.

The first six verses of this short, short psalm are a sort of pastoral panacea. They remind us that we are the miraculous work of God’shands; the same hands that created the heavens and the earth the night and the day, and the ever rising sun.

I invite you to close your eyes now (if you like) and to unburden your heart;  hear these first six verses in the context of whatever weight you are carrying this morning. It is poetry for your soul.

The heavens recount the glory of God, *
and the sky declares our Creator’shandiwork.

2 One day pours out the word to another, *
and one night imparts knowledge to another.

3 Although they have no words or language, *
and their voices are not heard,

4 Their sound has flowed out into all lands, *
and their message to the ends of the world.

5 In the deep has the divineset a place for the sun; *
it comes forth like a bridegroom out of his chamber;
it rejoices like a champion to run its course.

6 It goes forth from the uttermost edge of the heavens
and runs about to the end of it again; *
nothing is hidden from its warmth.


I especially like that last part:

 In the deep has the divinest a place for the sun…. nothing is hidden from its warmth

I hear that phrase “the deep” as the depth of my own suffering. In the deep of my own angst the Creator has set a place for divine healing and warmth by way of a celestial orb that will never burn out.

This is the context in which I hope to set every sermon. In this context that God’s Word might flow with or without my words.  May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight.

From the beginning of this psalm is the clear declaration that all of creationis witness to the brilliance of its Creator; the gloryof God. The heavens recount the glory of God.

I confess that the word glory (overused in my mind in many Christian circles) never really moved me. That is until I read Frederick Beuncher’s interpretive definition. He writes in his small gem of a book “Wishful Thinking,”: Glory is to God what style is to an artist. A painting by Vermeer, a sonnet by Donne, a Mozart aria each is so rich with the style of the one who made it that to the connoisseur it couldn’t have been made by anybody else, and the effect is staggering. The style of artists brings you as close to the sound of their voices and the light in their eyes as it is possible to get this side of actually shaking hands with them.[1]The gloryof God is the quality of God’s handiwork; and so it could only have been done by God. Glory is God’s signature style. It is the thing that makes the works of God indubitably, unquestionably, absolutely from God….alone.

And so in this psalm creation itselfsings of God’s glory.

Weneed not prove that there is a God says the psalmist. God’s creation is proof enough; witness enough that only God could have created it. The heavens recount the brilliance, the glory of God.

Weneed not convince each other that every day is both brand new and bigger than our own imaginations, our own conversations and cares. One day pours out God’s word to another.

Weneed not talk about God’s consistency or abundance or ability to find us where ever we may try to hide. In the deep has the divine set a pavilion for the sun….and nothing is hidden from its heat.

This psalm lets us off the hook with respect to proving that there is a God….but then in the second part it puts us onthe hook, holds our feet to the fire, to live according to the law of the one who created us; the one who created everything. Creation proves God’s existence and the character of God’s Word, and the Law tells us that we are born to live according to that Word.

7 The law of the Lord is perfect and revives the soul; *
the testimony of the Lord is sure and gives wisdom to the innocent.

8 The statutes of the Lord are just and rejoice the heart; *
the commandment of the Lord is clear and gives light to the eyes.

9 The awesomeness of the Lord is clean and endures forever; *
the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.

10 More to be desired are they than gold, more than much fine gold, *

This psalm suggests a powerful corrective force in this world; a force that yearns for, and arcs toward, and insists on integrity. A world that is made by God and belongs to God should act in ways that are acceptable in God’s sight. The heavens do. The day and the night do. The sun does.

And so, then, must the rest of God’s Creation, including God’s featherless bi-peds.

Someone once said that wisdom is knowing the right path and integrity is taking it. Psalm 19 offers us the wisdom and then beckons us to the integrity. It says: look around you and then live as though you were part of the plan, the plan that includes the heavens and the rhythm of time and the eternal rising of the sun; live as though you were intended for such beauty and marvelousness…..because you are. Each one of us a piece of God’s outrageously creative Word.

And so in the very last line the psalmist cannot help but pray for the integrity to live as she was created to live:

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart

Be ever acceptable in your sight

O God my rock and my redeemer.



© September, 2018, The Rev’d. Gretchen Sanders Grimshaw


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Dogs Are Us

Mark 7:24-30: The Syrophoenician Woman

September 9, 2018

The Rev’d. Dr. Gretchen Sanders Grimshaw

The Episcopal Parish of St. Paul, Newton Highlands, MA


 And from there he arose and went away to the region of Tyre and Sidon. And he entered a house, and would not have any one know it; yet he could not be hid. 7.25But immediately a woman, whose little daughter was possessed by an unclean spirit, heard of him, and came and fell down at his feet. 7.26Now the woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by birth. And she begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. 7.27And he said to her, “Let the children first be fed, for it is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” 7.28But she answered him, “Yes, Lord; yet even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” 7.29And he said to her, “For this saying you may go your way; the demon has left your daughter.” 7.30And she went home, and found the child lying in bed, and the demon gone.                                                                                                                                                                               

Good morning!

Sometimes I am utterly amazed at the way the lectionary seems to dovetail with whatever is happening in the world.  And this morning’s Gospel reading from Mark is a case and point. It is the story of the Syrophoenician woman as she is called here in Mark’s telling of this story, or the Canaanite woman, as she is called in Matthew’s version.

This morning’s passage from Mark’s Gospel is, to my ears, the more difficult of the two versions, both of which are among the most difficult stories in our holy scripture. And the first couple of times that I read this story I thought, if ever there were a slice of scripture that should be roped off for repairs….this is it; this story of the Syrophoenician woman, according to Mark. Scholars have been searching for some justification for the abject rudeness of our living God in this periscope, for as long as there have been biblical scholars.

For this passage in Mark (and its sister passage in Matthew) presents Jesus in the perhaps the most unflattering light in our scriptural record.  Biblical scholar Sharon Ringe says in her commentary “A Gentle Woman’s Story” that this is the place where Jesus“is caught with his compassion down.”[1]Hmmmm. I was not aware that Jesus was allowedto be caught with his compassion down. Ever. And Jesus is not just un-compassionate here, he is on the verge of being a bully. He calls this woman, who approaches him for help, a dog.

Jesus is not the only man to call an unwanted woman a dog.[2]But that is a sermon for another political season.

As you well know, no one loves dogs more than I do. But even I know that when someone calls you a dog, not a dawg, but a dog, you have been summarily insulted. It is almost worse to be called a dog than even a female dog, if you know what I mean. Because the latter is a commentary on one’s disposition and demeanor, while the former is a commentary on one’s ontological status.

And it was even more ugly in Jesus’ day when dogs were not generally beloved; not members of the family dining on kibble n bits and starring in the Christmas Pageant. In Jesus’ day, dogs were dirty, stray, disease-carrying four-legged scavengers. And so for Jesus to call this woman, this desperate woman a dog, is beyond……belief. Which makes this passage more than a bit of a challenge….and on more than a few levels.

So here it is: Jesus has retired to Tyre for some rest and recalibration…maybe a bit of a sabbatical. Tyre is a territory bordering the Gentile land in the North of Gallilee; not unlike the way Texas borders Mexico. It marks the ethnic boundary that distinguished between the Israelites, God’s chosen people, and the not-so-chosen people, by God. And so the first challenging bit of this passage is that it clearly juxtaposes the status of Jews and the status of the Gentiles. Jesus, the Jew, is up against the Syrophoenician woman, the Gentile.

In Matthew’s version of this passage, Jesus comes right out and says that he is not here for the Gentiles, he is here exclusively for the Jews. This theological travesty, as it were, takes some of the spotlight, some of the heat, off of the absolute rudeness of his interaction with the woman. In Matthew, our indignation is immediately trained on Jesus’ apparent misunderstanding of his mission to serve all of God’s children. And so the brutal sting of his inhospitable remark to this desperate mother of a sick child feels somewhat overshadowed by his overarching misunderstanding of his mission on earth.

But Mark offers no such cover for Jesus’ overt rancor. Here, his exclusivity is not theoretical or ecclesiastical, it is, to be blunt, racial. In this passage, Jesus is the bearer of an unequivocally racial slur. Ugh.

Nevertheless, inbothMatthew and Mark, this passage is often held up as testament to the power of a marginalized person to stand up for human dignity, especially women. This is the only time in these sacred scriptures where Jesus is seemingly contradicted, corrected even, by a human being, and a woman no less…..and a Gentilewoman maybe most importantly. And so this thoroughly marginalized mortal questions and corrects Jesus until he acquiesces and agrees that she is right. And as a reward for her courage and wisdom her wish is granted and her daughter is healed……instantly, says the scripture.

Now, I do not want to get into the efficacy of faith as a cure to our human ills. The fabric and purpose of prayer and faith is beyond the bounds of this sermon. The actual miracle that seemed to heal the child is another sermon for another day.

I am more interested in the relationship between Jesus and the Gentile woman. Doesn’t it seem like the only ones who ever recognize Jesus for who he is, aside from his friend John the Baptist, the only ones who get who he is and from whence his power comes……are the most disrespected, the most powerless people in his path? The unclean spirits, the sightless jaywalkers, and the underclass of women and men who have nothing but a prayer to count on….they are the ones who seem to follow without question or qualm……even when they are rejected and rebuked. They are the ones who believe fully in the power of this Jesus of Nazareth.

And it is hard to hear this scripture and not think of our own immigration policies in this country at this moment; not to think about the thousands of children at our border whom our government of, by, and for the people has separated from their parents as though they were litters of puppies rather than human families.  It is hard to read this passage without seeing the children of the world who are seemingly acceptably treated as dogs, or worse. And so, I can’t help but continue to ask, Jesus and we who follow him, whose children are we here to feed?

Because in this passage, it feels like Jesus has forgotten his own message of universal love. He has not read his own Gospel according to John that God so loved the world! Here, Jesus has trumped, so to speak, his message of love with a message of entitlement. Entitlement based on race. The Israelites are entitled to God, but the non-Israelites are stopped at the border…the border between God and no-God.  Jesus might as well have called this Syrophoenician woman an illegal….and in a way, he did.

He tells her in no uncertain words that she is not entitled to the riches or benefits that he bears from God. And then he adds insult to injury by calling her a dog. Jewish scholar Joseph Klausner says that “If any other Jewish teacher of the time had said such a thing, Christians would never have forgiven Judaism for it.”[3] This Gospel reading is about as outrageous as it gets.

In fact, this response from Jesus is so problematic on so many levels that most scholars treat it almost as if it were a biblical joke. William Barkley’s popular commentary says: “We can be quite sure that the smile on Jesus’ face and the compassion in his eyes robbed the words of all insult and bitterness.”[4]Really? Where is that in the Greek? And A.J. Rawlinson writes that Jesus probably spoke these words whimsically. Seriously? According to what source? Other scholars say that Jesus did not call the woman a dog, but a little puppy, in a sort of affectionate way, like, hold on there little doagy, your turn will come. Oh please! Some say that the woman was wealthy, as many in Tyre were, and that Jesus was scoffing the affluent oppressor when he called her a dog. But there is no textual grounding for this interpretation whatsoever.

The 4thcentury monk John Chrysostom says that Jesus was testing the woman, which is the only interpretation that does not seem to directly conflict with the scripture. Chrysostom says that Jesus wanted to give the woman a chance to respond to his harshness with utter and unfailing faith, which she did, and thereby healed herself. That is to say, Jesus, with his ugly slur, was setting this marginalized woman up to succeed.[5]Okay. But is this really the way that God works? Are the oppressed and abused in this world just being tested? Is all suffering just a divine EKG? A divine test of heart?

I think that this is both unlikely, and an unnecessary stretch of the interpretive imagination. There is nothing in the Greek or in the context to indicate that any of these interpretations are based on anything other than….the danger we perceive when we are disappointed in God. Because, holy cow, is Jesus ever disappointing in this passage! And scholars have been trying, unsuccessfully as we have just seen, to mitigate that disappointment for years.

The Good News in this morning’s reading from Mark, the real mitigating Good News is not that Jesus was redeemed from his rude shortsightedness…..but that this woman rose to the occasion. And so in a rare Gospel twist, the teacher in this passage is notJesus. The teacher is the Syrophoenician woman. She is the ultimate example of speaking truth to power with love.

Because she refuses to believe her ears without checking in with her dignity.  Maybe Jesus has a lousy poker face. But this woman calls his bluff. She refuses to be baited with this insult. She is seemingly un-phased by the degradation and presses on with her mission – the healing of her daughter. Despite being somewhat bullied by this divine healer, she refuses to deny her own faith, she refusesto betray her own heart, she refusesto abandon her own truth that she is a worthy daughter of God, she refusesnot only to obey the conventions of the day which would have prevented her from approaching Jesus in the first place, but she refusesto obey even the apparent rebuke of the shepherd she is beseeching. She refusesto be derailed by words that she knows to be untrue, words that would have dissuaded a lesser lamb.

She is the resistance!  If we are looking for a model for our own resistance, I suggest we look no further than this Gentile. Not a resister of any one, but of every way that denies dignity, that refutes her innate and intrinsic worth, that suggests that her race is not chosen by God as equally as is that of Israel. She is the ultimate example of speaking truth to power with love.

And so instead of shrinking away, instead of obeying her social sensibilities or her comfort zone, this courageous woman presses on.

She kneels down at the feet of Jesus. And she responds to the affront by saying, yes Lord, but even the dogs deserve a few crumbs.  Martin Luther wrote in his fabulous sermon on this passage that this woman, “catches Christ with his own words. He compares her to a dog, she concedes it, and asks nothing more than that he let her be a dog…..where will Christ now take refuge? He is caught.”[6]Amen to that!

And so finally, and not a moment too soon, our story comes to its neat and happy ending: ”Because of what you said,” says Jesus emphatically, “go home ; the demon has already left your daughter.” And it is so.

And not for nothing, the daughter is not the only one to have been healed by this woman’s gently fierce faith. Jesus himself has been healed of the log in his own eye.  This Syrophoenician woman reminded Jesus – in the depth of his humanity, his dirty rotten rejecting self-righteous humanity-  she reminded him of his divinity.

And that is the Good News. There is divinity buried deep within our humanity, and therefore within our inhumanity. There is the chance to turn ourselves to the good. Can we find our divinity as Jesus found his? Can we follow Jesus’ lead and heal ourselves of our own misunderstanding of our mission on earth? Can we learn that we are here to bring every living thing into the fold? Can we live as though every living thing were as divine as are we? Can we find our way through our own racism, shedding our own privilege for the life of the world?

Jesus models for us the first step when he listens with open ears to the voice of the woman who challenges his assumptions. He changes his understanding of himself. Shechanges his understanding of himself. So let us go forth this morning listening for that challenge to our own assumptions. Listening for the ones who rattle our certainties, the ones who insist that even the dogs deserve some crumbs….because in the end we are all the dogs, and the dogs are all us.

Alleluia! Amen!


© September, 2018 The Rev’d. Dr. Gretchen Sanders Grimshaw


[1]Feminist Interpretation of the Bible, ed. Letty Russell (Westminster, 1984) 69.

[2]President Donald J. Trump called his former advisor Omarosa Manigault Newman a dog. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/14/us/politics/trump-omarosa-dog.html

[3]Joseph Klausner, Jesus of Nazareth: His Life, Times, and Teaching (Macmillan 1929) 294.

[4]William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark (Westminster 1956) 122.


[6]Complete Sermons of Martin Luther, Volume 5 (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2000), 325


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Hear What the Spirit is Saying

The Gospel According to Mark 1:4-11

January 7, 2018

Celebration of Amanda March’s Ordination

The Rev’d. Gretchen S. Grimshaw

Episcopal Parish of St. Paul, Newton Highlands, MA


Good morning. And it is a gloriously good morning, indeed. As most of you know, our beloved Amanda was ordained to the priesthood on Friday. Several of you were there, and you will notice that her stole has taken a new shape. Amanda is now a priest in the church. And so this morning we will celebrate the birth of this new ministry, this new ministry that comes through years of discernment and formation, and comes with more than a new stole and the permission to celebrate the sacraments. It also comes too with a host of new expectations and accountabilities, weights and measures, perspectives and understandings, and, no doubt, some surprises along the way.

We celebrate this threshold of Amanda’s new ministry of ordination as a priest of the church, but every one of us was born a priest of the people. We are all God’s priests, if the definition of priest includes lifting God in all things. We all have God’s permission, no, God’s strident encouragement to live into that born-in vocation. And so I hope that every one of us will take this opportunity to claim a fresh start to our own priestly ministries, and we all have them. I hope we can all claim a soft start, or re-start to our own divine ordinations in the ministries to which we have been called by our Creator; ministries that are vital to the building of the kindom of love. We are each endowed with a unique constellation of gifts, and every constellation is needed if the galaxy is to shine.

Today’s lectionary gives us a splendid place to start with the renewal of our ministries. First the story of the new beginning of all of creation in Genesis, and then the beginning of the ministry of God as a part; a creature of that creation.

The Gospel this morning is arguably the true start, or kickoff, in the vernacular of this season of football playoffs, of Jesus’ own divinely ordained ministry on earth. It celebrates the baptism of Jesus by the Holy Spirit. It is the moment when Jesus is endowed by God with everything ki will need to choose love; every time; even when it is not popular; even when it conflicts with the advice of friends and family and disciples; even when it requires a sacrifice that might cost this precious life itself.

In this first chapter, Mark wastes no time at all. The real rubber meets the road in the very first line: This is the Good News of Jesus Christ the Son of God. And within the next ten lines Jesus is aptly armed for the mission ahead, let the games begin. We might say that Jesus, by baptism, has been ordained for the work of God that lies ahead. And everything Jesus needs is in this one pronouncement of God: You are my beloved, with you I am well pleased. That’s all ki’s got. That is the secret sauce. You are God’s beloved, and whatever you do, whatever you risk, whatever you lose – God will always be well pleased with you.

And the mission begins, fittingly, with Jesus’ feet in the muddy Jordan River along with every other ordinary jane and joe and Jehoshaphat in the land. There is no fancy ordination service. No chair for the bishop. No chanting of the litany. No procession or reception. There is only a river of dirty water full of sinners, some of whom are likely suffering mightily, and a holy spirit full of God. That, I imagine, is the description of Jesus’ ordination.

Baptism is the fork in the road, the point at which Jesus ceases to be just a young adult hanging with friends, and at once is inaugurated into the mission of God as God’s own revolutionary…..to hereafter serve as a political thorn in the side of the authorities. This is the passage where Jesus shows up; where Jesus grows up; where Jesus offers his whole self to the mission of the Living God. Fully human. Fully divine. Fully ordained.

This is where heaven and earth first meet in our Jesus story, well, that is, after the birth narratives in those other synoptic Gospels. But in Mark, they meet in the baptism. It is where the flesh of Jesus of Nazareth meets the Spirit of God.  And from now on, the dignity that Jesus insists be shown to every human being, will begin to step on the toes of the elite, begin to challenge the privilege of the political and religious powers……because love always pokes power. And so in short order, the elite authorities are going to begin to see that this Jesus is going to be a very uncomfortable thorn in their side. But make no mistake, the thorn sprouts here, at Jesus’ baptism.

And so here we are, Amanda. On the precipice of your ordination; your brand new ministry. I can’t think of any better scripture for your first celebration of the Eucharist; informed by the Book of Genesis and God’s creation of the world, and then by Mark’s Gospel and the baptism of Jesus to rock that world. I can think of no two better pieces of scripture to load into your ministerial toolbox. For these two readings stretch the imagination to the bounds of God’s world into which you are planting your new ministry.

And, as I have the privilege of preaching on this momentous day of your first consecration, I would like to offer you a few more starting tools; a few things that have found their way into my toolbox over the years. Having been a board certified chaplain for many years, you are no doubt familiar with everything I am about to impart. And so I offer them not as news, but as gifts of the spirit from one priest to another.

And as always, I am preaching here first to myself!

1. Never forget that your ordination this glorious weekend, is not by God, it is by the church. You have always been ordained by God….as has everyone in this hallowed space. God’s ordination process is called childbirth. We are each and all uniquely ordained by God for our ministry in this world….in the womb. You have now been ordained by the church, as well; ordered in the ranks of the church to lift God in this world specifically as a part of that/this holy institution.

2. Number two is a corollary to number one: The stole, like the collar, does not belong to God….it belongs to the church. Which is to say, you are not the only one wearing a collar and a stole. Everything you say and do while you are wearing those marks of your ministry, speaks, in one way or another, for and about the church, and everyone else who wears a collar and a stole. Which is to say, if you are wearing your collar (even sans stole), and the fourth rude person cuts you off in rush hour traffic, my advice is to keep all of your fingers tucked safely in your fist….and to wrap that fist safely around the steering wheel! ….and trust that there is justice in heaven! Let no holy birds fly while wearing a collar, or a stole.

3. As you know, and I know, but it never hurts to refresh our mindfulness: we do not offer forgiveness. God does. What we as ordained clergy offer, is a reminder of God’s forgiveness….an assurance of God’s forgiveness, but the substance itself is a gift that comes directly from God. Forgiveness, like roses and rain and all life-giving beauty and substance, come only from God.

4. Jesus is a four letter word. ….and the opposite corollary, as I keep reminding my friend Janet on the golf course, Jesus is not a four letter word. But you, as a priest, are now a walking invitation for all sorts of folks to talk openly about God and Jesus in the wider world. And because Jesus is often very difficult to articulate, when I talk about Jesus to folks who have no experience of Jesus, I almost always talk exclusively about Jesus as love. L-o-v-e. I explain Jesus as nothing more or less than pure love, God’s pure love for humanity and humanity’s charge to show the same pure love to each other. Jesus is a simple four letter word.

5. You are perfect. Absolutely perfect. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. Our culture has adopted a very deleterious disclaimer that we apply every time we think we have fallen short of the mark, we say: Nobody’s perfect. And that, I think, is bullroar. You are perfect. You are the perfect constellation of gifts and challenges, you bring the perfect experience of joy and pain, you hold the perfect key to unlock some grace that you alone have been given to share, that you alone carry into every encounter. There is some potential in this world that only you can fulfill. There has never in the history of the world been anyone with that particular potential…nor will there ever be. God has created you and equipped you and consecrated you very particularly for this exact ministry, in this exact place, at this exact time. And so you are the perfect fit for what God needs you to do here and now. Not an angel. But absolutely perfect.

And I don’t remind you of this to swell your head. But I do want to warn you that this ministry is hard. It is a rare day when I do not question myself or my fitness for this wonderful, heartbreaking, handwringing, harrowingly hard, hard work. Like our friend Pam’s answer to the question we are frequently asked: when did you know that you wanted to be a priest? And her answer is: well, yesterday for sure. Not so much the day before. And today….maybe. This vocation in bone-crushingly hard.

And so maybe the most important wisdom I can offer is the reminder, at those moments when you are ready to chuck everything and crawl into an unholy hole where you think you belong, please remember that you are God’s perfect vision, and everything about you is perfect in God’s sight. Or as God assures Jesus this in this morning’s Gospel: You are God’s beloved, and with you God is now and will always be…..well pleased.

6. Never forget why you are doing this. What you are doing and how you are doing it are much less important than why.

And so I tell you this morning on your first celebration what my mentor, The Rev’d. Anne Fowler, told me in response to my fear that I might mess up some part of my first celebration: don’t worry, she said, the liturgy always ends. And it does. But maybe that needs an addendum : The liturgy always ends, but the worship never does. The why we are doing this is much more important than what we are doing or how we are doing it. God is divine. The liturgy is not.

7. This ordained ministry, is a ministry of interruption…..it is a ministry that demands that you pay attention to and embrace the moment in front of you. It is different as a pastor in a parish than as a chaplain in a hospital, where your whole job is to be front and center for the pain before you. But in a parish, there are myriad draws on your time and attention. Many needs to fulfill…and often all at once. It is a ministry that precludes perfection. You may be perfect, but your work never will be. You can make plans if you must, you can try to cover all of the bases, but try not to hold yourself to tightly to any results. The work that needs to be done is not necessarily the work on your to do list for the day. The real work that you are called to do will reveal itself on an as needed basis. In the meantime, you can tend your schedule and your inbox, but that is your work, it is not necessarily God’s.

8. You have been ordained to the priesthood, but never forget that you are still and will be forevermore, a deacon. A servant. And even though you are now ordained to the priesthood, your first order will be that of the deacon….the one who washes the feet of God’s weary people. No matter how dirty, no matter how tired are you or the feet you are washing, it is your calling to kneel down, take the feet of your neighbor in your hands, and restore them with soap and water and tender loving kindness. Servanthood must continue to be your first language. Remember that it is the status of deacon, not priest, that made you a reverend.

9. Hear what the spirit is saying to God’s people. Every day. We say this after reading the scripture, but I think it is said for no one more than the clergy. I think it is our work to hear, not what God is calling us to do, but what God is calling the community to do. Your call has already been well discerned and established. Now, you can stop listening for what God wants you to do, and focus your full attention on what the spirit is saying to God’s people. Because now, God is calling you to and through the community alone.

10. Never, ever, ever love anyone…..unconditionally. We say we want unconditional love…..but that, I think, is a bold faced lie! We do not want to be loved because we exist, we want to be loved for who we are…..particularly…..subjectively….very, very personally. Unconditional love does not lift us above the things that keep us from God. For it is our shame, our guilt, our weakness and our insufficiency that we think make us unlovable. And so only love that takes those things into account, only love that recognizes and embraces those things as part of the whole can lift us out of our own unworthiness. I suspect as a chaplain you know this well.

And so today, Amanda, we celebrate the very special, particular, unique gifts that you have offered this beloved community with such deep generosity, and that will continue to be formed and forged here. And so we give thanks for your spiritual intelligence, your deep love of God, your reverence for this ministry, your wonderful preaching and pastoral care, your sense of humor, your heart for ministry with the most marginalized, your willingness to serve in so many capacities, and a million other attributes that we do not have time to list.

We celebrate our gratitude for all that we have learned from and with you. And we remind you that we love you, not unconditionally, but with eyes wide open for ALL that you are, and ALL that you have been and continue to be for us.

On this weekend of your ordination and the Epiphany, leave you with this gem from Jan Richardson:

For Those Who Have Far to Travel
An Epiphany Blessing

If you could see the journey whole
you might never undertake it;
might never dare the first step
that propels you from the place
you have known toward the place
you know not.

Call it one of the mercies
of the road:
that we see it only by stages
as it opens before us,
as it comes into our keeping
step by single step.

There is nothing for it
but to go, and by our going take the vows the pilgrim takes:

to be faithful to the next step;
to rely on more than the map;
to heed the signposts
of intuition and dream;
to follow the star that only you
will recognize;

to keep an open eye
for the wonders that attend the path;
to press on beyond distractions
beyond fatigue
beyond what would tempt you
from the way.

There are vows that only you
will know;
the secret promises for your particular path
and the new ones you will need to make
when the road is revealed
by turns you could not
have foreseen.

Keep them, break them,
make them again:
each promise becomes
part of the path;
each choice creates the road
that will take you to the place
where at last you will kneel

to offer the gift
most needed—
the gift that only you can give—
before turning to go home by another way.



© January, 2018 The Rev’d. Gretchen Sanders Grimshaw

(“For Those Who Have Far to Travel” by Jan Richardson, The Painted Prayerbook, http://paintedprayerbook.com/2011/12/31/epiphany-blessing-for-those-who-have-far-to-travel/)
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Myrrhy Christmas

December 31, 2017: Christmas I/Epiphany

Lessons & Carols

The Rev’d. Gretchen S. Grimshaw

Episcopal Parish of St. Paul, Newton Highlands, MA


Merry Christmas! I don’t think I have preached on the Sunday after Christmas since….

Because of this year’s crazy liturgical calendar, this Sunday, like last Sunday, serves two distinct liturgical observances. Last Sunday was both Advent IV and Christmas Eve. This Sunday is both Christmas I and Epiphany Sunday. And so we are meant to celebrate both the arc of our salvation history, which is typically the focus for Christmas I, and the beauty and power and mystery of that star in the east, which is Epiphany. So let’s jump right in!

This morning we celebrate the coming of Christmas by reading together some of the central stories in our salvation history; the history of our life with God. These are some of the defining narratives that show us how God works with us; stories that show us what God expects of us; stories that show us what we can expect from God.

There is not a set group of stories that fit this bill. There is a fair amount of leeway in the rubric regarding which stories we choose to tell THE story. Which confirms, of course, that there is no one story that sums up our salvation history, but rather a whole album of family snapshots, all of which add a bit of information and color to the overall narrative.

And so thinking that we would have the time and attention for no more than a few slices of our life with God, I set about the rich and wonderful task of selecting what I thought were some of the top seedings, the best group of stories to tell our story. And I settled on the six we heard this morning. Believe me, there were many more that just barely missed the cut!  But when I had to boil it down to what I consider to be the most telling lessons on this first Sunday in the season of the Incarnation, it was all about the way God calls us to work with God as agents and co-creators of this world…..the stories of those who were created and called by God to bring nothing less than their whole selves to participate in God’s good work.

It starts with God’s love for humanity, a love so deep that God etched God’s own image on our hearts.  But it did not take humanity long, with our selfishness and our greed and our lack of concern for each other, to break God’s heart. And in almost no time at all, God was so sorry and so grieved to have created us, that God resorted to a divine do-over; flooding the entire earth to wipe away all trace of the wickedness that had spread through the human race like wildfire.

But first, God made one ridiculously irrational call to an unsuspecting worker bee named Noah, whom God instructed to build an ark to preserve a remnant of God’s good work; an arc that would ultimately salvage the whole of God’s own creation from God’s own destruction. Because as it turned out, God was sorry to have reacted with such devastating anger, and so God offered a sign in the rainbow of God’s steadfast promise to all creation never to do that again.

And then, not three chapters later in the Book of Genesis, God posits another steep request to another ordinary companion named Abraham. And with that call comes another covenant, another massive promise to all humanity from that time forth. And so  Abraham along with companions Hagar and Sarah, is called to trust God above all, and then to plant seeds that will multiply and bless every generation of descendants forevermore.

And then there is Mary – there is no more audacious and inclusive call in our scripture than God’s request of Mary, and too to Joseph; it is a call that changes the prospects of human kind forever more. A call that is lived out in the flesh of a Saviour who is born in the stench of a stable with not an advantage to ki’s name – God’s own flesh and blood working in and through this world without a shred of political , economic, or social status, no power or position whatsoever. The perfect example of what God had intended of humanity, of all of us, from the very beginning when God etched God’s imagine on the human heart. That we might come into this world with nothing but love to signal our status.

And finally, the star, the Epiphany.

The Magi set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising,* until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.

The miracle of the virgin birth in Luke is matched almost by the magic of the star in Matthew. Shining in the East. The mystical sign of a promise. So deep so enduring so enlightening, that we tell the story 2000 years hence.

When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house they saw the child with Mary, the mother, and they knelt down and paid homage.

 We sometimes call Matthew’s version of this story one of the two birth narratives in our scripture, but Matthew tells more of an appearance than a birth. Matthew’s big contribution to our beloved nativity story is the star in the East and the wise ones who have been sent by Herod on a sort of reconnaissance trip. Wise Ones who, in order to conceal the child’s whereabouts, wisely return home by another way. This, says Matthew, is told “so that what has been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled.”

Luke might be all about writing a new history altogether, but Matthew is all about fulfilling the scripture….the Hebrew scripture.

And so it is not surprising that Matthew picked up almost this entire passage from this morning’s reading from the Hebrew scriptures, from Isaiah, chapter 60: Arise, shine for your light has come, etc. The whole passage, picked up nearly verbatim. ”Picked up” a euphemism for biblical plagiarism really. If Matthew had handed this story in in high school, ki would likely have been suspended for plagiarism.

But Matthew ‘s explanation is that this story is told so that what has been spoken through the prophets will be fulfilled. Not exactly the thorough footnote we would expect from such a….revered source, but the point here is that Matthew is all about the fulfillment of scripture. According to Matthew, Jesus does not supersede scripture, does not supplant the story in the Hebrew Bible, Jesus is not the replacement for the old tired testament, Jesus is the fulfillment of the story, the expected rest of the story.

And so Matthew tells that story, Isaiah’s story, to a tee; well, almost to tee. Matthew adds one small detail that changes…..everything.

Isaiah says that the ones who will follow the light will come by camels bearing gifts. They will bring gold and frankincense….and so says Matthew as well. Except, Matthew adds to the gift list because Isaiah does not mention myrrh. Matthew adds myrrh. And why does Matthew add myrrh? Why lift the scripture almost exactly and then add this curious gift? Gold is the gift for royalty. Check. Frankincense is the hallmark of one who is to be worshiped. Check. But myrrh is…. an embalming herb. It is what was used to anoint Jesus’ body after death. It’s not exactly on the top ten list of perfect gifts for Christmas, especially for a child, a new born baby. In fact, those of you who remember the Monty Python film The Life of Brian will recall that when the wise ones visit the baby Brian, the child’s mother is delighted with the gold and frankincense, but spends the next ten minutes of the movie trying to return the myrrh. What kind of gift is myrrh for a newborn babe?!

Well….it’s the kind of gift that says that this is not your ordinary run-of-the-mill child. It’s the kind of gift that emphasizes death at birth; that says that the death of this child will be as significant as ki’s birth.

Myrrh is Matthew’s equivalent of the humble manger in terms of what we can expect from this strange birth, in terms of turning the expectations of the world on their heads. The star is the part of Matthew’s story that we tend to embrace. But it is the myrrh, that is the punch line. The part we don’t see coming. This king whose birth is heralded by nothing less than a star is going to defeat the enemy not by star wars, but by…..dying…..a painful and shameful death. By dying a criminal’s death. The likes of a traitor to the empire in between two thieves. This is the punch line that awaits the story that we begin to tell in the bright shining light of this star this blessed season.

It’s easy to forget. With all of the tinsel and mistletoe….all of the bright and shining wrapping paper and bows….all of the gift giving and happy holidaying….it is easy to look no further than the star.

In that star we often lose ourselves in the hope of our own calling. We take this season to be a fresh start, a fresh invitation to follow the star that calls us to God. It is almost the relevant theme of the season leading us into the new year. How is the star in the east calling us forward? Sometimes, I think, we are maybe a little too worried about where we are being called. I know I am. Where does God want me to go? How will I get there? How will I know I am on the right path? I am often so busy looking for that star and the coordinates of my destination that sometimes, much of the time, I get distracted.

Because it easy for the star to distract us from the sobering depth of the gifts that we are called to bear.  And so we worry about where the star is taking us rather than what we are willing to bring?  But the prophets of old, Noah and Abraham and Sarah and Hagar and Mary worried not about where they were going, only about what they would bring. Not about where they were called, but what they might bear in God’s name.

Likewise, the Wise Ones fretted not about where they were going, where they were called. Their agency and attention was firmly planted on the gifts that they would offer to God. (pause) They are calling us now. They are calling us, you and me, to follow that star in our own footsteps. This morning’s Gospel from Matthew tells us that the question this season for each of us is not where are we going in the new year, but what gifts will we bring?

What gifts will you bring? What will the new birth awaiting your journey require? What constitutes your gold? Your frankincense? Your myrrh? And make no mistake, myrrh will be required. If your calling is from God, you had better be prepared to pack the myrrh, because this journey is going to cost you, as does every true calling from God. And so everything you have, everything you are, everything you count on will be needed.

The one thing you do not need to worry about, is where you going. The star will lead you to the exact spot. It may take longer than you anticipated. It may take you over unfamiliar and inhospitable terrain. It may seem lost for a bit in the cover of clouds. But it will never leave you, and it will take you precisely where you need to go.

In the meantime, we will break bread together on our knees and celebrate this season of hope that is , if Matthew’s Gospel is to be believed: a Myrrhy Christmas.



© December, 2017, The Rev’d. Gretchen Sanders Grimshaw

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Can God Get a Witness?

Gospel According to John 1:6-8, 19-28

December 17, 2017: Advent III

The Rev’d. Gretchen S. Grimshaw

Episcopal Parish of St. Paul, Newton Highlands, MA


There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. 8He himself was not the light, but ki came to testify to the light.
19 This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, ‘Who are you?’ 20He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, ‘I am not the Messiah.’* 21And they asked him, ‘What then? Are you Elijah?’ Ki said, ‘I am not.’ ‘Are you the prophet?’ Ki answered, ‘No.’ 22Then they said to him, ‘Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?’ 23He said,
‘I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,
“Make straight the way of the Lord” ’,
as the prophet Isaiah said.
24 Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. 25They asked him, ‘Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah,* nor Elijah, nor the prophet?’ 26John answered them, ‘I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, 27the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.’ 28This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.


A reminder that in this season of Advent, the Parish of St. Paul is refraining from any third person singular pronouns and gendered references to God as an act of radical inclusivity. The third person singular pronoun that we are using this season is Ki, an indigenous word that indicates a life force rather than a gender.    

If we were to write a catchy slogan describing the four consecutive Sundays in Advent, the bumper sticker might say: Awake! Arise! Anoint! Announce! This Sunday is the third Sunday on the bumper sticker, the Anoint Sunday, as it were. Liturgically, it has been known as Gaudete Sunday. In Latin, Gaudete means “rejoice!” The liturgical color of this season of solemn reflection and penitence is purple or navy blue, but the candle that we lit today on our Advent wreath is rose colored. It’s a tradition that stems from the tradition of the ancient church. It is meant to punctuate this season of penitence and solemn self-reflection with a glimpse of the joy to come; an oasis; a moment of relief and rejoicing in the stretch of the darkness that is Advent. And so today our theme is hope.

Like every third Sunday in Advent, in every year of our lectionary cycle, we hear about John the Baptist. According to our readings, John is our ray of hope in the midst of this dark season. In year A we hear about Matthew’s John in prison, asking Jesus: Are you the one or should we wait for another? In year C we hear Luke’s John, admonishing the crowds and warning the brood of vipers that they must repent before the coming of God, for the ax is waiting at the root of every tree that does not bear good fruit. But this is Year B. And year B belongs to Mark. The one synoptic Gospel that has no birth narrative. Mark’s Gospel begins not with the coming of Jesus, as Matthew and Luke’s encounters with John foretell, but rather with the baptism of Jesus. When Mark’s Gospel begins, Jesus is already among us. This is the good news of Jesus Christ, the One of God.

And so this year, because there is no story of Joseph and Mary to tell, we hear from John the Baptist, not once but twice.

Last week we heard Mark’s account of John. Mark’s account is short and sweet and presents John as the bridge between the Jewish tradition as it lives in the Older Testament and the New Creation as it lives in the flesh of Jesus of Nazareth, the New Testament. Like the other synoptic Gospels, Mark legitimizes John as foretold in the Book of Isaiah:

As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,*‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,* who will prepare your way; 
3 the voice of one crying out in the wilderness….

 Mark’s John is identified not by the title, The Baptist, but by the descriptor, The Baptizer; it is who John is, not just what John does. But in that place and that time, baptizing was a rite that was normally done in or near the Temple, and by priests who were officially ordained by the religious establishment; just as it is done in this place and this time. And like today in most Christian churches, there were two primary reasons for baptism in the Jewish community of the first century of the common era: one was to purify those who had been defiled, made impure by some action that would have precluded them from entering the Temple. And second, baptism was a rite of initiation into the Jewish community for those who were not, at least yet, Jewish. Baptism was the third step of the process of initiation that followed an oral exam and circumcision. And so baptism was primarily the rite of the Jewish priests to prepare Jewish men for entrance into the Temple.

So John the baptizer, as ki is presented in all four Gospels, is something of a puzzlement; somewhat countercultural. First, John is not a priest. Second, the place where John is baptizing is nowhere near a Temple. And third, John is baptizing not for purity from impurity, but for forgiveness from sin. Now, that concept of forgiveness from sin is not unfamiliar in the Older Testament. It comes from Book of the prophet Jeremiah….in fact, it comes from the same chapter that introduces the concept of the New Covenant; the title that we use for Jesus. And so John may be foretold by the prophet Isaiah, but John’s message is straight out of Jeremiah. Chapter 31 verse 31:

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. 32It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors…..[and] they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.

A new covenant for the forgiveness of sin. Isaiah may have predicted John, but Jeremiah provided John’s material…at least in Mark’s Gospel.

So, in Mark’s Gospel, John is called the Baptizer, and ki is a sort of a holy being of the outback. Ki wears a hair shirt and a leather belt and eats locusts and honey. Very Crocodile Dundee. And ki baptizes all of the people of the Judean countryside, not just the men for entrance into the Temple. Everyone, it can be assumed, at least in my own hearing of this story, of every gender identification. And in Mark’s Gospel, John baptizes Jesus.

This story of John’s indiscriminate baptism of all manner of human life in the River Jordan would have been thought to be thoroughly outrageous in John’s day. The Gospel stories of John transform the traditional Jewish rite of baptism into…..something thoroughly unorthodox. And so from the very get go, with the very introduction of John the Baptizer, Mark tells us that this New Creation is going to turn the old creation and all of its norms upside down.

But in this week’s Gospel, we get a very different John. In today’s passage from the Gospel according to John the Evangelist, we meet John who is indeed baptizing, but that is not John’s main attraction. Because John’s John has a different role altogether. Unlike the synoptic Gospels, John’s John does not appear from out of the wilderness, is not just a regular renegade prefacing the coming of Jesus. The Gospel reads:

There was a human sent from God, whose name was John.

In this Gospel, John is not just roaming around the countryside baptizing willy-nilly, as it were. This John is not from this place. This John is from God…. “one sent from God.” Not one sent as a bridge between the older tradition and the emerging tradition, as in Mark and Matthew and Luke. In John’s Gospel, this one is specifically and particularly sent straight from God. Not like Abraham or Sarah or Moses or even Mary …..not one who was called by God. Not called. Sent.

And the difference might seem slight, but called by God suggests that one is approached by God…maybe  while minding one’s own business with no awareness even of God’s presence….but when one is called one has not yet been formally recruited. One can still say no.

Sent, however, is another matter. Sent is what comes after we accept God’s call. It implies a much more intimate relationship with God and God’s mission; and much more accountability. Because we cannot be sent to do the work until we answer the call.  Once we accept the call, it’s on us. The difference between called and sent is the difference between going to God and coming from God; between responding to God and representing God. It is not an insignificant distinction. As Jesus came from God, so too did John. And so John, in John’s Gospel, is accorded the status of almost…an angel of the Lord. When we encounter John in this Gospel, we are encountering God’s own voice, God’s own mission. Almost, in my hearing, the equivalent of the angel Gabriel who spoke to Mary in Luke’s Gospel. In John’s Gospel John is fully human, and yet fully sent by God.

But sent by God is not the only difference in John the Evangelist’s account of John the Baptist. The second unique feature of John in this Gospel is that baptizer is not John’s identity, as it is in the three synoptic Gospels. In John’s Gospel, baptizing is just John’s vocation. Witness is John’s identity.

There was one sent from God, whose name was John. 7Ki came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through the witness…John was not the light. 9The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

And so in this morning’s reading, the religious authorities press John for a statement of identity. Are you the one who is violating our terms and conditions? But John gives them almost nothing, except the assurance that ki is not the one they should fear. John does not identify Jesus; does not hand over Jesus as Judas will do at the end of our story. Instead, John taunts the priests and Levites from Jerusalem who object to John’s unorthodox ministry: if you think what I am doing is problematic, wait until you see the one standing among you, the one whom you do not know, whom you cannot yet identify. Because that one is going to rock the Casbah!

In this season when we discern and lift up words that matter, today’s theme is hope, and today’s word is witness. They go together. John who baptizes in all four Gospels, is, in John’s Gospel, the consummate witness and beacon of hope. Because my friends, let me tell you, there is little in this world that is more hopeful than a dedicated witness to the light.

A witness to the light is not by itself the antidote to the darkness. A witness is not the light. But without a witness the light has no path, no conduit, no exposure. And so a witness to the light is the most dangerous threat to the darkness. Witness, as in one who testifies. The truth cannot be known without a witness.  A witness is to the light as a word is to an idea. Revelatory. Like words, witnesses matter. So much so, that they can utterly change the world. A witness is evidence that there is hope.

You might have seen Friday’s article in the Washington Post[1] about the list of seven words that the Trump administration has forbidden the Center for Disease Control from using in documents they will submit for next year’s federal budget. The forbidden words are “vulnerable,” “entitlement,” “diversity,” “transgender,” “fetus,” “evidence-based” and “science-based.” Forbidden. Like George Carlin’s Seven Dirty Words that were forbidden on television, when I was a kid. But the nation’s health and welfare is not a comedy act. And the CDC is not a nightclub. This, without trying to sound too melodramatic, is truly a life and death matter……for transgender teenagers, for Matthew Shepherd’s successors, for abortion doctors, for the most vulnerable (oh sorry, that word is forbidden!) the most marginalized among us, and absolutely, positively for the health and sustainability of the planet, our fragile island home. In fact, I can think of few more serious assaults to the light that leads us to inclusive justice love than this sort of authoritarian censorship.

The article goes on to say that “In some instances, the analysts were given alternative phrases. Instead of ‘science-based’ or ­‘evidence-based,’ the suggested phrase is ‘CDC bases its recommendations on science in consideration with community standards and wishes…’” What community are they referring to? Clearly and explicitly not the “transgender” community. And not any community of those who are “vulnerable” or dependent on any so-called “entitlements.” So the whims and wishes of “the community” (apparently a community of those who are not in any way connected to these seven politically deadly words) are to be factored into the official recommendations of the agency that is entrusted with the health of our republic. Talk about turning the world on it head….but so not for love.

And, according to the Washington Post, the Department of Health and Human Services has just removed all information about LGBTQ issues and Americans from its website.

Words matter.  And this news makes me know that our Advent practice of refraining from third person singular pronouns and gendered references to God could not be more important or better timed. This is our small witness to the light in this dark season of Advent. And our witness has never been needed more than it is at this dark moment in the life of our nation and our world. John the Baptist has arrived on the scene at just the right moment. Sent by God to serve as a witness to God’s light.

John’s Good News is that the darkness cannot overcome the light. But equally true is that the light cannot be known without a witness. The deepest hope of The Light is the courage of a witness.

So let us rest assured that we do not need to make the light, the light is already here. But it is our witness is to insist that it shine!




© December, 2017 The Rev’d. Gretchen Sanders Grimshaw


[1] https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/cdc-gets-list-of-forbidden-words-fetus-transgender-diversity/2017/12/15/f503837a-e1cf-11e7-89e8-edec16379010_story.html?tid=ss_fb&utm_term=.75b2a1faba87

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Ki Is the Living God

The Book of Judges 4:1-7

November 19, 2017

The Rev’d. Gretchen S. Grimshaw

Episcopal Parish of St. Paul, Newton Highlands, MA

 The Israelites again did what was evil in the sight of the Lord, after Ehud died. 2So the Lord sold them into the hand of King Jabin of Canaan, who reigned in Hazor; the commander of his army was Sisera, who lived in Harosheth-ha-goiim. 3Then the Israelites cried out to the Lord for help; for he had nine hundred chariots of iron, and had oppressed the Israelites cruelly for twenty years.
4 At that time Deborah, a prophetess, wife of Lappidoth, was judging Israel. 5She used to sit under the palm of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim; and the Israelites came up to her for judgement. 6She sent and summoned Barak son of Abinoam from Kedesh in Naphtali, and said to him, ‘The Lord, the God of Israel, commands you, “Go, take position at Mount Tabor, bringing ten thousand from the tribe of Naphtali and the tribe of Zebulun. 7I will draw out Sisera, the general of Jabin’s army, to meet you by the Wadi Kishon with his chariots and his troops; and I will give him into your hand.”
                                                                                                                                                                                                         Judges 4:1-7, NRSV


This morning’s reading from the Hebrew Bible is our one and only reading from the Book of Judges. Which is sort of a shame. Because Judges is an action-packed thriller of a read filled with power and greed, love and death, lies and deception, assassination, suicide, seduction, rape murder, political intrigue, civil war, victory and defeat, and that’s just what would fit in the trailer!  It has all of the elements of a great graphic novel, and it is fodder for a good fire and brimstone sermon! So settle in.

Judges marks a major transition in our story of Israel.  The Pentateuch precedes Judges; the Books of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy. And these are all about creation and covenant and law.  They are about the constitution of the Israelite community, with God at the helm. The Book of Joshua immediately follows the Pentateuch.

And once the community has been constituted in the first five books, beginning with the Book of Joshua, the hot topic shifts to land acquisition. Before Joshua, (in the Pentateuch) the land belonged to God, not the Israelites. Before Joshua, the use of God’s land was predicated on obedience to God’s covenant. Before Joshua, access to the land was just a reality that came with being in right relationship with God. Before Joshua, the theme was land giving, not land taking.

But in the Book of Joshua, for the first time, the Israelites take the land into their own hands….they acquire land without God explicitly giving it. They defeat Cana, and for the first time, they possess the land. The land is no longer given by God, it is taken by armies. Let us not miss or underestimate this turning point in the relationship between humans and their divine Creator; when the land became almost separated from God. The land was no longer the connection with God; no longer the currency of the relationship with God.

And so After Joshua there was a transitional interim. A period in between the time when God was the head of the community, and Kings rose to the head of the growing empire. A period dating to around the Iron Age, for we who like to know such things. A period when God appointed a series of Judges to mediate between God and the people; to provide military and civil leadership…. but not without God’s direct oversight as the ultimate landowner.

These Judges were ordained by the Spirit of God to bring the people back to God; back from their wanderings toward human constitutions, as it were. Today’s reading from the Book of Judges is our only lectionary reading from this Book…and it comes at the very end of our liturgical year. Short shrift, if you ask me.

It features one of God’s premier chosen humans who happens to be, thanks be to God, a woman:  Judge Deborah. Just a quick show of hands: how many of you have even heard of Deborah, let alone know who she was? Not many. Deborah was a real, bonafide Judge. She was equal in power with Ehud and Samson and all the other Judges in the Book, whom we just assume are male. But the Book of Judges tells of more prominent women than any other book in the Bible. There are 19 women of note in this relatively short, and ubiquitously under-proclaimed Book.

But if you have never heard of Deborah, do not feel bad. It’s not unexpected that we might miss Deborah’s stature. For one thing, the translators over the years have not exactly done a great job of lifting this lone divinely ordained woman. In fact, I think they have done her and us a grave disservice.

For starters, every text of this scripture that I checked, every single translation from the Tanak to King James, to the NRSV identifies her as Deborah, the wife of Lappidoth. Who is Lappidoth? Lappidoth is not mentioned anywhere else in the Bible. By all accounts, there is no husband Lappidoth. There is, however, a place called Lappidoth. Which makes perfect sense when we know that the Hebrew word for woman and wife are exactly the same. The Hebrew word isha can be translated as woman or wife, a designation that makes all of the difference in a description such as this.

Deborah is the only woman of this stature in the Bible. She is not just a prophet, she has actual political and military power. She is a Judge, a commander in chief, the top civic ruler, in her own right. And yet the translators, every last one of them, have chosen to translate the Hebrew as Deborah, wife of Lappidoth, rather than the equally viable and much more likely, Deborah, woman of Lappidoth. Which one confers the more impressive status? A commander in chief identified by her husband or by her heritage?

Think for a moment if 2000 years hence the story we hear of the first woman to be the presidential nominee from a major party is about Hilary Clinton or Hilary, wife of Bill? Or may a better analogy would be Elizabeth Warren, wife of Massachusetts or woman of Massachusetts? You get my point.

Deborah is described as a wife of a man rather than a woman in her own right. And then to further diminish her status, many of the translations say that she would sit beneath the palm tree and the Israelites would come to her for decisions. But in the Hebrew text, that word decisions, or judgments, is not plural and it has a definite article. So the better translation is that the people would come to Deborah, not for her decisions, but for The Decision, the Judgment. The plural without the definite article makes it sound more like folks came to her for her opinion on their issues. But the singular with a definite article makes it abundantly clear that she has the power to decide the one outcome of the case. These are small inaccuracies of translation, but given the scarcity of good female role models in our faith tradition, it seems a travesty that this single example of a woman with outright political power should be so obscured by the text itself.

Because words matter. How we tell the story matters. It can be the difference between who is in and who is out. In her book Becoming Wise, On Being host Krista Tippett writes, “The words we use shape how we understand ourselves, how we interpret the world, how we treat others. Words make worlds.” And Deborah is a case and point.

Even when the words don’t sound derogatory. Even when they sound innocuous. Sometimes we need to listen more deeply, more carefully, outside of our context, which can skew the words to change their meaning altogether.


Kevin had shingles.

He walked into the doctor’s office and told the receptionist that he had ‘Shingles.’

So she wrote down his name, address, medical insurance number and told him to have a seat.

Fifteen minutes later a nurse’s aide came out and asked Kevin what he had…

Kevin said, ‘Shingles.’

So she wrote down his height, weight, a complete medical history and told Kevin to wait in the examining room.

A half hour later a nurse came in and asked Kevin what he had.

Kevin said, ‘Shingles..’

 So the nurse gave Kevin a blood test, a blood pressure test, an electrocardiogram, and told Kevin to take off all his clothes and wait for the doctor.

An hour later the doctor came in and found Kevin sitting patiently in the nude and asked Kevin what he had.

Kevin said, ‘Shingles.’

 The doctor asked, ‘Where are they?’

Kevin said, ‘Outside on the truck. Where do you want me to unload ’em??’

Context matter. Language matters. How we hear words, and how the context influences how we hear words, matters. Whether we hear Deborah the wife of Lappidoth, or Deborah the woman of Lappidoth. Whether we hear Deborah weighing in with her opinions or Deborah with the authority to make the decision. It matters……at least to me it matters.

One of the reasons that I left the church at age 15, is that I could not find myself in the story. I could not find myself in the biblical witness….the stories of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and Joseph were not stories that included the likes of me, they did not include women.  Sarah and Hagar and Rebekka and Rachel and Leah…were the wives, they were not the ancestors. They were not the recipients of God’s promise or God’s covenant. They seemed to me to be almost bystanders.

And I could not find myself in the life of the church, the community of faith that calls itself Christian. The community that worships the Father and the Son and the genderless Holy Ghost. Where are the women in the liturgies of the church? Where do I fit in to the prayers and the hymns and the sacraments?

The ecumenical movement has, since the 1970’s, been exploring the implications of the masculine pronominal references to God. Committees of thousands of faithful souls from many denominations have been thinking about the overwhelmingly patriarchal language of the liturgy, if not the biblical texts. But I am here to tell you that almost 50 years later, the patriarchy is yet alive and well.

Women are still, even as we read today’s scripture, either left out of the mix altogether or grossly minimalized in the few instances where we appear. But my dear friends, if women are left out, let us think how left out are those among us who do not identify fully as either the male or female; those whose gender status is not binary, not one of the two “normal” categories – imagine how left out those children of the living God must feel. Left out not only of the stories of the patriarchs, as am I….but left out all the way back to Eden, all the way back to Adam and Eve. A world in which everyone who is pleasing in God’s sight is either Adam OR Eve.

Tomorrow is the Transgender Day of Remembrance. And so I am thinking about the several kids connected with this very small parish who either identify as transgender or non-binary in their gender identification. A few do not claim either gender, in an exclusive sort of way, and prefer to be referred to with the  pronoun “they.” Instead of she or he, the only available pronominal option that does not totally misidentify these non-binary folks is “they.” I think I do not have to go into much detail regarding the difficulty that ensues when referring to a single person as “they,” at least in this cultural context. And so I have been putting my mind to thinking of ways that we might better include everyone in our midst, at least linguistically.

I don’t know how hard is existence in this binary world for these beloved children of God. But I myself know a bit about how hard it is to live on the margins. I am a woman priest in the Fatherland of Christianity; and a gay priest following the ferociously straight-laced footsteps of the Son of God. I know a bit of what it feels like to be on the margins. And although my margins have become appreciably more socially acceptable in the last twenty years, I still find myself in contexts where good hearted people mean to include me, but often end up making me feel even more marginalized by their heartfelt special accommodations. It still feels lousy to have to be the exception that even the progressive world often contorts to accommodate. I often feel uncluded rather than included. And I am betting that I am not the only person in these pews to know what I mean.

Uncluded in some way that separates us from the pack. Separates us by ethnicity or color, by gender, by sexual orientation, by country of origin, or physical abilities that require special accommodations. Unempowered. Unabled. Uncluded in one way or another.

And yet, we tell each other every time we gather that we are one in Christ. And we are. But that is not what our language conveys.

And so by assigning the third person plural pronoun “they” to a particular singular person of God, even with the best intentions, feels to me a bit like bringing the handicap ramp to the back door of the church, where it is the most affordably and easily accommodated –  instead of reworking the front entrance to include everyone in the same egress, without special accommodation.

We have chosen to accommodate the access rather than the inclusion. Because including everyone in the same entrance would require a radical rethinking of the whole façade of the building. A front entrance ramp would require that we change the look of our beloved nineteenth century parish. That we change the path through our historic lych-gate. That we lose some of the front yard and most likely the beautiful, but heavy, red wooden doors. And anyway, we have a perfectly usable access ramp to the side door, which assures us that “they” who need it are on our radar and that “their” presence is important to us. And yet my friends, let us not kid ourselves, “they” are still on the margins. “They” are still being accommodated rather than fully included. Even if “they” do not mind a bit that the ramp is especially for “them.”

And so no matter how comfortable we might get with calling the non-binary folks in our midst by the pronoun “they,” the rest of us will still be the norm; the rest of us will still be the culturally embraced he and she. We will not be plural. We will not be “abnormally” ambiguous. None of us will need to stretch to remember that we need a special accommodation.  And like it or not, good intentions or not, every non-binary child of God will continue to exist on the margins.

I don’t know about you, but I think…I hope…I pray that is not who we are.

And so as I lamented this regrettable state of affairs, I remembered an article that I read over the summer in Orion magazine, written by Robin Kimmerer, a botany professor at New York College. In her article “Speaking of Nature” she noted the importance of grammar in charting our relationships with each other. She wrote: “Grammar, especially our use of pronouns, is the way we chart relationships in language and, as it happens, how we relate to each other and to the natural world.”[1]

Her article recalled her own indigenous heritage. Her grandfather was a Potawatomi Indian. And she had begun learning some of that lost language that was her inheritance. It is a language that, like most indigenous languages, honors the earth and the life force that animates it. Kimmerer wrote that our English language has, “a special grammar for personhood. We would never say of our late neighbor, “It is buried in Oakwood Cemetery.” ….In the English language, a human alone has distinction while all other living beings are lumped with the nonliving ‘it’.”

But not in the Potawatomi tongue. In that vernacular there are no such pronouns that separate homo-sapiens from the rest of the living, that separate male and the female. In that vernacular, the designation is either imbued with the Spirit of life or not. Beyond that, there is no linguistic category.  For example, the word that most often describes living things is:  “Aakib-maadizii-win,…which means ‘a being of the earth.’” Kimmerer wondered about creating a new pronoun, signifying the divine life that flows through all living creations, by using the first part of that long Potawatomi word;  the “aaki” part. The part that means land. The land that belongs to the Creator.

 Kimmerer mused, what if our language returned our identity to the land, what if we used “Ki to signify a being of the living earth. Not he or she, but ki. Not it, but ki. So that when the robin warbles on a summer morning, we can say, ‘Ki is singing up the sun. Ki runs through the branches on squirrel feet, ki howls at the moon…. all alive in our language as in our world.” And so why not also:  ki is downstairs with the rest of the kids. Or We love our God,  Ki’s mercy endures forever.

Almost like a linguistic return of the land to God. To the time when the land was filled with God’s wholeness and not divided by human distinctions.  Why can’t every living being simply be ki….a being of the living creation?

And plural of ki is, of course, kin…..as in kinship. As in the Kindom of God. Kimmerer writes;  Kin are ripening in the fields; kin are nesting under the eaves….Our words can be an antidote to human exceptionalism, to unthinking exploitation, an antidote to loneliness, an opening to kinship. If words can make the world, can these two little sounds [ki and kin ] call back the grammar of animacy?

And I wonder, can these two little words, ki and kin establish a grammar of inclusion?

We will see. Because this Advent, December 3rd until December 24th we are going to attempt a linguistic challenge that may feel almost as radical as the world introduced by the birth of our Savior. We are going to live without third person pronouns, and without gendered references to God or God’s Son. We are going to stop accommodating those whose identity is not included in our tidy binary pronominal world. We are going to put us, each and all, the one body of Christ, on the same grammatical playing field.  We are going to rethink the façade of our linguistic building and change the ramp of our grammar, even if it is hard….and it will be. Even if it feels awkward. And it will. Even if it changes the look of our liturgy; even if it causes us to sacrifice some of the heavy red wooden doors of our prose that make us feel at home. Because I can assure us that we are not home, until and unless we are all here together on the same hallowed grammatical ground.

What we may be called to sacrifice is not as important as who we will welcome.

And that my friends, is the miracle of Christmas in a nutshell!

And so just as Deborah is from Lappidoth….identified by her heritage, like the rest of the Judges.

We will all be referred to as ki…..identified by God’s animating life force, like the rest of God’s Creation.


Alleluia! Amen.

© November, 2017 The Rev’d. Gretchen Sanders Grimshaw


[1] Orion Magazine, “Speaking of Nature” by Robin Kimmerer, March/April 2017 (https://orionmagazine.org/article/speaking-of-nature/)

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