Vicar at Mount Olive

We celebrate the birth of Jesus each year to remember that Jesus, God with us, came into the world as we all do, giving us purpose and a future.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
The Nativity of Our Lord, Advent A
Texts: Isaiah 52:7-10 and John 1:1-14

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

There’s a giant clock in New York City that can be found counting down.

It is found on East 14th Street with one word beside it that reads “DEADLINE.” This clock is not for the New Year, but one that counts down the critical time window to reach zero emissions in order to limit the long-term damages of climate change. People walk by this clock everyday and today it reads 6 years, 209 days, 1 hour, 3 minutes, and so many seconds.

I say this because that clock is something I think about a lot.

And as that clock enters my mind, I want to know. What difference does it make today? What difference does the coming of God today mean to us when we think about that clock? How does God tell us that we can live in God’s reign when our world fights change that is needed?

Especially on the backdrop of a world that God proclaims to have come and still resides in. It leaves me feeling anxious and isolated. It leaves me feeling vulnerable and wanting to push away those problems.

But I also think that when we open up ourselves, that it leads us to God and to truly think about how God comes to us today.

John tells us, “The world came into being through God, yet the world did not know God.”

Jesus, God with us, comes in the form of a human, like us. Not in an epic entrance from a superhero movie, but from a remarkable, yet ordinary woman who existed in a time of Empire rule. A human born in the stables, as a refugee, and into a world that cries for help, just as ours does.

And Jesus, God with us, enters directly into that world, in the hardship and begins to walk among the people. Not noticeable, but also not fully under the radar either, to bring the Word and light to people. Stirring up questions about what the world could be. Accompanying people in discovering grace and truth in the world. And as soon as people began to implement that grace and truth in their lives transformation happened.

But this is not a God only transformation.

The Gospel goes on to say that as God takes on human flesh to be within the world, that there are others part of this light too. Those called to witness to live and proclaim the light. That is you and me, testifying the way God calls for justice, the healing of creation and bringing God’s reign to the world.

We are called to be witnesses and proclaimers of God’s light. And we are told today that this same light that was in the prophet John is inside of you and me, alive with passion and hope. Just as it is in your neighbor. And just as it is in strangers you do not know showing life, a reflection of God’s presence, and announcing hope to a world that would rather dismiss than embrace transformation.

This does not sweep away anxieties, it does not take away the pain. It does not suddenly fix climate change. And even worse, it asks that we are vulnerable.

But it is the key for the Clock in New York City.

Occasionally the numbers on the clock changes from the “DEADLINE” count down to a second set of numbers. This instead is a percentage that reads “Lifeline” indicating the amount of energy from renewable sources in the world. And truthfully, it is not much at the moment. It feels insignificant, easy to pass over, and almost not worth our time.

But to God, it is a little piece of light amidst a daunting countdown. A light to witness and testify. A flicker of hope, challenging that the future could be so much more, that our world can be a better place.

And when we see those pieces of light, that is when God appears.

This light tells us each year that Jesus, God with us, came into the world, as we all do, with a purpose, and a future, that God walks within it. Telling us we are not alone. And daring us to hope for the kind world that the people from Isaiah celebrate as the messenger brings good news. The world that the Psalm proclaims as God judges the world with righteousness and equity. We celebrate the birth of Jesus each year because it reminds us that God is active in our world and continues to be, even when we do not see God.

This is the little light that comes to us today.

The light that tells us and pushes us to work towards good in the world. Jesus, God with us, comes to experience the pain that is within life. To be vulnerable. To experience the fear and doubt that plague us. And to tell us that even when we are amidst the shadows, there is a light that shines through.
This is the light that brings transformation.

A light that tells us our world can grow with renewable energy. A light that tells us we can have a future where people are no longer in the cold. Where all people are welcomed and loved, no strings attached. A light that listens to the voice of the oppressed and uplifts those in need.

The birth of Jesus makes a difference to the Clock in New York City because we need to know that we can make a difference. And when we are isolated and anxious, we are reminded, through one another, that God continues to appear. That God continues to call us each and every day to seek out ways to emulate Christ. And to know that we can truly have a hope for a future because the “word” that we grow in together is the same that has taken on flesh and continues to live among us. Showing ways to work together and to have hope that a brighter future lies ahead.

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Jesus and John come to us today saying that the advent of God’s reign is here, but John questions alongside us, about what we assume God’s reign to be.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Third Sunday of Advent, Year A
Texts: Isaiah 35:1-10, Psalm 146:5-10, James 5:7-10, Matthew 11:2-11

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The season of Advent can sometimes feel deceptive.

When expectations of Hallmark movie moments, snow falling peacefully, and always feeling joyful, are replaced with grieving, change, and struggles, it is hard to feel convinced it is the most wonderful time of the year. This season includes time processing the challenges of the past year, mourning the loss of empty seats at the table, and occasionally, not wanting to hear another Christmas song on the radio telling one to feel happy. Joy, peace, hope, and love? Not so much. Expectations for the holiday season are not always what we want them to be. Today Jesus, God with us, comes and tells us that is okay. Advent is not about reaching expectations or criteria, but embracing one another and what comes to us unexpectedly.

In the Gospel today, we learn that our expectations are not the only ones challenged.

John asks Jesus “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” For John, who is in prison, one can not help but wonder if he is having second thoughts. I would be too. Our first reading from Isaiah would have been John’s expectations for the coming of God, but John’s question signals a disconnect between the expectation set by Isaiah and what John was expecting from Jesus, God with us.

Is this what God’s triumphant coming is supposed to look like? One where people are still suffering and God not yet wiped away all evil? Is this the advent of the Messiah that we are supposed to celebrate?

What do you think John expected?

Isaiah describes all of the miraculous ways God will impact the world. People in Jesus’s day knew this passage that describes the coming God. A coming that will transform creation and all will be at peace. No traveler, not even fools, will go astray and the world will thrive and rejoice. The imagery that Isaiah uses is pretty clear–when God comes the world transforms. People flourish. The land blossoms. The dead are raised.

Just not in the way that one would expect, Jesus says.

In recognizing John’s questions, Jesus chooses to turn to John. John, the one who we heard about last week: outspoken, dressed in “camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, munching on locusts and wild honey. Not necessarily the champion prophet one might be expecting. This guy is the messenger of the Messiah? The one challenging authorities and causing trouble? Calling people to repent and asking people to leave their comfort zones?

Jesus poses the question back “What then did you go out to see?” A reed shaken by the wind? A person that bends and blows around to seek popularity? Certainly not someone dressed in soft robes or living in a palace. John, might not be what you expect, but God works within all people just as they come. Jesus, God with us, challenges their expectations.

So what does this mean for us in the season of Advent?

Jesus’s answer to John’s question is not yes or no, but instead encouragement to John’s disciples to describe what they hear and see. People receiving sight, being cured of diseases, and hearing good news. God’s work is happening and in motion.

But, it is hard to not be skeptical about this coming, even the people in Jesus’s time were uncertain. Advent asks us to embrace the coming of Jesus and what it means for the world. But there are still people suffering in the world. There is still violence. There is still sickness. Isn’t it rather bold to hope that we have the world Isaiah and Jesus proclaim? And amidst all of that, we are still trying to seek out the hope that they speak of.

And Jesus says “hold on to that hope, let’s take a look.”

People one by one are finding healing in therapy, hospitals, and mending broken relationships. Those that have died are being raised and remembered each time when we share a meal together. People are blessed, by each other, and between each other. Although slowly, there is healing happening within communities. This might not be in the way you were expecting, but Jesus’s words are there. Do you see what is happening within these people?

We see God strengthening weak hands to hold each other. God’s presence in understanding one another so that we can hear the voices of those who are oppressed. Harsh winter storms watering the ground for growth in the future. Jesus is not talking about a great moment where the world is transformed in a single sweep, but Jesus instead says, come here and look around. These things that are happening Isaiah, what if we chose to hope and trust in the forms they take today?

Trust in a hope that lifts up one another.

Hope that trusts God is continuing to work within creation in whatever form it comes. These ways that we see God’s healing in the world does not require a Christmas movie storyline. It does not have set criteria for the way that we have to feel during the season of Advent. This season asks us, as a community, to hold hope together. Sometimes it may feel against the odds, but nonetheless hope the Triune God continues to renew us, each year. Working within us to bring God’s advent to the world.

There are no set expectations for how the season of Advent should feel. The coming of God is here, and you are already a part of it–however you may come and Jesus welcomes you. Questions, feelings, and all.

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Jesus gives us bread that endures for eternal life, what are we doing with it to bring God’s reign?

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Day of Thanksgiving, Year C
Texts: Deuteronomy 26:1-11, John 6:25-35

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“What must we do to perform the works of God?” 

This is the question Jesus is asked by a large group in the Gospel today after feeding all 5,000 of them earlier in the chapter. It is asked amidst a series of questions to Jesus as the crowd works to decipher the difference between perishing bread and the kind of bread that gives eternal life. This crowd, who already ate their fill of loaves, is confused because they are following their stomachs–not Jesus’s metaphor. We can quickly see that they are talking about two different things. 

See, the bread that Jesus is speaking of is not the kind that literally fills our stomachs, but the kind that fills our lives and embraces what God seeks for our world. Bread that fills us in the form of connection, caring for one another, peace, justice, even literally feeding one another–these are things that sustain us and bring God’s reign. They are ways that we bring hope for a future of abundant life. This is not a quick fix that involves the perishing bread that the crowd seeks, but bread that endures, living in God’s reign. 

The Israelites from Deuteronomy know this. 

In the first reading, we hear the history of the Israelite people who were exiled to Egypt. People that were separated from their homes, were left seeking out God’s promises and a place where they can peacefully live. 

This painful history is not forgotten because it impacts the way the Israelites moved around and experienced the world. It left them with a constant reminder of where they came from and to welcome those that resided among them because they were once strangers too. The people in the Gospel remember this too as they recount their time in the wilderness relying on God for mana. Trusting in God to guide them. 

Yet, as we recount the history of the Jewish people, which is also ours, it feels complicated.

We live in a country where land that was seen as a refuge by those that colonized, was actually stolen from the indigenous people. Communities that were supposed to have peace were instead torn apart. Stories of war, death, and exile have been left out, leaving us seeking out what truly happened in our history. 

Placing ourselves in the retelling of this story from Deuteronomy feels distressing because a lot of pain comes with it. Not to mention that the lives of people have become more intricately intertwined, leaving healing and restoration to feel distant. It makes one want to simply ask how the works of God are performed instead of seeking out what enduring healing is to the world. How can we be a part of the bread of life that Jesus talks about?

For starters, being in community and breaking bread together is one way.

Jesus says these words to a crowd gathered, not to a single person. Being here, not only in church, but with other people too. This is where Jesus reminds us that these pieces of our shattered histories, must be entered into and remembered with the uncomfortableness that comes with it. 

So that we, with all of creation, can have hope for a life that abides with peace, justice, and love.  That we embrace the bounty that God has given to everyone, creating a community that welcomes the stranger and gives thanksgiving for all that we share.

Which why Jesus comes to us with Bread today, offering life that endures.

This crowd in the Gospel wants to live whole and faithful lives, like you and me. They want to find fullness in the Triune God whether that means a simple meal or seeking out food that endures for a lifetime. But that is a complicated world to imagine living in when we see news reports of shootings, war, and the ever-present impacts of climate change. 

A life that embraces the bread that Jesus is talking about is not a single miracle of feeding 5,000. It is a life that asks us to hold hope for the present, for the future, and to be part of its growth. To look back at our history and believe that there will be change and that we will be changed ourselves with it. This is the life that God calls us to, not just for the world to come, but the one there is here today. Do you dare to reach out for that kind of bread for the world?

A world where life endures is one where people are fed. Where hope is held for a sustainable Earth. Where people are not oppressed for their sexuality, gender identity, and race. Where people are not living in fear for their lives when going for a night out. Where painful histories are truly grieved and began to find healing. Can you imagine what our world would be like?

Jesus tells us today that this bread is here and present for all.

Sometimes it might be literal bread, but other times this bread takes different forms: welcoming in the stranger, advocating for justice, and caring for the neighbor. Finding this life does not mean “performing the works of God” properly or seeing the specific “signs that God is going to give,” as the crowd around Jesus asks. 

But it has everything to do with embracing God’s promises and hope for the world. Everything to do with loving the neighbor, and knowing that you were once a stranger too. As we enter into Thanksgiving at our tables today and the celebration of the Eucharist, know that God reaches out to you with bread. The kind that brings life. All this is asked of you is an openness to trust and be transformed by the Triune God who is already there, working inside of you.

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

God declares everyone righteous and seeks us out to be healed, but what about when we are persuaded righteous to ourselves instead?

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 30 C
Texts: Luke 18:9-14

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In 4th grade, I got detention. 

I had gotten in trouble for splashing paint onto a classmate of mine, which ruined her new white shirt. Most would think that the time that I spent in my classroom quietly contemplating my actions would have been the punishment, but that was the easy part of my day. The hard part was the reaction and the judgment that came from my fellow 9 and 10-year-old classmates. My spot in the front of the classroom had been taken, I was shunned during lunch hour and I was pushed to the back by myself. 

Needless to say, young Mollie never wanted to experience judgment that came from detention ever again. Because judgment creates separation and divides. Pushes away each other when in those times, we are in need of the opposite. 

Which is why the parable leaves me uncomfortable. 

Luke tells us a story, appearing to compare two people, leaving us imagining where to place judgment. Who do we want to be?

The Pharisee in the Gospel doing all the right things. This person is fasting, tithing, and doing their best to live out their faith. The Pharisees are known in the Jewish tradition as people that expanded theology, oral tradition, and engaged in lively discussion. This person is not a “bad guy” despite the way we have become accustomed to hearing the parables in Luke. 

And tax collectors, as we know, were despised in the ancient world because of their direct connection to the Roman Empire. The job of tax collectors was to get a certain sum of money determined by Rome from the communities they were in. Any extra money they collected would be their wage, which would mean the more money collected, the more wealthy one could be. With a history like this, no one could believe such a parable stating that a tax collector would be declared righteous when standing next to a Pharisee. 

But God does. 

God knows that healing can happen when we reach out, because God is already there waiting. Yet, here we are. Stuck in this judgment loop, deciding who we want to be and who to push out. 

You might be thinking, “What if I am the Pharisee? I’m doing the right things–but I don’t want to be judged. I do not want to be separated. Or maybe you feel like you are the tax collector, unworthy, not feeling that you can look to God. 

This is not the first time we have interacted with this dynamic. 

In Luke 15, a conversation between the tax collectors, Pharisees, and Jesus begins with Jesus being told that he “welcomes sinners and eats with them.” This is where we hear the parable of The Lost Sons. As we know, the parable ends with the younger son coming back home and his father rejoicing. In doing so, the eldest son becomes angry with his father for the celebration of his brother’s return. What the father says in return, is not judgment or condemnation, but love. 31 “‘My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” Jesus is not interested in judgment and rejection, but in healing, embracing, and celebrating. 

And even earlier in Luke 5, Jesus calls the tax collector, Levi, which the Pharisees question and Jesus answers, 31 “Those who are well have no need of a physician but those who are sick; 32 I have not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

This same theme is happening in our parable today with our Pharisees and tax collectors.

You might ask then if Jesus comes for the tax collectors, “what about the Pharisees?”

They were doing the right thing, just like the eldest brother. They should be part of the healing too. 

Let’s think back to my elementary classmates on the day I received detention. They correctly followed the rules, and did what they were supposed to do, why associate with someone who got in trouble? Yet, in this moment of self-validation came judgment too. A decision to create separation from the person who messed up instead of embracing as Jesus, God with us does. Maybe they were in need of healing but didn’t know it. And what about if you do not think you need healing? 

Where else do we do that in our own lives?

In decisions to separate from those people with differentiating politics? Those that are just too unlike oneself? What about ignoring those that are oppressed? Because Jesus does not plan to leave them behind. The need for healing can go both ways, healing is not just something that is seen as held for the people that need it more, but given to all.  

Honestly, I do not think we can receive too much grace, mercy, and love, even on our well-behaved days. We should welcome healing within ourselves and alongside those who seek it out too. 

I recall going to my mom with the detention slip, holding back my tears, and then erupting once she saw my face. 

When I later asked my mother about her side of the story, she recounted that I looked so emotionally exhausted by the end of the day she realized I had already learned my lesson before she could get to me. So, she told me it was okay, checked in about why I had received detention, gave me a hug and we moved on. 

Any form of judgment, shame, and hurt I had experienced that day rolled off my shoulders because I was given grace for the times I had messed up. And amidst it all, I was told that I was loved and it will be okay. 

It does not matter if you are a Pharisee, or a tax collector. 

There is no correct answer or judgment call for this parable. Jesus comes to those that are sick and in need of help, and that frankly, means everyone. God seeks out those with detention slips shaking in their hands as well as calling back those that push others away. And that is great news because we all need that kind of grace, healing, and mercy–even when we feel persuaded to think the opposite. And each time we separate ourselves, casting judgment on others, persuaded in our own righteousness, we are called back, promised by the Triune God that all that are lost will be once again found and healed. 

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

God understands us and calls us as we are, while continuing to hold onto God’s promises.

Vicar Mollie Hamre
Eighteenth Sunday After Pentecost, Lect. 28 C
Texts:  2 Kings 5:1-15c, Luke 17:11-19

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

There is a lot more than just healing from leprosy in the readings today.

We are reading about people from two vastly different places in society who find healing and restoration in their lives. These 10 individuals and commander, are experiencing the shame and rejection that comes from the disease of leprosy, but the internal and external impacts appear in drastically different ways.

Naaman is the commander of the king’s army and is important. Or rather it appears in the text that Naaman finds it important that you know he’s important. So as he goes to seek out help from Elisha, Naaman brings his importance with him–horses and chariots as ways to prove to the world that he has power, that he is in control of his life. But when Elisha sends a messenger instead of appearing himself, Naaman becomes irritated. Curing leprosy is not enough, because Naaman wants a big show, not a simple dip in the water. 

And on the opposite side of society, we have the 10 lepers that Jesus encounters. These people are not located in a place of power like Naaman. Instead, they are between Samaria and Galilee in a village, an unnamed place on the outskirts, ignored and pushed away. In the Gospel, we hear them cry out to Jesus, God with us. And Jesus says to them “Go, show yourselves.” This is not a quiet appearance, but a kind of showing that demands attention as they run home to their lives.

These two readings hold strange tension with each other. 

Naaman is asked to contemplate the idea of God working quietly within him while the 10 lepers are asked to show themselves to society. Both passages hold people that are enduring the toll of a devastating disease, yet it leaves us wondering what healing through the Triune God truly looks like. How does God reach out to us? 

The readings side by side show us that there are times that we cry out to God and times we are seeking control–sometimes both simultaneously. Yet, our God continues to work within people, within us, holding on to God’s promises. Up lifting the lowly, bringing the mighty down from their thrones. 

Consider Naaman. 

After taking the word of a young woman who serves his wife, Naaman begins to seek out healing. He initially does so on his own terms complaining about traveling to Israel, the river that he has to step in, and even down to the process of the healing itself. 

We hear Naaman constantly asking “Elisha, can this healing just happen my way?”

Yet, his ears open when it is his servant, of all people, state the ridiculousness of it all. Naaman. Just jump in the water. 

As a stubborn person myself, I understand this. I have days where I would rather overly complicate the simplest of tasks to know that I had it done my way. When all that is needed is simply to jump in the water. Release the control that is deeply craved. Trust God in being present. Despite being in a place of privilege and trying to ignore guidance in healing, Naaman is not left behind by God, but welcomed into new life in the waters.   

Naaman’s journey is not the only way God reaches us with healing. There are the lepers too.  

When the 10 lepers cry out in the Gospel, they are waiting and listening. Sitting with pain–calling out for directions, answers, guidance. This forms in different ways for us too, in broken relationships, questions about illnesses, seeking out direction in major life decisions, with hope that something will make sense. 

Which means when the lepers hear Jesus’s call back, they are up and moving. Moving home towards healing, focused on the goal. 

As we know, one turns back, but remember that all were healed. The one leper that comes back is not meant as a place for the reader to shame the others that do not come back. They were following what Jesus told them to do. 

The one that comes back is a moment for Luke to remind us that God is working within all. Not only who we assume, not only those that appear in our first reading, but through all and bringing healing to all. This man who comes back has already been made whole through the grace of God. He has already been healed and does not need to do anything to change this. This moment of praise calls us back, telling us that God comes for all in the fullness of who they are and continues to hold that promise. 

And amidst that promise, we once again hear Mary’s words from the beginning of Luke.  

Promises of uplifting the oppressed and bringing down rulers from their thrones. This kind of bringing down does not involve Naaman or the 10 from the Gospel being condemned, or rejected. Diseases and illnesses are not punishments or lessons from God. What I am pointing at is that Naaman’s healing brings him from his place of power to listen to those around him and to give up the control he desires to hold. While God lifts up the lepers so that they may be seen and restored to their communities once again.

Healing, restoration, and walking with people as they are. That is what these passages are about.

God reaches out and welcomes. Reaches out to us crying and listens, welcoming us to the water and welcoming us into healing. The Greek tells us in the Gospel that when Jesus saw the 10 suffering from leprosy, he did not just see with his eyes, but he saw with understanding. Understanding for Naaman’s internal distress appearing as outward want for control. Understanding for the 10 lepers wanting to go back to their homes. And understanding for you, in the challenges and questions that are faced each day. 

God sees you, people of God–in your stubbornness, in your cries, in your questions reaching out with healing, love, mercy and grace. All things that are already inside of you, a part of you, and how God works within you. 

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.