Lifting Up My Eyes

If I had to choose a text that sums up this week, the text that has surfaced in my brain more than any other, it would be this one:

As part of my self-care each day, I try to leave the hospital at least once to go look at the mountains.  And I continue to be struck by how many patient rooms have a window with a view of the mountains.  The other day, when I was with a non-verbal patient, I commented on the wonderful view, and he sat up to look out the window.  It was the first moment that I felt sure that he understood what I had just said, and this verse came to my brain, in all its King James version glory.

Yesterday my monthly Bible study met by way of Zoom.  It's become a way for members of my Florida church to stay in touch, even as some of us have moved very far away.  Yesterday, we didn't have a definitive plan for the meeting, and I happened to have the Psalm open in a website.  So we did a lectio divina on the Psalm, and I did a bit of sketching while we discussed.

The sketch is done with fine tip pens, and then I took a watercolor brush and brushed water over it.  The color for the sky comes from the color in the brush when I went over the mountains with the wet brush.  

It's not exactly what I had in mind when I started, but that's part of what makes it wonderful.  Between the uncertainty of the ink and the water, and my non-professional skill, it makes art an adventurous process, which can reveal much more than if I had skills to reproduce the same image, time after time.

I am planning to take supplies with me to work and to spend some time each week sketching--another self-care practice I hope to implement.  Exploring self-care practices is one of my learning goals, so I'm allowed to explore them--what a joy to be in such a place!

When Patients Pray for the Chaplain

Long ago, I had assumptions about what it meant to be a chaplain in a hospital.  I assumed that the chaplain would come along after the doctors had visited the patient, that the chaplain would do pastor type things, like praying and perhaps communion and last rites, depending on denomination.

At some later point, when I'm done with chaplain training and have more time in the mornings, I may write about what we've been doing as chaplains--it's much more intense than just praying, and in fact, prayer may not even be part of a chaplain visit.

In an ideal world, the hospital chaplain is not the only one giving pastoral care--the patient's pastor may be visiting too.  Of course, many people don't have a home church, and even if they do, the home church may not have a traditional pastor, who can make regular hospital visits.  For my parish, Faith Lutheran in Bristol, I can visit after Sunday worship, but that's it.  Fortunately, parishioners can fill in the gap, and they do, but not every church community is so lucky.

Yesterday, I had a variety of hospital visits, and the whole week has been one of variety.  I've had expected joys, like my own prayers, most of them silent.  I've also had unexpected joys, like when a patient offers to pray.   I don't know why I didn't expect to have people pray for me, but I have been surprised at my overwhelming gratitude when others pray.

I shouldn't be surprised.  I remember getting a Christmas card from Mepkin Abbey with this notation:  "The monks of Mepkin are praying for you and with you."  I burst into tears. 

I don't have the time to explore this idea in depth this morning, but I did want to record this joy so that it doesn't disappear into the mists of memory.

(This meditation will show as published on Saturday, June 28.  I actually wrote it on Friday, June 27, but forgot to hit "publish")

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

 The readings for Sunday, June 29, 2025:

First Reading: 1 Kings 19:15-16, 19-21

First Reading (Semi-cont.): 2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14

Psalm: Psalm 16

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20

Second Reading: Galatians 5:1, 13-25

Gospel: Luke 9:51-62


In this Gospel, we see Jesus headed towards Jerusalem. He meets people who want to go with him, and some of them he seems to turn away, by warning of a sort of homelessness, a psychic isolation that comes with nestlessness.

Other people he invites to follow him, and they want to, but they have these responsibilities that they need to attend to first. And just like that, they've lost their chance. Many of us must understand the plight of the man who needs to bury his father. In the time of Jesus, this obligation would have loomed even larger than it does today.

Jesus seems to suggest that we forsake family responsibilities, and this theme recurs periodically throughout the Gospels. Or maybe he's suggesting that we shuck off the things which are already dead.

Our society gives us many rules and regulations that torment us as surely as the demons tormented the man in last Sunday's Gospel. Ask any sociologist, and they'll tell you that socialization binds us more thoroughly than any other aspect of our being. It's socialization that demands that we mop the floors when we'd rather be making music. It's socialization that tells us we must attend to our families, our jobs, our various responsibilities, in certain ways, even when those ways put our souls in danger.

Jesus warns us again and again of the dangers of taking our hands off the spiritual plow. Of course, most of us aren't leading agrarian lives anymore, so the metaphor may not be as powerful. But in our time of increasingly fragmented attention spans, the central message remains: Jesus tells us to keep the focus on him, not on our smart phones, our iPads, our e-mail accounts, our televisions, all the screens which rule our lives.

If we're not willing to forsake those screens for God, perhaps it's time to deepen that faith. If our mission doesn't move us, perhaps it's time to adjust the mission. What would excite you so powerfully that you would never lose your grip on that Gospel plow, that you would never look back? How can you get that excitement into your daily life?

Feast Day of John the Baptist

On June 24, we celebrate the life of John the Baptist. John the Baptist had a mission so powerful that he was willing to go into the wilderness and to eat what he found there. He wasn’t afraid to come out of the wilderness to tell people the truth, even when those people were very powerful.

John the Baptist talked about winnowing and the coming fire. He would tell the leaders of the Empire that they were dead branches in need of burning. His beliefs made him fearless—and he paid the ultimate price for his refusal to back down. There's nothing just about what happens to John the Baptist. He's killed on a whim, to please Herod's lover. It's not like he had a trial and was found guilty and therefore had to be beheaded.

Above all, John the Baptist understood his role. John had a chance to claim greatness; he could even claim to be the Messiah, and people would believe him. But he knew his part in the story: to get people ready for the Messiah who is coming soon.

John warns us again and again of the dangers of letting our attention wander. In our time of increasingly fragmented attention spans, the central message remains: John tells us to keep the focus on the Messiah not the messenger. If John appeared in our modern wildernesses, he’d tell us to concentrate on Christ, not on our computers, our smart phones, our e-mail accounts, our televisions, all the screens which rule our lives.

John also warns us against thinking that we have the answers. In John 1:20, John the Baptist asserts, “I am not the Messiah."

John reminds us that we are not the Messiah either. It’s Christ’s role to save people. It’s tempting to think that we can save ourselves and each other.

But we can’t.

It’s comforting to say, “I am not the Messiah,” as John the Baptist does. In our daily lives, we’re confronted with scores of problems that we can’t solve, from the disastrous choices made by friends and families, to the work issues, to the larger state and national issues which bedevil us. We can only do so much. We are not the Christ for whom the world waits.

We are not the Messiah. That phrase can keep us humble. Many a powerful figure has been disgraced by forgetting that someone else is the Messiah.

These days, perhaps we have the opposite problem. Far from feeling powerful, we may feel oppressed by forces outside our control.

John the Baptist reminds us that the time of salvation is at hand. That’s both good news and terrifying news. We might ask ourselves where we go from here.

The life of John the Baptist gives us a powerful role model. Or it might lead us to despair: does being a Christian mean we must forsake the familiar and eat bugs?

If we're not willing to brave the wilderness for our faith, perhaps it's time to deepen that faith. If our mission doesn't move us to eat locusts and wild honey, perhaps it's time to adjust the mission. What would excite you so powerfully that you would never lose your grip on that Gospel message, that you would never look back? How can you get that excitement into your daily life?

Start on a small scale: what used to bring you joy? For some of us, it’s reading our Bibles by ourselves, while for others, it may be a Bible study group. Maybe we need to buy a new book or return to old favorites. Maybe we could beginning making plans to attend a retreat. Try praying once or twice a day; if you’re not sure of what to say, use the Lord’s Prayer. You could try a new physical discipline for summer, one that’s rooted in spirituality, like yoga or taking a meditative walk. Turn to an art form, like singing or painting and see if that’s a way you can speak to God while listening for God to speak to you.

As you move more fully into your chosen spiritual discipline, you may find that people respond as if you’ve moved into the wilderness to feast on locusts and honey. You may find that, like John the Baptist, you’ve set yourself on a more satisfying journey.

Recording of Yesterday's Sermon

Once again, I was successful in recording my sermon.  I've uploaded it to my YouTube site, and you can go here to hear/watch it.  If you'd like to read along, I posted my sermon manuscript as a post to my theology blog.

A Sermon for June 22, 2025

June 22, 2025

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott


Luke 8: 26-39


Today’s Gospel is a study in opposites, opposites which give us unified insights into Jesus. The action in today’s Gospel takes place after Jesus calms the wind and the waves, leaving the disciples in the boat to ask each other, “Who is this man that that he commands even the winds and the water and they obey him?” (verse 25).

Then they sail on to the other side of the lake. They step out into foreign territory, and one Gospel commentator notes that it’s the only time in Luke that Jesus goes to the land of Gentiles. A strange welcoming committee greets them: a naked man possessed by demons who lives in the graveyard. In more ways than one, Jesus is in a place that is the opposite of life. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.

In this Gospel, we see that no one is beyond the reach of God’s healing and restoration to life, even when all human interventions have failed. The townspeople have tried to help the man by keeping him chained so that he won’t hurt himself, but this doesn’t work; the man gets free and goes into the wilderness, a place of even greater fear and death than the tombs. So how do the townspeople react when they see the man clothed and in his right mind? Do they bring out other people who need restoration to health?

No. They ask Jesus to leave. We might shake our heads at their lost opportunity, but before we condemn them too loudly, perhaps we should consider how often we, too, ask Jesus to leave. Or, to put it a different way, what modern demons drive us to distraction and keep us from hearing Jesus?

Who among us hasn't spent an anxious night worrying about things we couldn't control (finances, our loved ones, our health)? Perhaps we fall into a sinister pattern of sleepless nights being haunted by the world's worries, the health of the community/planet. Most of us have probably gone through periods where we come perilously close to wrecking our relationships with our loved ones because of our obsessive worries about them.

If only our inner demons could be driven out into a swine herd, or whatever the modern equivalent would be. If only we could be free from those wretches of worry that wake us at night and won't let us sleep for fear of all that could go wrong.

Christians have thousands of years of thought and practice in dealing with the demons that torment us. For some, it's prayer. Others of us turn those demons into art. It might be working with the poor and the destitute. Maybe we meditate to still our minds. We might need a healing service or a laying on of hands. We also shouldn't discount the powers of modern medicine, which offers us a powerful arsenal in our attempts to manage our brains: therapists, medications, mind-body practices, and so on.

During my last two weeks of chaplaincy training at the Asheville VA Hospital, we’ve been told that we’re not to respond in certain ways when people suggest that God sent them their afflictions, either to teach them something or to punish them. That will be hard for me, since I think that many people have gotten really crummy theology about a destructive vengeful God, and it’s an idea that makes it hard to heal the shame from bad decisions. The Jesus of today’s Gospel would be much more useful, and we have so many examples of this Jesus who wants to restore us to health. By driving out the demons, Jesus not only restores the man to health, but restores him to community too.

Of course, this good news isn’t good for everyone. We might take a moment to see the world through the eyes of the swineherd who has just lost his livelihood—or for the swine, who drown. The first audience for the Gospel of Luke would not have felt sympathy—they are swine, after all. First century audiences would have seen them as unclean and thoroughly expendable.

But this detail shows that salvation can be disruptive. When we wonder why good news—God’s good news or any good news-- is so hard for people to accept, we might remember these swineherds. What are they supposed to do now? They do what people have often done when threatened. They go to the town, not to spread the good news, but to sound the alarm about this stranger. The townspeople come, not to find out for themselves, but to get rid of this disruptive presence.

It probably doesn’t surprise us that the formerly possessed man wants to come with Jesus. We may feel surprised that Jesus sends him back to the community—the community that has just rejected Jesus! Jesus says, ““Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.”

Throughout much of Christian history, the Church has focused on the Great Commission that tells us to go to all lands and make disciples. Throughout much of Christian history, people have interpreted this passage as meaning that we need to go to lands where people have never heard of Jesus. Today’s Gospel tells us that our mission field might be much closer than that. We may not need to go very far away from home. It is the opposite from what many of us have been taught, certainly the opposite from what I’ve been taught, which may explain why some of my sermons circle back to this idea..

The formerly homeless, formerly demon possessed man returns to his community, healed and whole and free from demons. He returns proclaiming to all what Jesus has done for him. He is a living testimony, and we can be too.

Much like the demon possessed man across from Galilee, our world is also full of a Legion of demons, forces opposite of life giving, forces that seek to separate us from God. These demons take up valuable space in our head, all the voices that come to us from our childhood, from popular culture, from our experiences in school, from politics, from certain family members. In the larger world too, we see a variety of demons, so many people who seem possessed by so much evil.

Let us be steadfast in our resolve to drive out those demonic forces, the ones that possess us, the ones that possess society. We must proceed with care, remembering that evil has real power to disrupt and wreak havoc—it was true in the time of Jesus, and it’s equally true now.

Like Jesus, we are likely to find ourselves stepping out into a land that resembles the one on the other side of the lake from Galilee, a land of tombs inhabited by naked ones possessed with a Legion of demons. But know this truth: know that we are clothed, as Paul says, with Christ himself. Jesus calls us to be the ones who speak the truth of God’s love for all of creation, the ones who can create community, the ones who will drive the demons of despair into the sea.

In these uncertain times, our mission is more important than ever. Drown out the shouting of the demons and their demands. Listen for the voice of Jesus. Tell the good news of what God has done—and what God will continue to do, the making of all things new. Remember what the Psalmist declares: “For dominion belongs to the Lord, who rules over the nations.” (Psalm 22: 28).

Juneteenth and All that Holds Us in Shackles

Today we celebrate our newest federal holiday:  Juneteenth.  Of course, many populations have been celebrating Juneteenth since the news of freedom first came to the last enslaved people in Texas in 1865.  This is the first year that I've been in a workplace that recognized the holiday.  In 2021, I was working for a small school that was very stingy with holidays, so we didn't have that holiday or MLK day or Presidents Day.

In 2022, I was no longer working for that school.  I was driving back across several states, coming back to Florida from the onground intensive at Southern Seminary.  I was already a certified spiritual director through their program, but I went back to take advantage of the education, to have a reunion with my small group, and to see a friend graduate from the program.  Two weeks later I would turn around to drive back up to Arden to buy the house that I'm writing in this morning.  So far, I have never regretted that purchase, which is not usual for me when it comes to housing or moves or jobs.

Or maybe it is becoming usual.  I don't have regrets about the spiritual direction certificate or my MDiv.  My main regret about my job at SMC is that I didn't have it sooner.  I love this house in a way that I haven't loved any other house.  Maybe my lack of regret is a pleasant part of being in late midlife.

I am tempted to tie these ideas back to Juneteenth, but I don't want to trivialize the holiday or the history.  While regret can enslave us, it's a very different enslavement than other forces and humans that enslave.

What are the forces enslaving so many of us? We think of iron shackles, but there are other societal constructs that hold so many back: debt, geopolitical forces, violence, educational systems. If we compare these issues to slave times and the Jim Crow era, perhaps we'll create a generation of thinkers that are set free.

And once free, perhaps they will figure out ways not only to free others, but to make sure that others aren't enslaved, either metaphorically or literally.

So on this Juneteenth, let us think about the captives who need our help to be set free. Let us also think about all the captivity narratives that hold us enslaved. Let us embrace liberation narratives. Let us envision what life would look like if all were truly free.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, June 22, 2025:

First Reading: Isaiah 65:1-9

First Reading (Semi-cont.): 1 Kings 19:1-4 [5-7] 8-15a

Psalm: Psalm 22:18-27 (Psalm 22:19-28 NRSV)

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 42--43

Second Reading: Galatians 3:23-29

Gospel: Luke 8:26-39


I must have read this Gospel lesson over a dozen times through the decades, and each time, the depiction of the demons leaps out at me. These demons who drive the man to distraction--he lives naked by the tombs, he is so distracted. These demons who disturb the neighbors who try to contain the man and his demons by chaining him and guarding him.  These demons feel both ancient and familiar.

Our helplessness in dealing with these demons also feels ancient and familiar. We may be horrified at the idea of this man kept in chains, but I suspect that future generations will be equally appalled at the ways we've dealt with troubling humans, or refused to deal with them.

Now, let me stress that I read the demons as metaphorical. I've met people who believe in literal demon possession, and some of them make a compelling case.   I've also met plenty of mentally ill people who would make me believe in demon possession, if I didn't have a medical explanation.  But in the end, I agree with those who say that ancient people couldn't explain mental illnesses any other way.

I don't want to spend time writing about true mental illness, but instead about the demons who possess us all. Who among us hasn't spent an anxious night worrying about things we couldn't control (finances, our loved ones, our health)? Perhaps we fall into a sinister pattern of sleepless nights being haunted by the world's worries, the health of the community/planet. Most of us have probably gone through periods where we come perilously close to wrecking our relationships with our loved ones because of our obsessive worries about them.

If only our inner demons could be driven out into a swine herd, or whatever the modern equivalent would be. If only we could be free from those wretches of worry that wake us at night and won't let us sleep for fear of all that could go wrong.

Christians have thousands of years of thought and practice in dealing with the demons that torment us. For some, it's prayer. Others of us turn those demons into art.  It might be working with the poor and the destitute.  Maybe we meditate to still our minds. We might need a healing service or a laying on of hands. We also shouldn't discount the powers of modern medicine, which offers us a powerful arsenal in our attempts to manage our brains: therapists, medications, mind-body practices, and so on.

God needs us to allow our demons to be sent into swine. God has creative work and play for us to do, and we don't have time for the hissing of demons to distract us.

Recording of Sunday's Sermon

I was successful in recording my sermon yesterday!  Usually the church member who is running the sound board does it from the sound board at the back.  Yesterday I took the tripod that holds the phone and put it on the piano--success!

You can view the sermon here.  If you'd like to read along, the manuscript is posted here.

Sermon for June 15, 2025

June 15, 2025

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott


Trinity Sunday


If you ask a pastor or a seminary professor how to understand the idea of the Triune God, you might be directed to any one of the Christian creeds that the Church crafted long ago. They came into being because various churches had very different beliefs about the nature of our Triune God. Does the Son come from the Father in a different way than the Spirit comes from the Father? Did the Spirit exist before Jesus? Did the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit exist out of time, before time, all together?

Out of the efforts to settle these questions came schism. When I study church history, I’m amazed at what has split us apart. I have friends who would advise us to turn to the Bible, to see what the Bible tells us about the nature of the Triune God. When we do that, we get a variety of answers.

One of the most common ways of seeing God is as a creator. The creeds keep it fairly simple, “Creator of heaven and earth.” But even this image is not as straight forward as it seems. In the first few chapters of the Bible, we see contradictions. In the first two chapters of Genesis we see a God that is pleased with creation, a God who creates and proclaims creation “Good.” There are no rough drafts here, just a joy in everything created. But just a few chapters later, we get a different view of God, a God who is willing to get rid of creation and start over, most notably with the Flood. The God of the Old Testament often seems very different from the God of the New Testament.

Some Christians reconcile these differences by focusing on Jesus and what Jesus tells us about the Divine.

If we read all of the Gospels, we see that Jesus contains apparent contradictions too. Many of us have been taught that Jesus came for all, but as we read the Gospels, we find that Jesus doesn’t always see his mission this way. In places, Jesus is a shepherd who worries about all the lost sheep; in other places, Jesus wants to limit his ministry—but people like the Syrophoenician woman remind him of the benefits of reaching out, letting the dogs eat the crumbs from the table.

If we study the Bible to get a unified view of the Holy Spirit, we might come away mystified. We see the Holy Spirit moving through the book of Acts—we give the Holy Spirit credit for what those first disciples were able to do. We might go back to the Old Testament to see if we see the Holy Spirit there—for example, when we meet Wisdom in today’s reading from Proverbs, is that the Holy Spirit? Or God? Or wisdom, as we understand it, either book learning or common sense, but not an incarnation of the Holy Spirit?

Trinity Sunday asks us to wrestle with the idea of God in three persons. Trinity Sunday is also an opportunity to think about what it would mean if we enlarged our view of God. We’ve spent several weeks watching Jesus pray and preach that we, too, are part of our three-personed God, which is not any part of Trinitarian theology that I have ever been taught. I’ve been taught that God created us and declared us very good—I’ve also been taught that God created us with flaws that meant we needed divine intervention. I’ve been taught that Jesus came to show us how to live our best lives as humans. I’ve been taught that the Holy Spirit came to lead us to brave new places as we live our best lives. But I’ve never been taught that God wants humans to be part of the Trinity too.

At the Central States Synod assembly, Bishop Eaton, leader of the whole Lutheran church, reminded us that the Holy Spirit makes a home with us. She said, “The Holy Spirit is a homemaker and is closer than our breath.”

We might feel uncomfortable with this level of intimacy. What does it mean to be part of the Trinity in this way, that God’s breath is our breath? We might feel unworthy.

Today’s Psalm tells a different story than the one we might tell ourselves—in fact, all of our readings tell us that we are wondrously made, and made for times such as these, our current time of disunion. We watch the news and the lead story is almost always a narrative of society becoming ever more severely unraveled, with war and rumors of war filling the airwaves and the digital spaces where we spend so much time. We might wonder how we can ever come together again.

At this point, we might turn to our readings hoping for some sort of point by point plan for reunification. And while we don’t have that action plan, we do have all sorts of reassurance. Our reading from Proverbs reminds us that God has a master plan, and Wisdom delights in humanity. Our reading from Psalms reminds us of the glory of creation, a creation that includes us. Paul’s letter tells us that the Holy Spirit is with us, and we won’t be put to shame. Jesus tells us that we have what God has—wow! What a resource.

Trinity Sunday gives us this good news: we are not alone. We are not abandoned. We have work to do, but we are not left orphaned to figure it all out by ourselves. In fact, our creeds and our scriptures tell us that we are much stronger together. If we only had a creator God, we’d miss out on knowing Jesus the teacher and healer and community builder. If we only had Jesus, we might have had a much smaller cosmos. If not for the Holy Spirit working through and in people to show them how to bring the Good News to the world, we might not have heard that we are worthy creations, crowned with glory and honor, as Psalm 8 tells us, filled with hope, as Paul reminds us.

The world is full of division--this is true now and has always been true. We may not be able to agree on the issues that threaten schism any more than the early church fathers were. But hear again the promise of Jesus: “All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”

The wisdom that was part of the creation of the cosmos is yours. Feel the power that comes from being woven into a tapestry with the Divine in all the ways that we have known our three personed God, from being braided into a community that stretches across time and space. God’s expansive love has already been poured into your heart.

Breathe into that love. Let that love flow out of you. It is not too late to live into the delight that God has for you and for all of creation.

Whirlwind Week

What a whirlwind of a week!  On Tuesday, I felt a bit draggy, with that, "It's only Tuesday" despair.  It's been exhausting and wonderful and overwhelming with some relief thrown in.  Let me capture a few overarching themes and capture some items I want to remember.

CPE Training

Of course, the big news of the week has been the beginning of CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education), the process that trains chaplains to work in a variety of settings.  My setting for this summer is the Asheville VA Hospital, and so far, it's a great place to work.  I've written several blog posts already, so I won't write much more. 

Yesterday we shadowed various people from the chaplain department.  We went on rounds, we visited individuals, and some of us went to groups.  It was great to leave the conference room and to have a day where we did a variety of activities.  By the end of the day, I had gotten all my keys and gotten my Chaplain badge that tells people more about who I am.

Poem Ideas

My work this week gave me inspiration for possible poems.  Let me record them here so that I remember.  The most promising idea is Noah's Wife working as a chaplain in the VA hospital.  Hospital, ark, are they really so different?  I also see some potential in putting Cassandra in CPE training--Cassandra who has spent so much of her life with people not listening to her.  And now, she is training herself to keep silent, which she discovers is not a gift she has.

Wildlife Sightings

Yesterday on my way to work, a commuting route that takes me down the Blue Ridge Parkway, I saw two big turkeys crossing the road, along with at least 12 baby chicks.  Are baby turkeys called chicks?  Anyhow, I was able to come to a stop to let them get safely across.  On Thursday, I had a less dramatic turkey sighting, just one turkey standing by the side of the Blue Ridge Parkway.

My spouse had a much more dramatic wildlife sighting.  In broad daylight, a smallish bear came up on the deck, raised up on two legs, and licked all of the birdseed out of the feeder affixed to the sliding glass door.  The bear then ambled around the deck and then left.  My spouse was inside.

Success in Advocating for a Student

One of my online students from several semesters ago wrote to me asking me for help:  a letter to his current school to help him get the class that I taught to be counted as a writing class.  I was happy to do it.  I had to go back to review the class, since it's not one I taught often.  I wrote a solid letter showing how the class met the writing intensive goals of the student's current school.  Yesterday I heard from the student who wrote to thank me and to let me know that the class had been counted as a writing class--my letter convinced them!  I am always happy for this kind of good news. 

What I'm Not Writing About    

In future years, will I wonder why I didn't write more about the protests in L.A. or the military parade and protests happening today?  Will I wonder why I didn't write more about the Israel-Iraq escalation?  In future years will I see CPE as a life changing experience?  What am I not seeing?

Thoughts on the Hospital Itself

I have spent over 8 hours each day this week at the Asheville VA Hospital as I get hospital chaplain training through the CPE program.  As I have walked the halls, I've reflected on what I expected to find and what is actually here.

I have spent much of my life hearing about the VA medical system as one big huge mess.  I have seen NO evidence of that here on the ground.  Granted, I am not receiving care, and I am not dealing with bills.  But the hospital itself is clean and bright with lots and lots of staff.  Most of the staff smile at people as they walk down the halls.

I've had a chance to go beyond the public areas to people's rooms, and I see the same thing:  clean rooms, windows with a view, staff monitoring patient health, everyone calm and professional.  I do realize I have yet to see the wards where I be more likely to see disturbing sights, like operating rooms or the wards where people having a mental health crisis are served.

I'm happy to see art on the walls:  art that celebrates veterans, art that tries to capture the beauty of the outdoor world, art that seeks to inspire and comfort.  I'm happy to see small garden spaces as I walk outside, and these spaces are visible inside too.

I'm happy to know about the wide variety of services.  I think of the Asheville VA Hospital as being one of the smaller ones in the system, and if that's true, I can't imagine how large the larger hospitals must be.  During orientation, we found out that our hospital routinely is ranked in the top 3 of the VA hospitals in terms of patient satisfaction.

I am satisfied too.  My colleagues in the chaplains unit are wonderful, as are the others with whom we interact.  I feel very fortunate.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

 The readings for Sunday, June 15, 2025:

First Reading: Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31

Psalm: Psalm 8

Second Reading: Romans 5:1-5

Gospel: John 16:12-15


This week's Gospel reminds us of the mystical approach of John. I find the language almost tough to wade through. It makes me turn to the other readings for today. And I find a mystical theme running through all the readings today.

The chapter from Romans reminds us of our calling. Talk about suffering and endurance and building character--that's the kind of talk we might expect on a Sunday morning! Yet the more I read it, the more it seems to take on a mystical character too. We don't know exactly how these transformations will come, but come they will.

The verse from Proverbs is even more curious. It is here where we meet the first of God's creations, Wisdom. Imagine what a different understanding of the Trinity we might have had, had our early Church Fathers paid more attention to this passage. Wisdom seems to have existed long before the Holy Spirit, who seems a late addition to the Divine Package. What if the three parts of the trinity had been Creator, Wisdom, and Savior? Would there have been a 20th century Pentecostal movement if we had ignored these passages about the Holy Spirit, in the same way we ignore the passages about Wisdom most of the year? To be fair, some of the more Orthodox churches do embrace this Wisdom aspect of God more fully than we do here in the West.

In truth, there are many aspects of God that we could focus upon, but we don't. If you read the whole Bible, you get glimmers of the maternal side of God. How would life be different if we prayed to Our Mother, Who Art in Heaven? There are passages of the lamenting of a God who seems to be absent, and I understand why we don't come back to those throughout the year. We yearn for a God who is powerful.

We live in scary times. If we watch the news or any part of popular culture or perhaps our workplaces, we see people behaving in ways we can't understand. We yearn for someone of true vision and stellar character, someone to lead us out of this morass. We forget that we might have one of those people in our very midst.

In this time after Pentecost, let us turn back to our roots. Let us remember the promises that Jesus made. Let us remember the possibility of transformation.

Those promises still hold true. The spirit of Truth leads us. Granted, it's easy to be led astray, to be seduced by the passions of the world. But we know our mission--Martin Luther said that faith should move our feet. Where do your feet want to move today?

The First Day of CPE

I am happy to report that the first day of CPE went well.  I had no trouble getting to the hospital--no rush hour traffic when I left at 7:10 yesterday morning.  As I drove down the Blue Ridge Parkway, I reflected on the beauty of all of my commutes across the mountains in all directions.

I met all the folks who will be a major part of my life this summer:  the chaplains, the chaplain residents, the educators, my cohort.  They all seem friendly.  We are a diverse group in terms of Christian belief and backgrounds and education.

After a day of training, I am so impressed with how the spiritual life of patients is protected/provided for within the VA hospital system.  I look forward to seeing how the theories we discussed yesterday play out in the wards we will serve.

My summer cohort, the interns of the group, will only serve the Med/Surg ward, since we are only here for the summer.  Residents who sign on for a year rotate through all the wards of the hospital, which sounds more grueling but also intriguing.

We spent time yesterday talking about the theories that undergird the spiritual care we'll be offering.  They are all familiar to me:  liberation theology and family systems theory and the liberatory education ideas of Paulo Friere.  We talked about ways to talk to patients that will encourage them to process what they're experiencing in the hospital, ways that are familiar from my spiritual direction certificate program.

It will be a different summer, to be sure.  It's been a long time since I spent 40+ hours a week in the same place doing the same type of work day after day.  When I woke up with an aching back and torso in general, I thought about how long it's been since I spent 8 hours sitting at a desk like I did yesterday.  Happily the whole summer will not be sitting at a desk, but it will be more sitting than I've been used to in the past few years.

Let me resolve to do micro-walks and stretching whenever I have a break, no matter how short.  Let me remember that small efforts are as important as large ones.

I got home last night, had a great conversation with my spouse about the day, and then not much later, went to bed.  It was only 7:30, to be sure, but it was rainy, and I was exhausted and happy that I'm able to go right to bed. 

Now to get ready for what today brings, by getting a walk in, by having my sturdy breakfast of porridge, by thinking about my clothes.  And then, onward, across the mountain, back to the hospital for the second day of CPE.

The Hour Before CPE Begins

Today I begin Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE), a part of the training of everyone who hopes to be a ordained into ELCA Word and Sacrament ministry.  Think of it as an internship program for chaplains; some people do their training in prisons, but the vast majority of CPE training is done in hospitals.  I will do my training at the Asheville VA hospital, which is much less of a commute than other parts of my life.

I don't have much information about what we'll be doing or what our schedule will be.  I hope to get more details today when orientation begins.  I don't know who will be doing the training.  I don't have any information on fellow CPE students, although I assume there are some, because there were three other e-mail addresses on the e-mail that came last night giving us first day instructions.

I've packed a bag with notetaking supplies and paper for possible downtimes.  I wanted to take a book, something that didn't weigh much, so I chose a book of poems.  I decided to go with one I've already read and loved, Jeannine Hall Gailey's Field Guide to the End of the World, which weighs less and takes up less space in the bag than her more recent Flare, Corona.  I have some colored pens and a few pieces of better paper for sketching.

I packed a lunch, my usual garbanzo beans and barley with feta cheese, but I'll keep it in the car.  I'll take some cash, in case everyone eats lunch in a cafeteria.  I packed carrots to eat on the way home.

I will wear a skirt with my favorite top.  I wish I knew whether or not the buildings will be cold or stuffy.  I'll wear my closed toe sandals that are meant to evoke the shoes of Mediterranean fishermen; they are comfortable, if I need to be on my feet, and I could run in them if I had to.

I've eaten a good breakfast:  oatmeal with ground flax seed, walnuts, and dried cranberries.  It will hold me all day if it has to.

Now let me shower and finish getting ready.  Orientation starts at 8, and I'm giving myself extra time for traffic, but hoping that I'll get there early (hence the need for a book).  Let me remember that even though I don't have much information about what to expect, I have a lifetime of experience that will serve me well.  Let me strive for an open heart so that I can learn even more about myself and the world around me.  Let me be of use to these veterans who have given so much.

Sermon for Pentecost

June 8, 2025

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott


Pentecost Sunday


First of all, a big thank you to the Confirmation students who made our streamer sticks, and a big thank you to those of you who were willing to wave them during our processional hymn. The first year I ever saw streamer sticks in use was at the Florida-Bahamas Synod Assembly in 2012. Those streamers were on much larger sticks, which was both wonderful, in terms of beauty and drama, but hazardous in terms of the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling in the meeting rooms where the Synod Assembly was held. One chandelier was shattered and Carl leaned over to whisper to me, “Rowdiest Lutheran worship ever!”

Lesson learned—you’ll notice that we’re not using sticks big enough to take out our chandeliers. But what a great metaphor for the inbreaking Holy Spirit. As we’ve been reading the stories from Acts today and these past weeks, I’ve been reflecting on how those first believers’ lives were shattered even more after Jesus leaves them than in the days when they were following Jesus.

In today’s reading from Acts, we see them in the early days of shattered lives—Jesus gone, they’ve been told to wait, and they have no idea what they wait for. My rabbi friend Rachel Barenblat notes that it is a festival time in Jerusalem, the Feast of Weeks, 50 days after the start of Passover, a feast that celebrates the revelation of the 10 commandments at Mt. Sinai.

By the time the story is done, the book of Acts written, those first believers are probably feeling more unified than shattered—the shards of their earlier lives have come together into a new shape. The festival day of Pentecost reminds us that great things can happen when the Holy Spirit takes hold of a community. If we need a reminder of that, all we need to do is to look at the state of the church on Pentecost morning, and then think about the spread of Christianity in the decade after Pentecost.

And Christianity was spread by word of mouth and regular people--sure, there were some superstars like Paul. But Paul came and went and then regular people had to keep the vision alive.

They did. Pentecost both celebrates that fact and invites us to think about what the Holy Spirit might be up to in our 21st century.

Pentecost reassures us with the mystical promise of the Spirit. We do not have to know what we are doing; we just need to be open to the movement of the Spirit. Pentecost promises daring visions; we don’t have to know how we’re going to accomplish them. God will take care of that.

John's Gospel reading for Pentecost has a different emphasis. Throughout the whole fourteenth chapter of John, Jesus promises that we're not going to be left alone. Jesus must know how hard it will be for his disciples; it's been somewhat easy for them as they sojourn with their Savior. But once he's gone, how will they carry on?

Once again, we have Jesus saying he will pray for the disciples. He tells the disciples that they will have everything they need as they go out into the world. He suggests that the new incarnation of himself/God/Spirit will dwell inside us.

I feel like this Gospel lesson peers straight into our souls, our tired, overstretched souls, as Jesus reminds us that we are not alone. Verse 18, the verse after this Gospel ends has Jesus promise, "I will not leave you orphaned; I will come to you" (John 14: 18). That's the Good News of this Gospel: we are not alone. We do not have to go about our Pentecostal mission alone. Jesus reminds us that it's a team effort: "Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it, that the Father may be glorified in the Son; if you ask anything in my name, I will do it" (John 14: 13-14). Jesus reminds us of all that we can accomplish, if we work to discern the vision that God has for creation and our part to play.

I love the way the Gospel ends, with these images of all these incarnations of the Divine, swirling in the world around us, breathed into us, gathering within us. In our Gospel today, Jesus reminds us that we are enough because we're not all alone; the Holy Spirit comes, which helps us work collectively for the inbreaking Kingdom of God. It's a message that's so unlike the messages beamed to us from the larger culture in which so many of us live our daily lives. Our larger culture does not treasure teamwork—not teamwork with God, not teamwork with each other. Our popular culture likes the larger-than-life leader, the one who goes it alone. Don't believe me? watch T.V. for a week, watch politics, go to the movies, talk to friends about what’s going on in the workplace--it's rare to see a team working together for the greater good. These days it’s far more common to see teams working to dismantle the vision of the greater good that previous generations built.

Jesus reminds us again and again that we are more than adequate—humans transformed by the intervention of the Holy Spirit. We see disciples that are gloriously human in many of the ways that we are too, and Jesus takes a small band of these flawed humans and changes the world as he sends them out to work in small groups, groups committed to each other and to God. Jesus can take our overscheduled selves and transform us, so that we love each other, that we become one with each other and God, his ultimate dream for us.

Imagine for a moment that you are part of the crowd on that first day of Pentecost, that you hear these uneducated, Galilean disciples speaking to you in your home language. You might have been expecting once again to celebrate the revelation of the 10 commandments to Moses, but to hear of a new revelation about more recent deeds of power of God at work in the world? To hear these words in your own language, in a multitude of languages, spoken by Galilean men who couldn’t have known any other language but their own?

Now imagine your current self, alive in a time when all sorts of people use all sorts of resources to spew all sorts of nonsense masquerading as knowledge. We’re told that developments in artificial technology might save us, but so far, the machines hallucinate and spew slop.

Listen again to the words of the ancient prophet Joel:

In the last days it will be, God declares,
 that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
  and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
 and your young men shall see visions,

and your old men shall dream dreams.
 18Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
  in those days I will pour out my Spirit;
   and they shall prophesy.


What might this look like in our current day, to have a prophetic imagination? In his classic text, The Prophetic Imagination, Walter Brueggemann, who died this week at the age of 92, tells us that the prophet shows us a world in which God can act and that God has a plan and a purpose (p. 218). We have the promise of the ancient prophets like Joel that if we can use our power to align ourselves and our societies to right relationship with God and with each other, we can turn ourselves and our societies in a new direction, one where we can discover a true path to flourishing.

Pentecost reminds us of our job description, to let the Holy Spirit blow into our midst and to fill us with the ability to see righteousness and the fire to bring God’s visions to life. Pentecost reminds us to be the ones who call to our communities in languages that they understand to tell them that a better world can be created. Jesus has not left us orphaned, living in the shattered remnants of a once beautiful and beaming light. The Triune God speaks to us in our home language, reminding us of past promises kept, calling us to new communities—all of us, gathered into one.

Jesus promised an advocate, and the Holy Spirit has come, wind and fire and power from on high. Get ready to dream new visions!

A Friend's Ordination

 Today one of my closest retreat friends will be ordained.  The ceremony will happen right here at Lutheridge.  As I have helped her get set up for the service, I've tried to remember if I've ever gone to an ordination service.

I've seen so many pictures of ordinations that I feel like I must have been to one, but as I've reflected, I have realized that I haven't.  I've known lots and lots of seminarians who graduated to become pastors, but I never went to their graduations or their ordinations.  Hmm.

My friend has been planning this ordination worship service for months, which has been interesting to hear about.  She went from thinking about mostly camp songs, but she's shifted to more traditional songs that can be played on the piano.  One reason is practical:  a lack of a guitarist, which would be necessary for camp songs.  But also, she's realized how much the other music has impacted her, perhaps more than camp songs.

She created a special quilt which will be part of the kneeling bench.  She's having the service at the Faith Center, not the chapel, because more of her own faith formation has happened there, and she doesn't have a personal connection to the chapel.  The banners hung for the Create in Me retreat still hang there, although they'll be taken down after this ordination.

I am looking forward to a well-designed worship service.  I am also looking forward to seeing friends who will gather for this celebration, even as I know I will wake up tomorrow wishing that we had had more time to reconnect.

Most of all, I am feeling fortunate that I can be a witness to this ordination.  In past years, I wouldn't have had enough vacation time to get up here for an ordination service on a June Saturday.  I'm glad that my life is different now.

Prophetic Imaginations, Past and Present

Yesterday afternoon, in the midst of news of the separation between Trump and Musk, I heard that the theologian Walter Brueggemann had died.  It wasn't exactly unexpected; he was 92 years old.  From what I've read, his death was peaceful.  And then I went to a picnic with the camp counselors for this summer--they're an inspiring group.

This morning, my thoughts turned to Brueggemann again, as I revised my Pentecost sermon.  I went back through some seminary papers; it's the rare theologian that I turned to again and again, the way I did Brueggemann's work, especially The Prophetic Imagination.  It has been especially interesting this morning, thinking about ancient prophets, thinking about Pentecost, thinking about our own time which is so full of nonsense and babble.  I tweeted this morning:  "Here for #5amwritersclub, here to work on my Pentecost sermon about God speaking in languages we each understand, while all around me, men spew nonsense and artificial intelligence hallucinates, and perhaps I'll also write a blog post about these juxtapositions."

I'm not sure I'm doing that, but I did think about the Brueggemann idea that I used most often across seminary papers:  the prophet shows us a world in which God can act and that God has a plan and a purpose (The Prophetic Imagination, p. 218).  And here's another Brueggemann quote that shows up periodically in my seminary papers:    “Clearly Jesus cannot be understood simply as prophet, for that designation, like every other, is inadequate for the historical reality of Jesus. Nonetheless, among his other functions it is clear that Jesus functioned as a prophet. In both his teaching and his very presence, Jesus of Nazareth presented the ultimate criticism of the royal consciousness. He has, in fact, dismantled the dominant culture and nullified its claims” (The Prophetic Imagination, 81-82).

Here's how I used these ideas in my Pentecost sermon:  We have the promise of the ancient prophets like Joel that if we can use our power to align ourselves and our societies to right relationship with God and with each other, we can turn ourselves and our societies in a new direction, one where we can discover a true path to flourishing.

Brueggemann's theology has inspired so many of us in so many ways.  I hope we can continue to inspire others with these ideas.

Visions and Revisions

Today my left eye is a lot better--not completely back to normal, but not getting worse or staying the same.  I am thinking it might have been a scratch compounded by sinus issues--on Saturday, I had to take the contact lens out of my eye because of sudden irritation.  I didn't think too much more about it.

I also thought about all those dairy workers who contracted bird flu which presented as pink eye.  We've been moving our bird feeder in for the night, as bears are on the prowl, and while we've been careful to wash our hands, I have wondered about my eye in that light.

Have I done something that a sensible person might do, like go to the doctor?  No.  I feel like the body can take care of most of my ailments, and yes, that belief has gotten me in trouble before, like with my broken wrist.  But I'm also remembering our South Florida eye doctor who told me that there wasn't really a cure for pink eye, except for time.  He could give me a cream to help with symptoms if I wanted, and he reassured me that I wasn't damaging my vision or my eye.

So, I have tried to be patient, even as I feel a bit of despair.  I had had such a good run of eye comfort.  What had brought it to a close?  The light sensitivity in the eye has meant I couldn't do much--not much reading, not much writing, not much sewing.  It's not exactly how I meant to be spending my last days of summer break.  Monday I begin my Clinical Pastoral Education at the Asheville VA Hospital.

Today I go over to the hospital to get fingerprinted and to have an ID made.  I am hopeful that I have all the pre-CPE tasks finished, but I don't have a master check list to be sure.  I am trying to trust that it will be O.K.

I did have a great conversation with my advisor at United Lutheran Seminary, the next seminary in my ordination path. That conversation left me feeling reassured that although the path forward may be slow, I am on track.  She will enroll me in a class that won't have cost to me so that I will have this CPE on my transcript.  The seminary does do part-time internships, so I won't have to choose between an internship with low pay and no health insurance and no internship which means a crashing halt to my ordination plans.  My advisor says that she has better luck finding part-time internships than traditional internships for students.  I can do an internship across 2 years, which would allow me to keep  my full-time teaching job.  Here's hoping that my lectureship continues to be renewed. 

Another amazing thing happened yesterday:  my church made me a video card to congratulate me on my graduation with my MDiv degree.  Hurrah!  You can view it here.  It was heartwarming to see all these old friends who took the time to make individual videos, which my pastor stitched together.  What a great use of technology!

Today, in addition to other tasks, I'll be using up some sour milk to make cupcakes for tonight's picnic with Lutheridge camp counselors.  Our residential neighborhood does this every year--it's good for the counselors to meet us and good for us to meet them.  It's one of the aspects of being part of a neighborhood that's part of a church camp that I love, the ways we can interact and help make summer successful.

I won't have as much free time to volunteer at camp this year.  Between CPE and my part-time preaching in Bristol, Tennessee, I won't have much time.  But hopefully, by doing CPE this summer, I'll have future summers with more flexible time so that I can volunteer more.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel--Pentecost

  The readings for Sunday, June 8, 2025:

First Reading: Acts 2:1-21

First Reading (Alt.): Genesis 11:1-9

Psalm: Psalm 104:25-35, 37 (Psalm 104:24-34, 35b NRSV)

Second Reading: Romans 8:14-17

Second Reading (Alt.): Acts 2:1-21

Gospel: John 14:8-17 [25-27]

It's interesting to think how different churches celebrate Pentecost. Some churches will be stressing the rushing wind and the coming of the Spirit; perhaps parishioners will be exhorted to become more Spirit-filled. Some churches will be focused upon the mission of the early church, and I predict parishioners will be asked to think about the mission of the contemporary Church, both global and local.

This is one of those years when I'm relieved to turn my attention away from Acts, to think about the Gospel of John. I want something a bit more comforting, like John, not readings that make me feel inadequate, like Acts. I know it's called the Book of Acts, not the Book of Relaxation, not the Book of Taking a Nap. Still, some years I find all the energy in that book to be a bit draining. Some years, it all seems a bit loud, a bit energetic, a bit amplified.

John's Gospel reading for Pentecost has a different emphasis. Throughout the whole fourteenth chapter of John, Jesus promises that we're not going to be left alone. Jesus must know how hard it will be for his disciples; it's been somewhat easy for them as they sojourn with their Savior. But once he's gone, how will they carry on?

Once again, we have Jesus saying he will pray for the disciples. He tells the disciples that they will have everything they need as they go out into the world. He suggests that the new incarnation of himself/God/Spirit will dwell inside us.

I feel like this Gospel lesson peers straight into our souls, our tired, overstretched souls. Jesus reminds us that we are not alone. The verse after the Gospel ends has Jesus promise, "I will not leave you orphaned; I will come to you" (John 14: 18). That's the Good News of this Gospel: we are not alone. We do not have to go about our Pentecostal mission alone. Jesus reminds us that it's a team effort: "Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it, that the Father may be glorified in the Son; if you ask anything in my name, I will do it" (John 14: 13-14). Jesus reminds us of all that we can accomplish, if we would but call on God.

I love the way the Gospel ends, with these images of all these incarnations of the Divine, swirling in the world around us, gathering within us. This Gospel gives me hope that I will be enough. It's unlike some of those other readings that make me feel so inadequate. Speak in tongues? I can hardly get healthy food prep done in any given week. Help in the Kingdom mission of redeeming the world? Who will do all the cleaning up chores that come our way each and every week?

In our Gospel today, Jesus reminds us that we are enough because we're not all alone. It's a message that's so unlike the messages beamed to us from the larger culture in which so many of us live our daily lives. Our larger culture does not treasure teamwork. Our popular culture likes the larger-than-life leader, the one who goes it alone.  Don't believe me? watch T.V. for a week, watch politics, go to the movies--it's rare to see a team working together for the greater good. 

Jesus reminds us again and again that we are more than adequate. We see disciples that are gloriously human in many of the ways that we are too, and Jesus takes a small band of these flawed humans and changes the world as he sends them out to work in small groups. Jesus can take our overscheduled selves and transform us, so that we love each other, his ultimate dream for us.

Recording of June 1 Sermon

I was not as happy with my sermon for Sunday, June 1, 2025, but it was probably as good as it was going to get, at least this year.  You can read the manuscript in this blog post, and you can view the recording here.

I'm hoping that when I go back to view it, I'll think that it wasn't really all that bad--or let me dream big, I'll discover that it was much better than I thought.

Sermon for Sunday, June 1, 2025

June 1, 2025

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott


John 17: 20-26


I came across an interesting question this week: would you rather have Jesus talking to you or praying for you? It’s a false dichotomy, of course—we don’t have to choose. But it did make me think about Jesus and prayer and the prayer in today’s Gospel more specifically.

We know that Jesus withdraws periodically to pray, and usually he goes alone. In today’s Gospel, he’s praying just after he’s washed the disciples’ feet and served them a meal. Judas has left, and Jesus has told Peter that he would betray him. Then Jesus gives his final and rather extensive teaching to the disciples. Finally, we get to this prayer which lasts for 26 verses, all of chapter 17.

Unlike other times when Jesus prays alone, many of the disciples must be nearby. I imagine Jesus praying out loud and the disciples listening. How would his words make them feel? Cared for? Unworthy of his attention? Wondering why he is praying for these situations and not other issues? I imagine that some of them aren’t paying attention at all.

Jesus begins his prayer at the beginning of chapter 17, 20 verses earlier. It’s a 26 verse prayer, where Jesus prays for the disciples and then broadens his prayer, including all who will come after them, praying for safety, praying for clarity of belief, praying for unity. Based on the following books of the New Testament and our lives and the world around us, we know just how needed those petitions are. It’s a prayer not just for the disciples but also for those who will come later—you and me! The subject matter may have changed, but the need for safety, clarity of discernment and unity remain.

Jesus offers a vision of unity that is about much more than the unity that we might mean when we speak of it. It is a vision beyond our individual unity to Christ, or the unity of this congregation with itself or other congregations, or the unity of members of the world-wide Church. We might envision a Church that speaks with one voice about the issues of the day. We might think of a society that agrees on what is good and what is evil and how humans should behave. This is about as far as any one could ever dare to dream, and if we could achieve even part of that vision, it would be nothing short of miraculous.

As we saw in last week’s Gospel, the unity that Jesus envisions has something even more expansive and miraculous in mind. Much the way a marriage joins two humans together into one, or a pregnancy joins a mother to a child, Jesus pictures all of us gathered into unity with one another and with Jesus and with God and “coming soon” the Holy Spirit in a just and righteous world. Perhaps we rarely think about being this intimately connected with the Holy Trinity, but we are a messianic people: Your kingdom come. Your will be done by all persons on earth just as it is in heaven. We pray it and expect it to happen at some point.

We are in the time of the liturgical year when we think a lot about Trinitarian theory and practice. Jesus offers this prayer to God who is intimately joined with him in one creation and next week is Pentecost, where the Holy Spirit will come in a very different way. In our Confirmation class, we finished this semester by looking at the Nicene and the Apostolic creeds, which we agreed are not terribly different from each other, but their origins are. The Nicene creed was created to settle the question about which part of the Trinity came into existence in which order. In Confirmation class, we didn’t spend much time with this question of who came first or did all parts of the Triune God exist at once.

These are not questions that consume many of us these days and there won’t be theological fights at Synod assemblies either. We feel like we have a solid working understanding of how the three beings operate as one Holy Trinity. Or maybe we’re like some of those disciples, tending to matters that we think might be more important.

But Jesus understands that the questions of unity are far from settled, in both his time, and every decade since. Jesus prays for oneness, that we can all be gathered into God’s very self. Jesus prays that we be united in the Trinity as the Trinity is to itself. How would life be different if we believed that this complexity had been answered? If one saw themself as more like Jesus than like a flawed human, more as inspired to boldly seek justice and love mercy like the Holy Spirit, more as one that Creates through their word a world that is “good and very good” like God--how would our collective life change?

We have plenty of evidence all around us of how people behave when they’ve been shamed and told that they are worthless or evil. In the book of Acts, we see an opposite world, one where people act like Jesus has given them a commission and the power to fulfill the task and live boldly in community with the Triune God. We see people acting out of the great love that Jesus invokes in today’s prayer.

Like Jesus, we are surrounded by many people who are poor in spirit, people who are suffering terrible blows. We can be there for them. We can be the person who has a smile and a kind word and reassurance that all will be well and all manner of things will be well (to use mystic Julian of Norwich's words). We can take the time to be present, in a way that so few of us are earnestly emotionally present today. We can turn our attention away from our phones and screens and look at the faces of those who need us.

We can sow the seeds of hope and help fight despair. We can remind people that a different world is possible. We can invite them to be part of something better. We can remember that the unity of persons is often found in the larger aim of unity of persons with the Holy Trinity.

We could be the person that makes people wonder and whisper, "I wonder what his secret is? What makes her so capable of being happy?" Maybe they'll ask, and they'll really want to know, and we can talk about our faith. Maybe they won’t ask, and we can subtly give witness to our faith anyway.

We can pray for specific outcomes as we do in our individual and corporate intercessory prayers, while remembering that we can’t know the full will of God. If we’re not sure what or how to pray, we can remember the words of Romans 8:26: “We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit intercedes for us”—as Jesus does in this Gospel. We can pray to and through the Holy Trinity: may Your will be known and done by all of us on earth as in heaven. Yes, give us safety, give us clarity, and give us unity with one another and unity with the Holy Trinity. Let us embody the ideas of Jesus as we pray that the love made manifest in Jesus be made visible in us, so that the world will know the love of God and be transformed.