The story of Job is a challenging one.
It presents a disturbing image of  a God who makes bets over the trials and tribulations of a faithful servant –
who will allow a good man to be tested by terrible trials.
When I was in seminary, this is what I learned about the book of Job:
There is a story – a sort of fable –
found in the prose sections of the book in chapters 1 and 42.
In this story, God is bragging to an Adversary,
“have you seen my faithful servant Job?”
And the Adversary answers, “of course he is faithful –
he is prosperous, he has a beautiful family – he has every reason to be faithful.
What would happen if that was taken away? Would he remain faithful then?”
So God allows the Adversary to test Job – to take his wealth, his health, and his family.
And Job remains faithful, so in the end – chapter 42 – all his fortune is restored.

But this is a deeply dissatisfying story.
Would God allow God’s faithful to be tested?
Can you replace one lost child with another?
Is the question of suffering really that simple?
And so someone took that fable, and added to it the chapters of poetry
which make up most of the book of Job.
With a tone of irony and satire, this writer turns against the fable and delves deeply into questions of theodicy.
    Why do the good suffer and the evil prosper?
    Where is God when we suffer?
    Why are some healed but not all?
    If God is good and sovereign, why do we suffer?

In this poetic section, Job’s friends give voice to a commonly held theological position in biblical times –
    that goodness and faithfulness is rewarded,
and if someone suffers, it must reflect wrongdoing.
We see this idea reflected in many psalms, which extol the rewards of faithfulness and wisdom; even in the gospel stories this thread remains.
 
Job’s friends urge him to identify the evil he has done so that he can make things right.
But Job knows that his suffering is nothing he deserves.

And so he calls on God to answer – Why am I suffering?
Why are you doing this to me? What do you want from me?

God’s response is both overwhelming and ultimately unsatisfying,
if what you are looking for is an answer.
God comes to Job in a whirlwind, and says,
4“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. 5Who determined its measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? 6On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone 7when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?
 8“Or who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb?— 9when I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band, 10and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors, 11and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stopped’?
God goes on like this for three chapters,
and this brings us to the brief dialog we read today from Job:
Then Job answered the Lord: 2“I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.”
God says, “‘Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you declare to me.’ 5
And Job responds, “I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you; 6therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes.”

As my mentor used to say, “God is God, and I am not.”
Sometimes that is the only answer.
But God is God.
And God is hears us.
And that can be enough.


Early in the week, I was in a panic about preaching today.
Members of our community have been through so much this fall –
    we are carrying a lot of grief and uncertainty in these days.
For some of us, life has turned upside down and will never be the same.
I lay awake in the night, thinking,
“What can I say about suffering that will be adequate and helpful at this time? “
Then I started to study Job, and I had to laugh at myself.
Great scholars have been seeking adequate, conclusive theologies of suffering for centuries,
and I think I should wrap it up this week?

The whole point of Job is that is doesn’t offer an answer –
    this is simply not something we understand.
But Job invites us deeply into the questions,
    to wrestle faithfully with what we know of God and our own experience of life.

What transforms Job’s life is his encounter with a God who hears him and knows him.
Job affirms, along with so many of the psalms, the value of staying engaged with God.

Commentator Kathleen O’Connor wrote,
“By lamenting, complaining, and shouting his discontent to the God he believes to be attacking him, Job keeps his relationship with God alive.  . . . [In the end], he utters  a profound statement of faith: ‘I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you.’ Now Job meets God in his own life, in the thick of the storm that is his life. Job speaks of firsthand experience, a personal meeting, a kind of seeing that surpasses known speech about God. From Job’s viewpoint, this encounter overwhelms and honors him and transforms his life.”

O’Connor went on to suggest that a better translation of verse 6,
when Job despises himself and repents, would be “I repent of dust and ashes.”
In other words, when Job comes face to face with God, he is changed.
He leaves his absorption with self behind and gets up from his ash heap
to go on with his life,
    to continue his life in the midst of his suffering.
God has revealed Godself to Job, and it is enough –
even before the fairy tale ending which attempts to erase all of Job’s suffering.

You may have noticed that the assigned reading from Job skips over three verses.
In those verses, God instructs Job’s friends to make an offering –
presumably in repentance – and to ask Job to pray for them.
Part of Job’s restoration is a return to community –
    reconciliation with the friends whose misguided attempts to help had tormented him.  
Before the conclusion of the original fable, in which Job’s fortune is restored,
Job has already begun his healing –
in his re-defined relationship with a God who hears him and responds to his pain;
and in a move toward fellowship with others in his community.

***

The gospel story this morning offers another perspective on suffering and community.

The blind beggar, Bartimaeus, has heard that Jesus is coming through his town.
He stands by the side of the road crying out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”
The crowds try to hush him.
Jesus is an important man, and the “insiders” try to protect him – and themselves –
    from the discomfort of this beggar’s disability and dishevelment.
But Jesus instructs them to bring the man forward.
Jesus welcomes the blind beggar into the very center of the crowd, and asks,
    “What do you want me to do for you?”
Bartimaeus knows his need, and right away he answers, “Rabbi, let me see again.”
And Jesus heals him with a  few words – restoring not only his sight,
but his place in the community as well.

The crowds surrounding Jesus may not even know what they want Jesus to do for them.
They want to be close to him, to absorb his charisma and bask in his compassion,
    to reflect a bit of his fame.
But, as in so many healing stories in the gospels, it is the one who knows his brokenness
who gains the attention and favor of Jesus.
The arrival of Bartimaeus – clear in his need, and not shy to cry out for rescue –
gives everyone in the crowd something they need, even if they don’t know it.

Cynthia Jones described it this way, “the cry of need that caused Bartimaeus to be shunned by many becomes the occasion for their glimpse of God’s final intention for creation.
The glimpse is called a miracle. Miracles are those events that bring people from darkness into light,”
So it is not only Bartimaeus, but everyone in the crowd, whose sight is restored by the miracle of healing.


How many of us are willing to come into community and share our brokenness?
It is hard.
It is so tempting to want to be seen here at our best.
How many of us grew up with the understanding that we honor God
by dressing up in our best clothes to come to church?
How many of us yearn for our kids to be on their best behavior here, of all places?
How many of us struggle to keep in place the mask which says, “Everything is fine”?

But this is a community that can hold our brokenness.
Jesus urges us to be the kind of community that invites brokenness, not perfection.
Indeed, this community needs our brokenness –
    needs us to be honest, to share our needs and fears and struggles,
    so that we all may glimpse God at work in one another
and share our journey together.

No one understands why we suffer.
We can’t explain it.
What we can do is keep on wrestling.
We can cry out in anger, with Job and so many psalms,
against God’s seeming injustice or abandonment.
We can keep on walking in faith –
    even if some days we are just going through the motions –
    trusting in a new relationship to God and one another at the end of our journey.
None of us gets through this life untouched by suffering.
But we are in this together,
    and we know a God who hears us and walks the journey with us.
Thanks be to God
Amen

Sermon – St. Michael and All Angels
Mark 10: 35-45
October 21, 2012

Some say that preaching should comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. I don’t know about you, but it seems to me that the gospel lesson has not brought much comfort to any of us in recent weeks. Do we really need to be afflicted that much? Sunday after Sunday we are confronted with the cost of discipleship. In the verses leading up to our reading this morning, Jesus tells the disciples for the third time that he is going to die. The first time he tells them Peter rebukes him. The second time, the disciples begin to argue about who is the greatest and now James and John ask for the place of honor on his right and left. Or as Mark Davis put it, “James and John call ‘Shotgun!’” (http://leftbehindandlovingit.blogspot.com) Were they even listening to Jesus? How could they respond to Jesus’ prediction of death by asking him to honor them?

Hearing is a funny thing. It is so easy to hear what we want to hear. It is clear to Jesus that James and John haven’t really heard him and so he asks them if they are able to drink the cup he drinks or be baptized in him. “Of course we can! We are ready, willing and able. Now if we can just have those thrones…”

We read this text knowing that Jesus died with someone on his right and left side. Those weren’t places of honor and it wasn’t his distinguished disciples occupying those places.

Martin Luther King, Jr. preached a sermon on this text called “The Drum Major Instinct”. He said that all of us have a desire to be recognized, to be first. It is simply our nature as humans to crave distinction. I’d like to argue with him, but I know the truth of that in me. Recognition feels good. Affirmation feels good. How many times have we hoped that we would be chosen for a place of honor? We know that we shouldn’t admit out loud that we want those seats of honor, but secretly we hope we will get them. I don’t know what those seats of honor look like for you, but they exist in many forms – being chosen captain of the team, being asked to chair an important committee, or some kind of public recognition for our hard work. But there is another side to recognition and honor.

I had a conversation this week with someone about how many people don’t see a need to be in church. We hear a variety of reasons for that – church is irrelevant, church is a waste of time, church is full of hypocrites. But I am wondering if there is another reason people choose not to come to church. What if they read this scripture? What if they really listened to the words and found the cost to be too great?

Will Willimon, former dean of the Duke University Chapel tells this story:
“Back when I was at Duke Chapel, I once lamented to a group of students that we attracted so few students in our services on Sunday at Duke Chapel.  "Go easy on yourself," said one of the students.  "Duke is a very selective school with very bright students," she said.  (I'm thinking, "Yeah, bright but not all that humble.")
"I think most of them are smart enough to figure out," she continued, "that if they gave their lives to Christ, he would only make their lives more difficult.  I think it's amazing you get as many students to come to Jesus as you do." (http://day1.org/1474-good_news)

There are many stories of people who have lived this truth. They followed Jesus and their lives became much more difficult. Today is an historic day in Rome. Kateri Tekakwitha (KATeri TekakWITHa), is the first Native American woman to be canonized as a saint. A few years ago, our J2A pilgrimage went to Montreal to the sacred sites of Kateri’s birth and death. When she was 4, Kateri lost her family to smallpox and was badly scarred. Her extended family raised her and planned for her to marry. Kateri was baptized at age 20 and her tribe shunned her for her commitment to Christ so she fled to Canada where she could live a life of religious devotion. She was 24 when she died. She is one of many who experienced the cost of discipleship. We cannot fool ourselves into believing that following Christ asks little of us. He asks everything of us. Yet, rather than giving up all to follow Christ, we try and fit our faith into life as we know it.

Being true to my call has cost me, but I live a very comfortable life. I read Jesus’ words and I wonder if I have what it takes to be a servant of all. I’m not sure I understand what he means by those words, but it sounds pretty impossible when I consider where Jesus’ journey takes him.

Albert Schweitzer said, “Life becomes harder when we live for others, but it also becomes richer and happier.” I know Christ calls us to shift our focus to those around us and live with our hands open ready to respond.  It’s that simple and that difficult.

One of the great gifts of a faith community is the opportunity to be part of something larger than ourselves. Here we can make a difference in the lives of those who are hungry through the food pantry. We can come together and walk the streets of our neighborhood encouraging them to vote. We can touch the lives of children by teaching or sharing the goodness of God’s love in Children’s Chapel. We can offer our voice and sing in the choir. We can extend the love of Christ beyond our walls by taking communion to those who are unable to get to church. There are so many ways for us to experience greatness here. The funny thing is that it has nothing to do with spotlights or rave reviews. Greatness happens while holding the hand of one who is afraid, or listening to the wisdom of a child, or cleaning up after coffee hour where people have shared their lives that morning.

Here is the amazing thing about greatness – there are no educational requirements or resumes needed. We simply come as we are and offer ourselves to God. Martin Luther King, Jr. said it well:

“And so Jesus gave us a new norm of greatness. If you want to be important—wonderful. If you want to be recognized—wonderful. If you want to be great—wonderful. But recognize that [the one] who is greatest among you shall be your servant. That's your new definition of greatness…by giving that definition of greatness, it means that everybody can be great. Because everybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato and Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve. You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love. And you can be that servant.”  (Martin Luther King, Jr. “The Drum Major Instinct” a sermon preached February 4, 1968)

So here we are in the middle of the fall pledge campaign hoping for words of comfort and we are given words of affliction. Pledge campaigns are tricky. We tend to get touchy when the subject of money comes up because we don’t want to experience discomfort. We like the idea that we might ride shotgun. When we are reminded that there is a cost to following Christ, we start to squirm. Through the years in many settings, I have heard comments that the church just “wants our money.” The church is not them – it is us – all of us. We come together to be the church - to follow Jesus and there is nothing that says it will be painless. I think the church gives us an opportunity to be great week after week. Here we can offer ourselves to Christ’s service. Here we can share our resources so that all may experience the power of God’s love. Here we take our places at Jesus’ right and left and discover what it is to be great.

Oct. 14, 2012
The Eye of a Needle
The Rev. Brian C. Taylor

Well, Jesus has been in a cranky mood recently. Last week he denounced divorce, and today he reviles the rich. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God. One wonders whether this gospel was appointed for this time of year to influence our voting, or our pledging.

Every one in this room is a part of the richest 10% of the world’s population. But before we start  writhing in guilt and wondering how we might ever squeeze through that eye of the needle, let’s consider the story more closely.

A wealthy man ran up to Jesus and knelt on the ground before him. This suggests desperation, or at least motivation. He really needs to talk to Jesus, and wants to know how to inherit eternal life. At first, Jesus gives him a stock answer. He says, You know the commandments. Spiritual leaders often respond this way at first, just to find out if the seeker is serious.

But this seeker stays, and seems to be serious. Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth. What more must I do? He knows there is more than external religious obedience. There is more to this business of the kingdom of God that Jesus keeps talking about. Perhaps earlier, the rich man had heard Jesus teaching to a crowd. He went away, but Jesus’ words just wouldn’t leave him. So he came back.

Well then, Jesus thought. Maybe this guy means it. So Jesus tells him what he must do. Sell what you own and give the money to the poor. The crowd suddenly got very quiet. After a very awkward pause, the man hung his head and shuffled off.

Now why on earth did Jesus make it so hard? That’s what the disciples wanted to know. They rightly wondered Who then can be saved?

I’m afraid that we have misunderstood this story, and other passages like it, for centuries. We hear phrases like “eternal life” and “kingdom of God” and we translate that to “heaven.” We have been brainwashed by centuries of obsession with salvation in the afterlife, and so we see these passages through that lens. The man wanted to go to heaven, we think, and Jesus offered him a very high-priced ticket. No ticket? Sorry, no entry. To hell with you!

But Jesus was always more concerned with this life than the next. The “eternal life” that this man wanted to enter is called, in the original Greek, zoe. Zoe is not heaven in the afterlife, but the vibrant experience of God in this life. It is everything that Jesus came to offer - waking up to God’s nearness, being pure in heart, trusting in God’s goodness, and opening joyfully and generously to others as fellow children of God - whether or not they deserve it, and no matter what their station in life.

This is eternal life, which starts in this life and extends into the next. This is the kingdom of God, which Jesus spoke about more than anything. So we pray Your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. But the fact is, there are few who seek it, and fewer still who are willing to do what it takes to find it. That was true in Jesus’ day, is true today, and always will be. Why is that?

Well, for whatever reason, many are satisfied with the material world. And by material, I do not just mean materialism. I mean the concrete, the mundane. What do I want to wear, to eat, to do? Are things going the way I want? Am I comfortable and untroubled, and if not, how can I fix my circumstances so that I will be? Many are satisfied with life at this level. That’s all there is for them.

Others know that religion has more something to offer, although according to a new Pew survey that just came out, fewer and fewer in our increasingly secular society. And most of those who are religious are satisfied with a simple faith: go to church, try to be good, pray now and then.

That’s okay, as far as it goes. Let’s be clear: Jesus did not condemn the wealthy man for walking away. When given the opportunity to go deeper, he chose not to. That’s fine. Continue to keep the commandments as you always have. Nothing wrong with that.

The rich man thought he wanted to go deeper, and that’s what a lot of religious or spiritual people say they want. What more must I do to live into eternal life, zoe, that vibrant, transformative experience of God that you talk about all the time?

He was told that if that’s really what he wanted, he would have to let go of the very thing that he was attached to, the very thing that was keeping him at a distance from God. Apparently, that was money.

Instead of learning to trust in God, he had come to believe that money would guarantee him security. Instead of looking for the free presence of God in the ordinary world around him, he purchased pleasure. Instead of being open to other children of God, no matter what their station in life, he surrounded himself with like-minded privileged people and cut himself off from all others.

And here’s the important thing: he was not willing to change. He was not willing to give up that security, that pleasure, that privileged company, even though all of it kept him at a distance from the living God. So he chose to keep things the way they were. His choice wasn’t between heaven and hell. It was between a vaguely religious life and zoe, the kingdom of God. As some like to put it, “Jesus came, offering us the kingdom of God, and we settled for the Church.”

Perhaps you’re religious, and have no burning desire to go deeper. That’s fine. Continue to keep the commandments, pray, and do good. But maybe you want to enter the kingdom of God, here in this lifetime. If so, there will be times when you are asked to change. You will be put in front of a very specific gate. It will look as impossible to go through as the eye of a needle.

At this gate, you may be asked to let go of your angry demand that your past or present life be different than it is. You may be asked to let your defenses crumble. You may be asked to stop drinking, to give up control, or to turn from self-absorption to generosity. You may be asked to learn to pray more full-heartedly, and to carry this consciousness throughout your day.

I don’t know what the eye of the needle is for you. But it always involves change. It always involves surrendering the baggage that keeps you from getting through. The rich young man was asked to surrender his precious but limiting identity as a wealthy person. If you want to go deeper, you will be asked now and then, at different times of your life, to surrender those things that stand between you and God, and live differently.

Along the way, we let go of this, then that, peeling back the layers of the onion. Ultimately, at the heart of it, we must let go of our very sense of self. After all, more than once, Jesus said something that was even more radical than Sell what you own and give the money to the poor. He said Deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow me to Calvary.

There, our limiting self-definition will die. As we peel back the onion of our attachments and keep going, we find, at the very center, there is no solid, unchanging “thing” that we can hold on to. There is only God, manifesting through our life, through everyone and everything, all the time.

Deny your “self,” Jesus said. Deny what you think that self must have or do to be satisfied. Deny that self’s hopes and disappointments, its likes and dislikes. Deny even who you think that self is, or should be. Instead, give yourself fully to whatever God brings you, moment by moment. Be pure of heart, and leave no trace of self as you pass through your day. This is what St. Paul meant when he wrote, It is no longer “I” who live, but Christ in me.

The key to this story may be in the eye of the needle. How does a camel get through it? By becoming very small. The smaller our self, the more easily we slip through, into the kingdom of God.

In today’s gospel, Jesus isn’t condemning wealth. And he isn’t threatening anyone with exclusion from heaven. He merely names, for this man, the gate to a deeper walk with God.

What might be that gate for you, at this time in your life?

Sermon – St. Michael and All Angels
Mark 10: 2-16
October 7, 2012

Most days I am grateful for the lectionary. It keeps us honest and takes us through most of the Bible in a three-year cycle. We don’t get to talk about our favorite scriptures over and over…we have to deal with the scripture in front of us. Today I am not feeling so grateful for the lectionary. Yet, even today the lectionary leaves me an easy escape. I can jump to “Let the little children come to me.” Now that feels good. But I can’t step over the landmine of divorce as if it isn’t there. I would be willing to bet that every person in this room has been touched by divorce in some way – either you have experienced it yourself or someone close to you has been through it. It is rare to come through this life without experiencing the pain of divorce or a difficult breakup. So what do we do with the gospel lesson this morning?

The question “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” is a test. I’m not sure what the Pharisees were hoping for, but they knew there was no good answer to that question. Someone will be offended no matter what Jesus says. There are many questions like that. That seems to happen a lot in an election year. It feels like we are testing the candidates and asking them questions that will offend people in order to feel better about ourselves. Are we really deeply concerned about the greater good or do we just want to make the other candidate look bad so our candidate will win? I’ve seen this dynamic in many churches as well. Somewhere our personal agenda takes over and we lose sight of what is best for all. Jesus calls us back and asks us to think about the whole human family.

Divorce in those days could happen for any reason. A wife burns the toast one morning and the husband issues her a divorce decree that afternoon. The wife is then left with no resources and struggles to survive. Some say that Jesus was trying to equalize things a bit in his response so that the woman wouldn’t be so vulnerable.

I have performed a number of weddings and this is what I have seen…no one gets married thinking they will one day get divorced. Couples come in love and believing that marriage will be beautiful and good. If anything, they are not prepared when things get difficult, and they usually do. We spend a lot of time in premarital sessions talking about issues in a marriage – sex, money, extended family, work, children, conflict, spirituality, and communication. I’m sure it is helpful on some level, but I also see how difficult it is to imagine that things might be hard someday. Ted Loder says that he has reduced his premarital counseling to six words, “When you need help, get it.” (The Haunt of Grace, p. 70)

Here is the truth. Relationships are hard work. All of them. There are no exceptions. Even relationships that have relatively little conflict and both people seem to feel loved and equal are not effortless. They depend on both people working to create a loving space that will hold the strength and vulnerability of each one.
The Genesis text is often used to prove the male is superior, but Jewish tradition says it is important that the woman is made from the man’s rib. The intention is that they would be intimate and equal because she comes from a bone near the center close to the man’s heart. Note that she wasn’t made from his head so that she could be superior or from his feet so that she would be inferior. (http://episcopaldigitalnetwork.com/stw/2012/09/14/19-pentecost-proper-22-b-october-7-2012/)

The Psalm and Hebrews text remind us that humans are made in God’s image. Mark tells us to become like children to receive the kingdom of God. I’ve thought a lot this week about the words in this text on the subject of marriage and divorce. I’ve been thinking that perhaps Jesus is asking us to remember who we are. I wonder if Jesus’ call is to love. Period. Instead of asking how we can get out of love and compassion, Jesus wants us to be loving and compassionate without exception.

I went through a divorce several years ago. It was the most painful time in my life. I love my former husband and I am so grateful for him. We had a very loving marriage. I learned so much about love from him both during our marriage and during our divorce. I learned about a love that can let someone go even when it is something you don’t want. I have no desire to stand here and justify divorce. It is tragic.

Here is what I wonder as I read the passage again: is Jesus telling us how to be in relationship with each other? Is he telling us that we cannot divorce God? Is he telling us to love in all things?

I’ve been reflecting on a recent Christian Century (September 5, 2012) cover story (pp. 20-25). It is called “The Gospel in Seven Words.” In the article, some authors were invited to summarize the Christian message using a maximum of seven words. Here are some of their attempts:
    “The wall of hostility has come down.” – Ellen T. Charry
    “God, through Jesus Christ, welcomes you anyhow.” – Martin E. Marty
    “In Christ, God calls all to reconciliation.” – Brian McLaren

I’ve been thinking about that this week and wondering how I might summarize the gospel in seven words. I think I would say, “You are God’s beloved. Act like it.”

It is easy to love when things are good. It is not so easy to love when they are rough. Can we love in the rough places? Can we continue to show up and show mercy to one another even when we’d rather not?

I am aware that the texts today refer to marriage between a man and a woman. I really don’t know what to make of the fact that Jesus never mentioned homosexuality. But, I am guessing we can all find ourselves in this text if we try. It might be helpful to hear how the Episcopal Church describes same sex blessings in the material from General Convention this summer:

“Our understanding of covenant thus derives first and foremost from the gracious covenant God makes with us in Christ…

Scripture and Christian tradition encourage us to see in these intimate relationships a reflection of God’s own desire for us…

Intimate couples who live in a sacred covenant find themselves swept up into a grand and risky endeavor: to see if they can find their life in God by giving it to another…

In the eucharist, we recall Christ’s willingness to give his life for the world: “This is my body, given for you.” When two people give their lives, their bodies, to one another in a lifelong covenant, they can discover and show how in giving ourselves we find ourselves (Matthew 16:25). When the Church pronounces God’s blessing on the vows of lifelong fidelity—for different‐gender and same‐gender couples alike—the Church makes a bold claim: the paschal mystery is the very root and source of life in the couple’s relationship.” (Faith, Hope, and Love: Theological Resources for
Blessing Same-Gender Relationships pp. 194-195)

I love that phrase “in giving ourselves we find ourselves”. What more do we need to know? Jesus answers the Pharisees by saying, “You are asking the wrong question.” Have you considered giving yourself in order to find yourself? Perhaps the question for us today is simply this, “How shall we love one another?”