4th Sunday after Pentecost

21 June A. D. 2026

Year A, Proper 7
Genesis 21:8-21, Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17, Romans 6:1b-11
+ Matthew 10:24-39

Collect
O Lord, make us have perpetual love and reverence for your holy Name, for you never fail to help and govern those whom you have set upon the sure foundation of your loving-kindness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Homily
I’d like to thank our friend, Val Ambrose, for helping me have some time to rest and reconnect with my family and beloved friends. It was the best father’s day gift a guy could receive. I hope all the other folks out there who serve and protect their families also get some time to focus their energy on the ones they love. In many ways, seeking the wellbeing of our immediate families is, for all of us, our most important work: for the love of neighbor commanded by Christ to be our way of life begins at home with those closest to us, or else it becomes performative religion instead of the spiritual sustenance love is intended to be. That our most vital work has to do with other people reminded me of Mthr. Val’s sermon from last week. In her message, she focused our attention on a vital insight: that our work as the disciples of Jesus is meant to bring life to the world in ways that highlight our interconnectedness. Rehearsing the theology of the Ascension of Jesus, Mthr. Val reminded us that we are “authorized agents” and “providers of God’s love.”

I think when we take this vocation of the people of Christ to heart, it changes our lives in ways that others notice. We step out of the selfish individualism of our culture and step into the way of life defined by Jesus’ selfless regard for others. When we begin to use our authority as providers of God’s love, we step into a way of life that makes connections, instead of severing ties. For the love of Christ includes everyone: people of every skin tone, every nation and culture, every religion or no religion, every gender, every sexuality, every age-group, every kind of body and ability, every kind of mind and acuity… every person. Jesus is condemned and killed because of human prejudice, so we must understand his resurrection as God’s rebuttal to all human prejudice. When we become agents of this divine rebuttal, it changes us in demonstrable ways:

  • we learn to know and speak differently about people we don’t understand;
  • we begin to notice ways in which our society hurts people and raise our voices in Christ-like opposition;
  • we begin to view the scriptures through God’s love rather than God’s wrath;
  • and we begin to dedicate our time and treasure to institutions that give us further training for our work as the agents of God’s love.

The work of Christ’s people is deeply gratifying. We find grace in moments of love and charity. We find joy in moments of grace, reconciliation, and fellowship. But not everyone will appreciate the changes in us that become evident as we follow Jesus in the power the Spirit. Jesus knows this, so he warns those who would be his disciples that his justice is like a sword, and that those who reject him will also reject the agents of his love:

Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.

For I have come to set a man against his father,
and a daughter against her mother,
and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law;
and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.

Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

This is a tough text. But if we read it through the lens of love rather than the lens of wrath,

we see that what is laid out here in the Gospel
is Christ’s unequivocal call
to join him in standing against
the death-dealing powers of the world.

I don’t know what reason any of us might offer to explain our participation in the life of the church, but I can share that being saved from my own spiritual poverty through prayerful and organized opposition to the death-dealing powers of the world is why I’m here. The Episcopal Church has answered Christ’s call to no longer be the chaplain of Xenophobia, White Supremacy, Classism, and Heterosexism. As our denomination moves in the power of the Spirit, we become, as St. Paul puts it, dead to sin and alive to God:

  • our is a church that is dead to the condemnation of Queer Folx, and alive to God;
  • dead to the ruin of the natural world, and alive to God;
  • dead to the inhumane incarceration of immigrants and refugees, and alive to God…
  • dead to forgetting Native Americans, and alive to God;
  • dead to racism, and alive to God.

The Episcopal Church is not a perfect church, but we’re talking about the ways harm has been done. And we’re discerning ways to heal those wounds.

For me personally, the priesthood of the Episcopal Church is a way of life in which I can explore daily what it means to die to the way our popular culture teaches men to be. There are so many men who live lives of goodness, generosity, and hard work and I want to continue to become one of them. Being a priest of the church calls me to step away from the ways of being a man that hurt other people. Becoming alive to God for me means stepping away from toxic masculinity—the anger and lust that we see in our media; for me becoming alive to God means stepping away from the greed and violence we see in our politics.

Those are my reasons for being here. What are yours?

Some will ignore us; some will ridicule us; and some—often those closest to us—will respond to our desire to be faithful with emotional and psychological antagonism, and sometimes with physical and financial violence. There are people and whole communities that like the way the world is because it benefits them. And just as they did to the Lord Jesus, so those who gain from the poverty and oppression of others will try to get rid of us too. So, when Sarah—the wife of Abraham—believes she will gain from the poverty and oppression of Hagar and Ishmael, she abuses them with physical and financial violence, with emotional and psychological antagonism. Hagar was not part of God’s plan for Abraham; she was part of Sarah’s plan for Abraham. But that doesn’t mean that God had no plan for Hagar and Ishmael. We’ve got to start thinking about all the people in our society who are being used in this same way. Abuse is not part of God’s plan, but God does have a call for each and every human being.

Our challenge is that we’ve allowed ourselves as individuals, families, communities, and as a nation to believe that collateral damage is acceptable as long as the end result is the advancement of our security and wealth. In the readings from the New Testament and Hebrew Bible today, we find out that we’re wrong about this. Whether it’s interpersonal, or tribal, or institutional, or geopolitical violence: the love of Christ condemns it.

So if you have been oppressed, abused, ridiculed, and threatened because of who you are, let me declare to you the great blessing of Hagar’s story: there is a secret well of water nearby, and God will open your eyes and lead you to it, so that you may find it and live and flourish and be made well.

And if you realize that you’ve participated in the violence of the powerful toward the weak and ostracized, let me declare to you the great blessing of Paul’s story: in your baptism you were buried with Christ in his death, so that you might walk in newness of life.

On the Cross of Calvary, Jesus dies with the oppressed and for the oppressor. And in his death he unites the two together and calls them to come and stand before his cross, side by side and shoulder to shoulder, and discover again or for the first time that we are one. Under the banner of the Cross, we belong to each other, we are family—pink/brown, gay/straight, and everything in between—and we are called according to the purpose of Christ to be agents of his redeeming work.

Over the weekend, Jessica and I took the boys camping up at Hoffmaster State Park on the lakeshore. I drove up late on Thursday night after the Leadership Team meeting at Two Churches, and a fingernail moon was hanging in the sky, lined up in perfect step with Venus and Jupiter. The beauty of evening sky folding into night activated the Arkansas part of my DNA and without thinking I said, “Hey Siri: Shuffle Rascal Flatts.” And the country song which began my night ride was Rascal’s tune “My Wish.” As I listened to the lyrics I began to weep, knowing that what Rascal expresses for someone he dearly loves, is what the people of Christ are called to on behalf of the world. For all the people whose lives are still being affected by the generational legacy of American Slavery and the Slave Trade; for all the people who’s lives have been crushed by this country’s prejudice against our Queer siblings… Here’s how it goes:

I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow
And each road leads you where you want to go
And if you’re faced with a choice, and you have to choose
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you
And if one door opens to another door closed
I hope you keep on walkin’ ’till you find the window
If it’s cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile
But more than anything, more than anything
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small
You never need to carry more than you can hold
And while you’re out there getting where you’re getting to
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too
Yeah, this, is my wish

I hope you never look back, but you never forget
All the ones who love you, in the place you left
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret
And you help somebody every chance you get
Oh, you find God’s grace, in every mistake
And always give more than you take
But more than anything, yeah, more than anything
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to
Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small
You never need to carry more than you can hold
And while you’re out there getting where you’re getting to
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too
Yeah, this, is my wish.

As we celebrate Fatherhood, and the ending of slavery by President Lincoln, and the emancipation of Queer Folx from obscurity, may we the people of Christ wish and work for flourishing life for all people.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was when the world was new,
is now,
and will be unto the ages of ages:  Amen.

About the author: The Rev. Jonathan Bratt Carle