Homily, August 17, 2025, Rev. Valerie Hart

These are difficult readings - hard to hear. In the first reading, Isaiah presents God singing to God's beloved people. He describes this beautiful vineyard that had everything, fertile land, cleared of stone and planted with choice vines. It even has a watchtower and a wine vat for the expected yield of grapes. This would be the promised land, fertile and wonderful for the people of God to thrive in. But, instead of fine grapes it produced wild grapes. The inhabitants of Jerusalem, the people of Judah, have not cared for the abundance that God has provided. Instead of justice, there was bloodshed, instead of righteousness we hear a cry.

God indicates that the area will be destroyed, trampled down and turned into a wasteland.

The psalm for today continues on the same theme. The Psalmist calls out to the Shepherd of Israel, who had planted a vine that did well for a while but now is broken, and ravaged by beasts. The call is for God to restore it. It ends with the plea "Restore us, O Lord God of hosts, show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved."

Paul's letter gives us of a summary of the trials and tribulations of the people of faith, from passing through the Red Sea on dry land to those who suffered torture, stoning and other horrible deaths. Paul describes them as a Great Cloud of Witnesses that surround us and support us as we "run with perseverance the race that is set before us."

Finally we get to the Gospel, the Good News, and it begins with "Jesus said, 'I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!'" It goes on, "Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division."

What are we to do with all this bad news? What does this tell us about the journey of faith?

Let's take a step back. Think about our lives. We all once knew a time of peace. A time where there was no conflict. Where we were always safe and warm. Where we were provided with nourishment to grow. When we didn't know the meaning of fear. Floating peacefully, comfortably - inside the womb.

But such peace cannot go on forever. Suddenly the walls around us are tight. We are pushed, squeezed through a narrow passage and suddenly find ourselves overwhelmed by the cold and bright light, gasping, crying for air.

From then on things get difficult. Learning to eat, learning to crawl, falling time after time as we learn to walk. The difficulties help us learn, they make us stronger.

Imagine a child whose parents set no limits. They give it whatever it wants. When it wants to be picked up, they carry it, so it is not encouraged to develop the muscles to walk. It eats whatever it wants and never tastes new food, nor does it receive a balanced diet. There is no bedtime. No time to be woken up. No encouragement to try and fail at new things. No correction when it hurts someone else. No experience of wanting or needing. No development of self-control. Imagine that child going off to school. It would be a disaster. Temper tantrums, biting other children, refusing to do what the teacher asked, a lack of awareness of their effect on others. Totally self-centered, and unaware of the chaos being created around him or her. How difficult and painful the learning process that child would have to go through.

And what of Jesus' talk of bringing division within families. "Five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three" That sounds a little like today. Whether it be money or politics or child-rearing practices or one of a million other issues, there is conflict within families.

But there always has been, especially when one experiences a call from God. Just this week the church has remembered both Clare of Assisi and Florence Nightingale. Great women. Models of faithfulness.

When Clare met Francis she felt a call to follow him. Francis was a model of creating a divided household. The son of a prosperous of cloth merchant, when he heard a call from Christ to rebuild the church he took it literally. So he went to his father’s store, took some of the expensive cloth and sold it to buy materials to help rebuild an old church that was falling down. Needless to say, his father was furious. He took Francis to the bishop in front of the cathedral and demanded that Francis be an obedient son. So Francis, in front of the gathered people, took off his clothes, handed them to his father and said that he no longer owed his father anything. His faith was calling him to a life of poverty. His mother was caught in the middle. Yes, Jesus brings division.

Clare had heard Francis preach about his love of poverty and wanted that for herself. She was a beautiful young woman who came from a rich, noble family. The expectation was that the family would arrange a marriage for her that would increase their standing in the community. Clare wanted to follow God's call to poverty, so she snuck out of her house one night, found Francis, took a vow of poverty, had her hair cut off and went to live in a monastery. Her family was so upset with her that her uncle led a group of soldiers to the monastery ready to force her to come home. She clung to the alter and showed them her shorn hair and they grudgingly left her alone. Yes, Jesus brings division within families.

Florence Nightingale who is well known for being a nurse during the Crimean War. Ahe brought hygienic practices, like washing hands regularly, to the military hospital and lessened the amount infection which drastically increased the patient survival rate. But most of us do not realize that she was the child of a rich English family. When she was 17 she experienced a call to serve God. Her parents wanted her to get married. She refused. Her father was disappointed and furious that she chose to become a nurse.

So what does this tell us about our spiritual life, our strengths and our struggles? It appears that struggle and conflict are inevitable. How are we to understand this?

One of my favorite Old Testament characters is Jacob. He was the young twin brother of Esau, and the son of Isaac and Rebecca. He deceived his father to get the inheritance that belonged to his older brother and then ran away for years. He had succeeded in getting wealthy and having children. As he was returning home, he became frightened when he heard that his brother was coming with an army to meet him. After sending his wives and his children away he was alone. Then he found himself wrestling with an unknown being all night. Finally Joseph got the upper hand and refused to let go until he had received a blessing. The blessing was for his name to be changed to Israel. He left the place with a limp and realized that he had actually been wrestling with God. The name Israel means ‘one who wrestles with God.’

Like most of us, I have had significant struggles in my life. My husband almost died in a motorcycle accident when I was pregnant with our first child. I had cranial surgery to remove a benign tumor of the lining of the brain when our youngest child was two months old. I’ve had a seizure disorder and breast cancer. The first sermon I ever gave in a parish was while I was doing my field placement during seminary. The Old Testament reading was the story of Jacob, and I related to how I felt as if my brain surgery and following problems were a kind of wrestling with God. It was difficult, painful, and I came out with a psychological version of a limp. And - I was a new person who several years later was called to ministry.

After I retired as the rector of a church, I joined a class on writing a memoir. I ended up self-publishing a book I entitled ‘Wrestling with God, through suffering to grace.’ I saw that all the struggles in my life were a form of wrestling with God. They were difficult and transformative.

I’ve thought a lot about what I meant by ‘Wrestling with God’. On the first level, it suggests that the one I was wrestling against was God. As in the story of Jacob.

But as I have thought more about it, I have come to wonder whether perhaps God was not the antagonist. Rather that as I went through these struggles God was my partner. God was wrestling with me, not against me.

I have come to believe that the hard times and the suffering,  strengthen us. They enhance our empathy for the struggles of others. They increase our compassion and deepen our ability to love.

And, no matter what we go through, God is with us.

I believe that on the cross, Christ opened his arms and exposed his loving heart. He took upon himself all the pain of humanity. Not just our guilt, but our anguish, our anger, our hopelessness, our wounds - all our pain.

He took all suffering to himself, and he holds it in his loving heart, and makes it holy.