Easter 7 May 17, 2026 with The Rt. Rev. Jennifer Brooke-Davidson 10:30 a.m.

https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Easter/AEaster7_RCL.html

Transcript

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And by the time Peter and Paul and Luke and John got around to writing, there had been plenty of those days. Our friend Peter always did like a little drama, but his picture of the roaring ravenous lion doesn't seem completely far-fetched when you consider his circumstances. He was living in a time of empire and an emperor out of control, a legislative body that was disempowered by an autocrat, greedy plutocrats, corrupt officials, an overbearing military used against the emperor's own subjects, exploitation of the working classes, political executions. The first letter of Peter was most likely written during the reign of Nero, whom you may have heard of, who may or may not have fiddled when Rome burned, but he did play the lyre. And Rome did burn while he was emperor. I read a little bit about him this week again. When Nero would return from a military success, his carriage was followed by men who were professionally trained and paid to clap and cheer in the Alexandrian method. Apparently the best kind of applause. And along his route, victims were slain, the streets were sprinkled with perfume, while birds and ribbons and candy were showered upon him. He placed the sacred crowns in his bedchamber around his couches, as well as statues of him representing him in the guise of a lyre player. He had a coin struck with the same image. The masses of people loved the big spectacles, but others did not. When Nero sang at the long concerts he gave, nobody was allowed to leave, no matter what. So the legend sprang up that babies were born during them, that people would secretly jump off the roof, and that others would feign death so that they could be carried out. He was married three times before he died at age 30, famous for seducing and abusing women and boys. The reports are much too colorful for Sunday morning. But if you like salacious scandals, you can pick up your dusty volume of Suetonius and read the details. Nero had a colossal bronze statue of himself made, 120 feet high, depicting him as divine, made to stand in the foyer of his golden house. Later, according to a fourth century biography, it took Hadrian a team of 24 elephants to move it. Not relevant at all, but I think really interesting. Strange days indeed. Maybe Peter has something to say to us. He said, Beloved, don't be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is coming upon you to test you, as though this were some strange thing that was happening to you. Those things are gonna happen. They're not gonna stop happening, not in this age of the world. In 60 or so AD, we had Nero. There have been plenty of characters since. In 2026, we have a whole new cast. So what are we as followers of Jesus supposed to make of this? What are we supposed to do about it? Well, Peter says, humble yourselves under God's powerful hand so that he can lift you up at the right time. Throw all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Discipline yourself and stay awake. Your enemy, the devil, is stalking around. Resist him. Resolute in your faith. In a few minutes, I'm gonna ask you: will you persevere in resisting evil? And whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord. My friends, it is not an abstract hypothetical question. Evil is visibly stalking the earth. In baptism, we renounce Satan, that lion, and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God, which might look like appropriating divine status, making idols, calling hatred, racism, and violence Christian values. All that's just a symbol of that kind of rebellion. We renounce the evil powers of this world, the systems that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God, systemic neglect of the widow, the orphan, the alien resident among us, gleaning to the edge of the fields, meaning leaving nothing for the poor, neglecting justice and peace, refusing to honor the dignity of any human being. For example, white supremacy, that imperialist lie from the pit of hell, and so-called Christian nationalism, a lie based on the lie from the pit of hell, and the many sublies and sub-disgraces that follow that. We renounce those things. We renounce all sinful desires that draw us from the love of God. The old favorites, blasphemy, adultery, stealing, lying, coveting things that belong to others, hypocrisy, grandiosity, greed, contempt, slander. All of them failures to love God and love neighbor. And we vow to resist all that evil, but when we fall into sin, when we fall into sin, maybe it's not the big, glaring, obvious Ten Commandment kind of sins. Given that so much of that laundry list I just read is going on in broad daylight all around us, it may be that in these times the most likely sin for us is despair and presumption. Maybe you don't think of those things as sins, but think about it, they do draw us from the love of God. And that's why they've been recognized as sins for many centuries. I think we all know what despair is. I think despair means doing nothing because it seems hopeless. Refusing to hope denies the sovereignty of God and we draw ourselves away from the love of God. Presumption doesn't get as much press these days. Liz Anderson, who serves with me on, by the way, on the Standing Commission for Liturgy and Worship, wrote an essay called The Ordeal of Hope, practicing virtue under unpromising conditions. And she said that if you're convinced that the future is definitely going to be better than the past, no matter what, or if you're certain that you can definitely save, fill in the blank, the academy, the church, the climate, then that's not the virtue of hope. That's the sin of presumption, because then it's all about you. She writes that in Eastern monastic traditions, the sins of despair and presumption are both equal enemies of the thing that we most desperately need now. The thing that the roaring lion devours. And that is hope. Hope. Hope is not an optimistic rose-colored emotion. St. Peter was no panglossian, all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds, kind of guy, which is something more like presumption or possibly a neuromodulatory dysregulation. The theory of the virtue of hope, the theological virtue of hope is something else. And Liz puts it like this: she says, hope is a praxis for living in the present moment. Hope is a praxis for living in the present moment, which means faithfully doing the work that is put it directly in front of you without falling into presumption or despair. Hope is doing the next right thing. It's faith that the kingdom is coming, whether progress is apparent right now or not. And while we do not determine it's coming, we definitely contribute towards it. As it has often been said, it is not up to you to complete the work, but neither are are you free to desist from it. I would add one angle to that observation from my own life. I recently decided that on Fridays, at least theoretically my Sabbath day, I was not going to keep up on an hour-to-hour basis with the news and commentary. I'd glance at it to make sure there's no like major global catastrophe that requires an immediate response. But instead, I don't do that. I garden and I putter, or I listen to podcasts about gardening and puttering. And I've been struck over and over again in that about how pragmatic and hopeful British gardeners are about climate change. Apparently, the climate instability that we're all experiencing is much more pronounced for whatever geological reason in Britain. And the horticultural world is responding by doing what they can do to reverse that problem, like using all you ever hear is peat-free compost, peat-free compost. But also at the same time learning how to grow things from warmer places, like the Mediterranean. Not despair, not presumption. Doing what can be done to correct what's wrong and taking the next right step under the actual circumstances. And on a recent Sabbath Friday, I stumbled into a podcast about gardening to support birds. The Cornell Lab's motto is the Cornell Lab is powered by science, technology, and millions of people around the globe. So Becca Radomsky-Bish is a science and technology expert at Cornell. But listen to what she says about gardening and birds. With a background in environmental science, I have long been tuned into the immense pressures humans are putting on natural resources and the biodiversity we share with this planet. But when starting my gardening effort more than 20 years ago, I began cultivating hope. Putting food in the ground for my family, as well as the birds, bees, and butterflies has been a conscious act of love. Instead of being overwhelmed and paralyzed into inaction, my energy is invested in adding and maintaining gardens, and my life has never been the same. It is this joy I share through Garden for Birds. My hope is that this form of healing helps others transform their lives for the better. She goes on, I have an undergraduate degree in anthropology, a minor in biology, an MS in environmental science. I've worn several hats since joining the Cornell lab. But inspiring others to create habitats for birds is my heart work. My heart work. The tools this scientist uses to fight the evil of abuse of the environment are cultivation of hope, conscious acts of love, investment of energy, transformation of lives, joy, hope. Those are the things the devil wants to devour. Those are the things the father sent the advocate to protect joy and hope. Because evil cannot be defeated without them. What would be the point? So my question is: what is your next act of hope? What next step ignites the flame of joy in you? Is it registering voters? Tutoring kids, visiting prisoners, stalking your elected representatives until they've memorized your phone number? Or filing constitutional lawsuits? Teaching anti-racism strategies? Gardening for the birds. My point is not that we should all calm down and build bird gardens. Becca Rodomsky Bysh is an ornithologist. But I'm asking, what is your heart work? What is your heart work? Because every act of hope weakens that hungry lion. Every moment of joy defeats despair. Every Sabbath day of turning off podcasts and planting flowers or watching the kids' soccer game or fighting for your neighbor's dignity defeats presumption. When you are stalked by despair or by presumption, when you see the shades of Nero and wonder at the fiery trials of this present time, ask yourself, What is my heart work? And do that. What would the world be like if that's what we all did? Our heart work, every chance we get. So do not despair. Do not presume. Cast all your anxiety on God because He cares for you. And the God of all graces who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ will Himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. So to Him be the power forever and ever. Amen