Sunday, July 12, 2026

Planting Tomatoes: A Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Today is the seventh Sunday after Pentecost and my last Sunday covering a clergy renewal leave (sabbatical) at St. John's, Northampton. The readings for this day can be found here.

I want to share with you today a new song by Lucy Dacus. I am going to spare you all because it’s my last Sunday with you by not singing it. Rather, I’m going to read it to you as a poem, and poems are almost always a kind of prayer. I think this is a kind of prayer. It’s called  "Planting Tomatoes.” (You can also listen to the song here.)

Planting tomatoes in the empty lot
Someone practicing saxophone down the block
And they are not good yet
They are not good yet

Picking flowers off the shoulder of the road
18-wheelers rushing by a little too close
Life is just a series of close calls
One day one will come to end them all

But before then, I've got some ideas
But before then, I've got some ideas

Coming together in a circle of hands
Gently pressing palms when the prayer ends
We all say amen
Say amen

Subtle pixelation of the world through the screened-in porch
I could sit here for hours
You've gotta live the life you're fighting for
You've gotta live a life you would die for

But before then, I've got some ideas
But before then, I've got some ideas

Hearing my friends laughing in the distance
I can't help but laugh along without knowing what the joke is
Can't help thinking that I am gonna miss this
Living in the moment, I can feel the moment passing

Now I'm older than you'll ever be
On a day you will never see
There is so much that I have not lost
Someday I know I will pay the cost

But before then, I've got some ideas
But before then, I've got some ideas
But before then, I've got some ideas
But before then, I've got some ideas


I could probably sit down right now and give you all a few moments to figure out why I’ve started there and if in so doing whether or not it’s helpful to you, if there is good news there for you. But let me linger among you a few moments longer and tell you how I connect this song by Lucy Dacus to today’s Gospel Reading. I know that my colleague, Rev. Anna, would likely be able to do this much better than I can, since she is the published gardener and I know she will be glad to rejoin you in a few weeks. But for today you’ve still got me, who is better with making a caprese salad than in planting and growing tomatoes!

In the thirteenth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus is talking about sowing seeds. He speaks often about seeds in his ministry. Mustard seeds that can grow into something much bigger. Tending to the vineyard so that good grapes can grow and yield good wine. He speaks of grains of wheat and of the harvest. Today he is speaking in parables which is his schtick. He’s saying that the soil where seeds are planted matters.

I try to stay focused on what is right with the Episcopal Church most of all and build on that. I’m committed to appreciative inquiry when it comes to personal spiritual growth and to congregational development. And then to also pay attention to what’s wrong and how we navigate that, manage that, change that. I try to look honestly at our little branch of the Jesus’ Movement and not to be too quick to judge other branches. Some days that’s harder than others. But I’m going to break that norm briefly, this morning at least a little bit.

We swim in the waters of American evangelicalism in this country and although that isn’t all bad, it impacts on us a lot. American Christians, even progressive ones, tend to know the Left Behind series about the end times better than we know the Book of Revelation. That’s a problem.

American evangelicalism has been around a while. Think Jonathan Edwards – ever heard of him? And the Second Great Awakening and sinners in the hands of an angry God. Think Billy Graham and “just as I am without one plea, I come…”

I’ve managed to be with you for three months and only at the very end mention Jonathan Edwards. In one place he said that “You contribute nothing to your salvation except the sin that made it necessary.” That’s pretty classic American evangelicalism. We are sinners, saved by grace alone. It’s not wrong – it might even be right. But it’s not the only way to tell the story of our faith.

Yet it’s in the water. And some branches of that part of the Jesus Movement have been overtaken by a more insidious problem: Christian nationalism. American evangelicals have been more susceptible to this, I think. But that’s a much longer sermon. I do think, though, that our vocation as Episcopalians becomes clearer as we learn to speak about our experience with Jesus of Nazareth, the one we claim to be the Christ.

What I want to notice with you today, though, is that the parable before us today is not about a one-time event. Seeds die and the moment they do, they begin a process of transformation over time. You don’t learn to play the saxophone overnight, nor get vine-ripe tomatoes overnight either, sings Lucy Dacus. And Jesus of Nazareth says that lots can go wrong when you plant seeds. But sometimes the stars align and there is the right mix of sun and rain and good earth and things grow and produce fruit.

And he says that we are like that. I don’t think this is pushing it too far: I think Jesus might even say that he doesn’t care so much about a day in one’s life when they may have accepted him as Lord and Savior as he cares about those who choose to take up their mats and walk, those who take up their crosses to follow him. The planting of the seed, including the seed of the gospel, matters but only as a beginning.

When we speak about a great cloud of witnesses, about the communion of saints, we are saying something very similar. If you want to know what it means to be a follower of Jesus then find someone who’s been doing it for decades, in whom the growth has been happening, someone who embodies the good news of Jesus because they have been intentional about it over time. And then ask yourself: what do I need to do to get to that place in my own life?

The Christian life is about practices over time that change us for good. Last weekend it was my honor to baptize Daphne here, among all of you. It’s the best thing I get to do as a priest and it never gets old, even after 38 years of ordained ministry. But that’s the beginning of a lifelong journey as Daphne and all of our young people, our children and our children’s children, try to navigate this  unsteady and confusing world. Including our young pilgrims headed off to bonnie Scotland this coming week.

I spent my junior year of college at the University of St. Andrew’s, situated on the North Sea, north of Edinburgh. There, I met my future wife, another American studying abroad. I also fell in love with the Scottish people so I was not at all surprised by the joy and love they brought to Boston during the World Cup. I pray that our young pilgrims will be changed for good there. I pray it will be a key moment in their journeys that began in their mother’s wombs, and that continued when a priest dabbed some water on their heads and sealed and marked them as Christ’s own forever with holy oil. They have been claimed and these folks now headed to Scotland are living into that calling, that claim on their lives. They are growing in the faith, into the full stature of Christ. Thanks be to God!

We Episcopalians know that Christian formation is a life-long process. We know God isn’t finished with any of us yet.

God is not finished with you, yet, St. John’s. We take the long view, and we do not lose heart. Seeds get planted but along the way the growth that we observe in ourselves and in others needs to be watered and fertilized and tended to if you want to get to full and abundant life in Christ. There are ups and downs along the way but by God’s grace there is an orientation to love. And love brings us close to the God who is love. That love that is God, and from God, sustains us for the journey. May it be so for you now and always.

Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!

 

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

250

On March 17, 1976, I turned thirteen years old. In November of that same year, a peanut farmer named Jimmy Carter from Georgia was elected to serve as this nation's 39th president, narrowly defeating Gerald Ford. 

In July of that same year, this nation celebrated our bicentennial. I was young, but I do remember it. I felt proud to be an American and hopeful about the future, even though these were far from glory days for our nation. We had come through the Vietnam War and Watergate. The world was experiencing the first Ebola outbreak in Africa. Inflation had finally dropped from double-digits to 5.76% but there had been gas lines in 1973 and more to come in 1979, triggered by events in the Middle East, especially the Iranian Revolution. 

Fifty years later, I am no longer a kid with my whole life ahead of me. It's tempting for 63-year-old men to be nostalgic about the past and hopeless about the future but I find myself struck more by the old adage that the more things change the more they stay the same. We face political and global challenges today not all that different from what we were facing fifty years ago. I do think that things are worse right now, but it’s a difference of degree, not kind. The human condition and the lust for power and control have not changed. 

I am still a patriot and I still love this country. But I am more aware of the toxic nature of nationalism which is not the same thing as love of country. I believe that nationalism is a distorted love, the tendency that leads to saying things like “my country, right or wrong” or “love it or leave it.” Nationalism insists that "God loves us the most" and is “on our side.” There is a great hymn of the Church that expresses the difference well for me:  

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine.
But other lands have sunlight too and clover,
And skies are everywhere as blue as mine.
Oh hear my song, oh God of all the nations,
A song of peace for their land and for mine.

I am certain I was singing that hymn in the Hawley United Methodist Church as a teenager. I am very fortunate to have been raised with a faith that could never be confused with Christian Nationalism: my Sunday School teachers taught me that Jesus loved the little children of the world. All the little children of the world, from every tribe and language and people and nation. On that score, at least, I count my blessings that I didn’t have to unlearn a narrow form of Christian nationalism as my life has unfolded.

One thing is certain: our country is in trouble. Maybe it’s always been on the edge of trouble. I know as a fan of Hamilton and behind that great show the book and the work of historians that 1776 was no picnic. And I was old enough in 1976 to know that we faced many challenges, as we do today in 2026.

Perhaps there are no easy times to be alive. With due respect to "The Boss" there are no “glory days” to go back to; rather, these are better days, as Bruce sings in another perhaps less familiar song. Or, at least these are the days we get to be good. This American experiment has always been a tenuous thing.

But I also believe that times like these can bring out the best in people, not only the worst.

I saw a meme recently that has stayed with me. Memes of course do not convey complex truths very well and real life is not a meme. But this one said that the World Cup reminds us that for the most part, most people across the globe prefer to get along and bring their passions to a soccer field, not to a killing field. People are by and large good; it’s the powers and principalities (and nationalism and human sin) that pit us against one other and insist that wealth and power are limited commodities and we need to take what we can. I was especially inspired of late by the Tartan Army bringing joy to Massachusetts and inspiring us all.

So I will celebrate 250, but in a subdued way. I am praying for peace and reconciliation which is holy work, Gospel work. I am praying that I can continue to be an instrument of God’s peace in a warring world, and contribute to the healing that is needed at this time to bind up the nation’s wounds. I give thanks for what has been but more importantly, I want to work toward what might yet be. God bless America. God bless the world.

America! America!
God mend thine every flaw
Confirm thy soul in self-control
Thy liberty in law!