St. John’s Park Slope

There Ascension isn't a departure at all—it's the fulfillment of the Incarnation. In Jesus, God became human. In the Ascension, humanity is taken up into God…

real transformation rarely begins when we treat it like a test to pass. It begins when we realize we don't have to change to be loved. We are loved already. And that—paradoxically—is what makes change possible…

How has Jesus loved them? He's just washed their feet. Including Judas's. He's fed them all, including the ones who will abandon him. Peter will deny him three times before sunrise. The rest will scatter. Jesus knows this—and he loves them still…

We don't hear the Shepherd because we're good at searching.We hear him because he's already come looking for us…

The Resurrection doesn't erase Peter's past.It transforms it.The place of his greatest shame becomes the place of his greatest calling…

This morning's Gospel picks up where Easter left off. Mary Magdalene: “I have seen the Lord.” But they don't respond with joy. They lock the doors.They're afraid—of the authorities, yes. But maybe also of what Mary's words could mean.To the Romans, Jesus was an insurrectionist.To the religious leaders, a blasphemer.To the disciples, he had been everything—and they had failed him…

"The Resurrection gives birth to hope—a living hope—resilient enough to withstand the pull of nihilism, apathy, and despair. The kind of hopelessness that creeps in when we contemplate oblivion—when we fear that nothing means anything at all.Our God has acted—and he promises to act again. He will bring evil, suffering, and loss to an end, once and for all. And this is the greatest hope..."

In the Passion accounts of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, we encounter Jesus as profoundly human—a suffering servant burdened by grief and despair. We see his agony, his tears, his desperate plea as he faces betrayal and abandonment. And we mourn for him—not only for what he suffered, but because we know he endured it all for us.Yet when we turn to John's account, sorrow doesn't take center stage. Instead, Christ's divine majesty shines through…

Jesus didn't just give us a model of service. He stooped to wash the feet of sinners—feet that would flee in fear, feet that would deny him by a charcoal fire, feet that would falter and doubt.He washed them all.And he washes us still.

Palm Sunday doesn't just tell us what happened to Jesus. It tells us the truth about ourselves.And yet—thank God—it doesn't stop there.The service doesn't just reveal our complicity in the world's brokenness. It shows how far God will go to meet us in it.

Mary's extravagant love foreshadowed Christ's—poured out on the Cross, overcoming the stench of death just as her perfume erased the odor of Lazarus' tomb…

The good news of the gospel is that Christ died for the ungodly—not just for the obviously self-destructive but also for the subtly sanctimonious. The challenge for older-brother types like me is this: will we cling to our self-righteousness like a weapon, or will we lower our defenses, unclench our fists, and step into the celebration?

If you catch yourself, like the disciples, believing you're better than others, repent — Jesus died for Pharisees too. And if you're weary, burdened by suffering, or crushed under the weight of your own mistakes, know this: you are not abandoned. Christ dwells with us, even in the wreckage of our fallen towers…

If Herod is a fox—scheming, grasping, ruling by fear—then Jesus is a mother hen, gathering, shielding, laying down his life in love. One takes life; the other gives it. And the best part? This mother hen spreads her wings not just for the chicks, but for the foxes too. For Herod. For us…

Our faith will be tested. We'll feel the pull to hoard, to control, to chase comfort at any cost. And if we're honest, we won't always resist. But take heart—our failures don't have the final word. Despite our faithlessness, God's faithfulness endures—absolving, restoring, and strengthening us to begin again…

Christ laid down his life for us before we ever thought about repenting…

“We do not serve an aloof God—or one who merely knows our pain. We follow a compassionate Lord who stepped into our deepest grief—and can be trusted to undo it…”

Mercy feels like a burden—until you need it. Then it breaks you open and makes you merciful…

The kingdom's way only feels upside-down because we've been living upside-down. In the Sermon on the Plain, Jesus isn't flipping life on its head—he's setting it right-side up, revealing the Good Life we were made for…

Today's reading is not a merit story. Peter isn't seeking wisdom or asking for help—he's exhausted, frustrated, and, frankly, annoyed. His response to Jesus' call is passive-aggressive at best. And yet, Christ still gives him the prize. Grace strips him bare, exposing his pettiness, his self-absorption, the gap between the life he wants and the life he's living. And in that moment—raw, humbled, undone—Christ says, “Do not be afraid.” For in Christ's kingdom, only the wounded can serve.In Christ's service, only the humble are of use.

“We spend so much of our lives curating a version of ourselves that we think will be accepted. Even when we long to be known, muscle memory kicks in, and we hold back, fearing rejection. Similarly, the terror of the Law is that before God there's no hiding. But the good news of the gospel is that though we are fully seen we are completely loved.”

“We Episcopalians are right to present Jesus as a revolutionary, but we often hesitate to proclaim him as the Son of God. It's as if we're shy about asserting the fullness of his identity—embarrassed by the thought of claiming too much. But, friends, if Jesus isn't the living Lord, then all the mercy we cherish is still buried with him in that tomb…”

Epiphany reveals that God's mercy must never be separated from his glory. Without his majesty, his love becomes mere sentiment. Yet in his compassion lies the power to triumph over sin, death, and all that seeks to destroy us…

The bearer of the winnowing fork has made common cause with the chaff…

The “dividing wall of hostility” has been torn down, but we've spent a whole lot of time trying to reassemble its fractured bricks. Still, the One who began tearing down the insider/outsider distinction can be trusted to finish the job He started…

The King sought by the Magi came not just for the chosen, the celebrated, or the deserving, but for the stranger, the outcast, and even the ungodly…

When we pray that God would plant love in us, we're not asking for a little help from our Friend, we're asking that God would birth love in us…

God became flesh because the body keeps the score. We need more than a new mindset or to be in tune with our feelings—we need the One who can heal our scars…

Every vice in us will be cut off—and let's be honest, we won't like it. We love our greed more than we realize; that's why we cling to it. But take heart, friends: the Judge, who has already borne our judgment, prunes not to condemn but to save…

When Isaiah calls us to “prepare the way of the Lord,” we might be tempted to think we are the change agents. Yet in the very next verse, the prophet reveals that the Lord is the true change agent: “Every valley shall be exalted, every mountain and hill made low…” This means that everything matters, and, thanks be to God, the Lord's cut-and-fill operation does not depend on us.*With thanks to Fleming Rutledge for all kinds of inspiration.

“Advent isn't just about Christmas or the Second Coming—it's about Christ breaking into the here and now. In a world gripped by conflict and uncertainty, we're not called to retreat into Hallmark hope but to stand, lift our heads, and believe: our redemption is sure.”

A Lord of Lords Encore

Was Pilate a tyrant or a coward? Either way, I see myself in him. When I fear weakness, I dominate. When I fear conflict, I wash my hands clean. Both betray insecurity. True strength—the way of our King—is risky, confident, and bold…

I'm far more like the honor-seeking scribe than the self-giving widow. I've chased ‘long robes,' ‘respect,' and ‘seats of honor' — even while pretending not to. But Jesus doesn't praise the successful scribe; he exalts the selfless woman who gave it all.

A sermon about love two days before the national election. (But mostly it's about Christ love because mine is so often fickle.)“Jesus' summary of the law is the good life, but it's not the good news. ‘All you need is love' is my anthem until someone cuts me off or shouts their politics. But there's One who loved even His enemies—and He loves me when I barely pull off loving my friends.”

Were the disciples angry at James and John for seeking privilege, or because they hadn't thought of it first? I suspect the latter—and I'm no different. Even when I pretend to be last, I still want to be first. I need my heart to be healed to truly love others as myself…

This passage hits hard. Like the rich man, we often trust in money over God, leaning on the sinking sand of Mammon instead of the solid rock of Christ. The disciples, torn up, ask, “Who then can be saved?” Christ offers the only hope: “For you, it's impossible, but not with God—for with God all things are possible.”

Though we fail to keep our word, God never fails to keep his promises…

“For the last three weeks, the disciples have been consistently clueless—seeking a Messiah on their terms, consumed with their own greatness, and hoarding the kingdom's power for themselves. Their bumbling is our relief. Despite their faltering, Christ's commitment never wavers.”

“The contrast couldn't be clearer: Jesus lives to serve, while his disciples scramble to be served. But his cross isn't just a model to follow—it's the power that saves and heals the so-called ‘greatest.'”

''C-3PO says, 'We're made to suffer; it's our lot in life.' But Jesus' call to 'take up your cross' flips the script. We don't 'lay down our lives' in resigned despair but in resurrection hope..."

It's the 1st century. You're a woman, a Gentile, and you're begging a Jewish man to heal your demon-possessed child. By every standard, you're an outsider. Yet this Jesus, who just declared all foods clean, goes further still—he makes the ‘unworthy' worthy...

Jesus sees through the highly edited versions of ourselves and loves us anyway. No matter what lurks underneath, He draws near to heal our hearts.

Like the crowds, I don't easily ‘abide.' When I'm refused the quick fix or the easy victory, I scatter like the Twelve on their darkest day. But God is faithful even on our worst day. He's moving toward us, even when we don't stay

"If God chose to lay down his life rather than break his promise, how much more will he stay true to you and me now that the hardest work is done?"

C.S. Lewis and Rick Rubin share a similar truth: Lewis didn't decide to follow Jesus—he was decided upon. Rubin's creativity didn't come from within—it came from without. Both reveal that “God's compulsion is our liberation...”

Like the crowds following Jesus, I often seek the sign rather than what it's pointing to. I'm fixated on loaves and fishes when the “bread of life” is right in front of me. Thankfully, Christ intervenes with “living water”—sustenance that will not perish but “springs to eternal life.”

Rev. Ben is back from vacation to continue unpacking the juxtaposition between the rule of Herod, Pilate, and Caesar and Jesus.

Rev. Ben gave this sermon at St. Andrew's-by-the-Sea in Saltaire (Fire Island) while on vacation

Brother John Castaldo from the Franciscan Community of Compassion gave the good word this morning!

“Unlike Herod and Pilate, our king would rather lose face than lose us. His reign is defined not by greed and fear, but by mercy and sacrifice.”