In the midst of the struggles the Episcopal Church faces today, a new phrase has appeared: "indiscriminate inclusivity". It refers to welcoming people without parameters or expectations.

I recall a seminary class in liturgics, discussing some of the curious things that have happened around communion. One example was a person who received the communion and put it in his/her pocket and walked away. After the class discussed it, the comment was made that in the end, if God could get in the wafer, He could get out.

It sounds to me like indiscriminate love. God's love is indiscriminate. Maybe what is meant to be a charge of laxity is really a living into our mission.

The church has been giving out quite a few vouchers for gas and food over the last few months. At times I feel "interrupted" by the requests. Even as I write that, however, I recognize the selfishness it reflects. What the vouchers have done, and the knoweldge we have them, is create a bridge between us and people in need. It means listening to people's stories, responding to them, being in relationship with people. It is hard at times, but also enriching. I am a better person because of it, and the church is stronger as we proclaim good news into a world searching for it; sometimes one voucher at a time.

The gospel for today is Jesus being confronted with the question of divorce. It is a particularly difficult lesson for me, since I have known divorce personally and with others. There will always be a certain amount of "judgment"; knowing I have not lived into the expectations of God, the Church, myself. And that is how I read this lesson. There is a huge divide between God's vision for us, and how we will live together and enjoy life together, and how we actually live. I, and many others, have fallen short, and yet I do not give up on the vision that lies before me - a vision God has had from the beginning. I pray each day for the grace and humility to live into the vision, and the forgiveness from God and others that allows me to do so.

A parable of sorts:
Is the family of God like the autumn leaves? The weather turns, the days shorten, and in the stress of the season, colors change, bringing forth a beauty. The journey appears to end with the descent to the earth, but is it really?