At five in the morning there is a mist on damp days that makes the church and the Academy disappear in spite of the nearby light in the parking lot. The hallways of Saint James Academy are as dark as a tomb. There are no happy voices - no voices at all - before dawn. The Saint James Center sighs and creaks as the metal roof flexes in the cold morning air while warmth whispers down from the ducts hidden in the darkness. The building is here, but the school is absent until hundreds of children return at the appointed hour.

Across the empty driveway, graves stand sentinel in the darkness around the church - silent, like the fog that caresses them. These stones will not respond to the day-lit crowds that will come later to worship, but they stand alert - in the mists - to the passing of the ages.

These mute limestone and granite witnesses have watched 250 years slip by like a shadow. The brick bell tower and the organ are here even in the middle of the night. But the church will not appear until the congregation gathers. Bricks do not a body make- flesh and bones and breath and spirit are required to fill St. James with life.

Night falls over the graveyard. Morning breaks each Sunday. Seasons change, over and over again as the earth spins round the sun. Every year streams of people come to be baptized, confirmed, married, sometimes ordained, but inevitably as the shadows of life lengthen, to be buried.

All things pass away.

But new springs bubble up each generation with their cascade of changing faces that flow through the life of the church and past these walls and hillsides like a river moving through slowly changing banks.

Today horse and riders join with parishioners. The Hunt gathers near the ring. The crowd assembles on the hill. And a congregation formed of clans coming together falls on its knees then comes to the table to be fed - one body receiving from one cup and one bread broken for them.

This day is one intersection of lives that may otherwise seem separate. But we are joined at that deeper level that ties all things together like the hidden groundwater that flows under this hillside and through the lower places around it. There is a life giving substance that knows no boundaries and nourishes even those who do not consciously name its presence. This conjunction of communion rail and hunting ring is but one section of the canvas on which our lives are painted. This day is part of a larger picture.

That larger work began with a Word that begat all things and will end with the image of God with us, again, face to face. The picture is not all sweetness and light, there is darkness too on this larger canvas, but the light stretches over it all and is not overcome. This larger picture illuminates a context large enough to give meaning and purpose even to tragic and incomprehensible events that slip into our lives like weeds springing up in fields of golden wheat.

We are not held hostage. We need not be imprisoned by our experience of the moment, or our fears of possible futures. We have been ransomed. If we will view the whole canvas we will see that a king of kings, a person of ultimate power, has secured our release from momentary afflictions and all manner of snares.

The absence of a coat on a cold day does not mean we will be cold forever. A missed meal is not a sure sentence of starvation. A downturn in the economy is just a ripple on the River that will surely pass on, by and by. We are surround by a benign and loving presence that made us, holds us, and promises us sanctuary in the end. Let us rejoice!

There is no cause, or point, in worrying - about clothes, or food, or financial markets- or indeed about anything. We are simply not as in control as we often imagine. All our worrying will not affect the actual outcome of anything.

Worrying is simply an ineffective substitute for faith and trust.

But we may object, "How can one trust when experience shows that bad things happen to good people?" Let's shift our gaze back to the larger canvas. Personal experience is a very small square on a very big canvas. Do any of us know the totality of even our own life such that we might adequately pass judgment on a year, a day, or even a single event aright? I don't think so. Few people would willingly choose crushing challenges or painful tragedy. But all of us have had the experience in which injury or illness or loss has turned out to hold a gift we have come to appreciate as time unfolded, life changed and we looked back with gratitude.

None of us has the power to look back from the end of all things to the beginning of time and then value all events in their proper context. Without the full picture we cannot know how to hold, or judge, individual bits. Consider that we are being bid to not even try.

God is the judge- on the Last Day. On that day, the weeds will be separated from the wheat, but for now, they grow together: success and failure, happiness and sadness, disillusionment and hope.

Our work is simple- have faith, don't worry, and in all times and all places, give thanks. When Jesus says we should strive first for the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, he does so to encourage us to look at the larger canvas. Look at the whole picture first, Jesus says. We dwell on the king's hill. We walk, or ride, on the king's fields. The increase of grain, gourds or green peppers is a mysterious God-given gift - as hidden, and as essential, as the groundwater deep below the earth that allows the growth we see.

If we understand ourselves as citizens of such a kingdom, wouldn't we want to know more about this realm? What is the nature of this king? What are the laws of this land that has no end? What are the stories that if we knew them would lead us to put greater trust and hope and faith in the One who ransoms us from death?

Today some are hunting for a fox. Others are hunting for a companion, a good meal, or a beverage from the back of a pick up truck. But everyone is hunting for something. While there can be joy in the chase it is good to remember that some goals are like grain- wholesome and good for eating. Others are like chaff - dry and without nourishment. A frequent check of the larger picture will help us hunt in the right direction, distinguish bread from a stone, and come safely to our journey's end.

Few people tailgate alone. A hunt is not an individual endeavor, nor is the spiritual life meant to be a solitary pursuit. We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing because we need each other's presence to find our way home. We gather week by week to check the map, to compare notes, and to gather solace and strength to continue the journey.

Today is Thanksgiving. We gather to give thanks to God and to rejoice in the company of others. But let us not stop with this day. Today is Thursday, but Sunday's coming, and after that another one, then another. There is a life that is made of Sundays: a life full of gratitude and abundance. This life of Sundays is flowing like a river, carrying us through time - down the hillside, over the flat places, past the times of trouble and into a glorious light.

Come to the table today for daily bread- strength for the hours to come. But let us come back - for the journey continues, the hunt goes on and a Kingdom waits to be explored.

Know that you will have what you need, that the story ends well. Take that hope and share it - in word and deed- for the king bids us share abundantly from what we have received. In that charitable light others will see light and the river will grow as it flows though the Kingdom of God, world without end. AMEN.