2 Advent, RCL, Year B

Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
2 Peter 3:8-15a
Mark 1:1-8

“Prepare ye, the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.”

These words have been my facebook status for the past week, along with an invitation into a blessed Advent. The words did not come from a casual glance at the lectionary readings upon which I am preaching, on this, the 2^nd Sunday of Advent. But rather they came from a place inside of me that awakens when the season of Advent begins – the “liturgical bone in my body” if you will, that reminds me to pay attention, to keep watch, to remember that a season of preparation has begun.

Doing the groundwork. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing when we say that as a church, as a people, we observe the season of Advent. It’s not just that we are fussy about the color of ribbons we put on our wreaths (though we are – notice the purple ribbons on your ways out – no red until Christmas!) It’s not that we are humbugs by abstaining from offering “Merry Christmases” so early in December – opting for a plea of ‘happy Advent,” to which some politely nod, and then walk away shaking their heads, and it’s not so strange that even at the end of ChristmasVille, a weekend event filled with the fantasy of Santa hats, and gingerbread men, that we invite the community to join us for a service of Advent Lessons and Carols (tonight at 6 p.m.).

What’s important about our traditional season of Advent is that we don’t just jump to the wonder and joy of gifts and goodies intended to be feasted upon on during the twelve days of Christmas: December 25 through January 6^th. It’s the fact that we have expectations to fulfill before we get there. We have ground to cover, we have a path to follow – we have work to do. Because no matter how generous we have been, and will be in our gift-giving, cookie-making, and holiday shopping for loved ones, there are still children and adults who will be hungry on December 26^th. There are still families, and orphans, who will have to live with the devastating realities of HIV/AIDS and other diseases. There are still those who will mourn, those who will be alone, those who will not know the gift of God’s deep and abiding love. We still have ground to cover. We still have preparations to make. There is more to December than the grand and beautiful celebration that is scheduled to take place at the end of it. There is the season of Advent that reminds us to be about the business of following God’s call, and doing the work of God’s hands in the world around us.

This week I learned the story of a family in Rock Hill. One that has known the joy of raising children who are now adults in the world. The parents of this family learned of the work of the Children’s Attention Home and decided to volunteer the gift of time, and care to some of the neglected, lost children of the world. This family was touched by the deep need of children who have no family, and the idea that adopting such a child into their own home, might be something they should consider came upon them, as though God had laid it on their very hearts. Preparation for something new began that day in that family. Two years later, after much discernment as a family, reading, praying, hoping, seeking an answer to the questions – Is this who we are? Is this something we can do? God, is this really what you have in store for us? Two years later, this family has entered this season of Advent with the preparations taking place in their lives for a new family member to enter their home early in 2009. God truly is doing something new for these regular people, right here in Rock Hill. God has been at work in their lives and in the life of this child who will be forever changed by this family’s wiliness to make room, allowing a child to enter in.

This story teaches me that Advent, and that seasons of preparation in our lives, can happen at any time. But only if we’re paying attention, only if we’re open to hearing God’s call, and saying “Yes, I will follow, I will seek your path, I will look expectantly to a new day, new joys, new possibilities.”

In my own life I am well practiced at this work of listening for God, discerning with God, asking the questions and faithfully responding to the possibility that God might be doing a new thing in me and the communities around me. I have followed God’s call into ministry, to seminary, and to South Carolina. And now, as a person engaged to be married I have entered a new season of preparation for God to be at work in me and my partner who intend to create a new family together in our marriage. Our work of preparation has endured through time, challenge, anticipation and commitment. Our hope is that the relationship will benefit from the preparations that are being made now, fully aware of the brokenness and reconciliation that comes with any relationship. Our prayer is that this new thing that God is doing with us will reflect the strength of God’s covenant relationship with God’s people.

Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.

Just as John was called upon to proclaim to the people – I challenge you to hear these words, and mark your Advent journey with their decree:

Prepare ye the way of the Lord.

The season of Advent is here – and we are called to a journey that includes prayer, reflection, listening, and responding to God’s call on our lives. To follow in the path, we must seek it out – we must discern where God is calling us, what new things God is inviting us into as we prepare to celebrate the anniversary of Jesus’ entrance into the world.

What are you doing to make room in your lives for Christ’s invitation to be loved, and love others in response? Though we live in a context that seems incredibly focused on one day of gift-giving, and feasting, we, as Christians are called to open ourselves to the possibility of new life, new light, to resurrection in our own lives, every day that we proclaim Jesus as Lord and Savior.

As we continue in this season of Advent, I invite you into the work of preparation – of making room for the new things that Christ has in store for you, for others whose lives will be touched by yours, and for the whole world that is in need of the gift and hope of resurrection. Amen.

Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson

Sunday, December 7, 2008

The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC.

Proper 27, Year A, RCL

Amos 5:18-24

Wisdom of Solomon 6:17-20

Psalm 70

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

Matthew 25:1-13

Good Morning. I had looked forward to greeting you all this morning from the pulpit in the church – but as you can see we find ourselves back in the wilderness, but at least now these are familiar surroundings. Because the floors of our newly restored church were not properly sealed, they were damaged in our first days back in the church. Our zeal and excitement at getting back into our old and beloved worship space has given us a perfect example of the importance of being fully prepared when the time comes to face our maker.

This morning we hear two very striking statements about the importance of being prepared to face God, and our own life’s work at the end of the age. In the Episcopal Church we are not known for preaching on the end times much – and I am not going to give you a recap of the popular christian fictions novels of the Left Behind series – the ones that describe in detail visions from Revelation and the ultimate battle between good and evil. But I do want to talk with you about the messages these scripture passages have for us, and how we might be better prepared at the end of our times here on earth to face the day of the Lord.

From The Book of Amos, we hear an excerpt of one of the lesser prophets as he speaks to the people of the nation of Israel – a people that have not done as they were instructed. Amos’s message to Israel is not one of prophetic witness, or calling of his community to a new truth or a new understanding. No, Amos is calling the people back to what had been revealed from the beginning of history – that the Lord expects justice and righteousness.

Amos is reminding the people of Israel that they were given a command – to love and care for the poor, the widowed, the orphaned, and the unprotected members of their society (those without property or rights.) This is not new information; rather Amos is holding the people accountable for their lack of movement on their long-known assignment. Amos is not a reformer or historical revisionist, but one who calls to question a justice system that fails, and thus results in continued poverty and injustice for the oppressed. Members of this community were suffering unnecessarily, while prayers of righteousness were prayed by the faithful religious community.

“Alas for you who desire the day of the Lord!” he calls out. “Is not the day of the Lord darkness, not light, and gloom with no brightness in it?”

The people have not done their task, and therefore, the day of the Lord is not something to look forward to with excitement, but rather as those who must face a teacher with no homework in hand, a missed deadline, a question that they should know the answer to, they find themselves coming up short. They are not prepared for such a day.

“Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them…Take away from me the noise of your songs… but let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.”

This righteousness Amos speaks of? What of that? It is defined as that quality of life-giving relationship with others in community that gives rise to justice. It is when individuals feel connected to the needs of others present in their community – and whether they are related to them or not, or know them or not, they reach out a hand and share what resources they have so that that person may know the love of a God in whose eyes all people are created equal and are deserving of at least the basic means of life.

Today’s Gospel takes us down a related road in line with Matthean themes: do one’s own good works, dedicate one’s life to Jesus, and be prepared for the end time.

In this parable we are introduced to characters that are wise, and characters that are foolish. The wise women are those who are prepared to wait for any length of time for the expected bridegroom. They are wise because they know that sometimes the road is difficult and it can take longer than expected to get from one place to another. They have made provisions for their lamps so that when the bridegrooms arrive their lamps will shine a bright light of welcome.

The foolish, however, prepared their lamps based on an assumed arrival time. And as the evening wore on, and the bridegroom was delayed, oil in their lamps burned down. All of the bridesmaids fell asleep, five slept with no concern or anxiety, for they had done the necessary preparation that allowed them to sleep soundly, awaiting the bridegroom’s return. But the foolish maids, also drowsy discovered that in the late hour their lamps would no longer burn to provide the welcome. In their scramble to complete the task they missed the entrance of the bridegroom, and their opportunity to enter in to the wedding banquet.

The kingdom of heaven is like this? Some will be left out in the dark and the cold?

Some will be forced to worship in the fellowship hall and not in the newly restored beautiful church?

This is not a parable about haves and have nots, or about those who are good enough, or not good enough to get into heaven – but rather it is about those have lived a life in a way that prepares them for the moment of truth, the time of reconciling the life you have lived, the person you have been, with the mandate that has been given through your call to discipleship, your commitment to your baptismal vows, your life as a faithful witness of Christ to the world.

Some of us are baptized into the Christian community early in life and the values and expectations are passed on from parent and Godparent to child at the earliest ages. Others encounter the depth of God’s abundant love later in life and are transformed by it, taking on the call of discipleship as adults, and faithfully taking on the challenges and the duties that go along with the commandments to love God and love your neighbor. But many of us live into our call to be faithful Christians on winding and meandering paths. Paths that ask really important, and difficult and worthy questions, sometimes leading to deeper wisdom, and other times leaving us to wonder, what foolishness is all of this?

From Matthew’s gospel we gather that the wise and the foolish share the same outward appearances. You cannot tell by looking at the 10 bridesmaids which are foolish and which are wise – they all are dressed properly and carry the right tools. But it is the ones who are committed and faithful to the task of awaiting the arrival of the bridegroom that are prepared for his arrival. In our call as faithful Christians, we share baptism as the common marking of our faith. But baptism alone does not guarantee our entrance into the banquet. It is not a magic moment that results in protection – but rather, the mark of a path that we must undertake, an active life of seeking the good, doing what is right, and pursuing justice for all – the same justice Amos spoke of to Israel.

In our experience as a Christian community, the urgency of the coming of the kingdom has dissipated over the centuries. And yet, we may be closer to that day than any generation before us. We have tasks set before us that could be accomplished if we do our homework. If we respond to God’s call to justice.

Justice is described in the New Interpreter’s Bible commentary as: the establishment of the right, and of the person in the right, through fair legal procedures in accordance with the will of the Lord.

In our day, in our time we have systems in place that attempt to provide justice to those in need – fair wages so that workers can support themselves and their families, protective services for children who have been neglected and abused, community centers that seek to provide stable structures in the lives of young people who don’t know that stability in their own homes… and yet, these issues persist in our community and in the lives of Americans and individuals around the world. Hunger, child mortality, disease, pollution, hopelessness… we may not be doing a much better job at this than the generations that have gone before us. And we too will be called to face our maker, to face the day of the Lord.

Who in this community is served by the gift of your time, your talent, your treasure? How are you seeking not only to pray that the needs of others be met, but to ensure that hands, and hearts strive for that justice for all of God’s people? Where does your daily vocation, livelihood, recreation lead you as a minister – as one who serves as Christ’s hands and feet in this world? I call you a minister because we are reminded by virtue of our baptism we are all called ministers of the church. In our Outline of Faith, found on page 855 of the prayer book, the question is asked: Q. What is the ministry of the laity?

The answer follow:

A. The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be and, according to the gifts given them, to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world.

We too have an assignment; we have our work to do in the world. How might Amos applaud or critique us for our work as a community? Where might we as the community of the Church of Our Saviour in Rock Hill, South Carolina find ourselves being called to grow, and to stretch? Now that we have a beautifully restored church, one that we restored for the future generations, one that, when it is fully prepared we will be able to return to for our worship space, what is our next call as a community, striving to Celebrate Christ, Serve Christ and Share Christ? AMEN.

Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson

Sunday, November 9, 2008

The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC.

17 Pentecost, Year A, RCL

Proper 18

Ezekiel 33:7-11
Psalm 119:33-40
Romans 13:8-14
Matthew 18:15-20

Good Morning. It is wonderful to see SOOO many of you here today. It’s the beginning of a new year (a new school year, a new program year.) Many of us have been far and near over the summer months, but today is a high holy day in the life of the church year – it’s the first day of Sunday school! And many among us who have been away have found their way back to this gathering place. I’m glad you’re all here. Welcome.

September marks the cultural end of summertime, and the return to “normal life,” back to the school year, back to business as usual, and that means coming back to church – getting back into the routine of seeing friends and family on Sunday morning and re-forming this community that we call the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour. Welcome home.

It is a cultural truth that summer vacation often includes taking a break from church. I am not naming this with the intention to make you feel bad for missing a Sunday here and there. I know as well as you all that many of you have had family to visit, weddings to attend, and rest-time and vacation/Sabbath that you have needed to take for yourselves and your families. I’ve had Sundays when I’ve been away too, and for many of those I am grateful – both for the opportunity to rest and learn from other places. Being away also means enjoying that wonderful feeling of returning home, returning to the familiar. It feels good to come into a place and be greeted by familiar faces, and a setting where you know your place, you know your way around, you know where you are going. Welcome back.

But of course, as this community re-gathers, re-forms, we are still in a bit of a wilderness – we are still worshipping here in the hall, and so those long memories of the way we do things around here, the way we’ve always done it, have been shaken up, and set aside for awhile as we continue looking forward to the completion of our church’s building restoration, renewal and return. [We welcome your call please hold.]

And of course, as some of you have been gone and have now returned – there have been other changes in the community – new faces can be seen at coffee hour as people new to Rock Hill, or the Episcopal Church, or to the Christian faith have joined us along the way, both those who have found us over the summer, and over the years: new babies, new students, new families, new companions who have gathered here with us today – and those who will find us in the coming months and years. The church is after all an institution made for those who are not yet members. Welcome to this community – it is newly re-formed today – because you are here, and we’re glad you’re here with us.

As a community it is important to remember that gathering is what we do – it is who we are. Though we go out in many different directions, experiencing the world in as many ways as we are in number, we remain connected in this place, through this tradition, through the relationships that are woven together in the fabric of our life together. We gather with purpose : to worship God, to giving thanks for our lives and all of creation, to share stories from scripture and our lives, to invite and welcome others into our fold, to grow together through the years as we laugh, give birth to new things, and weep and say goodbye. We gather to share meals – some that nourishes our bodies, others that nourish our souls. We are a diverse community, but there is one light that gathers us in – that draws us close to one another and to God and that which is at the center of our life together is Christ.

In our Gospel for today we are reminded of the fact that even in Christian community, there is, inevitably, conflict. As in your own family lives, as in your office, as your school hallways, as in traffic jams, there are tiny annoyances and great hurts that separate us from one another, from our community and from God. How do we live in peaceful community together when one has been wronged by the other? How do I pretend that what separates me from you can be ignored? The truth is – it cannot. The truth is we do and we will hurt one another, whether it’s intentional, accidental, thoughtless, or premeditated. We are absolutely capable and in all likelihood going to hurt others and be hurt by others in this community.

When a hurt has been perpetrated we will react. Just as when a hurt or injustice has taken place on a large scale and entire communities are motivated to respond, so will we on the most intimate level in one way or another respond to a hurt that has been done to us. And when it happens close to home, in our church home, that is the worst kind. But if we believe in community, and we believe that Christ is at the center of our community – then truly we have consolation in that. The Gospel describes a method of conflict resolution – one that is not easy – one that takes time and honesty. One that takes both sides listening to one another – and remembering that despite all that separates us from one another it is Christ’s love for all of that unites us still.

As we re-gather and re-form as a community, we have the opportunity to meet one another, to listen to one another, to hear where we have been, and to see how we have grown and changed. Who will we be as a community? How will we move forward together in this new year as we embrace the challenges that will face our community? And how will we forgive ourselves and one another for the conflicts of the past? You are here – and that is the first step – you are here, and we are glad, because we cannot be this community without you. And showing up – facing the questions, facing the challenges: that is the first step in resolving conflict and moving forward.

Allowing others to hear your heart, your need, your hurt, your hope, that is the second step – sharing who you are with those around you and asking for their help to stand and face the unknown – standing together to face that which separates you from your neighbor. How else will conflict be resolved if it is never brought into the light?

Finally, as a community gathered, the church at large is called to embrace both the one who has been hurt and the one who has brought that hurt to the other. Being a community – being this people gathered means being present to both parties, and living as witnesses to Christ’s love all sinners. When the community answers this call it acts as the body of Christ.

This does mean that we are called to judge one another as to who is right or wrong – but rather to allow both sides the space to be loved so that they might willingly face what they are accountable for. Alone it is hard not to feel justified – self-righteous. But in a community that seeks to be whole, neither side should be left alone. For it is in our time gathered that Christ’s presence dwells in our community, and its actions. It is in our actions of faithful worship, of returning and welcoming one another, of embracing and listening to one another in times of conflict and in times of celebration that we live into our call to faithful, Christ centered community.

You are here: welcome.

We are here: together.

Christ is with us.

In times of peace, in times of conflict, in times of wilderness and waiting, in times of return to the old and growing into the new: See each other, hear each other, embrace each other, for when we are gathered in community, Christ is with us. Amen.

Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson

Sunday, September 7, 2008, The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC.

“God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’”

16 Pentecost

Proper 17, RCL, Year A

Exodus 3:1-15
Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45c
Romans 12:9-21
Matthew 16:21-28

How many times do we come to church and hear stories of call? Hear stories of great men and women of the Bible who were called by God to act as leaders, as prophets, as care-givers, as companions. When we stand in the cloud of witnesses that is offered to us in scripture we learn the stories of those who are called to act and whose actions have led to their story being shared with the forthcoming generations. We hear these stories to teach us about call and to learn about what it means to follow.

Moses was called. Moses was given a pathway to ministry that would be long and hard, but would ultimately serve the purpose of release for the captives and delivery of the Israelites from their oppressors into the Promised Land. There were times in Moses’ story when the people grumbled and disagreed and even fell away from their faith and tested Moses and tested God, but ultimately Moses answered the call to be their leader – and followed God through the wilderness and ultimately delivered on God’s promise to those who followed him.

Moses was lucky, though. He was given a lot of very clear, very specific directions. Spend a little time perusing “The Book Exodus, and you’ll see what I mean. Moses was given the floor plans, the building specs, the costume and set designs, and a lot of cubits to keep track of. He was also given sign after sign to show the people that he truly was called by God to be their leader. He answered that call from God with “here I am.” And the rest is history.

Many of the call stories that we have from the Hebrew Bible are like this – we hear tell of a conversation with God, or an angel’s pronouncement that “you – yes you – are being called – being sent to do God’s work.” And we oft times learn of those persons’ initial reaction: fear (Fear not!), incredulity (this can’t really be happening, can it?), reluctance (not me Lord, you must have meant someone else), and ultimately acceptance (Here I am).

For me the story of Jonah often comes to mind – he was one of those who required a little more convincing than most that it was really him that God was looking towards to do some work! And I’d say that DESPITE the fact that he ended up in the belly of a very large fish in order to get him started on his path to ministry, Jonah did what he was called to do, and did it well. “Here I am Lord, covered in whale spit; I hope they listen to me - now that I’m here…” And of course, they did.

(At this point I shared a bit of my own story, speaking to the fact that as I arrived at seminary I felt a lot like Jonah in the belly of the whale. I was surrounded by barriers that I wasn’t ready to let go of, keeping me from truly arriving in the new community. It took time and patience with myself and with God before I was willing to step out of that whale that had gotten me to seminary, and to walk on my own two feet on solid ground, allowing myself to truly arrive, and really do what I was there to do.)


In our readings from Matthew these past several weeks we’ve had the chance to get to know Simon Peter, one who answered Jesus’ call to follow, to be a companion, to be a disciple.


In Peter, unlike Moses or Jonah, we see a more intimate picture of the combination of great faith, and of human frailty. It was Peter who stepped out on the water and attempted to greet the Lord – but fear overcame him, and he began to sink. And Peter, along with the other disciples who knew their resources were limited, was amazed to carry baskets of leftovers when Jesus fed the masses. It was Peter, whose proclamation of Jesus as Messiah, leading Jesus to proclaim that Peter would be the rock on which his church was to be built. And today we hear the story of Peter rebuking Jesus, and Peter, that “rock,” is called a stumbling block, for his response to hearing the hard words of Jesus’ impending trials. And for those of you who know the story well, you will remember that it is Peter who, on the night of Jesus trial denies knowing him, denies the one in whom he had so much faith.

Peter’s story is an important one, because it is a story of call, but also the struggle to follow that call. It is a story of great faith, and speaks the truth that great faith can sometimes falter. Peter was a good disciple – he was present, he was willing, he was constantly learning, and he didn’t always get it right, or live up to the kind of disciple he wanted to be. But he knew he was called, and he did all that was in his power to follow that call. After each challenge, each disappointment, each doubt, Peter persevered in his call to follow Jesus. He took up his cross and followed him.

We too are called. We too are a generation of Christ followers who gather here to hear the stories of our ancestors passed down to us, so that we might be led and hear our own call to follow.

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

Follow me. (Here I am.)

Moses had directions. Jonah had a whale. (I had a discernment committee.) Peter had Jesus. And we have the cloud of witnesses, a community of faith that has passed on these stories of call through centuries. We have many examples to learn from, and we have our own call to listen for. There is much work to be done here – and in this time of extremely fast communication and opportunity, there is great possibility of God’s good work being accomplished.

When have you, like Moses, said, "I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up."

When have you, like Jonah heard a call and tried to refuse it’s powerful effects on your life, only to learn that you really weren’t as in control of your destiny as you thought.

And when have you, like Peter, realized that you’ve made mistakes along the way – that you’ve tried to be faithful, but your own fear, your own frailty, your own need has separated you from the will of God?

To be a follower of Christ is not always easy – because it means sacrifice. It means being willing to give something up, in order to allow something new to take place. Take up your cross does mean being willing to die to something – but the promise of being a Christ follower is that where there is death, there is also resurrection. Where there is sacrifice a new thing will be given in return.

Listen for the call. Listen for the invitation to let go of things that keep you from following in the footsteps of the cloud of witnesses that have gone before you. And have faith that all that you need, and all that you are being called to be and to do will reward you in ways you never imagined. Here we are. Amen.

Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson

Sunday, August 31, 2008, The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC.

I have a gospel to proclaim...

The Lessons Appointed for Saint Mary Magdalene

Judith 9:1,11-14
Psalm 42:1-72
Corinthians 5:14-18
John 20:11-18

It was unfinished.
We stayed there, fixed until the end,
women waiting for the body that we loved;
and then it was unfinished.
There was no time to cherish, cleanse, anoint;
no time to handle him with love,
no farewell.
Since then my hands have waited,
aching to touch even his deadness,
smoothe oil into bruises that no longer hurt,
offer his silent flesh my finished act of love.

The opening lines of this poem, titled, “They have taken away my Lord” by Janet Morley*, draws the reader immediately into the mourning and ritual that Mary of Magdala and her companions were jolted from early on the day they went to visit Jesus’ body in the tomb. This morning we remember Mary Magdalene whose saint day is July 22. In preparation for a baptism this morning, and in events throughout the week I have found Mary to be a worthy companion in the work of saying good-bye – and preaching a gospel of hope and resurrection in the face of death.

Facing the loss of a loved one is one of the burdens that we all have to bear at one time or another. In our physical, bodily nature we are not invincible – addiction, accident, suicide, violence, disease – our bodies are susceptible to failure, and finitude. And with the inevitability of our own death – we must face it each time we witness the loss of another. The ritual of saying good-bye is an important part of that. For Mary, as voiced by the poet, the momentary grief at the thought that this final act of love might have to go “unfinished” - was too much to bear.

Her assumption of course, was that some person had done this – some person had played a terrible prank, had taken a jeering attitude too far. Someone had stolen the body that she had come to anoint, and bid farewell to and this is cause to weep. And in the Gospel there are others there who heard her weeping, who heard her despair. The words were spoken to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?”

In the words of the poet, she replies,

“They have taken away my Lord – where is his corpse?
Where is the body that is mine to greet?
He is not gone
I am not ready yet, I am not finished—
I cannot let him go
I am not whole.”

“I am not ready yet.” These are words that many of us can relate to when the time to say good-bye is upon us. Even when given the opportunity to prepare for death, even if we are in agreement that the fight is too much to bear anymore, even after an unexpected loss, where things seemed to have happened in a certain way for some cosmic reason – the human experience of having to say good-bye to those who have left us behind leaves in its wake sadness, mourning, loss. All that could have been, all that should have been, grieving those future events that will not be shared, realized awareness that what once was normal, will never be the same again. These realities we must face sooner or later, for they do not disappear – whether we are ready or not – we must let go, and we must persevere in the belief that wholeness is still there for us to seek.

The life and witness of Mary Magdalene at Jesus’ tomb that day is one of the reasons we believe in that wholeness – in its possibility, in its promise. Death is in fact the entry point into our life in Christ – as described in the words of our baptismal prayer: [Words that we will hear again as we participate in the baptism of Reagan Leigh, one of our newest members of the parish.]

“We thank you, Father, for the water of Baptism. In it we are buried with Christ in his death. By it we share in his resurrection. Through it we are reborn by the Holy Spirit.” From the Book of Common Prayer pg. 306

But Mary was not there the face the joy of resurrection – she was not there in anticipation of being greeted or recognized, or spoken to by the man she followed, the healer who had relieved her of the burdens she bore in life before he came along. No, she came to say goodbye – and as the story goes, her good-bye was interrupted by an unexpected greeting.

I have been a witness to the unexpected too. I met a man this week who is facing a terminal disease and who came to discuss his own memorial service – one that will likely take place in the next year. He is preparing himself and his family for a death that he knows will come – and to meet the need to say good-bye for those he will leave behind. In times like this I am thankful for gift of community – of baptism and of the hope of the resurrection. Again from our prayer book are these words:

“The liturgy for the dead is an Easter liturgy. It finds all its meaning in the resurrection. Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we, too, shall be raised.

The liturgy, therefore, is characterized by joy, in the certainty that “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

This joy, however, does not make human grief unchristian. The very love we have for each other in Christ brings deep sorrow when we are parted by death. Jesus himself wept at the grave of his friend. So, while we rejoice that one we love has entered into the nearer presence of our Lord, we sorrow in sympathy with those who mourn.”
From the Book of Common Prayer pg. 507

Saying good-bye, is a holy act – and it is one that, for the closest mourner does not take place in one day – it takes place over time, in the daily awareness of what is now missing. But the promise of the resurrection, the hope that we bear as a community that joins in Christ’s story through our baptism, and through our life together, is in our perseverance of that wholeness – our belief that even in saying good-bye – we have not lost the love that was present in relationship those we no longer see.

I have one last story that took me by surprise this week, and reflects the joy and wholeness that saying good-bye brings. If you listen to the National Public Radio station you may have heard some of your favorite newscasters and hosts giving tributes to a man you would otherwise never have known or heard of. Gary Smith was a doorman in a building that houses NPR. He had a way of greeting each person as they came and went – a greeting that let each person know that he saw them, that he cared – even if just for that instant, that they were passing by.

Why do I know this? Why did I hear of this person? Because in the wake of his death, the truth that his presence affected more lives than one might ever have expected was expressed again and again, by different hosts and members of the NPR staff. And the resounding story that was told of this man – was in many ways a tribute to a love he had for all people.

Hmm. A simple man, touching the lives of many through his love and compassion, and inspiring others to carry on his message, to carry on the love he embodied in his everyday living. Seems a familiar story. It brings me back to the close of the poem I began with – as Mary who came to say good-bye, and is faced with another opportunity to grasp on to the one she loved – instead she is told – do not hold onto me – go and tell the others. And so, like “Mary, I, have a gospel to proclaim.” Amen.

Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, July 20, 2008, The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC.

*They have taken away my Lord
by Janet Morely

It was unfinished.
We stayed there, fixed until the end,
women waiting for the body that we loved;
and then it was unfinished.
There was no time to cherish, cleans, anoint;
no time to handle him with love,
no farewell.
Since then my hands have waited,
aching to touch even his deadness,
smoothe oil into bruises that no longer hurt,
offer his silent flesh my finished act of love.
I came early, as the darkness lifted,
to find the grave ripped open and his body gone;
container of my grief smashed, looted,
leaving my hands still empty.
I turned on the man who came:
“They have taken away my Lord – where is his corpse?
Where is the body that is mine to greet?
He is not gone
I am not ready yet, I am not finished—
I cannot let him go
I am not whole.”
And he spoke, no corpse,
and breathed, and offered me my name.
My hands rushed to grasp him;
to hold and hug and grip his body close;
to give myself again, to cling to him,
and lose my self in love.
“Don’t touch me now.”
I stopped, and waited, my rejected passion
hovering between us like some dying thing.
I, Mary, stood and grieved and then departed.
I have a gospel to proclaim.

7th Sunday After Easter, RCL

Acts 1:6-14
Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36
1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11
John 17:1-11

Why I am a Christian Part II – I am a person of prayer.

Perhaps you can tell from my sermons, or my articles in The Acorn, but if you haven’t figured it out, I am a writer. I feel the most clear, and the most freedom to express myself, my thoughts and feelings with a pen in my hand and a notebook in my lap.

Clearing out a bookshelf in my bedroom this week I put together an entire box of journals and notebooks. I started this habit of carrying thoughts, ideas, song lyrics, definitions, poems in a notebook the summer I turned 14. I probably got the idea from the book Harriet the Spy – where the main character’s goal was to write down everything that she observed in the whole world – though as a 10 year old, she mostly focused on her unusual neighbors. There was always something comforting to me about having my pen and paper – ready to capture my real life moments.

I guess that’s probably where I discovered the practice of writing my prayers –I liked the idea the time capsule of a moment – and sharing that self with is older wiser, later me. but I’ll say more about that in a minute.

I would journal too, sporadically at times, chronicling the events of boys I was interested in, trips I had gone on, or experiences I had been through. And that practice, of looking back in reflection, sometimes elicited new ideas and understandings of a situation. Certainly looking at these old journals now, it is a wonder to read and know both my intimate and obvious thoughts based on statements and recorded actions.

One thing I have learned as I have read through these old entries is that I have always had a strong sense of self, and though I have learned and grown and matured, I have almost always been authentically me. My thoughts, ideas, actions – fairly straightforward, and clear – though not always outward or public – I have been known to be pretty introverted at times – shocking I know – but true.

I think this is why I have kept so many written papers and assignments from as far back as Jr. High school – because to read my own words – I am reminded that I am who I am and somehow I have always known that.

Perhaps that is how I came to be a writer of my most intimate prayers. Littered throughout notebooks, journals, scratch paper, things floating around in the midst of my memorabilia are letters that start, “Dear God.”

Some are more simple than others: just lists of names – of loved ones and lost ones. Some are poetic words, prepared for a toast or blessing for a friend. Some are copies or drafts of letters written to dear friends – for a graduation, for their wedding, at the birth of a child, the loss of a grandparent…

The art of writing a prayer is not in the high caliber of language used, “thee’s & thou’s,” “shalts” and “shalt nots”… but in the connection of deep resonance with what is being offered. Here is the part of my heart, my sprit, my depths that is calling out to you God – in joy, in grief, in thanksgiving, in sorrow, in praise, in confession, in hope, in love, in my most authentic voice.

Dear God, I am here. Let my words, actions, deeds, deepest love and deepest disappointments be in line with your will, your call in my life.

My letters, my prayers to God – they are my authentic offering to God – and that is how I know they are holy, and they are heard.

In today’s Gospel, we hear the voice of Jesus – praying. We hear the fourth evangelist John speaks in the first person voice of Jesus in his prayer for his disciples and his followers – Jesus’ prayer for us.

The author of John was a writer as well and one whose voice is complex and sometimes difficult to comprehend – on a first hearing, rather than studied. I wanted to hear Jesus voice as I waded through the Gospel today, so I did what I know how to do in my prayers and in my way. I listened to John, and I wrote Jesus’ prayer as a letter to God. This is what I heard.

Dear God,

My time is up.

I’ve done what I came here to do – to share the promise of eternal life with your people. And eternal life, God, is the gift of knowing you and me.

I finished the work you sent me here to do – and glorified your name.

I have given them the words you gave me.

They know you because they know me.

And they believe what is true – that I cam from you.

You have entrusted them to me – and I have been glorified in them.

Now that I am coming to you, you who gave me to them, and them to me,

I ask that your protection be upon them

So that they may be one, as we are one.

Jesus prayed. In each gospel we have very different voices that give us an experience of our teacher’s words, wisdom and prayers. Jesus didn’t write down his own words – and so the authenticity of voice is not the same when written by the author of John, or by me… but the message is the same.

Jesus came into this world, not to condemn it, but to save sinners. And in our deepest, most authentic voices, we are called to pray just as Jesus did. Our prayers, when they come from our depths, when they are spoken, or breathed, or sung, or kept hidden – even from our selves, they belong to God, just as we belong to God. Jesus was entrusted to us, just as we who follow him were entrusted with his message of truth – of life beyond this world, and to live a life of thanksgiving – trusting in the truth that our brothers and sisters the disciples received, and that truth which has been passed on to us through experiences of community and relationships. God is in our midst. God hears and answers our prayers.

When I write my prayers – they come from the very deepest part of myself – parts that I sometimes don’t want to see, don’t want to look at, don’t want to read. But I write them because I must, because not only are they mine, they are also God’s. And I trust that that is the place where I can truly give them over to God. How do you pray? When and where do you pray? And is it your deepest most authentic voice that calls out to God in your prayers? May our prayers as a people, as individuals and as a community, be spoken in our most authentic voice – giving to God what is God’s, and being God’s people in this world – so that we may be one, as the Lord our God and Christ Jesus our Saviour, and the Holy Spirit, are one. Amen.

Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson

Sunday, May 4, 2008, The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC.

New Beginnings: Middle School Spring Retreat

Prayer: a talk for youth grades 6-8
Delivered Sunday, April 27, 2008, Gravatt Camp and Conference Center

Our Father, who are in heaven…

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…

Dear God,

Now I lay me down to sleep…

(singing) Oh God, you are my God, and I will ever praise you…

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…

Sound familiar?

Prayer is an important part of our life and practice as individual Christians, and as Christians in community. But what is it? What is the purpose? What does it do?

Our prayer book describes prayer as “responding to God, by thought and by deeds, with or without words.”

What? I though the only way to pray was on my knees on Sunday morning hands together, eyes closed, memorized or otherwise…

Prayer makes itself present in many ways and in many places in our lives.

Some of you have memorized morning and bedtime prayers that you say each night before bed. Some of you pray on Sunday mornings with your congregation. Some of you might pray when you are doing other things like running, or knitting, singing playing an instrument, or a favorite sport, or working on a piece of art…there are many, many ways to pray.

What makes something prayerful, according to the definition that I said just a moment ago – is that it is about intentional – intended communication with God.

That can mean – starting an initial gathering with a prayer – to name to fact that God is present with us and we as a community wish to offer the joy and the learning that comes from being together to the creator who allowed us to gather.

It can mean taking time to be quiet, especially in times of high stress, or grief, or uncertainty – to be quiet and to listen for God, to give a little of yourself – your time, your attention to allow God to speak to you – your life your questions – your concerns.

It can mean flipping through the prayer book, or another resource and reading prayers in your head or aloud.

It can mean taking a pen and paper and writing a letter or journal entry in conversation with God.

Anytime that you take a moment to remember and recognize God’s presence in your world – in your life – in your gathering of friends and family – you are praying. Think about that the next time we sing the Johnny Appleseed song for a meal at grace – am I doing this for my own benefit, or am I doing this to honor God in thanksgiving for his presence at this meal and the food from creation that will nourish me today?

There specific types of prayer – and if you know the one that is most common to us, the one Jesus taught us to pray – the Lord’s Prayer – then you’ve got a great guide book to remembering the kinds of prayers that can be offered.

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name… God – you are amazing, and your name is worthy of praise – of being honored above all names – because you are the creator God – source of light and life. Way to go! Good job! - that is called praise – giving God the thumbs up. (praise)

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven… God, you created us and you want us to live in the way that is best for us – help us to let your will for our lives and our relationships be the one that we follow – and not just our own – because following our own will gets us in trouble sometimes. Help us Lord to follow your will. This is a prayer of oblation – making our purpose to be in line with God’s. (oblation)

Give us this day our daily bread… God – we have needs – we need to be nourished, we need shelter and to be cared for – we thank you for providing us with those needs and ask that you help us remember the needs of others – after all – some of us have more than we need, and others don’t have as much as we do…help us to only take and use what we need, and help us to remember to share with others when we realize that they don’t have all they need. (thanksgiving)

And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us… God, sometimes we mess up – BIG TIME – be with us in the times when we make mistakes – when we let our desires get in the way of how you would have a be in the world – how you would have us care for one another. When our actions hurt someone we love, or someone we find very difficult to love – help us to make amends – and help us to do it better next time.

And God, when someone hurts us, when someone hurts a friend, when someone hurts you, help us to find a way to forgive them too. It’s hard lord – especially – when they don’t even know how much we are hurting, or we feel powerless to stop them from hurting us and others again – give us patience, and the strength to face them and to forgive them for the mistakes they are making – because we know that we too have made mistakes, and we too will make them again. (Confession/reconciliation/forgiveness)

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

God, sometimes I have the chance to do something that I know you would not like. Sometimes my friends pressure me to do the things and sometimes I catch myself pressuring friends to do these things. Help me to make good choices, to walk a path that keeps me safe from hurting other people and from being hurt by others. (intercession/petition)

For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, forever and ever, Amen.

God, sometimes I am amazed at how great you are – that you aer with me in all things, in all times and in all places. Help me to always remember that you are here for me and that I can share that love with others who do not know you, or how present you are in all things. (adoration)

The Lord’s Prayer, the pray that Jesus taught us, reminds us to be thankful, to seek forgiveness, to forgive others, to praise god, to adore Gods’ greatness and to form our own lives according to God’s will.

There are many ways to pray – you may have been a person of prayer in many ways all along without even realizing it. When you think of a friend in need and then reach out to them, offer their name to god. When you are hurting or sad, ask for God’s presence – remember God is there with you, always. All you have to do to pray is remember that and respond to god’s presence in your thoughts, words or deeds.

Amen.

I am the way and the truth and the life...

5 Easter, Year A, RCL

Acts 7:55-60
Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16
1 Peter 2:2-10
John 14:1-14

I am the way and the truth and the life.

Anytime I hear a passage from the Gospel of John I am amazed at how this evangelist is able to pack a theological punch in just a few short verses. In this mornings passage alone – line after line of scripture challenges, the hearer to reflect on what it means to be a follower of Jesus – what it means to be a Christian.

Have you been with me all this time and still you do not know me?

In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.

If you know me, you know my Father also.

I am the way and the truth and the life.

My reflections on this passage led me to the realization that though I have been serving the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour for almost two years now – I have preached the gospel, celebrated the Eucharist, baptized children, and walked among you as a person of faith, a person of prayer, a follower of Jesus; but I don’t believe that I have told my story – the story of why I am a Christian.

Like many of you, I was raised in a church-going home – my family is Episcopalian and I attended several different Episcopal Churches through my childhood and high school years. I was trained and well practiced in the ways of Episc-aerobics – stand up to pray, kneel to pray, stand to sing, sit down in between, pick up the hymnal, pick up the prayer book, hands up, hands across the chest, hands together, etc. etc. etc.

Now, I’ll admit, my earliest memories of church as a child were of very, very cold air conditioning – (remember I lived in Arkansas until I was nine,) short sleeved dresses, and leaning into the warmth of my mother’s body. I also remember singing hymns – even before I could read – but thanks to the organ, always feeling the pitch in the center of my chest.

As a child I was formed to be an Episcopalian – so much so that when I visited other churches where communion was not the norm, and remaining seated – even during prayer, and the Gospel – things just didn’t feel right. I wasn’t sure I had “done church” not having received communion.

From the beginning being in church was a full body experience, and one that made sense – that fit me quite well. Much of my earliest formation was about being a part of a community, and its practices, so that I felt I had a place there; I knew how to act and respond to the cues of the liturgy. It had little to do with actual faith in God, or understanding who Jesus was – though I’m certain that I heard countless sermons and Sunday school lessons about Jesus – mostly I just knew I belonged there.

Have you been with me all this time and still you do not know me?

When I was nine years old my family moved from the home I had always known in Arkansas to a suburb of the twin cities in Minnesota. For both of my parents the move was right for their careers, education and a return to the upper Midwest where both of them were born and raised and where both sets of my grandparents were within an easily drivable distance from our new home. My older brother struggled more than any of us with the move – particularly as a Jr. High school student, dealing with adolescence and a new community, making new friends, trying to understand his place and way of being in an unfamiliar culture, and climate. We had a new Episcopal Church – and the worship experience and practices were enough the same that we knew what to do, how to act, how to function in that place. At least that experience was stable; there we knew how to be.

In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.

By the time I entered Jr. High school my brother had been in a downward spiral for several years – drugs, alcohol, you name it, my brother was into it. I lived in a house that was rarely peaceful, or happy. My parents worked, my brother partied, and I took long rides on my bike when the weather permitted my escape.

As with any child growing up – what I knew was normal – it was far from perfect, but it was my house, my family, and my situation to live with until something or someone changed.

My best defense-mechanism was invisibility – I would just disappear, and let the rest of them battle it out – it rarely had anything to do with me anyway.

I assumed that I was invisible to everyone… I assumed that no one could see or hear all that was taking place in my house – the struggle my parents had to care for and discipline their rebellious child – the difficulty of keeping up appearances, even when things seemed to be at their worst, and the fear of what it might mean to let a child fall hard enough that they might take responsibility for their own self, their own actions.

Meanwhile – I kept myself together reading books and being an escape artist. Until one day, someone invited me out to lunch. It was the youth minister at my church – someone who I knew through acolyting and some youth events that I had attended. It was summer time and we met up at a little restaurant in downtown.

Lord we do not know where you are going, how can we know the way?

I thought we were just going for lunch. I thought we were just saying hello over the summer. I thought nothing much of it at all – until she asked me how I was doing… until she let me know that she could see me, and could see that things were not so great at home. I thought I was fine – but I wasn’t.

If you know me, you know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.

The day that I was saved, the day that I met Jesus, was the day that I realized I could be seen – and not only was I seen – and made real, special, important on that day – but I was seen for the simple fact I was a child of God.

And on that day a follower of Jesus, one who knew God’s love deeper than anyone else I knew at the time, did one very simple thing. She had faith in the Jesus’ words, “I am the way and the truth and the life.” Responding to those words on that day for her meant doing the work that Jesus would have done – reaching out to the lonely, the hurting, the vulnerable.

I don’t think we spoke a word about Jesus that day – except perhaps when we gave thanks for the meal that was before us. But as I have reflected over the years on how and why I follow Jesus – why I can stand here and uphold Jesus’ words, “I am the way and the truth and the life” it relates back to that day – that moment in my life when I met Jesus at the supper table.

I am the way and the truth and the life.

On that day, through a deep connection with another human being, I was seen by and I saw Christ. I understood the words, “I am the way” because it was exemplified to me in the words and actions of one who reached out to me in my greatest need. As members of a Christian community, we are called to bear that story not only on our lips but in our lives. As followers of Jesus, we are called to care for one another and for those in need by being Christ for others, by being companions, and sometimes vessels on the way.

In theological terms we can discuss this passage by reflecting on it’s placement in the Gospel of John – conversation the Jesus had with his disciples at the last supper – described as the farewell discourse. Jesus’ laying the groundwork for our Trinitarian understanding of God as he describes the mutual indwelling of God in Christ, and Christ in God, followed by the next verses that describe third party of the trinity with the impending arrival of the Holy Spirit…

But in reality – in day to day language – in relationship with one another… the words, I am the way and the truth and the life – these words are alive in my life because someone who had faith in their strength, and meaning lived up to them. At my greatest moment of need – one spoke the truth, one valued my life and one invited me to join them on the way as a fellow member of the family of Christ, a community that was there for me outside of my small and struggling family system. On that day I claimed the birthright that I received at my baptism and began to own the teachings and the ways of a life of Christian faith and practice. My preparation as a church-goer was complete. My life as a faithful participant in the Christian community had just begun.

When the Christian Community is at its best – it has faith in and reflects these things in its words and deeds. When we as Christians are at our best – we know ourselves well-enough to know why we are here, why we do what we do, and as a result we are motivated to share that part of ourselves with others – through our words, through our actions, through our lives as they are lived out in the world.

Today I shared with you a portion of my faith story. This week as members of our congregation take the final steps to affirm their commitment to be active members of the Christian community through confirmation in the Episcopal Church, let us each reflect on why we are here, why we are called to follow Jesus, and are committed and practicing Christians – when did you find yourself on “the way” and where is it calling you to go? Who is it calling you to be, how are you articulating and sharing the parts of your story that allow you to have faith in the words of Jesus, “I am the way and the truth and the life.”

Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson

April 20, 2008, The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC