Delivered by The Rev. Mary Cat Young
November 8, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
Psalm 127
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44
Before I begin, let me share with you a quick story about how this little item came into my possession. During my seminary days I lived right next to Harvard Square in Cambridge, Massachusetts. One night, while on a walk with a friend we were standing on a street corner talking about NPR’s show Car Talk (Cah Tawlk). A man overheard us and mentioned that the studio they broadcast from was across the hall from his business, along with the law offices of “Dewey, Cheatem and Howe.” My companion and I laughed and accepted his invitation to come up and see the doors to the studio.
As we walked up the stairs he asked us about ourselves. When he heard that I was a seminarian he said, “I’d like to give you something.” The man shared with us that he was Jewish and his business was dealing in rare coins and collectibles. He gave me this little square coin holder which holds a “Widow’s Mite,” a small copper coin dated from the time of Herodias Antipas, and thus the kind of coin like the one’s spoken of in our Gospel story this morning. He wanted me to have it, and though I tried to refuse, his gift of kindness to me was of greater value him than the coin itself. It was a friendly gesture – and one that cost him very little, but showed his genuine desire for the coin to serve a purpose of goodness in my future work. And that is how this widow’s mite came into my possession.
To see it, is to see what nothing looks like. The insignificance of a coin such as the one the widow gave is obvious when you have it in your hand. Less than a penny was the value, and yet to a woman of her time and place, a woman who had no regular means of income, no one’s protection, no one to fend for her in the world, this little nothing was literally everything.
The faith she invested in this coin, and the way that she used it is commendable. She knew that giving to the temple was a means of participating in the relationship she had with God – participating in the ritual, not only with her prayers, but with what little she had in her pockets.
The tragedy here is that as Jesus watched her do this, he lamented that her giving was to a corrupt house that would not return the care to her that she so desperately needed. He saw the giving of her heart, and yet wept at the injustice that she would not properly be cared for in the way she deserved. Jesus pointed to a flawed system that allowed its most vulnerable member give all that she had in the name of God. He knew that she would not reap the benefits of the care that she deserved after literally giving her life away with a contribution that was worth practically nothing. But it was hers to give, and she gave it willingly.
The converse image is shown to us as well; that of the boasting, flashy, prideful giver – a leader in the synagogue, well dressed, well statured, and making it well known that their giving was worthy of notice. And yet, despite the monetary value of the giving of the rich, that which is given out of arrogance is less valuable than the gift of the widow’s mite.
When considering what we have to offer, what we can afford to give, and who we should share our resources and financial gifts with, the question: “How much is enough?” is often posed. We live in tough economic times. Pensions that were invested in the stock-market have been reduced. Job security is questionable on a day-to-day basis in some fields. College educations are to be funded, mortgage payments to be kept up, and health expenses to be paid or prepared for. Everyone is at risk. Everyone is vulnerable. And despite the fine clothing, and the privilege of climate-controlled home environments, we all feel as though we have more in common with the widow than the scribe described in the story. “Enough” is a question that comes out of a place of scarcity, a place of fear. What is the acceptable offering? What can I do to fulfill my obligation and be done with it?
“Enough” does not encompass the abundant gift of giving with love. Truly, the greatest difference between the widow and scribe is the fact that what she gave was not only a monetary gift, but one of faith, a gift of the heart. Her own well-being, her own necessity for simple things were not at stake – because for her, she was giving her love.
The same was true of the man who gave me the gift of the widow’s mite. Surely some monetary value is attached to this tiny little piece of nothing, certainly more now than when it was currency in its own time and place. But the value of sharing a conversation with others on a lonely night, the value of knowing that this would be put to use by someone to whom it did matter, the value of doing a Mitzvah, or a simple act of human kindness was worth more to this man in the simple act of giving it away than any cash value he might receive upon achieving a bill of sale.
As you open yourself to the season of discernment that is inevitable at this time in the church year – the time of contemplating how your gifts, how your time, how your talent might be given to participate in the needs of others, the needs of this community and the needs of the world, I remind you of the importance of allowing your heart to enter the process. What and how you give of yourself does not rely on the question of “how much is enough.” Because when your heart is in it, the abundance and generosity of the spirit within you allows you to do amazing things.
Certainly there are the real life, hard numbers that need to happen in terms of the upkeep and maintenance of the building where we gather – but our life together, our community of care for one another, the sense of commitment to one another that makes us want to give a helping hand in the garden, to volunteer with the youth activities, to host a family of promise dinner, to be in conversation through Sunday school classes, and to face the needs of the poor who are not only just outside our doors, but in our Garth, and in our parish hall, and in the presence of our community, these are the ways that this building calls our hearts and hands and our financial resources in to action – into the business of building the kingdom of God right here, and right now. These things are priceless.
Just as Christ’s giving of himself for us, even to the point of death on the cross… his gift for the world was of a value that meant nothing to him – he was God – he could die a thousand times and it would not mean anything because of the power he possessed to overcome death. And yet, the gift that it was for us, the gift of the promise of eternal life, the gift of redemption from our sins, that no matter who we are or how we struggle with this life, there is a love and forgiveness and resurrection that belongs to us through Jesus Christ, that gift to us is priceless. How much is enough? Is this the community where you choose to invest yourself, where you invest your children and families, where you give your heart away to those who, without you would not be cared for? If you give your whole heart, then you’ve just begun. For “where your heart is, there will your treasure be also.” (Matthew 6:21 author paraphrase) Amen.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Proper 23, Year B, RCL
Amos 5:6-7, 10-15
Psalm 90:12-17
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31
The Bible is a funny thing. Though we receive it in our contemporary context as one volume that can easily be accessed, carried around, handled like any other book, we often overlook the fact that rather than it being one book, it is a library of texts. A collection of over 70 history books, letters, gospels, wisdom sayings, songs, poems, law references and stories written by as many or more authors, not to mention editors, redactors, translators, and the number of hands that adjusted, corrected and enhanced the words delivered to us, collected and formatted into one cozy little volume.
In other words, the writings that we listen to, the words we remind ourselves of, the saying and stories that we hear when we gather as a community to learn together, have come a long way to get into our hands, and to be heard by our ears.
William Tyndale, a determined protestant reformer and minister of the 16th Century made it the focus of his life to ensure that English speaking Christians gained access to the privilege of hearing scripture spoken in their language. His work to directly translate the Old and New Testaments from their Hebrew and Greek written forms were directly opposed by authorities of Roman Catholicism and the Royal Court. His commitment to this cause allowed him to be responsible for writing almost 90% of the King James Version of the Bible. Tyndale is attributed with coining the phrases: “let there be light,” “my brother’s keeper,” “salt of the earth,” and “fight the good fight” to name a few. This week we remembered William Tyndale on October 6, the anniversary of his death nearly 500 years ago.
There is no record of why Tyndale was so committed to translating scripture – but it is clear from his life’s story that he would not rest, and did not allow the danger of this business to keep him from accomplishing this task, even though it cost him his life. Perhaps he was a poetic writer and enjoyed the challenge. Perhaps he was a lover of the church and of the Word, and recognized the challenge and the promise that lay within the texts he devoted his life to. Perhaps he simply believed that the message found in scripture again and again that the law of love is truly the greatest commandment should be spoken to men and women on the street in their own language, so that those who needed to hear that message most could do so and understand immediately.
Regardless of his motivations, William Tyndale’s work grants us access to the wisdom and the challenge that lies in our scripture readings each week. And it is our duty as faithful bearers of this library to take on the challenging task of wrestling with scripture – in our own lives and in our life as a community.
In seminary I had the opportunity to take a scripture course titled: Texts of Terror, named for a book of the same title that explores some of the hardest passages of the Bible. Stories of misogyny, of unjustifiable violence, of wrathful vengeance, and of Biblical teachings that may be difficult to consider, all that exist within the canon of the texts we hold sacred. So sacred in fact, that at the ordination of deacons, priests and the consecration of bishops, ordinands not only vow to devote themselves to the study of scripture, but also sign a commitment that states that we believe all things necessary for salvation are contained in holy scripture. When it came time for me to preach in that class, today’s Gospel was my chosen “text of terror.”
As a person who has benefitted from privileges being a middle class Caucasian raised in the Western world, I have had good reason to fear and disparage at the hearing of this text. After all, like the rich man, I have followed the commandments, I have committed myself to a faith life and practice that is devoted to proclaiming Jesus as my savior, and I too, have many possessions. Isn’t my faith enough? Isn’t my desire to follow enough? Isn’t it my right that I should enjoy the earnings that I have worked hard for, that I have given time and talent to produce, and thus collect my rightful compensation, and enjoy life in the here and now? Does the question sound familiar?
And yet here we have a Gospel text that says, not so fast.
You may lead a life that is good and righteous. You may not waste your sins on murder and slander. But if your own piety is solely devoted to the perfection of your own soul, if your desire to fulfill your own need to be faultless allows you ignore the obvious needs of those around you, then you have missed the point completely.
The rich man seeks to possess something he cannot buy – eternal life. Jesus looks with compassion upon the rich man. But he also speaks a hard truth to him. Those commandments that you live by, you do with ease. For you are in a position that allows you rise above those challenges. Your wealth allows a freedom and a privilege in the way you live your life that is only known to a small fraction of the community in which you live. And yet, that wealth is not a means of grace. It is not a means of receiving the immeasurable gift of the assurance of God’s love for you for all time. In fact, if that material wealth is what provides your only sense of self-value and your only means of judging your position in the world, then it will actually hinder you from the ability to receive the grace of God. If you wish to follow me, if you wish to uphold my teaching, then you should not allow yourself to be bound by your belongings. To be possessed by your possessions. Let them go, and let yourself understand what it is to live like those who live only by the grace of God and by the kindness of their community. When you are ready to do this, you will be in a position to understand and receive eternal life.
The rich man was discouraged by this, and rightfully so. After all, sacrifice is not about giving offerings that mean nothing to you. There is no challenge in that. The challenge for the wealthy is the opportunity to let go of some privilege, some of the freedom that wealth provides, so that others might benefit from it – those who would have no way of experiencing certain freedoms, like the living without fear of the next medical bill that will arrive in the mail, or the inability to cover the cost to educate your child so that they might have opportunities that you did not. I wonder if the rich young man was being challenged to experience the world in a new way, so that he might gain a deeper understanding of the capacity of kindness he could offer his community as a result of his position of wealth.
I wonder if he didn’t leave Jesus’ side and consider how he might change the way he used his riches in the world around him. I wonder if he allowed Jesus’ words to enter in – or if it was similar to the difficulty of allowing a camel through the eye of a needle.
It’s a funny thing scripture, there is not just one mention of a rich young man. There are other stories in the old and new testament of rich men using their wealth unjustly – to seek power over others, to allow their privilege to supersede that of poor men under their care – to take unfair advantage of the position of power that their wealth granted them in the here and now. And there are wisdom sayings and psalms, warning the rich man to make right choices with their treasure, for despite their power and privilege today, they will perish and those riches will not travel with them. This is not a new message, but it is a challenge that scripture poses to us today.
In our contemporary context, most of us live in relative comfort, some more than others, but generally speaking, we live with the security of income, comfortable housing, and access to discretionary spending – that is, income that does not go to providing food, shelter and basic necessities. How we, as wielders of discretionary spending choose to use our wealth – where we choose to live and the lifestyle we choose to pursue all play into this challenge posed by Jesus.
How will you allow these words of scripture, this challenging story of Jesus and the rich young man to enter in as you consider the wealth, and its power and privilege that is at your fingertips? Does this story pose itself as a text of terror for you? Do you find yourself wondering how a camel makes its way through the eye of a needle?
As we give thanks for the access that we have for scripture in our lives, we must also take up the challenges it poses. We must also accept the responsibility that we have received as hearers of the word – as ones who wish to follow, but must do so with the burden of wealth and privilege that our contemporary society provides.
When last I preached on this text I was weighed down by many possessions. Things that surrounded me, but had little purpose, nor provided insight into the life I was being called to lead. Many things have changed for me, and though many of those possessions are gone, there are new ones that have found their way into my life and my home. With each return to this piece of scripture I must take up for myself the question that Jesus has for the rich young man. Upon hearing it today, I am reminded that Jesus loved the man, and then challenged him again. I call on you to know that Jesus loves you, and challenges you to consider these things today as well.
For Jesus said,
"Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age--houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions--and in the age to come eternal life…” Amen.
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Young
October 11, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Psalm 90:12-17
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31
The Bible is a funny thing. Though we receive it in our contemporary context as one volume that can easily be accessed, carried around, handled like any other book, we often overlook the fact that rather than it being one book, it is a library of texts. A collection of over 70 history books, letters, gospels, wisdom sayings, songs, poems, law references and stories written by as many or more authors, not to mention editors, redactors, translators, and the number of hands that adjusted, corrected and enhanced the words delivered to us, collected and formatted into one cozy little volume.
In other words, the writings that we listen to, the words we remind ourselves of, the saying and stories that we hear when we gather as a community to learn together, have come a long way to get into our hands, and to be heard by our ears.
William Tyndale, a determined protestant reformer and minister of the 16th Century made it the focus of his life to ensure that English speaking Christians gained access to the privilege of hearing scripture spoken in their language. His work to directly translate the Old and New Testaments from their Hebrew and Greek written forms were directly opposed by authorities of Roman Catholicism and the Royal Court. His commitment to this cause allowed him to be responsible for writing almost 90% of the King James Version of the Bible. Tyndale is attributed with coining the phrases: “let there be light,” “my brother’s keeper,” “salt of the earth,” and “fight the good fight” to name a few. This week we remembered William Tyndale on October 6, the anniversary of his death nearly 500 years ago.
There is no record of why Tyndale was so committed to translating scripture – but it is clear from his life’s story that he would not rest, and did not allow the danger of this business to keep him from accomplishing this task, even though it cost him his life. Perhaps he was a poetic writer and enjoyed the challenge. Perhaps he was a lover of the church and of the Word, and recognized the challenge and the promise that lay within the texts he devoted his life to. Perhaps he simply believed that the message found in scripture again and again that the law of love is truly the greatest commandment should be spoken to men and women on the street in their own language, so that those who needed to hear that message most could do so and understand immediately.
Regardless of his motivations, William Tyndale’s work grants us access to the wisdom and the challenge that lies in our scripture readings each week. And it is our duty as faithful bearers of this library to take on the challenging task of wrestling with scripture – in our own lives and in our life as a community.
In seminary I had the opportunity to take a scripture course titled: Texts of Terror, named for a book of the same title that explores some of the hardest passages of the Bible. Stories of misogyny, of unjustifiable violence, of wrathful vengeance, and of Biblical teachings that may be difficult to consider, all that exist within the canon of the texts we hold sacred. So sacred in fact, that at the ordination of deacons, priests and the consecration of bishops, ordinands not only vow to devote themselves to the study of scripture, but also sign a commitment that states that we believe all things necessary for salvation are contained in holy scripture. When it came time for me to preach in that class, today’s Gospel was my chosen “text of terror.”
As a person who has benefitted from privileges being a middle class Caucasian raised in the Western world, I have had good reason to fear and disparage at the hearing of this text. After all, like the rich man, I have followed the commandments, I have committed myself to a faith life and practice that is devoted to proclaiming Jesus as my savior, and I too, have many possessions. Isn’t my faith enough? Isn’t my desire to follow enough? Isn’t it my right that I should enjoy the earnings that I have worked hard for, that I have given time and talent to produce, and thus collect my rightful compensation, and enjoy life in the here and now? Does the question sound familiar?
And yet here we have a Gospel text that says, not so fast.
You may lead a life that is good and righteous. You may not waste your sins on murder and slander. But if your own piety is solely devoted to the perfection of your own soul, if your desire to fulfill your own need to be faultless allows you ignore the obvious needs of those around you, then you have missed the point completely.
The rich man seeks to possess something he cannot buy – eternal life. Jesus looks with compassion upon the rich man. But he also speaks a hard truth to him. Those commandments that you live by, you do with ease. For you are in a position that allows you rise above those challenges. Your wealth allows a freedom and a privilege in the way you live your life that is only known to a small fraction of the community in which you live. And yet, that wealth is not a means of grace. It is not a means of receiving the immeasurable gift of the assurance of God’s love for you for all time. In fact, if that material wealth is what provides your only sense of self-value and your only means of judging your position in the world, then it will actually hinder you from the ability to receive the grace of God. If you wish to follow me, if you wish to uphold my teaching, then you should not allow yourself to be bound by your belongings. To be possessed by your possessions. Let them go, and let yourself understand what it is to live like those who live only by the grace of God and by the kindness of their community. When you are ready to do this, you will be in a position to understand and receive eternal life.
The rich man was discouraged by this, and rightfully so. After all, sacrifice is not about giving offerings that mean nothing to you. There is no challenge in that. The challenge for the wealthy is the opportunity to let go of some privilege, some of the freedom that wealth provides, so that others might benefit from it – those who would have no way of experiencing certain freedoms, like the living without fear of the next medical bill that will arrive in the mail, or the inability to cover the cost to educate your child so that they might have opportunities that you did not. I wonder if the rich young man was being challenged to experience the world in a new way, so that he might gain a deeper understanding of the capacity of kindness he could offer his community as a result of his position of wealth.
I wonder if he didn’t leave Jesus’ side and consider how he might change the way he used his riches in the world around him. I wonder if he allowed Jesus’ words to enter in – or if it was similar to the difficulty of allowing a camel through the eye of a needle.
It’s a funny thing scripture, there is not just one mention of a rich young man. There are other stories in the old and new testament of rich men using their wealth unjustly – to seek power over others, to allow their privilege to supersede that of poor men under their care – to take unfair advantage of the position of power that their wealth granted them in the here and now. And there are wisdom sayings and psalms, warning the rich man to make right choices with their treasure, for despite their power and privilege today, they will perish and those riches will not travel with them. This is not a new message, but it is a challenge that scripture poses to us today.
In our contemporary context, most of us live in relative comfort, some more than others, but generally speaking, we live with the security of income, comfortable housing, and access to discretionary spending – that is, income that does not go to providing food, shelter and basic necessities. How we, as wielders of discretionary spending choose to use our wealth – where we choose to live and the lifestyle we choose to pursue all play into this challenge posed by Jesus.
How will you allow these words of scripture, this challenging story of Jesus and the rich young man to enter in as you consider the wealth, and its power and privilege that is at your fingertips? Does this story pose itself as a text of terror for you? Do you find yourself wondering how a camel makes its way through the eye of a needle?
As we give thanks for the access that we have for scripture in our lives, we must also take up the challenges it poses. We must also accept the responsibility that we have received as hearers of the word – as ones who wish to follow, but must do so with the burden of wealth and privilege that our contemporary society provides.
When last I preached on this text I was weighed down by many possessions. Things that surrounded me, but had little purpose, nor provided insight into the life I was being called to lead. Many things have changed for me, and though many of those possessions are gone, there are new ones that have found their way into my life and my home. With each return to this piece of scripture I must take up for myself the question that Jesus has for the rich young man. Upon hearing it today, I am reminded that Jesus loved the man, and then challenged him again. I call on you to know that Jesus loves you, and challenges you to consider these things today as well.
For Jesus said,
"Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age--houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions--and in the age to come eternal life…” Amen.
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Young
October 11, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Thursday, September 10, 2009
"Hunger is here too..."
Proper 18, Year B, RCL
Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23
Psalm 125
James 2:1-10, (11-13), 14-17
Mark 7:24-37
On Wednesday night, a member of our Senior High Youth group and I were standing on the sidewalk outside the doors of our church. It was getting late in the evening and we were waiting for a ride from a parent. While there, we were approached by a woman who obviously needed some help. She was poorly dressed, and half mumbled to herself as she addressed us, asking for some food. She was hungry, and as she was speaking to us, she was saying, please Jesus, asking for something to eat, some sort of assistance. It was one of those moments where several thoughts ran through my mind at the same time.
Are we safe? Is this woman alright? How will this youth react? How can we help? What does she really need? What is she really asking for? Do I have anything to give? How do I respond?
This is not a new experience for me, but it surprises me every time. I think because I can’t imagine what it would be like to be hungry, and to have no resources with which to feed myself. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, and what kind of life experience it has taken to get to a point where you are willing to ask anyone on the street if they can help you.
Even with all of those questions happening at once, the response was immediate. You say that you are hungry? I know that we have some food. We had leftovers from our dinner, all wrapped up and waiting in the kitchen. Of course we can help with some food. You wait here, and we’ll be right back.
I could tell there was fear in the eyes of the woman as we said, “wait here.” And I wondered how many times she had heard that before, never to be helped, never to be returned to. I thought to myself, I have no way of knowing what this woman has been through, or how she has come to this place in her life, and at our doorstep. All I know is that she is here, and we have food. And our only option was obvious. We would feed her.
The youth who experienced this with me, Jessica Taylor, wrote about this experience on her facebook page this week. She titled her note: Hunger is here too. In it she wrote,
i feel lucky to have been in the right place at the right moment to help someone out, and i can only pray that her life gets better. it's just one of those things that you can't get out of your mind, the look of relief on the woman's face when she had finally found food, and the satisfaction of knowing, that one more person in the world will have a meal tonight because i was just waiting on a ride.
The moment was there and then over in an instant, and yet, it had the impact of a lifetime – a lifetime of prayerful thoughts for those who are hungry – those right here in our midst, a reminder of thankfulness for the sources of stability in our own lives, and hope that this small act will lead to a greater understanding of the importance to always remember we have neighbors in need.
In our scripture text James challenges his listeners to keep this important and difficult task. Challenging the community not to give preferential treatment to those whose clothing obviously points to a status of a member of a higher class. It’s an easy sin to commit – the desire to separate one’s self from the rif-raff, to keep our hands from getting dirty by staying in places where we feel safe, and comfortable. But the comfort and stability that is known to us, the restfulness that is found in our individual and family homes should not be taken for granted, or taken as a shelter from the harsh realities of the world around us. Rather in appreciation for what we have, in thanksgiving for the benefits of security and prosperity, a desire to make that sense of safety and freedom known to others should come, should be the response.
I’m not saying that one ought to trade in their homestead for a cardboard box – though there is a lot to learn from such an experience, and it has been done before. But I am saying that even though we have a place to come home to at night, there are those who do not, and our rest should be uneasy. Our hope in the kingdom of heaven, of bringing about that kingdom here on earth is tied to the truth that our faith in Jesus calls us to action.
--If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. (James 2:16-17)
As individuals, as a community, as Christians, our call is to share in work of feeding our faith by feeding our neighbors. We come together in this place to share in a sacred meal, and to put ourselves in the position of awareness of those around us in need of a share in our daily bread. Our sleep may be uneasy, and our prayer lists long, but as our awareness and our willingness to face these needs in the world around us, and to stand together in community and take action, we have the power to bring about that kingdom. We have a faith that is alive and well. And we have to ability to move mountains.
But the work is hard. The message doesn’t change much. And we can grow weary and irritable, and distracted along the way. We sometimes lose focus on the need that we are called to respond to due to our own needs, our own lives, our understandable desire to close the doors of our private homes and let the weight of the world rest on someone else’s shoulders tonight.
Jesus himself had a moment of weakness, a desire to rest from responding to the needs of others. In our Gospel text we learn of his attempt to hide himself, if only for a brief respite, even in a foreign place so that he might find some rest. Yet a woman recognized him, a woman outside of his ethnic and religious group, and therefore, one who had no business approaching him, called on Jesus to heal her child; to respond to her need.
His first response is one that seems surprising to we the hearers, as he seems to brush her off and even compare her people, her need to those of dogs. And yet she rebuts his comment, challenging him to remember that even the dogs, even those for whom the meal was not first prepared, are deserving of their share too, even if it is merely the crumbs of the children. Her lesson to Jesus was a reminder to him of the law of love – a reminder that he took in stride and even learned from. He noted her faith in the teaching that all deserve to be loved, to know the good life. He told her that her daughter was healed and awaited her return at home.
Perhaps this was a moment of Jesus’ own theological perspective being expanded – a moment of realization that his message, his teaching, his love was not just for the chosen ones but for all people who came to him, for all who proclaimed his name. As carriers of that love, as doers of Jesus’ word, we must remind ourselves and one another that– even in the dark moments when we ask ourselves – Is this safe? Do I have anything to give? Why are you asking me? Jesus is with us, even when we’re just standing around, waiting for a ride home. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, September 6, 2009
Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23
Psalm 125
James 2:1-10, (11-13), 14-17
Mark 7:24-37
On Wednesday night, a member of our Senior High Youth group and I were standing on the sidewalk outside the doors of our church. It was getting late in the evening and we were waiting for a ride from a parent. While there, we were approached by a woman who obviously needed some help. She was poorly dressed, and half mumbled to herself as she addressed us, asking for some food. She was hungry, and as she was speaking to us, she was saying, please Jesus, asking for something to eat, some sort of assistance. It was one of those moments where several thoughts ran through my mind at the same time.
Are we safe? Is this woman alright? How will this youth react? How can we help? What does she really need? What is she really asking for? Do I have anything to give? How do I respond?
This is not a new experience for me, but it surprises me every time. I think because I can’t imagine what it would be like to be hungry, and to have no resources with which to feed myself. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, and what kind of life experience it has taken to get to a point where you are willing to ask anyone on the street if they can help you.
Even with all of those questions happening at once, the response was immediate. You say that you are hungry? I know that we have some food. We had leftovers from our dinner, all wrapped up and waiting in the kitchen. Of course we can help with some food. You wait here, and we’ll be right back.
I could tell there was fear in the eyes of the woman as we said, “wait here.” And I wondered how many times she had heard that before, never to be helped, never to be returned to. I thought to myself, I have no way of knowing what this woman has been through, or how she has come to this place in her life, and at our doorstep. All I know is that she is here, and we have food. And our only option was obvious. We would feed her.
The youth who experienced this with me, Jessica Taylor, wrote about this experience on her facebook page this week. She titled her note: Hunger is here too. In it she wrote,
i feel lucky to have been in the right place at the right moment to help someone out, and i can only pray that her life gets better. it's just one of those things that you can't get out of your mind, the look of relief on the woman's face when she had finally found food, and the satisfaction of knowing, that one more person in the world will have a meal tonight because i was just waiting on a ride.
The moment was there and then over in an instant, and yet, it had the impact of a lifetime – a lifetime of prayerful thoughts for those who are hungry – those right here in our midst, a reminder of thankfulness for the sources of stability in our own lives, and hope that this small act will lead to a greater understanding of the importance to always remember we have neighbors in need.
In our scripture text James challenges his listeners to keep this important and difficult task. Challenging the community not to give preferential treatment to those whose clothing obviously points to a status of a member of a higher class. It’s an easy sin to commit – the desire to separate one’s self from the rif-raff, to keep our hands from getting dirty by staying in places where we feel safe, and comfortable. But the comfort and stability that is known to us, the restfulness that is found in our individual and family homes should not be taken for granted, or taken as a shelter from the harsh realities of the world around us. Rather in appreciation for what we have, in thanksgiving for the benefits of security and prosperity, a desire to make that sense of safety and freedom known to others should come, should be the response.
I’m not saying that one ought to trade in their homestead for a cardboard box – though there is a lot to learn from such an experience, and it has been done before. But I am saying that even though we have a place to come home to at night, there are those who do not, and our rest should be uneasy. Our hope in the kingdom of heaven, of bringing about that kingdom here on earth is tied to the truth that our faith in Jesus calls us to action.
--If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. (James 2:16-17)
As individuals, as a community, as Christians, our call is to share in work of feeding our faith by feeding our neighbors. We come together in this place to share in a sacred meal, and to put ourselves in the position of awareness of those around us in need of a share in our daily bread. Our sleep may be uneasy, and our prayer lists long, but as our awareness and our willingness to face these needs in the world around us, and to stand together in community and take action, we have the power to bring about that kingdom. We have a faith that is alive and well. And we have to ability to move mountains.
But the work is hard. The message doesn’t change much. And we can grow weary and irritable, and distracted along the way. We sometimes lose focus on the need that we are called to respond to due to our own needs, our own lives, our understandable desire to close the doors of our private homes and let the weight of the world rest on someone else’s shoulders tonight.
Jesus himself had a moment of weakness, a desire to rest from responding to the needs of others. In our Gospel text we learn of his attempt to hide himself, if only for a brief respite, even in a foreign place so that he might find some rest. Yet a woman recognized him, a woman outside of his ethnic and religious group, and therefore, one who had no business approaching him, called on Jesus to heal her child; to respond to her need.
His first response is one that seems surprising to we the hearers, as he seems to brush her off and even compare her people, her need to those of dogs. And yet she rebuts his comment, challenging him to remember that even the dogs, even those for whom the meal was not first prepared, are deserving of their share too, even if it is merely the crumbs of the children. Her lesson to Jesus was a reminder to him of the law of love – a reminder that he took in stride and even learned from. He noted her faith in the teaching that all deserve to be loved, to know the good life. He told her that her daughter was healed and awaited her return at home.
Perhaps this was a moment of Jesus’ own theological perspective being expanded – a moment of realization that his message, his teaching, his love was not just for the chosen ones but for all people who came to him, for all who proclaimed his name. As carriers of that love, as doers of Jesus’ word, we must remind ourselves and one another that– even in the dark moments when we ask ourselves – Is this safe? Do I have anything to give? Why are you asking me? Jesus is with us, even when we’re just standing around, waiting for a ride home. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, September 6, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Food Challenge
Proper 9, Year B, RCL
1 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 34:1-8
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6:35, 41-51
If you don’t have cable TV or haven’t watched the Travel Channel recently, you may have missed out on a great little show my husband and I enjoy called Man vs. Food. On this show, the chummy host Adam Richman, visits restaurants in cities around the country specifically tasting and describing not-to-be-missed specialties, and the incredible food challenges some of these places have. By food challenge I mean: attempting to drink 16 milkshakes in one sitting, eating a plate covered in burger and fries that weighs over 5 lbs., devouring a 72 oz. steak, with salad and sides to boot. All for the chance to have his name and face immortalized on the wall, and a prized food-challenge winner t-shirt. My husband and I have been to a few of the places our friendly host has showcased, and we have enjoyed participating in the spoils of his great food reporting. Rather than the bread of life, Adam seems to find salvation in a cheeseburger in paradise.
Recently while watching the show, and as a frequent restaurant consumer, I have been struck by the sheer size of the portions and expected consumption delivered to patrons – exemplified to the extreme by the food challenges – but still a concern in the real world day-to-day of health-conscious American diners. Food is a constant and abundant resource in the American lifestyle – food of every variety, ethnicity, seasoning, and style. And yet there are hungry people in our midst.
Perhaps I should speak to you of spiritual hunger, the kind that Jesus was pointing to in his words to the disciples, and the woman at the well – those who believe will never hunger or thirst again… and I will get to that, but the fact of the matter is – Jesus didn’t just talk about ethereal things. Before he focused on his message of hope and salvation, Jesus fed people. Our Gospel selections from John have showed us this throughout the summer. Jesus fed thousands who were hungry, and when they were satisfied, he taught them.
His first work, his first response to the crowds were to their most basic need – providing an abundance of resources that allowed the weak to be made strong, the poor to be satisfied, placing those who could not afford lunch on a level playing field with those who could. Fish, bread, wine, water. These tangible, necessary, life-giving resources were first and foremost components of Jesus ministry to the people he met in his days here on earth. It was after he fed those who were hungry that he spoke them of the bread of life – the gift of abundant life that comes from the experience of knowing Jesus and caring for and feeding others. As faithful followers of Christ, we have a legacy to uphold alongside of the fulfillment of our own spiritual hunger.
Spiritual hunger is real – and there are many ways to seek satisfaction in the face of this need. Many of you come here to be fed by the communities that gather through our parish life – communal worship and Holy Eucharist, fellowship time at coffee hour, Sunday school, children and youth ministry projects, musical endeavors, even the very real practice of feeding others through our relationship with IHN, Pilgrim’s Inn and other community outreach organizations.
If your need for spiritual practice and fulfillment has brought you here – I hope that it is being satisfied in a way that is truly, life-giving, challenging, active and reflective in the process of developing your faith and spiritual life.
But also know that our life here is not only about creating a space of spiritual sanctuary, a resting place from the busyness of the world out there – it is a place that serves as a constant reminder of Christ’s love for you – for YOU – and this body of Christ that we recognize when we gather here has an agenda, a mission. As members of the body, we open our doors inviting others into a relationship with God in Christ, inviting others to feed on the Bread of Life. But in the midst of that, in the life we proclaim as doers of the Word, as followers of Christ, our call to action is clear:
It is that of a gentle hand that points to those standing outside of our doors, reminding you that the choices you make with your time, your talent and your treasure is tied to the needs of those surrounding you – those for whom the source of the next meal is not certain. We, who have consistent access to basic resources: clean drinkable water, grocery stores, pantries and refrigerators filled to meet our every day needs, we have a responsibility to our God and to our neighbors.
We, who are fed by the gifts of bread and wine, we who find spiritual edification in the faith that when we gather in Christ’s name he is with us, we are called upon to get the message – if you love me, if you know me, if you follow my actions, you will feed my people. Their hunger is real too.
How do we do this? How do we live this? At every meal in which you partake – pray – give thanks for the food you are about to receive, and remember those who are hungry. There is a saying in the way our Anglican prayer book was developed: lex orandi, lex credenda: Praying shapes believing. If your constant prayer is that you might taste the bread of life, that you might know the one in whom there is no hunger, then your ears may become more attuned to those in need in your community. Your budget may become more flexible when you are given an opportunity to give to another. Your basket may become a little more full at the grocery store when you find an extra dollar or two to pick up the cost of some basic meal provisions. Your decision to find a way to volunteer some of your time and talent may lead you to the door of Pilgrim’s Inn. Prayers have many ways of working, the first being that you open yourself to the possibility that God may be at work in you, and that you may be able to serve as the hands and feet of God in this world.
Adam Richman of Man vs. Food faces one kind of food challenge on his show – one of consumption and entertaining physical comedy. Today I give to you a food challenge of your own. I challenge you to consider your own desire to be fulfilled – to be nourished physically and spiritually. Consider the possibility that these two things are tied together, not only that your own hunger is satisfied, but that your spiritual hunger to know Christ, to taste the Bread of Life may be fulfilled in following the actions of Jesus: May you eat and be satisfied and may you share your next meal with God and your neighbor. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, August 9, 2009
1 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 34:1-8
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6:35, 41-51
If you don’t have cable TV or haven’t watched the Travel Channel recently, you may have missed out on a great little show my husband and I enjoy called Man vs. Food. On this show, the chummy host Adam Richman, visits restaurants in cities around the country specifically tasting and describing not-to-be-missed specialties, and the incredible food challenges some of these places have. By food challenge I mean: attempting to drink 16 milkshakes in one sitting, eating a plate covered in burger and fries that weighs over 5 lbs., devouring a 72 oz. steak, with salad and sides to boot. All for the chance to have his name and face immortalized on the wall, and a prized food-challenge winner t-shirt. My husband and I have been to a few of the places our friendly host has showcased, and we have enjoyed participating in the spoils of his great food reporting. Rather than the bread of life, Adam seems to find salvation in a cheeseburger in paradise.
Recently while watching the show, and as a frequent restaurant consumer, I have been struck by the sheer size of the portions and expected consumption delivered to patrons – exemplified to the extreme by the food challenges – but still a concern in the real world day-to-day of health-conscious American diners. Food is a constant and abundant resource in the American lifestyle – food of every variety, ethnicity, seasoning, and style. And yet there are hungry people in our midst.
Perhaps I should speak to you of spiritual hunger, the kind that Jesus was pointing to in his words to the disciples, and the woman at the well – those who believe will never hunger or thirst again… and I will get to that, but the fact of the matter is – Jesus didn’t just talk about ethereal things. Before he focused on his message of hope and salvation, Jesus fed people. Our Gospel selections from John have showed us this throughout the summer. Jesus fed thousands who were hungry, and when they were satisfied, he taught them.
His first work, his first response to the crowds were to their most basic need – providing an abundance of resources that allowed the weak to be made strong, the poor to be satisfied, placing those who could not afford lunch on a level playing field with those who could. Fish, bread, wine, water. These tangible, necessary, life-giving resources were first and foremost components of Jesus ministry to the people he met in his days here on earth. It was after he fed those who were hungry that he spoke them of the bread of life – the gift of abundant life that comes from the experience of knowing Jesus and caring for and feeding others. As faithful followers of Christ, we have a legacy to uphold alongside of the fulfillment of our own spiritual hunger.
Spiritual hunger is real – and there are many ways to seek satisfaction in the face of this need. Many of you come here to be fed by the communities that gather through our parish life – communal worship and Holy Eucharist, fellowship time at coffee hour, Sunday school, children and youth ministry projects, musical endeavors, even the very real practice of feeding others through our relationship with IHN, Pilgrim’s Inn and other community outreach organizations.
If your need for spiritual practice and fulfillment has brought you here – I hope that it is being satisfied in a way that is truly, life-giving, challenging, active and reflective in the process of developing your faith and spiritual life.
But also know that our life here is not only about creating a space of spiritual sanctuary, a resting place from the busyness of the world out there – it is a place that serves as a constant reminder of Christ’s love for you – for YOU – and this body of Christ that we recognize when we gather here has an agenda, a mission. As members of the body, we open our doors inviting others into a relationship with God in Christ, inviting others to feed on the Bread of Life. But in the midst of that, in the life we proclaim as doers of the Word, as followers of Christ, our call to action is clear:
It is that of a gentle hand that points to those standing outside of our doors, reminding you that the choices you make with your time, your talent and your treasure is tied to the needs of those surrounding you – those for whom the source of the next meal is not certain. We, who have consistent access to basic resources: clean drinkable water, grocery stores, pantries and refrigerators filled to meet our every day needs, we have a responsibility to our God and to our neighbors.
We, who are fed by the gifts of bread and wine, we who find spiritual edification in the faith that when we gather in Christ’s name he is with us, we are called upon to get the message – if you love me, if you know me, if you follow my actions, you will feed my people. Their hunger is real too.
How do we do this? How do we live this? At every meal in which you partake – pray – give thanks for the food you are about to receive, and remember those who are hungry. There is a saying in the way our Anglican prayer book was developed: lex orandi, lex credenda: Praying shapes believing. If your constant prayer is that you might taste the bread of life, that you might know the one in whom there is no hunger, then your ears may become more attuned to those in need in your community. Your budget may become more flexible when you are given an opportunity to give to another. Your basket may become a little more full at the grocery store when you find an extra dollar or two to pick up the cost of some basic meal provisions. Your decision to find a way to volunteer some of your time and talent may lead you to the door of Pilgrim’s Inn. Prayers have many ways of working, the first being that you open yourself to the possibility that God may be at work in you, and that you may be able to serve as the hands and feet of God in this world.
Adam Richman of Man vs. Food faces one kind of food challenge on his show – one of consumption and entertaining physical comedy. Today I give to you a food challenge of your own. I challenge you to consider your own desire to be fulfilled – to be nourished physically and spiritually. Consider the possibility that these two things are tied together, not only that your own hunger is satisfied, but that your spiritual hunger to know Christ, to taste the Bread of Life may be fulfilled in following the actions of Jesus: May you eat and be satisfied and may you share your next meal with God and your neighbor. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, August 9, 2009
Summer of Service
Proper 11, Year B, RCL
Jeremiah 23:1-6
Psalm 23
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
"The Lord is my shepherd I’ll walk with him always. He leads by still waters, I’ll walk with him always."
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Like sheep without a shepherd. Lost, confused, unsure, seeking any means of comfort to grab onto.
Jesus saw this condition in the people his apostles had sought to bring Good News to. They had gotten the word that someone did care for them, that someone did have a helping hand, that someone had come who would change things. The people, seeking a shepherd, came in hopes that this man Jesus could fulfill all those needs and more. Were they convinced? Were they certain? Did they know what they were getting themselves into? Probably not.
More likely they were hungry, hurting, and desperate for some sort of hope to reach out and cling to – even if it only meant touching the fringe of his clothes. Maybe, just that, would be enough.
Like many of you, I have not known this kind of desperation. I have not had to struggle with the question – where will my next meal come from? Where will I lay my head to rest tonight, how will I make the next car payment, and the one after that? The closest I’ve come was an experience I had last fall, when I drove to 3 different gas stations on a near empty tank, and wondering if I was going to be left stranded at any moment. I didn’t like the feeling – I didn’t like that something as simple as the fuel that I rely on, that I take for granted day in and day out, was suddenly not as accessible to me as it always had been. I did not want to drive to yet another gas station and face disappointment, and frustration, and walk away empty handed yet again.
But my brief experience of “desperation” does not compare to the concerns I was approached with this week, hands in need reaching toward me and toward Our Saviour in times of very real and immediate need. This week those hands came in the form a family seeking work so that they could pay their rent, a financial need in the midst of a difficult lawsuit, a phone message asking for prayers for loved ones struggling with addiction, a letter requesting funds to pay for a transplant operation in Uganda, support for grieving friends of an unexpected infant death in the Rock Hill community, a request for communion with a family whose loved one is dying. I didn’t realize how many needs I had encountered this week until I began to list them here, and it is amazing how many and how diverse these needs are, this just in one week. It would be easy to overwhelmed by the amount of need and the struggles that are being faced by just these few people who came forth this week. It gives new meaning to the imagery of the sheep without their shepherd in need of compassion, and care.
Our passage of scripture shows Jesus as one looked upon his people with compassion and reached back toward them with a power to heal their wounds – those visible and those invisible. He did this by choosing to be present with them. Choosing to make his place amongst the crowd, even in his own desire to step back and take a rest. The need was still there, and his response to that need was to love these people – to fulfill the Good News that had been promised to them. He reached out his hands toward theirs and allowed them to know healing.
The need for healing in the world has not gone away. The brokenness that we see in the reported news, and in our own families are very real. We are people in need of healing as well. But where do we reach out and feel that healing power? Where is the fringe for us to touch that holds that kind of power, that kind of transformation?
I began to wonder about where we reach for help in our times of sadness and struggle. For some it is in the bottle, a means of numbing the pain, and separating oneself from the reality of the situation they are faced with. For some I think it is in the magazines we reach for in line at the grocery store, where one can read of our contemporary “celebrities” and make judgments about others’ choices, rather than focus on our own disappointments and dissatisfaction in the way things have turned out. It would seem that another place we hope to disappear from ourselves and get caught up in the moment of another is in the distraction of sports – reaching our hands high in an attempt to collect an artifact of “glory.”
These temporal activities have their entertainment value, and certainly have their place in moments of leisure, and rest – we all must rest – but the more of us who use them as methods of escape, as methods of distraction from the real life struggles of our own and of others, the less present we are to the needs of the community that surrounds us, the needs of our brother and sister.
Rather than pushing away the hurts, rather than ignoring the need for healing – for ourselves, and for others, how might we reach forth our hands and put them into action, rather than distraction?
The theme for our Summer of Service youth program has been: God’s work, our hands. Each week youth from Our Saviour and Grace Lutheran put our minds and hearts and hands to work getting to know the needs of the community, and the ways in which our hands might be useful in serving the needs of others. Through this work we have sought to see Christ in others, reaching forward and serving others, so that they might see Christ in us. The result is a collection of young people creating pockets of healing in the world around them – and growing a deeper understanding that with loving hands reaching out toward one another we can be a people of transforming action in the world.
That transformation is found in the hands that reach out and touch the shoulder of the grieving woman whose husband is preparing to die – it can be found at Hospice and Community Care. That healing power is felt as arms of a small child reaches out to hug you—a child for whom touch has changed from source of pain, and to an expression of love – it can be found at York Place and the Children’s Attention Home. That curative force comes as hands clasped in prayer, call upon the name of Jesus to be present in the act of being a community together, through song and storytelling, and we experienced it as we played and learned together in Vacation Bible School this week. The hand is at work in the kitchen preparing meals, and hospitality for our Interfaith Hospitality Network guests. There are many other places where our own hands can be put to use as sources of healing for others and for ourselves. But the power comes in the act of giving it away, of allowing your hands to be strength for others, and allowing others touch your life as well.
We are called upon through the example of our teacher Jesus to see our neighbors in need, and to be the Good News to them, that healing comes, through relationship, through a community in action, through each of us being a source of healing in our world. The people who come looking for Good News, they have gotten the word that someone does care for them, that someone does have a helping hand, that someone will change things.
That someone is you, if you’ll let it be. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, July 19, 2009
Jeremiah 23:1-6
Psalm 23
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
"The Lord is my shepherd I’ll walk with him always. He leads by still waters, I’ll walk with him always."
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
Like sheep without a shepherd. Lost, confused, unsure, seeking any means of comfort to grab onto.
Jesus saw this condition in the people his apostles had sought to bring Good News to. They had gotten the word that someone did care for them, that someone did have a helping hand, that someone had come who would change things. The people, seeking a shepherd, came in hopes that this man Jesus could fulfill all those needs and more. Were they convinced? Were they certain? Did they know what they were getting themselves into? Probably not.
More likely they were hungry, hurting, and desperate for some sort of hope to reach out and cling to – even if it only meant touching the fringe of his clothes. Maybe, just that, would be enough.
Like many of you, I have not known this kind of desperation. I have not had to struggle with the question – where will my next meal come from? Where will I lay my head to rest tonight, how will I make the next car payment, and the one after that? The closest I’ve come was an experience I had last fall, when I drove to 3 different gas stations on a near empty tank, and wondering if I was going to be left stranded at any moment. I didn’t like the feeling – I didn’t like that something as simple as the fuel that I rely on, that I take for granted day in and day out, was suddenly not as accessible to me as it always had been. I did not want to drive to yet another gas station and face disappointment, and frustration, and walk away empty handed yet again.
But my brief experience of “desperation” does not compare to the concerns I was approached with this week, hands in need reaching toward me and toward Our Saviour in times of very real and immediate need. This week those hands came in the form a family seeking work so that they could pay their rent, a financial need in the midst of a difficult lawsuit, a phone message asking for prayers for loved ones struggling with addiction, a letter requesting funds to pay for a transplant operation in Uganda, support for grieving friends of an unexpected infant death in the Rock Hill community, a request for communion with a family whose loved one is dying. I didn’t realize how many needs I had encountered this week until I began to list them here, and it is amazing how many and how diverse these needs are, this just in one week. It would be easy to overwhelmed by the amount of need and the struggles that are being faced by just these few people who came forth this week. It gives new meaning to the imagery of the sheep without their shepherd in need of compassion, and care.
Our passage of scripture shows Jesus as one looked upon his people with compassion and reached back toward them with a power to heal their wounds – those visible and those invisible. He did this by choosing to be present with them. Choosing to make his place amongst the crowd, even in his own desire to step back and take a rest. The need was still there, and his response to that need was to love these people – to fulfill the Good News that had been promised to them. He reached out his hands toward theirs and allowed them to know healing.
The need for healing in the world has not gone away. The brokenness that we see in the reported news, and in our own families are very real. We are people in need of healing as well. But where do we reach out and feel that healing power? Where is the fringe for us to touch that holds that kind of power, that kind of transformation?
I began to wonder about where we reach for help in our times of sadness and struggle. For some it is in the bottle, a means of numbing the pain, and separating oneself from the reality of the situation they are faced with. For some I think it is in the magazines we reach for in line at the grocery store, where one can read of our contemporary “celebrities” and make judgments about others’ choices, rather than focus on our own disappointments and dissatisfaction in the way things have turned out. It would seem that another place we hope to disappear from ourselves and get caught up in the moment of another is in the distraction of sports – reaching our hands high in an attempt to collect an artifact of “glory.”
These temporal activities have their entertainment value, and certainly have their place in moments of leisure, and rest – we all must rest – but the more of us who use them as methods of escape, as methods of distraction from the real life struggles of our own and of others, the less present we are to the needs of the community that surrounds us, the needs of our brother and sister.
Rather than pushing away the hurts, rather than ignoring the need for healing – for ourselves, and for others, how might we reach forth our hands and put them into action, rather than distraction?
The theme for our Summer of Service youth program has been: God’s work, our hands. Each week youth from Our Saviour and Grace Lutheran put our minds and hearts and hands to work getting to know the needs of the community, and the ways in which our hands might be useful in serving the needs of others. Through this work we have sought to see Christ in others, reaching forward and serving others, so that they might see Christ in us. The result is a collection of young people creating pockets of healing in the world around them – and growing a deeper understanding that with loving hands reaching out toward one another we can be a people of transforming action in the world.
That transformation is found in the hands that reach out and touch the shoulder of the grieving woman whose husband is preparing to die – it can be found at Hospice and Community Care. That healing power is felt as arms of a small child reaches out to hug you—a child for whom touch has changed from source of pain, and to an expression of love – it can be found at York Place and the Children’s Attention Home. That curative force comes as hands clasped in prayer, call upon the name of Jesus to be present in the act of being a community together, through song and storytelling, and we experienced it as we played and learned together in Vacation Bible School this week. The hand is at work in the kitchen preparing meals, and hospitality for our Interfaith Hospitality Network guests. There are many other places where our own hands can be put to use as sources of healing for others and for ourselves. But the power comes in the act of giving it away, of allowing your hands to be strength for others, and allowing others touch your life as well.
We are called upon through the example of our teacher Jesus to see our neighbors in need, and to be the Good News to them, that healing comes, through relationship, through a community in action, through each of us being a source of healing in our world. The people who come looking for Good News, they have gotten the word that someone does care for them, that someone does have a helping hand, that someone will change things.
That someone is you, if you’ll let it be. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, July 19, 2009
Baptism and Story
Proper 10, Year B, RCL
Amos 7:7-15
Psalm 85:8-13
Ephesians 1:3-14
Mark 6:14-29
I was born on a hot summer day in Little Rock, Arkansas 31 years ago. About a month later I was baptized by an Episcopal priest. The only pictures I have of this event are from the picnic style backyard party that was held that afternoon – including one of the priest holding me and wearing a shirt that said, “bionic padre.”
I was surrounded by people who loved me, and a community of witnesses who agreed that they would, with God’s help, raise me up in the faith tradition and practice that they shared in.
I don’t remember the first time I heard the story of my baptism, short as it is, or how many times it was talked about over the years. The pictures are what strengthen the memory and give it a tangible feeling. I’m lucky to have those pictures in my mind, because as my own faith life has grown, I have an image from the very start of loving arms enfolding me, and caring members of my faith community there at my side. The story of my faith journey begins with those images and those truths, but the story itself is what knits that experience into the fabric of my being.
The sharing of stories within families and amongst our community is central to who we are. Gathering with family members for a meal, or just a moment, we ask “How was your day” in hopes of catching a glimpse through the anecdote shared, of the story of here and now. A grandchild visiting with Grandparents invites the exchange of stories from Grandma’s childhood, stories of the parent’s childhood, (especially of the times when Mom or Dad got into trouble!) This is how we uncover and collect our family history and identity.
Here in church, with our own liturgy of the word we participate in each Sunday, is a study in scripture; an invitation into the stories of our heritage of faithfulness – faithfulness to God and to the teachings of Jesus. As a community or family of faith, we choose the stories that we will emphasize, the teachings that we will most promote and emulate, we discover that there are new truths to be found in these stories as we hear them again for the first time at different ages and stages of life.
The stories that we tell about ourselves, and our understanding of the world shape the way others see us, the facets of our life that they get to know. They are also to places where we can excavate a deeper understanding of ourselves – looking back on the way things were, the way we responded to something at a certain point in our development, allowing ourselves to see into the past things we did well, and moments when we could have made different or better choices. We can learn from our own stories, as can others.
(At the 10:30 a.m. service) Today we (will) have the joy of witnessing the making of a family story. Today we will celebrate our call to community as we baptize and welcome two new members into the body of Christ. In this story a child is born to a family, and loving parents who are members of an active church community who wish to celebrate and incorporate their child into that life, taking on the responsibility of raising that child to know that God’s deep love for them, and for all of creation, which calls all of us to a life of gratitude and service.
A grown man, a devoted husband and loving father, one who has found a church home, but has not made his own commitment of faith chooses to stand with his child and allow the waters of baptism to wash over him as well, claiming his birthright into the community of faith, and action that surrounds him. We, as members of this community have much to celebrate and much to be thankful for. We, as witnesses and participants in this sacramental act will have a story to tell as we depart from this place today, having renewed our own baptismal vows, our own baptismal covenant with God and with one another.
Today, I urge you to recall the story of your baptism. To recall the story of your own moment of standing up to affirm your faith in the community. I invite you to delve into your own story of your walk with Jesus, be that through scripture, through prayer, or through relationship with members of your faith community, and the work of serving others in need. Where in your story did your faith-life “take off’ as it were, into a deep understanding of God’s loving presence in all things?
For me this took place at different stops along the way through my involvement in youth ministry experiences, and through the discernment process in preparation for ordination. The bionic padre is still kicking around, and thanks to an internet search and the technology of email received word that 28 years after my baptism I was taking on a new set of vows as a transitional deacon, and priest in the Episcopal Church. It was important to share with him the continuation of that story – because he was there at the beginning, and various church communities and priests carried me along the way.
What are the stories that you live by, that you love by, that you need to share with someone else? Someone who is hurting, and is in need of a boost in faith and comfort now… someone who has had an impact on your walk in faith… someone who has challenged you along the way, and from whom you have taken life lessons that they could not, or would not otherwise know?
Today, as we renew our commitment to a life in Christ with this child and this father, as we renew our commitment as a community of faith, I challenge you to remember your stories, to tell someone a story, to invite another to share their story with you, so that we may continue to deepen our relationships with one another, as we continue to knit together the fabric of our community in Christ. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, July 13, 2009
Amos 7:7-15
Psalm 85:8-13
Ephesians 1:3-14
Mark 6:14-29
I was born on a hot summer day in Little Rock, Arkansas 31 years ago. About a month later I was baptized by an Episcopal priest. The only pictures I have of this event are from the picnic style backyard party that was held that afternoon – including one of the priest holding me and wearing a shirt that said, “bionic padre.”
I was surrounded by people who loved me, and a community of witnesses who agreed that they would, with God’s help, raise me up in the faith tradition and practice that they shared in.
I don’t remember the first time I heard the story of my baptism, short as it is, or how many times it was talked about over the years. The pictures are what strengthen the memory and give it a tangible feeling. I’m lucky to have those pictures in my mind, because as my own faith life has grown, I have an image from the very start of loving arms enfolding me, and caring members of my faith community there at my side. The story of my faith journey begins with those images and those truths, but the story itself is what knits that experience into the fabric of my being.
The sharing of stories within families and amongst our community is central to who we are. Gathering with family members for a meal, or just a moment, we ask “How was your day” in hopes of catching a glimpse through the anecdote shared, of the story of here and now. A grandchild visiting with Grandparents invites the exchange of stories from Grandma’s childhood, stories of the parent’s childhood, (especially of the times when Mom or Dad got into trouble!) This is how we uncover and collect our family history and identity.
Here in church, with our own liturgy of the word we participate in each Sunday, is a study in scripture; an invitation into the stories of our heritage of faithfulness – faithfulness to God and to the teachings of Jesus. As a community or family of faith, we choose the stories that we will emphasize, the teachings that we will most promote and emulate, we discover that there are new truths to be found in these stories as we hear them again for the first time at different ages and stages of life.
The stories that we tell about ourselves, and our understanding of the world shape the way others see us, the facets of our life that they get to know. They are also to places where we can excavate a deeper understanding of ourselves – looking back on the way things were, the way we responded to something at a certain point in our development, allowing ourselves to see into the past things we did well, and moments when we could have made different or better choices. We can learn from our own stories, as can others.
(At the 10:30 a.m. service) Today we (will) have the joy of witnessing the making of a family story. Today we will celebrate our call to community as we baptize and welcome two new members into the body of Christ. In this story a child is born to a family, and loving parents who are members of an active church community who wish to celebrate and incorporate their child into that life, taking on the responsibility of raising that child to know that God’s deep love for them, and for all of creation, which calls all of us to a life of gratitude and service.
A grown man, a devoted husband and loving father, one who has found a church home, but has not made his own commitment of faith chooses to stand with his child and allow the waters of baptism to wash over him as well, claiming his birthright into the community of faith, and action that surrounds him. We, as members of this community have much to celebrate and much to be thankful for. We, as witnesses and participants in this sacramental act will have a story to tell as we depart from this place today, having renewed our own baptismal vows, our own baptismal covenant with God and with one another.
Today, I urge you to recall the story of your baptism. To recall the story of your own moment of standing up to affirm your faith in the community. I invite you to delve into your own story of your walk with Jesus, be that through scripture, through prayer, or through relationship with members of your faith community, and the work of serving others in need. Where in your story did your faith-life “take off’ as it were, into a deep understanding of God’s loving presence in all things?
For me this took place at different stops along the way through my involvement in youth ministry experiences, and through the discernment process in preparation for ordination. The bionic padre is still kicking around, and thanks to an internet search and the technology of email received word that 28 years after my baptism I was taking on a new set of vows as a transitional deacon, and priest in the Episcopal Church. It was important to share with him the continuation of that story – because he was there at the beginning, and various church communities and priests carried me along the way.
What are the stories that you live by, that you love by, that you need to share with someone else? Someone who is hurting, and is in need of a boost in faith and comfort now… someone who has had an impact on your walk in faith… someone who has challenged you along the way, and from whom you have taken life lessons that they could not, or would not otherwise know?
Today, as we renew our commitment to a life in Christ with this child and this father, as we renew our commitment as a community of faith, I challenge you to remember your stories, to tell someone a story, to invite another to share their story with you, so that we may continue to deepen our relationships with one another, as we continue to knit together the fabric of our community in Christ. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, July 13, 2009
Summer 2009 Youth Mission
Proper 9, Year B, RCL
Ezekiel 2:1-5
Psalm 123
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
Mark 6:1-13
The journey began with a small carload of 4 people and all of their stuff – sleeping bags, work clothes, bug spray, a deck of cards, cameras. The destination: a gathering point with a larger group of people who would fill up 4 larger vans with more of the same, as well as music, work gloves, sunglasses, snacks, and open hands, and open hearts to the needs of people still putting their lives back together 4 years after a hurricane of unfathomable power and destruction turned their lives upside down.
The place we stayed, the things we saw, the stories we heard and the people we served – each of these aspects of the Senior High Youth Mission Trip played a significant role in the experience we shared in together. It was the backdrop to the prophetic voices that spoke to us as individuals and as a group who travelled to Bay St. Louis, Mississippi in hopes of seeing and serving Christ.
Bay St. Louis is a town that has seen and survived hurricanes and tough weather before – but the winds and waters that struck the area in August of 2005 were overwhelming. At its height, the waters that flooded and washed away Christ Episcopal Church, all but its bell tower, were 32 feet high. Mission on the Bay is a ministry of the Lutheran Episcopal Services of Mississippi, and the host site for over 8000 volunteers who have come to serve the needs of the Gulf Coast in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. It resides on the property of Christ Episcopal Church and faces Mississippi Bay, an inlet of the Gulf of Mexico.
Our housing, meals, tools, and worship space were provided on this property because where there was once a church, there would continue to be a place of ministry. The community of Christ Episcopal, under the leadership of an amazing rector, one who had agreed to serve the congregation just weeks before the flood waters came, discovered a new call to be a center of hospitality and serving the needs of others and the community. As the flood waters receded, the vision of a housing and volunteer deployment center came into reality.
Joined by youth from North Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and Florida, our group of 130 youth volunteers and their leaders descended upon this place and allowed ourselves, not only to be put to work, but to be witnesses to the members of the community whose homes we worked on, whose stories we heard, whose project organizers we worked alongside, whose musicians and storytellers we listened too.
As I’ve weighed the experiences of our week in Mississippi alongside the Gospel for today, I see a series of connections and contrasts. The first is the fact that rather than wait for a prophet to come to us, and share their story, we went into the world, into this new and foreign place, to learn from those living in this strange and difficult reality. We went to serve, but we also went to listen and to learn from those who are surviving, those who are rebuilding and those who are struggling and succeeding in creating their communities once again. We went to the hometown of the prophets in order to be preached to, in order to be taught the lessons of God’s presence, even in the midst of destruction, grief, loss, and seemingly insurmountable difficulties.
What we found there were others who have given their life in service to the people and the community of Bay St. Louis; people who have committed their expertise, time and talent to help rebuild this community. Mission on the Bay hosts, trains, and sends volunteers who come from near and far to be witnesses and active helpers in the face of the needs that are still there. It is also a place where prophets who have seen the harsh realities and experienced the faithful commitment of God’s love even in the darkest hours are willing and able to share their story – over a shrimp boil, or a hammer and a nail. Prophets speak the truth, despite the discomfort it may cause, despite the sadness it displays, these prophets are gifts to us, and gifts to the church.
There were other contrasts between Jesus’ sending words to his disciples and our experience as mission-ers.
Take nothing with you, only the clothes on your back, and staff that may serve to protect you from wild animals. Remain in the first home that invites you in, so that you will not be tempted to seek a better arrangement or finer accommodations as you learn the lay of the land. Share the faithful story of which you are a part, that Good News has come in Christ, and do not allow those who would dismiss you to discourage or keep you from the next leg of your journey.
What we learned from our prophetic hosts, what we heard again and again, and what was hard to imagine or understand was that we brought something with us that none of us could have imagined or assumed. Yes, we came to serve, yes, we came to build roofs, to tile floors, to hang drywall, to do yard work, to pick up trash to clean up items still untouched after 4 years, to give our time and our sweat so that some things that could not and would not be afforded, or attended to, could be taken care of. We brought many things with us, but the most important thing that came with each of our shining faces was the gift of hope.
Time and again, homeowners, residents, store clerks, and others told us that even the smallest act of being present and being willing to serve was an empowering reminder that the people of the Gulf Coast are not forgotten, and they are not alone. We came to hear the voice of God in the words spoken by these hometown prophets, and the word that they had for us was the fact that we brought with us a gift we could not have imagined.
I struggled the most with this truth on the day that our work groups had the unexpected opportunity to travel into New Orleans and receive a tour of the 9th Ward, a district that was severely flooded, severely damaged, and felt the pains of abandonment. As we gathered in the parking lot of a building that was once a Walgreens, and now serves as a community center and Episcopal Church, we were called to prayer through song.
“Joyful, joyful Lord we adore thee, God of glory, Lord of love” the words reverberated around us, and the call to see our surroundings with eyes of hope in healing and resurrection was placed upon us. This was not an easy task, but it was work that was given to us to do. As we moved through the neighborhood we saw re-built homes standing next to empty lots where only the foundation of a building remained, in some cases, just a brick outline or a cement slab. Some houses were marked with spray paint from those who searched for survivors, and the dead. Some were marked with the words: Do not Bulldoze. “Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away.”
The prophets of Bay St. Louis and the 9th Ward have lived this reality, have walked far more than a mile in these shoes – having only the clothes on their back and if they were lucky, the companionship of their family member at their side. And as they have made their way back, as they have made a commitment to become a community once again, they have called others to see, and to hear and to participate in that work – allowing us to bring hope for the future, hope for healing, hope for the attention and care of their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, and in community, that their homes may one day be rebuilt and their community thrive again.
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina new pathways to God’s prophetic witness to his people were created. This is not to say that it is God’s will that so many should suffer in order for us to better know God’s love in the world. But these communities could have died. They could have been left as ashes and abandoned by their people. And they have chosen a path of resurrection. They have chosen to seek a new way, even though they are forever changed. They have chosen to speak their truth, to share that truth with us, and to invite us to return again and again to participate in the new life that comes after the storms have stilled.
As we say prayers and give offerings to the ongoing ministry of the Gulf Coast resources, as we send members of our community to fulfill this call to mission and ministry, and as we welcome back the prophetic witness that has been seen and heard in these places, remember our work as people of hope, and as receivers of the word and as agents of healing not only in what we do for others but in our way of being for and with others. In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, our companion on all paths of the journey. Amen.
Delivered: July 5, 2009
Ezekiel 2:1-5
Psalm 123
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
Mark 6:1-13
The journey began with a small carload of 4 people and all of their stuff – sleeping bags, work clothes, bug spray, a deck of cards, cameras. The destination: a gathering point with a larger group of people who would fill up 4 larger vans with more of the same, as well as music, work gloves, sunglasses, snacks, and open hands, and open hearts to the needs of people still putting their lives back together 4 years after a hurricane of unfathomable power and destruction turned their lives upside down.
The place we stayed, the things we saw, the stories we heard and the people we served – each of these aspects of the Senior High Youth Mission Trip played a significant role in the experience we shared in together. It was the backdrop to the prophetic voices that spoke to us as individuals and as a group who travelled to Bay St. Louis, Mississippi in hopes of seeing and serving Christ.
Bay St. Louis is a town that has seen and survived hurricanes and tough weather before – but the winds and waters that struck the area in August of 2005 were overwhelming. At its height, the waters that flooded and washed away Christ Episcopal Church, all but its bell tower, were 32 feet high. Mission on the Bay is a ministry of the Lutheran Episcopal Services of Mississippi, and the host site for over 8000 volunteers who have come to serve the needs of the Gulf Coast in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. It resides on the property of Christ Episcopal Church and faces Mississippi Bay, an inlet of the Gulf of Mexico.
Our housing, meals, tools, and worship space were provided on this property because where there was once a church, there would continue to be a place of ministry. The community of Christ Episcopal, under the leadership of an amazing rector, one who had agreed to serve the congregation just weeks before the flood waters came, discovered a new call to be a center of hospitality and serving the needs of others and the community. As the flood waters receded, the vision of a housing and volunteer deployment center came into reality.
Joined by youth from North Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and Florida, our group of 130 youth volunteers and their leaders descended upon this place and allowed ourselves, not only to be put to work, but to be witnesses to the members of the community whose homes we worked on, whose stories we heard, whose project organizers we worked alongside, whose musicians and storytellers we listened too.
As I’ve weighed the experiences of our week in Mississippi alongside the Gospel for today, I see a series of connections and contrasts. The first is the fact that rather than wait for a prophet to come to us, and share their story, we went into the world, into this new and foreign place, to learn from those living in this strange and difficult reality. We went to serve, but we also went to listen and to learn from those who are surviving, those who are rebuilding and those who are struggling and succeeding in creating their communities once again. We went to the hometown of the prophets in order to be preached to, in order to be taught the lessons of God’s presence, even in the midst of destruction, grief, loss, and seemingly insurmountable difficulties.
What we found there were others who have given their life in service to the people and the community of Bay St. Louis; people who have committed their expertise, time and talent to help rebuild this community. Mission on the Bay hosts, trains, and sends volunteers who come from near and far to be witnesses and active helpers in the face of the needs that are still there. It is also a place where prophets who have seen the harsh realities and experienced the faithful commitment of God’s love even in the darkest hours are willing and able to share their story – over a shrimp boil, or a hammer and a nail. Prophets speak the truth, despite the discomfort it may cause, despite the sadness it displays, these prophets are gifts to us, and gifts to the church.
There were other contrasts between Jesus’ sending words to his disciples and our experience as mission-ers.
Take nothing with you, only the clothes on your back, and staff that may serve to protect you from wild animals. Remain in the first home that invites you in, so that you will not be tempted to seek a better arrangement or finer accommodations as you learn the lay of the land. Share the faithful story of which you are a part, that Good News has come in Christ, and do not allow those who would dismiss you to discourage or keep you from the next leg of your journey.
What we learned from our prophetic hosts, what we heard again and again, and what was hard to imagine or understand was that we brought something with us that none of us could have imagined or assumed. Yes, we came to serve, yes, we came to build roofs, to tile floors, to hang drywall, to do yard work, to pick up trash to clean up items still untouched after 4 years, to give our time and our sweat so that some things that could not and would not be afforded, or attended to, could be taken care of. We brought many things with us, but the most important thing that came with each of our shining faces was the gift of hope.
Time and again, homeowners, residents, store clerks, and others told us that even the smallest act of being present and being willing to serve was an empowering reminder that the people of the Gulf Coast are not forgotten, and they are not alone. We came to hear the voice of God in the words spoken by these hometown prophets, and the word that they had for us was the fact that we brought with us a gift we could not have imagined.
I struggled the most with this truth on the day that our work groups had the unexpected opportunity to travel into New Orleans and receive a tour of the 9th Ward, a district that was severely flooded, severely damaged, and felt the pains of abandonment. As we gathered in the parking lot of a building that was once a Walgreens, and now serves as a community center and Episcopal Church, we were called to prayer through song.
“Joyful, joyful Lord we adore thee, God of glory, Lord of love” the words reverberated around us, and the call to see our surroundings with eyes of hope in healing and resurrection was placed upon us. This was not an easy task, but it was work that was given to us to do. As we moved through the neighborhood we saw re-built homes standing next to empty lots where only the foundation of a building remained, in some cases, just a brick outline or a cement slab. Some houses were marked with spray paint from those who searched for survivors, and the dead. Some were marked with the words: Do not Bulldoze. “Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away.”
The prophets of Bay St. Louis and the 9th Ward have lived this reality, have walked far more than a mile in these shoes – having only the clothes on their back and if they were lucky, the companionship of their family member at their side. And as they have made their way back, as they have made a commitment to become a community once again, they have called others to see, and to hear and to participate in that work – allowing us to bring hope for the future, hope for healing, hope for the attention and care of their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, and in community, that their homes may one day be rebuilt and their community thrive again.
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina new pathways to God’s prophetic witness to his people were created. This is not to say that it is God’s will that so many should suffer in order for us to better know God’s love in the world. But these communities could have died. They could have been left as ashes and abandoned by their people. And they have chosen a path of resurrection. They have chosen to seek a new way, even though they are forever changed. They have chosen to speak their truth, to share that truth with us, and to invite us to return again and again to participate in the new life that comes after the storms have stilled.
As we say prayers and give offerings to the ongoing ministry of the Gulf Coast resources, as we send members of our community to fulfill this call to mission and ministry, and as we welcome back the prophetic witness that has been seen and heard in these places, remember our work as people of hope, and as receivers of the word and as agents of healing not only in what we do for others but in our way of being for and with others. In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, our companion on all paths of the journey. Amen.
Delivered: July 5, 2009
Of Sheep and Men
4 Easter, Year B, RCL
Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:11-18
In this day an age, who among us really wants to be compared to a sheep? I mean, after all, sheep are smelly, disorganized, animals, prone to wander off and stumble into a bramble patch, or meet a hungry wild animal, or otherwise generally get themselves into trouble. When we hear people compared to sheep today, they are usually described as blindly following anyone who will take them on the garden path, or of someone getting “fleeced. Perhaps we imagine the sad tale of lambs being led to the slaughter, or, the simplest, and most common image of someone unable to fall asleep counting sheep, what good are they otherwise? No, to be compared to a sheep, is to be considered helpless, hopeless, and has little or no value or meaning for us in this day and age.
But in their day, sheep were actually a life source for families, particularly in nomadic communities. Many smaller family units would have at least few sheep around as a provider of some of the most basic needs of life support – milk, meat, wool. These animals in small numbers provided an abundance of resources, and required little more than to be watered each day, and a sparse grassy diet, allowing them to be easily maintained in the near desert setting of the rural Mediterranean. And interestingly, they are also smart enough to recognize the distinct calling or voice of their particular shepherd, and thus able to separate themselves out from a combined heard, to follow their care-giving and protective shepherds. So as it turns out, sheep actually played a vital role in the perpetuation of the family and of everyday life in the era when Jesus used sheep as a way to describe our human relationship to the “Good Shepherd.”
In this morning’s Gospel we hear Jesus describe himself to the people as the Good Shepherd. The one whose voice would be recognized by his followers, a voice that would even be followed by some sheep from other folds, eventually calling all to follow the lead of one shepherd as members of one flock. Again, the depth of the imagery available to us in the metaphor of Jesus as the good shepherd is perhaps not as deeply understood to us as it would have been to his hearers at that time. In some of my reading for this I came across descriptions of shepherds and their tools, and the words of the 23rd Psalm rung in my ear:
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”
“Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
The rod of the shepherd was literally a weapon, a long stick with nails stuck in the end to fend off threatening wild animals. The staff, which you might realize is a symbol used in traditional bishop’s garb, is a crosier – A long walking stick with a hook at the end, created to pull a sheep back into the fold, or rescue them from a tight spot where they may have gotten themselves in, but were unable to get themselves out. What a comfort to think of God as having that hook ready and willing to wrap it around our bodies, to enfold us in protective love and assurance of safety when the path becomes rocky, uncertain, dangerous.
The image of the sheep and the shepherd are beautiful and meaningful when you take a closer look. And upon reflection they do have lessons for us in our contemporary hearing. Knowing what we know now about sheep and shepherds, let me share with you some of my own reflections on these symbolic offerings.
To be a sheep means that you belong to a flock – it means that you have ties to a larger community; one that is made up of others like yourself, others with the same needs, others who have the same potential to give of themselves in order to meet the needs of others. There are many kinds of sheep, from many flocks, but as the story goes, they recognize the voice of the one who calls them, the one who calls them into a community that is one flock, one body, united under one voice. To be a member of that community, to be a sheep amongst the fold also means that there is one who watches over you – one who knows his sheep by name, has the tools to protect them, and the will to provide for their needs each day, to keep them safe from harm.
To know a shepherd is to know that there is one who does call us – who does not forget us, even when we find ourselves exploring new places, intermingling with other flocks. There is a voice that we know to follow – and others will join us when we follow that call.
As a diocese we are entering a time when our own bishop is preparing to lay down his staff and we have the work, the duty, to call another shepherd to be our leader, our protector, our caregiver. What a challenge, and what a privilege to be a body of people, a flock, that will elect the next shepherd who will call us into mission, point us in the direction of the voice of the Good Shepherd. But how does that bishop know recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd here in our community, and in our state?
We, the sheep, have the authority to speak to the needs of the sheep that surround us. Those whose needs are like ours, or are greater than ours. Our shepherd, our leader will be given the tools, and the authority to use them to lead us into a new decade of ministry – one that will be present through the changes in our economy, and our increasingly modern world. But your prayers and your participation in our local community, your knowledge of the needs of the sheep of Upper South Carolina will be the touchstones for our next shepherd, our next bishop to recognize the voice of Christ and where our ministry is needed.
As sheep in the fold of the body of Christ, I remind you that your ears know the voice of the shepherd. The call comes to you – and your response, your action, your purpose is to follow that call, and to share it with others – to share it with this community, and with our diocese as we call forth our next leader. So today, as we reflect on sheep and shepherds, I challenge you to live up to your role – not to blindly follow whoever it is that calls out, but to listen for the voice of the Good Shepherd, to hear the needs of those in our community shouting out for the mercy of God, for the healing touch of Christ, for the simplicity of having the most basis needs met – food, shelter, clothing – so that, when the Good Shepherd calls us home, we may stand alongside of our brothers and sisters of the flock, having done all that we could to participate in and meet the needs of the family. Like faithful sheep, with thankful hearts, listen for and respond to the call of our Good Shepherd. Bahhhhhmen.
Delivered: Sunday, May 3, 2009
Acts 4:5-12
Psalm 23
1 John 3:16-24
John 10:11-18
In this day an age, who among us really wants to be compared to a sheep? I mean, after all, sheep are smelly, disorganized, animals, prone to wander off and stumble into a bramble patch, or meet a hungry wild animal, or otherwise generally get themselves into trouble. When we hear people compared to sheep today, they are usually described as blindly following anyone who will take them on the garden path, or of someone getting “fleeced. Perhaps we imagine the sad tale of lambs being led to the slaughter, or, the simplest, and most common image of someone unable to fall asleep counting sheep, what good are they otherwise? No, to be compared to a sheep, is to be considered helpless, hopeless, and has little or no value or meaning for us in this day and age.
But in their day, sheep were actually a life source for families, particularly in nomadic communities. Many smaller family units would have at least few sheep around as a provider of some of the most basic needs of life support – milk, meat, wool. These animals in small numbers provided an abundance of resources, and required little more than to be watered each day, and a sparse grassy diet, allowing them to be easily maintained in the near desert setting of the rural Mediterranean. And interestingly, they are also smart enough to recognize the distinct calling or voice of their particular shepherd, and thus able to separate themselves out from a combined heard, to follow their care-giving and protective shepherds. So as it turns out, sheep actually played a vital role in the perpetuation of the family and of everyday life in the era when Jesus used sheep as a way to describe our human relationship to the “Good Shepherd.”
In this morning’s Gospel we hear Jesus describe himself to the people as the Good Shepherd. The one whose voice would be recognized by his followers, a voice that would even be followed by some sheep from other folds, eventually calling all to follow the lead of one shepherd as members of one flock. Again, the depth of the imagery available to us in the metaphor of Jesus as the good shepherd is perhaps not as deeply understood to us as it would have been to his hearers at that time. In some of my reading for this I came across descriptions of shepherds and their tools, and the words of the 23rd Psalm rung in my ear:
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”
“Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
The rod of the shepherd was literally a weapon, a long stick with nails stuck in the end to fend off threatening wild animals. The staff, which you might realize is a symbol used in traditional bishop’s garb, is a crosier – A long walking stick with a hook at the end, created to pull a sheep back into the fold, or rescue them from a tight spot where they may have gotten themselves in, but were unable to get themselves out. What a comfort to think of God as having that hook ready and willing to wrap it around our bodies, to enfold us in protective love and assurance of safety when the path becomes rocky, uncertain, dangerous.
The image of the sheep and the shepherd are beautiful and meaningful when you take a closer look. And upon reflection they do have lessons for us in our contemporary hearing. Knowing what we know now about sheep and shepherds, let me share with you some of my own reflections on these symbolic offerings.
To be a sheep means that you belong to a flock – it means that you have ties to a larger community; one that is made up of others like yourself, others with the same needs, others who have the same potential to give of themselves in order to meet the needs of others. There are many kinds of sheep, from many flocks, but as the story goes, they recognize the voice of the one who calls them, the one who calls them into a community that is one flock, one body, united under one voice. To be a member of that community, to be a sheep amongst the fold also means that there is one who watches over you – one who knows his sheep by name, has the tools to protect them, and the will to provide for their needs each day, to keep them safe from harm.
To know a shepherd is to know that there is one who does call us – who does not forget us, even when we find ourselves exploring new places, intermingling with other flocks. There is a voice that we know to follow – and others will join us when we follow that call.
As a diocese we are entering a time when our own bishop is preparing to lay down his staff and we have the work, the duty, to call another shepherd to be our leader, our protector, our caregiver. What a challenge, and what a privilege to be a body of people, a flock, that will elect the next shepherd who will call us into mission, point us in the direction of the voice of the Good Shepherd. But how does that bishop know recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd here in our community, and in our state?
We, the sheep, have the authority to speak to the needs of the sheep that surround us. Those whose needs are like ours, or are greater than ours. Our shepherd, our leader will be given the tools, and the authority to use them to lead us into a new decade of ministry – one that will be present through the changes in our economy, and our increasingly modern world. But your prayers and your participation in our local community, your knowledge of the needs of the sheep of Upper South Carolina will be the touchstones for our next shepherd, our next bishop to recognize the voice of Christ and where our ministry is needed.
As sheep in the fold of the body of Christ, I remind you that your ears know the voice of the shepherd. The call comes to you – and your response, your action, your purpose is to follow that call, and to share it with others – to share it with this community, and with our diocese as we call forth our next leader. So today, as we reflect on sheep and shepherds, I challenge you to live up to your role – not to blindly follow whoever it is that calls out, but to listen for the voice of the Good Shepherd, to hear the needs of those in our community shouting out for the mercy of God, for the healing touch of Christ, for the simplicity of having the most basis needs met – food, shelter, clothing – so that, when the Good Shepherd calls us home, we may stand alongside of our brothers and sisters of the flock, having done all that we could to participate in and meet the needs of the family. Like faithful sheep, with thankful hearts, listen for and respond to the call of our Good Shepherd. Bahhhhhmen.
Delivered: Sunday, May 3, 2009
Jesus "Kitsch"
3 Easter, Year B, RCL
Acts 3:12-19
Psalm 4
1 John 3:1-7
Luke 24:36b-48
If you haven’t been to my office, or spent much time there, you might not know that I have a small, but growing collection of “Jesus kitsch” sitting on one of my window shelves. Jesus kitsch, if you don’t know, is a growing industry of not-so-serious, but seriously funny Christian collectibles. Some of you may have come across some Jesus kitsch on your own – and perhaps have contemplated an inspirational, Jesus themed gift for a faithful friend or clergyperson along the way. Beware, however, that there is a fine line between thoughtful faith-inspired gift ideas, and things that fall into the kitsch category.
My collection is mostly of the poking-fun category. It includes a Jesus action figure, a “last supper lunch box,” and a glow in the dark cross – perfect for Christian rave dancing. It also has a special, dominant figure, a shockingly hot-pink statue of Jesus that has a unique feature. If you ask a question of Jesus, shake it and turn it over, you’ll receive an “answer” such as: “I died for this?” and “Let me ask my Dad, and I’ll get back to you…”
Thoroughly entertaining, and a little bit irreverent, I do wonder sometimes, just how perplexed and frightened I might be if Jesus were to appear in my office, as tangible as the images of him that rest there day in and day out, offering the familiar phrase, “Peace be with you.” Would I recognize him? Would I believe it was really happening in the moment? How might I respond to this companion and friend that I have looked to and known for so much of my life through scripture and community, through word and action...?
In the wake of Easter, gathered together in our familiar setting, with familiar faces, and hearing words, once again, of Jesus’ friends and followers, perplexed at what was being revealed to them by their teacher, Jesus himself appearing in the flesh, even after they had witnessed and known for certain that he had died. There they were, excited at the story of Jesus’ appearance to a fellow disciple, and yet frightened and doubtful at his sudden, solid, tangible presence amongst them.
I’m not going to spend time with you trying to explain how exactly Jesus did this. I don’t imagine I could comprehend the physics, or the biological or mystical concepts or means by which this event took place in the lives of our faithful brothers and gospel writers. But I’d like to imagine with you why Jesus appeared, and why it matters to us. The transcendental concepts of the situation, that is, those things that are not experienced, but perhaps are knowable – much like faith – that which is believed, but cannot be proven.
Jesus, spent his years of ministry walking alongside fellow men and women. As a man, he saw all the pains and hurts of this life. The horrors of disease and death, the use of the temple, a house of prayer for the God of creation, taken advantage of, and allowed to be a place of marketing and transaction. He saw women abused and trapped in an oppressive station of life, and children kept away from the center of the community. He was intimately aware that pain, and death were consistent with the human life.
And where was God in all of this? God, had called his people into a covenant, called upon the Israelites to be the chosen ones, the ones who would lead a path of righteousness for all to see, through prayer, sacrifice and pilgrimage, this family within all of creation would develop a relationship with God that would reflect God’s unconditional love for all of God’s children.
But time had gone by, and practices and closeness to the stories and understanding of them by the people and the leadership waned. The words of prophets spoken through the ages were still taught and passed down, pointing to a Messiah who would one day come. But complacency within the practice of the faith had taken its hold as well.
Aware of this, and aware of the impact Jesus had on his companions in life – the invitation to follow him and fish for people, the willingness he showed to open his arms and embrace all of God’s children – those diseased, those foreign, those deemed untouchable, his parable after parable, story after story of housing the stranger, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, healing the sick, forgiving the sinner…
Jesus lived into the unconditional love for all that God’s covenant tried to express. Jesus made clear again and again, what the scriptures themselves said, again and again: love God, love your neighbor, serve God by serving others, I am here to serve, not to be served… Jesus so fully lived and taught these truths of his own faith story, his own understanding and awareness of the one holy and living God that his story is still told today. The story of his life and the story of his death.
But his story didn’t end there. As frightening as it all was, what he was doing, how he turned society and all that was assumed about class and the status quo upside down, he managed to do the same thing with death. The death that his friends watched him die – the death of a criminal: tried, convicted, crucified… it was thought to be the end – but there he stood, reaching out his hands to touch them, eating a piece of fish before them, offering once again words of Peace, words of love, words of commissioning to his disciples that their work was not yet done – for they had a message to pass on, and a faith story to share – one that perhaps could not be proven, but was to be believed in.
The faith story that was given to me, is the faith story of the disciples. One that they did not know how to tell, or what to do with when it first happened, when they first found themselves in that moment with Jesus. In the next few verses of the gospel text the close of the Gospel according to Luke lets us know that after receiving this commission the disciples spent much time in prayer, were often found at the temple praying.
Considering it took more than 30 years for the Gospel stories to be written down, I’m certain its authors spent many years contemplating what they had experienced, what they had witnessed, in Jesus’ life, his death, and in his appearance amongst them.
So why did he do this, in this way? Why such a distant time and distant place did the incarnation of Christ take place in Jesus of Nazareth? I wonder, I imagine, perhaps Jesus gave himself to them, to touch, to feel, to experience in a tangible way, yet again, so that they might know that he meant what he said, that he would be with them always, even to the end of the age, he was truly there… really and truly.
Just as we have faith, that gathered here, gathered in this place, we can see and touch and taste and experience the life and love of Christ when we gather as a community, when we serve God by serving one another, when we look into the face of our neighbor in need and reach out a helping hand, when we open our hands and our lips and our hearts with songs of praise, and in the act of seeking and receiving holy communion – communion with one another and with God.
Perhaps the deepest truth of this story, of our faith story, is that it is a story of faith. Something that we carry on in our lives, in our actions, in our choices as members of a family and as members of a community – to have faith in the action of God to show us through Jesus that covenant we share, that promise of unconditional love, strong enough even to defeat the bonds of death – a love that strong, is a love that I am proud to have faith in, to know is true, to know that Jesus’ life, Jesus death and Jesus resurrection is where I place my faith. I wonder, where do you place yours? Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, April 26, 2009
Acts 3:12-19
Psalm 4
1 John 3:1-7
Luke 24:36b-48
If you haven’t been to my office, or spent much time there, you might not know that I have a small, but growing collection of “Jesus kitsch” sitting on one of my window shelves. Jesus kitsch, if you don’t know, is a growing industry of not-so-serious, but seriously funny Christian collectibles. Some of you may have come across some Jesus kitsch on your own – and perhaps have contemplated an inspirational, Jesus themed gift for a faithful friend or clergyperson along the way. Beware, however, that there is a fine line between thoughtful faith-inspired gift ideas, and things that fall into the kitsch category.
My collection is mostly of the poking-fun category. It includes a Jesus action figure, a “last supper lunch box,” and a glow in the dark cross – perfect for Christian rave dancing. It also has a special, dominant figure, a shockingly hot-pink statue of Jesus that has a unique feature. If you ask a question of Jesus, shake it and turn it over, you’ll receive an “answer” such as: “I died for this?” and “Let me ask my Dad, and I’ll get back to you…”
Thoroughly entertaining, and a little bit irreverent, I do wonder sometimes, just how perplexed and frightened I might be if Jesus were to appear in my office, as tangible as the images of him that rest there day in and day out, offering the familiar phrase, “Peace be with you.” Would I recognize him? Would I believe it was really happening in the moment? How might I respond to this companion and friend that I have looked to and known for so much of my life through scripture and community, through word and action...?
In the wake of Easter, gathered together in our familiar setting, with familiar faces, and hearing words, once again, of Jesus’ friends and followers, perplexed at what was being revealed to them by their teacher, Jesus himself appearing in the flesh, even after they had witnessed and known for certain that he had died. There they were, excited at the story of Jesus’ appearance to a fellow disciple, and yet frightened and doubtful at his sudden, solid, tangible presence amongst them.
I’m not going to spend time with you trying to explain how exactly Jesus did this. I don’t imagine I could comprehend the physics, or the biological or mystical concepts or means by which this event took place in the lives of our faithful brothers and gospel writers. But I’d like to imagine with you why Jesus appeared, and why it matters to us. The transcendental concepts of the situation, that is, those things that are not experienced, but perhaps are knowable – much like faith – that which is believed, but cannot be proven.
Jesus, spent his years of ministry walking alongside fellow men and women. As a man, he saw all the pains and hurts of this life. The horrors of disease and death, the use of the temple, a house of prayer for the God of creation, taken advantage of, and allowed to be a place of marketing and transaction. He saw women abused and trapped in an oppressive station of life, and children kept away from the center of the community. He was intimately aware that pain, and death were consistent with the human life.
And where was God in all of this? God, had called his people into a covenant, called upon the Israelites to be the chosen ones, the ones who would lead a path of righteousness for all to see, through prayer, sacrifice and pilgrimage, this family within all of creation would develop a relationship with God that would reflect God’s unconditional love for all of God’s children.
But time had gone by, and practices and closeness to the stories and understanding of them by the people and the leadership waned. The words of prophets spoken through the ages were still taught and passed down, pointing to a Messiah who would one day come. But complacency within the practice of the faith had taken its hold as well.
Aware of this, and aware of the impact Jesus had on his companions in life – the invitation to follow him and fish for people, the willingness he showed to open his arms and embrace all of God’s children – those diseased, those foreign, those deemed untouchable, his parable after parable, story after story of housing the stranger, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, healing the sick, forgiving the sinner…
Jesus lived into the unconditional love for all that God’s covenant tried to express. Jesus made clear again and again, what the scriptures themselves said, again and again: love God, love your neighbor, serve God by serving others, I am here to serve, not to be served… Jesus so fully lived and taught these truths of his own faith story, his own understanding and awareness of the one holy and living God that his story is still told today. The story of his life and the story of his death.
But his story didn’t end there. As frightening as it all was, what he was doing, how he turned society and all that was assumed about class and the status quo upside down, he managed to do the same thing with death. The death that his friends watched him die – the death of a criminal: tried, convicted, crucified… it was thought to be the end – but there he stood, reaching out his hands to touch them, eating a piece of fish before them, offering once again words of Peace, words of love, words of commissioning to his disciples that their work was not yet done – for they had a message to pass on, and a faith story to share – one that perhaps could not be proven, but was to be believed in.
The faith story that was given to me, is the faith story of the disciples. One that they did not know how to tell, or what to do with when it first happened, when they first found themselves in that moment with Jesus. In the next few verses of the gospel text the close of the Gospel according to Luke lets us know that after receiving this commission the disciples spent much time in prayer, were often found at the temple praying.
Considering it took more than 30 years for the Gospel stories to be written down, I’m certain its authors spent many years contemplating what they had experienced, what they had witnessed, in Jesus’ life, his death, and in his appearance amongst them.
So why did he do this, in this way? Why such a distant time and distant place did the incarnation of Christ take place in Jesus of Nazareth? I wonder, I imagine, perhaps Jesus gave himself to them, to touch, to feel, to experience in a tangible way, yet again, so that they might know that he meant what he said, that he would be with them always, even to the end of the age, he was truly there… really and truly.
Just as we have faith, that gathered here, gathered in this place, we can see and touch and taste and experience the life and love of Christ when we gather as a community, when we serve God by serving one another, when we look into the face of our neighbor in need and reach out a helping hand, when we open our hands and our lips and our hearts with songs of praise, and in the act of seeking and receiving holy communion – communion with one another and with God.
Perhaps the deepest truth of this story, of our faith story, is that it is a story of faith. Something that we carry on in our lives, in our actions, in our choices as members of a family and as members of a community – to have faith in the action of God to show us through Jesus that covenant we share, that promise of unconditional love, strong enough even to defeat the bonds of death – a love that strong, is a love that I am proud to have faith in, to know is true, to know that Jesus’ life, Jesus death and Jesus resurrection is where I place my faith. I wonder, where do you place yours? Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, April 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
5 Lent
Jeremiah 31:31-34
Psalm 51:1-13
Hebrews 5:5-10
John 12:20-33
“I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah.”
“No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, "Know the LORD," for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.”
In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Show up. Be Yourself. Love your neighbor. Know that God loves you. These four categories are the basics of the covenant community that I use when working with our youth in our Middle School and High School youth gatherings.
The first aspect of developing a relationship with another is to Show Up – to be there – one cannot be in relationship alone. We cannot be a community without each other. We are better when you are here with us, and we are a worthy place to bring your gifts and skills into fulfillment.
Next, Be Yourself. Who you are, who you are becoming, you are created in the image of God, and you are amazing. We want to know you, not the person everyone says you should be, or who you think you are supposed to be, but the you that is right there at your center – that’s who we want to know, and that is who we want you to know how to be.
Love your neighbor. In order to be a community where it is safe to be yourself, to be vulnerable, it is important that you respect your neighbor, their personhood, their ideas; their ways of being that may be different than your own. Living up to this expectation of others means expecting that they will treat you with the same respect. Remember too, that your neighbor may also be in need, and so when the opportunity to help another comes along, remember your invitation, your command, to love your neighbor, and to serve them as you are able, again, having faith that they would help you in your time of need, given the opportunity and the means.
Finally, in all that we do, in all that we teach, in all that we live by as a community of faith, we are to live by the following truth: Know that God loves you. As a Christian community, we are called together in confidence that when we gather together, Christ is among us, God loves us, and we are to love God, in our prayers, and in our interactions with one another.
Show up, be yourself, love your neighbor, know that God loves you. These established covenant agreements are based on God’s invitation again and again to his people that we are called into relationship with God and one another. As a church community, a people of faith, these covenant agreements aren’t bad directives to live by as we interact with one another, and with our Rock Hill community.
After all, if we remember to love our neighbor, we’ll introduce ourselves to those who are visiting our church on a Sunday morning, or invite a friend in need into this community that is at its best when caring for its brothers and sisters in Christ.
If we remember to be ourselves, we’ll give people an authentic look at who we are, what we care about, and what we need from one another.
If we remember that we are loved by God, we will remember the covenant relationship that God has renewed with us again and again – not of our doing, not of our reaching out and asking, but of God’s own self-giving through the incarnation, the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
The indications of this kind of simple community covenant is the reminder that we are loved, that who we are matters, that we have work to do, and even if we are not perfect, even if we make mistakes, God’s love for us, and forgiveness of us is real.
The new covenant that came into being through Jesus’ life, ministry and death and resurrection is what he is suggesting to those gathered around in our Gospel reading – those who were his closest companions, and those strangers outside of the circle who came seeking to know this Jesus they had heard of.
"Sir, we wish to see Jesus."
Jesus’ response to this, through our Gospel writer John’s telling, is the foretelling of a path towards a new covenant that is unexpected – a path that begins in the growth of something new, the passing away of that new thing, thus allowing yet more new life to spring up for the many. Jesus, the man, would pass away into death, so that new life, and hope of the resurrection, and thus, eternal life in Christ would come into the world. We share this story of covenant and of that new life in our gathering here as a covenant community. We nourish ourselves with the fruit that was born out of it through our communal gathering at the table, and our community relationship with one another. And each week as we gather for our sacramental living out of that covenant, the words on our lips, and on our hearts are, “we wish to see Jesus.”
So how are we to see Jesus?
His words follow:
“Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.”
To follow Jesus means to go into the difficult places – the places where the most need is in the world.
Sometimes the difficult places are inside of us, inside our own hearts and lives – seeing the sin and sadness that keeps us from drawing nearer to God. And thus we are called to reconcile ourselves to God – to face our sin, to ask for forgiveness and to allow ourselves to be forgiven. For if we stay in those dark places, we will be of no use to ourselves, or to our world in need.
By following the invitation to show up – to be ourselves, to love our neighbor, and to know that God loves us, we build the strength to go to those places where we may see Jesus. As we draw near the end of Lent, and reflect on the opportunity the season has offered us, to allow the old things to pass away, and new things to take root in our lives and in our practices, I invite you to wonder if that new thing may mean letting go of the idea that “I’m too busy to “do” anything else, and to consider those things that we have let go of, and whether they still have a place in our lives when the season of Lent comes to an end.
I invite you to consider going to the places where Jesus is, to meet and be in relationship with the people in our community who serve their neighbors, not just in kind, but by Showing Up. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Go to these places. Open your eyes, open your hearts and open your hands to the real presence of Christ in those who are served, and those who serve. Jesus is there. I invite you to go there too. And when you do, remember:
Show up, be yourself, love your neighbor, know that God loves you. Amen.
Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC
Psalm 51:1-13
Hebrews 5:5-10
John 12:20-33
“I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah.”
“No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, "Know the LORD," for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the LORD; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.”
In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Show up. Be Yourself. Love your neighbor. Know that God loves you. These four categories are the basics of the covenant community that I use when working with our youth in our Middle School and High School youth gatherings.
The first aspect of developing a relationship with another is to Show Up – to be there – one cannot be in relationship alone. We cannot be a community without each other. We are better when you are here with us, and we are a worthy place to bring your gifts and skills into fulfillment.
Next, Be Yourself. Who you are, who you are becoming, you are created in the image of God, and you are amazing. We want to know you, not the person everyone says you should be, or who you think you are supposed to be, but the you that is right there at your center – that’s who we want to know, and that is who we want you to know how to be.
Love your neighbor. In order to be a community where it is safe to be yourself, to be vulnerable, it is important that you respect your neighbor, their personhood, their ideas; their ways of being that may be different than your own. Living up to this expectation of others means expecting that they will treat you with the same respect. Remember too, that your neighbor may also be in need, and so when the opportunity to help another comes along, remember your invitation, your command, to love your neighbor, and to serve them as you are able, again, having faith that they would help you in your time of need, given the opportunity and the means.
Finally, in all that we do, in all that we teach, in all that we live by as a community of faith, we are to live by the following truth: Know that God loves you. As a Christian community, we are called together in confidence that when we gather together, Christ is among us, God loves us, and we are to love God, in our prayers, and in our interactions with one another.
Show up, be yourself, love your neighbor, know that God loves you. These established covenant agreements are based on God’s invitation again and again to his people that we are called into relationship with God and one another. As a church community, a people of faith, these covenant agreements aren’t bad directives to live by as we interact with one another, and with our Rock Hill community.
After all, if we remember to love our neighbor, we’ll introduce ourselves to those who are visiting our church on a Sunday morning, or invite a friend in need into this community that is at its best when caring for its brothers and sisters in Christ.
If we remember to be ourselves, we’ll give people an authentic look at who we are, what we care about, and what we need from one another.
If we remember that we are loved by God, we will remember the covenant relationship that God has renewed with us again and again – not of our doing, not of our reaching out and asking, but of God’s own self-giving through the incarnation, the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
The indications of this kind of simple community covenant is the reminder that we are loved, that who we are matters, that we have work to do, and even if we are not perfect, even if we make mistakes, God’s love for us, and forgiveness of us is real.
The new covenant that came into being through Jesus’ life, ministry and death and resurrection is what he is suggesting to those gathered around in our Gospel reading – those who were his closest companions, and those strangers outside of the circle who came seeking to know this Jesus they had heard of.
"Sir, we wish to see Jesus."
Jesus’ response to this, through our Gospel writer John’s telling, is the foretelling of a path towards a new covenant that is unexpected – a path that begins in the growth of something new, the passing away of that new thing, thus allowing yet more new life to spring up for the many. Jesus, the man, would pass away into death, so that new life, and hope of the resurrection, and thus, eternal life in Christ would come into the world. We share this story of covenant and of that new life in our gathering here as a covenant community. We nourish ourselves with the fruit that was born out of it through our communal gathering at the table, and our community relationship with one another. And each week as we gather for our sacramental living out of that covenant, the words on our lips, and on our hearts are, “we wish to see Jesus.”
So how are we to see Jesus?
His words follow:
“Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.”
To follow Jesus means to go into the difficult places – the places where the most need is in the world.
Sometimes the difficult places are inside of us, inside our own hearts and lives – seeing the sin and sadness that keeps us from drawing nearer to God. And thus we are called to reconcile ourselves to God – to face our sin, to ask for forgiveness and to allow ourselves to be forgiven. For if we stay in those dark places, we will be of no use to ourselves, or to our world in need.
By following the invitation to show up – to be ourselves, to love our neighbor, and to know that God loves us, we build the strength to go to those places where we may see Jesus. As we draw near the end of Lent, and reflect on the opportunity the season has offered us, to allow the old things to pass away, and new things to take root in our lives and in our practices, I invite you to wonder if that new thing may mean letting go of the idea that “I’m too busy to “do” anything else, and to consider those things that we have let go of, and whether they still have a place in our lives when the season of Lent comes to an end.
I invite you to consider going to the places where Jesus is, to meet and be in relationship with the people in our community who serve their neighbors, not just in kind, but by Showing Up. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Go to these places. Open your eyes, open your hearts and open your hands to the real presence of Christ in those who are served, and those who serve. Jesus is there. I invite you to go there too. And when you do, remember:
Show up, be yourself, love your neighbor, know that God loves you. Amen.
Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, March 29, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC
Thursday, March 12, 2009
2 Lent, Year B, RCL
This sermon was preached in association with a campus ministry Sunday at Grace Lutheran Church in Rock Hill, South Carolina. I serve as chaplain to the Episcopal-Lutheran student group that meets weekly during the school year and is associated with Winthrop University. MC+
Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
Psalm 22:22-30
Romans 4:13-25
Mark 8:31-38
Jesus said, “If they want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”
As a young person, I was certain that going to church would always be an important part of my life. I was raised in a family that was active in the Episcopal life and faith. I participated in Sunday school, youth group, Vacation Bible School… I did all the things that teach a young person that church is a happy, fun, caring place to be, where we like to sing songs, and have snacks, we serve God by being nice to each other, and our parents, and by loving our neighbor.
As a young person, these were all things I could relate to, and I developed that sense of safety, of having a place, and even of the ability to serve the community, both as an acolyte and as a mission trip participant. As a youth in confirmation class, and participating as a leader at diocesan events and gatherings, I even began to see the possibility that I might continue down this leadership track and that maybe someday I would be a priest in the church.
The church for me was a place where I was known and loved, and knew and loved others… a place where I could sense the warmth and the closeness of God with every person who greeted me with a smile, and let me know that they were glad I was there. It wasn’t until I was a freshman in college, in fact when I felt my first major sense of separateness from the idea of church as I had always known it.
I’m from the Midwest, and when I went off to college I found myself in a very small town, at a very small school two states away from my home in Minnesota. And I was pleased that there was an Episcopal Church there, because I knew that was “my” church, and that, if nothing else I would find a Book of Common Prayer in the pews, and in some way have access to church as I knew it. So on my first Sunday I entered a tiny little room with a few pews and a few people who looked up, saw that I was not someone they knew, and looked back in the direction their eyes had come from. I was young, nervous, and far from home, and I felt incredibly alone.
During the announcements I was asked to stand up and introduce myself. When I returned the following week I was welcomed like the first time, with a few quick glances, and an invitation to introduce myself…again. The energy and enthusiasm that I had about being a member of a church community, and further developing the call that was tugging at me to consider ordination began to sink, and along with it, my desire to know and be known in this community that didn’t seem to remember me from one week to the next.
My challenge was to find a church home where I felt connected, loved, cared about, remembered… Over the next four years as a college student that need was never fulfilled at the Episcopal Churches in the two places where I completed my associate and bachelor’s degrees. Rather it was in a consistent campus ministry that I came to know and love. One that I visited each time I was home for a school break.
The University Episcopal Center was a building on the Minneapolis campus of the University of Minnesota that I could walk into and be greeted by, and worship with people my age, with a common commitment to maintaining and further developing their faith life as students, and as followers of Christ in the world. A community of students and a consistent chaplain who challenged, and supported the students who walked through those doors – those seen on a weekly basis, and those, like me, who were present as the season permitted, that was where I found a spiritual home that kept me anchored in my faith life and practice as a student riding the waves of early young adulthood.
The challenges that I faced as a young person, one who was strong in my faith commitment, one who continued to seek out a place in the church to call my own led me to the realization that, had I not been the one so committed to finding a faith community, the faith communities I tried to enter would not have come looking for me, they would have lost me completely. It was then that my commitment to campus ministry, my “cross to bear” was forged, and it is that commitment that has led me to be amongst you here today.
I am privileged with the work of being the chaplain to the group of students, Lutheran and Episcopal, who meet for regular meals, fellowship, service projects, discussion/study group and worship at the White House next door. I am honored with the trust of this community, and of the students to be a cross-bearer in their midst, and to draw students closer to the heart of God through their relationships with one another, and their actions in response to the gift of God’s love enacted through their hands at work in the world.
Many of you know that the history of this congregation is tied directly to the mission of being a Christian community that supports and cares for students of Winthrop University. Having grown far beyond that to a community that houses generations of grandparents, parents, youth, children, grand-children, you are also aware that you often have other things in mind when you walk through the doors of this space.
You come to worship, to sing, to be in community with one another, and to grow in your own commitment to follow the call of Christ, to be servants of the scriptural mandates that you love God, and love your neighbor, to pass on the faith from one generation to the next. But you must not forget that who you are, the identity of this church is rooted in the work of looking outward, of looking to those who are not yet incorporated into the community, of seeing, and responding to the students who live across the street, and down the road, and around the corner, and recognizing that they too have a place here. They too, are invited to be full members of the body of Christ.
Today I shared with you a story of isolation. A feeling that I’m sure I’m not the only one to have experienced in a church at one time or another. In the Gospel today, I wonder if this story of Jesus’ experience with the disciples points to that feeling. Here he is, a leader among them, and speaking the truth of the difficult path that has been set before him. He knows that the road will be long, and hard, and he knows what lies at the end – that he will suffer, and die. And his disciple Peter tries to stop him – tries to take him aside and claim, “This is not the Lord that I know, that I have faith in. This is not what the path is supposed to look like; this is not the path that must be taken. I do not recognize this story and I do not recognize you.”
I wonder if Jesus felt alone, misunderstood, lost in that moment before he pushed Peter’s response away, and drew in all who would listen. This was supposed to be the place where he was known, recognized, remembered, and yet they were getting it wrong.
And we know how the story ends. We know that Jesus was telling the truth, and that in the end, Peter still didn’t want to face the truth, didn’t want to let go of the image he had of a conquering king who could not be defeated by death…and we know that at the end of our Lenten season we celebrate the light at the end of the tunnel, the truth that the gift of Christ for the world does triumph over death, and does call us to a renewed commitment as followers of Christ to live in that way, seeking the light, and seeking others to share that light with.
This community is called to share that light with the students of Winthrop University. Remember who you are. Open your eyes to those sitting beside you, those seeking to come in. Open your hearts to the adventure of learning new things about who God is, and can be in your midst, by experiencing a community with the young adults who walk through those doors. Be bearers of that light, as you bear the cross that has been give to you, as you follow Jesus. Amen.
Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, March 8
At Grace Lutheran Church, Rock Hill, SC
Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
Psalm 22:22-30
Romans 4:13-25
Mark 8:31-38
Jesus said, “If they want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”
As a young person, I was certain that going to church would always be an important part of my life. I was raised in a family that was active in the Episcopal life and faith. I participated in Sunday school, youth group, Vacation Bible School… I did all the things that teach a young person that church is a happy, fun, caring place to be, where we like to sing songs, and have snacks, we serve God by being nice to each other, and our parents, and by loving our neighbor.
As a young person, these were all things I could relate to, and I developed that sense of safety, of having a place, and even of the ability to serve the community, both as an acolyte and as a mission trip participant. As a youth in confirmation class, and participating as a leader at diocesan events and gatherings, I even began to see the possibility that I might continue down this leadership track and that maybe someday I would be a priest in the church.
The church for me was a place where I was known and loved, and knew and loved others… a place where I could sense the warmth and the closeness of God with every person who greeted me with a smile, and let me know that they were glad I was there. It wasn’t until I was a freshman in college, in fact when I felt my first major sense of separateness from the idea of church as I had always known it.
I’m from the Midwest, and when I went off to college I found myself in a very small town, at a very small school two states away from my home in Minnesota. And I was pleased that there was an Episcopal Church there, because I knew that was “my” church, and that, if nothing else I would find a Book of Common Prayer in the pews, and in some way have access to church as I knew it. So on my first Sunday I entered a tiny little room with a few pews and a few people who looked up, saw that I was not someone they knew, and looked back in the direction their eyes had come from. I was young, nervous, and far from home, and I felt incredibly alone.
During the announcements I was asked to stand up and introduce myself. When I returned the following week I was welcomed like the first time, with a few quick glances, and an invitation to introduce myself…again. The energy and enthusiasm that I had about being a member of a church community, and further developing the call that was tugging at me to consider ordination began to sink, and along with it, my desire to know and be known in this community that didn’t seem to remember me from one week to the next.
My challenge was to find a church home where I felt connected, loved, cared about, remembered… Over the next four years as a college student that need was never fulfilled at the Episcopal Churches in the two places where I completed my associate and bachelor’s degrees. Rather it was in a consistent campus ministry that I came to know and love. One that I visited each time I was home for a school break.
The University Episcopal Center was a building on the Minneapolis campus of the University of Minnesota that I could walk into and be greeted by, and worship with people my age, with a common commitment to maintaining and further developing their faith life as students, and as followers of Christ in the world. A community of students and a consistent chaplain who challenged, and supported the students who walked through those doors – those seen on a weekly basis, and those, like me, who were present as the season permitted, that was where I found a spiritual home that kept me anchored in my faith life and practice as a student riding the waves of early young adulthood.
The challenges that I faced as a young person, one who was strong in my faith commitment, one who continued to seek out a place in the church to call my own led me to the realization that, had I not been the one so committed to finding a faith community, the faith communities I tried to enter would not have come looking for me, they would have lost me completely. It was then that my commitment to campus ministry, my “cross to bear” was forged, and it is that commitment that has led me to be amongst you here today.
I am privileged with the work of being the chaplain to the group of students, Lutheran and Episcopal, who meet for regular meals, fellowship, service projects, discussion/study group and worship at the White House next door. I am honored with the trust of this community, and of the students to be a cross-bearer in their midst, and to draw students closer to the heart of God through their relationships with one another, and their actions in response to the gift of God’s love enacted through their hands at work in the world.
Many of you know that the history of this congregation is tied directly to the mission of being a Christian community that supports and cares for students of Winthrop University. Having grown far beyond that to a community that houses generations of grandparents, parents, youth, children, grand-children, you are also aware that you often have other things in mind when you walk through the doors of this space.
You come to worship, to sing, to be in community with one another, and to grow in your own commitment to follow the call of Christ, to be servants of the scriptural mandates that you love God, and love your neighbor, to pass on the faith from one generation to the next. But you must not forget that who you are, the identity of this church is rooted in the work of looking outward, of looking to those who are not yet incorporated into the community, of seeing, and responding to the students who live across the street, and down the road, and around the corner, and recognizing that they too have a place here. They too, are invited to be full members of the body of Christ.
Today I shared with you a story of isolation. A feeling that I’m sure I’m not the only one to have experienced in a church at one time or another. In the Gospel today, I wonder if this story of Jesus’ experience with the disciples points to that feeling. Here he is, a leader among them, and speaking the truth of the difficult path that has been set before him. He knows that the road will be long, and hard, and he knows what lies at the end – that he will suffer, and die. And his disciple Peter tries to stop him – tries to take him aside and claim, “This is not the Lord that I know, that I have faith in. This is not what the path is supposed to look like; this is not the path that must be taken. I do not recognize this story and I do not recognize you.”
I wonder if Jesus felt alone, misunderstood, lost in that moment before he pushed Peter’s response away, and drew in all who would listen. This was supposed to be the place where he was known, recognized, remembered, and yet they were getting it wrong.
And we know how the story ends. We know that Jesus was telling the truth, and that in the end, Peter still didn’t want to face the truth, didn’t want to let go of the image he had of a conquering king who could not be defeated by death…and we know that at the end of our Lenten season we celebrate the light at the end of the tunnel, the truth that the gift of Christ for the world does triumph over death, and does call us to a renewed commitment as followers of Christ to live in that way, seeking the light, and seeking others to share that light with.
This community is called to share that light with the students of Winthrop University. Remember who you are. Open your eyes to those sitting beside you, those seeking to come in. Open your hearts to the adventure of learning new things about who God is, and can be in your midst, by experiencing a community with the young adults who walk through those doors. Be bearers of that light, as you bear the cross that has been give to you, as you follow Jesus. Amen.
Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, March 8
At Grace Lutheran Church, Rock Hill, SC
Friday, March 6, 2009
1 Lent, Year B, RCL
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-9
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15
“I invite you, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.”
These words were spoken in churches around the world on Ash Wednesday, marking the first of forty days of Lent. This season of penitence and preparation sets us to the work of intentionally taking on spiritual disciplines, such as study of scripture so that we might come to know better the stories of our faith tradition, and what they have to teach us about God.
Another is to that of an additional prayer practice, such as the one our rector has called us to, in observance of the deep need for a place to pray and be prayed over in these times of uncertainty.
During the season of Lent the church also invites us to the discipline of fasting. Some do this by giving up a favorite food or denying oneself of an indulgence that one has a tendency to give themselves over to in excess.
The purpose behind each of these practices is to be about the work of drawing ourselves nearer to God, so that we might discover new ways of showing forth thankfulness for the gift of our own lives and of God’s love for his creation. Our lectionary texts for today point us to this important awareness.
This is exemplified first through the telling of the conclusion of the story of Noah, and the great flood. A terrifying text for some, this story ends with the promise of a covenant; an agreement between God and humankind that proclaims that such an act of vengeance will never be done again with the intention of the near total destruction of all creation.
Faithfulness, follow through and the fulfillment of that promise are the deeper truths that this story offers to those seeking a greater understanding of God.
Noah was faithful in his execution of the crazy, outrageous, unexpected and difficult thing that he was called to do – “Build a boat, you’re gonna need it.”
God followed through on the threat that he made to a people who turned their back on their creator, and the symbol of water washes those sins (and sinners) away.
Finally the story concludes with an offering of a covenant from God to his creation – one that promised not retaliation, but reconciliation, forgiveness, and the opportunity for a fresh start, even in the face of the most divisive actions on the part of the people.
In our Gospel text we find ourselves next to John the Baptist and Jesus surrounded by the waters of baptism. In that moment the presence of the Holy Spirit is described as descending like the appearance of a dove and the voice of God declares, “You are my Son the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” The beginning of Jesus’ ministry has been marked by water, and the Holy Spirit. Following in this example, this is a symbolic and sacramental act that we too utilize to mark our call to community as members and ministers in our faith community.
As we explore scripture together, as we seek to understand the meaning of these stories in our contemporary context, our invitation is to know, not only the meaning behind them for the first communities who passed them on from one generation to the next, but also to allow ourselves to hear God’s promise to us through the ages.
God is creative. God is present. God offers the gift of washing away that which is old and dead, and allows new life to come into being in our communities and in ourselves. Now is the time to let God give that gift to you. Now is the time to let go of those parts of ourselves, those excesses that we grip so tightly, let them pass away, so that the cleansing waters of the gift of forgiveness and new life may wash over you.
The dusty, dirty, gritty ashes that marked our foreheads on Wednesday are reminders of our finiteness as members of the human family. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust [your body] shall return.” In our baptismal covenant, in our agreement with God and the community of faith, and the faithful departed who have gone before us, we remember the mark of the cross made with water, and oil and the Holy Spirit – that proclaims the new life that awaits us when we let the old pass away; new life in our way of being, as we live and move and have our being this world – in the here and now – in the way we interact with one another and the way we respond to the needs of our neighbors, and new life when this bodily form passes away, and we enter into the eternal peace which we shall truly come to know in God.
Lent is our season of preparation. Lenten disciplines are our invitation to let the old pass away, so that we might have room for the new to be born in our hearts. Clear away the clutter. Let go of those things, those indulgences, those practices that we put into play in order to fulfill our need to be loved. Let the abundance of God’s love take hold of you, as you take the time to draw near, to listen and to learn where God is calling you this day.
Are you being called to action? Are you being called to respond to a need in your community? Are you being called to de-clutter your life so that when the time comes, something new may be born there, or something that once was may be resurrected?
You were called to this community, to this faith, to this practice by virtue of your baptism. Use this season of Lent to draw yourself closer to the heart of God, so that you might come to know that which God has in store for the world through you. Prepare yourselves. For the beloved Son of God was sent to this world to proclaim that the kingdom of heaven has drawn near, and there is good news to hear. Amen.
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Psalm 25:1-9
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15
“I invite you, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.”
These words were spoken in churches around the world on Ash Wednesday, marking the first of forty days of Lent. This season of penitence and preparation sets us to the work of intentionally taking on spiritual disciplines, such as study of scripture so that we might come to know better the stories of our faith tradition, and what they have to teach us about God.
Another is to that of an additional prayer practice, such as the one our rector has called us to, in observance of the deep need for a place to pray and be prayed over in these times of uncertainty.
During the season of Lent the church also invites us to the discipline of fasting. Some do this by giving up a favorite food or denying oneself of an indulgence that one has a tendency to give themselves over to in excess.
The purpose behind each of these practices is to be about the work of drawing ourselves nearer to God, so that we might discover new ways of showing forth thankfulness for the gift of our own lives and of God’s love for his creation. Our lectionary texts for today point us to this important awareness.
This is exemplified first through the telling of the conclusion of the story of Noah, and the great flood. A terrifying text for some, this story ends with the promise of a covenant; an agreement between God and humankind that proclaims that such an act of vengeance will never be done again with the intention of the near total destruction of all creation.
Faithfulness, follow through and the fulfillment of that promise are the deeper truths that this story offers to those seeking a greater understanding of God.
Noah was faithful in his execution of the crazy, outrageous, unexpected and difficult thing that he was called to do – “Build a boat, you’re gonna need it.”
God followed through on the threat that he made to a people who turned their back on their creator, and the symbol of water washes those sins (and sinners) away.
Finally the story concludes with an offering of a covenant from God to his creation – one that promised not retaliation, but reconciliation, forgiveness, and the opportunity for a fresh start, even in the face of the most divisive actions on the part of the people.
In our Gospel text we find ourselves next to John the Baptist and Jesus surrounded by the waters of baptism. In that moment the presence of the Holy Spirit is described as descending like the appearance of a dove and the voice of God declares, “You are my Son the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” The beginning of Jesus’ ministry has been marked by water, and the Holy Spirit. Following in this example, this is a symbolic and sacramental act that we too utilize to mark our call to community as members and ministers in our faith community.
As we explore scripture together, as we seek to understand the meaning of these stories in our contemporary context, our invitation is to know, not only the meaning behind them for the first communities who passed them on from one generation to the next, but also to allow ourselves to hear God’s promise to us through the ages.
God is creative. God is present. God offers the gift of washing away that which is old and dead, and allows new life to come into being in our communities and in ourselves. Now is the time to let God give that gift to you. Now is the time to let go of those parts of ourselves, those excesses that we grip so tightly, let them pass away, so that the cleansing waters of the gift of forgiveness and new life may wash over you.
The dusty, dirty, gritty ashes that marked our foreheads on Wednesday are reminders of our finiteness as members of the human family. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust [your body] shall return.” In our baptismal covenant, in our agreement with God and the community of faith, and the faithful departed who have gone before us, we remember the mark of the cross made with water, and oil and the Holy Spirit – that proclaims the new life that awaits us when we let the old pass away; new life in our way of being, as we live and move and have our being this world – in the here and now – in the way we interact with one another and the way we respond to the needs of our neighbors, and new life when this bodily form passes away, and we enter into the eternal peace which we shall truly come to know in God.
Lent is our season of preparation. Lenten disciplines are our invitation to let the old pass away, so that we might have room for the new to be born in our hearts. Clear away the clutter. Let go of those things, those indulgences, those practices that we put into play in order to fulfill our need to be loved. Let the abundance of God’s love take hold of you, as you take the time to draw near, to listen and to learn where God is calling you this day.
Are you being called to action? Are you being called to respond to a need in your community? Are you being called to de-clutter your life so that when the time comes, something new may be born there, or something that once was may be resurrected?
You were called to this community, to this faith, to this practice by virtue of your baptism. Use this season of Lent to draw yourself closer to the heart of God, so that you might come to know that which God has in store for the world through you. Prepare yourselves. For the beloved Son of God was sent to this world to proclaim that the kingdom of heaven has drawn near, and there is good news to hear. Amen.
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Monday, February 23, 2009
Last Epiphany, Year B, RCL
On Friday, February 13th, Senior High youth from the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour in Rock Hill, SC gathered at 8 p.m. for a different kind of church overnight. Instead of a lock-in, we planned a lock-out. We created Valentines and thank you's to be delivered to the Police Station, the Hospital and other places where people are at work all night long. Prayers were said at Midnight and 3 a.m. in the morning, and our event concluded with breakfast at 4 a.m. The following sermon was preached on the next Sunday, describing the event, and the experiences we had.
2 Kings 2:1-12
Psalm 50:1-6
2 Corinthians 4:3-6
Mark 9:2-9
Theological reflection is difficult at 4 a.m. in the morning, especially after being awake and active for 22 hours. I know this because last Friday night I was sitting at a Waffle House with several members of our youth group and youth volunteers trying to think theologically about the experiences we had shared during the previous 8 hours.
The plan was to have a lock-out – a youth event that would take us out into the world that is at work at the time that most of us are safe in our beds, fast asleep. Our mission was to look, and see and give thanks for the people who do their work at all hours of the night. Police, medical workers, etc. Our experiences were surprising, energizing, comforting, challenging, and tiring.
The first stop was to the emergency shelter for women and children at the Pilgrim’s Inn. A night-worker greeted us with a giant smile and warm hugs, sincerely thankful that we had decided to engage in this unusual kind of ministry. She has been working there for 10 years, keeping watch, prepared to respond to a guest’s need in the middle of the night, there to answer the door should an abused mother or child knock in need of a place to stay. Never in her time there had anyone come by just to say thank you to her.
To the outside world, asleep or at work, or just driving by in the wee hours of the morning, the shelter at Pilgrim’s Inn is perhaps, just a porch light left on. But to those for whom it is there to serve, that light is a beacon of hope, a ray of light in the darkness, and this woman, the ambassador of that hope. We saw her, we opened our eyes to her, and gave thanks for her ministry. She was, to us, the face of Christ, seen in a new light.
Our next stop was York Place, another ministry that our parish supports financially and through volunteers and projects. Again we were faced with person after person who greeted us with smiles and surprise at the thought that youth from a church in Rock Hill had decided to offer them a special Valentine. At one of the cottages the energy from our youth as they greeted the night workers resulted in a burst of song! There was a mutual deep joy that was exchanged between those who are called to serve, and our group that decided to serve those who give their time and talent to care for those with such great need.
One of the workers reminded us that they did not do this work for their own “glory” (after all, it is largely invisible to a world that sleeps at night), but that it was a call and a commitment to care for those in need in response to the gift of Christ’s love for the whole world. Another worker challenged our youth to consider the real need of these, and other children being watched over in their sleep, and encouraged all of us to be open to the possibility that we might be the hands and hearts at this kind of work one day. Being a part of the world at work at night opened our eyes to see Christ at work in the world in an unexpected, brilliantly bright way.
In our Gospel this morning we join some of the disciples as they follow Jesus to a private place and in a moment of dazzling light and wonder, the Jesus they know is transfigured, transformed into something unrecognizable, but breathtakingly beautiful. This story of the Transfiguration of Jesus is rapt in mystery, wonder, awe. Housed almost at the center of Mark’s Gospel, it is connected with Jesus’ first pronouncement of the path that has been set before him – one that we know as the passion – Jesus’ trial at the hands of human judgment, and his impending death on a cross. Here this beautiful vision of glory beyond anything imaginable, followed by the word of the difficult road still ahead.
These themes are familiar to me in the story of our lock-out experience last weekend. We decided to see the world as it is, surprised by its beauty, and grounded by the deep need and hurt that exists alongside of that. But there is light in the darkness, and we found it right here in Rock Hill.
As people of faith, we are called to proclaim the light of Christ – to let it shine in our hearts, and through our response to the needs of those in our community, and the world around us. Jesus made his way to the cross. He accepted the challenge of suffering and death, so that we might be freed from the suffering that we inflict on ourselves and on one another. Love God. Love your neighbor. It’s that simple.
I offer the same challenge to you that was put to us. Know that the Gospel truth that God’s great love has been revealed to you. Open your eyes to the world around you, look for those places where the love of God is needed. Open your hands and your hearts to the reality that you are being called to serve. And let your light shine in the darkness. Amen.
Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
at the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC
Sunday, February 22, 2009
2 Kings 2:1-12
Psalm 50:1-6
2 Corinthians 4:3-6
Mark 9:2-9
Theological reflection is difficult at 4 a.m. in the morning, especially after being awake and active for 22 hours. I know this because last Friday night I was sitting at a Waffle House with several members of our youth group and youth volunteers trying to think theologically about the experiences we had shared during the previous 8 hours.
The plan was to have a lock-out – a youth event that would take us out into the world that is at work at the time that most of us are safe in our beds, fast asleep. Our mission was to look, and see and give thanks for the people who do their work at all hours of the night. Police, medical workers, etc. Our experiences were surprising, energizing, comforting, challenging, and tiring.
The first stop was to the emergency shelter for women and children at the Pilgrim’s Inn. A night-worker greeted us with a giant smile and warm hugs, sincerely thankful that we had decided to engage in this unusual kind of ministry. She has been working there for 10 years, keeping watch, prepared to respond to a guest’s need in the middle of the night, there to answer the door should an abused mother or child knock in need of a place to stay. Never in her time there had anyone come by just to say thank you to her.
To the outside world, asleep or at work, or just driving by in the wee hours of the morning, the shelter at Pilgrim’s Inn is perhaps, just a porch light left on. But to those for whom it is there to serve, that light is a beacon of hope, a ray of light in the darkness, and this woman, the ambassador of that hope. We saw her, we opened our eyes to her, and gave thanks for her ministry. She was, to us, the face of Christ, seen in a new light.
Our next stop was York Place, another ministry that our parish supports financially and through volunteers and projects. Again we were faced with person after person who greeted us with smiles and surprise at the thought that youth from a church in Rock Hill had decided to offer them a special Valentine. At one of the cottages the energy from our youth as they greeted the night workers resulted in a burst of song! There was a mutual deep joy that was exchanged between those who are called to serve, and our group that decided to serve those who give their time and talent to care for those with such great need.
One of the workers reminded us that they did not do this work for their own “glory” (after all, it is largely invisible to a world that sleeps at night), but that it was a call and a commitment to care for those in need in response to the gift of Christ’s love for the whole world. Another worker challenged our youth to consider the real need of these, and other children being watched over in their sleep, and encouraged all of us to be open to the possibility that we might be the hands and hearts at this kind of work one day. Being a part of the world at work at night opened our eyes to see Christ at work in the world in an unexpected, brilliantly bright way.
In our Gospel this morning we join some of the disciples as they follow Jesus to a private place and in a moment of dazzling light and wonder, the Jesus they know is transfigured, transformed into something unrecognizable, but breathtakingly beautiful. This story of the Transfiguration of Jesus is rapt in mystery, wonder, awe. Housed almost at the center of Mark’s Gospel, it is connected with Jesus’ first pronouncement of the path that has been set before him – one that we know as the passion – Jesus’ trial at the hands of human judgment, and his impending death on a cross. Here this beautiful vision of glory beyond anything imaginable, followed by the word of the difficult road still ahead.
These themes are familiar to me in the story of our lock-out experience last weekend. We decided to see the world as it is, surprised by its beauty, and grounded by the deep need and hurt that exists alongside of that. But there is light in the darkness, and we found it right here in Rock Hill.
As people of faith, we are called to proclaim the light of Christ – to let it shine in our hearts, and through our response to the needs of those in our community, and the world around us. Jesus made his way to the cross. He accepted the challenge of suffering and death, so that we might be freed from the suffering that we inflict on ourselves and on one another. Love God. Love your neighbor. It’s that simple.
I offer the same challenge to you that was put to us. Know that the Gospel truth that God’s great love has been revealed to you. Open your eyes to the world around you, look for those places where the love of God is needed. Open your hands and your hearts to the reality that you are being called to serve. And let your light shine in the darkness. Amen.
Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
at the Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
3 Epiphany, Year B, RCL
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Psalm 62: 6-14
1 Corinthians 7: 29-31
Mark 1:14-20
When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.
I speak to you in the name of the one true and living God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
I love the story of Jonah. Jonah is a name that immediately brings to mind for many people an image of a giant whale, and a man reluctantly being delivered to fulfill a task asked of him by God. I don’t know about you, but there have been times in my life when I have grudgingly approached a task that has been asked of me, and whether I wanted to do it or not, it had to be done, and it was my job to do it. Dreaded household chores, making a phone call I really don’t want to make, finishing a task that I just don’t enjoy, but that cannot be ignored, forgotten about, or put off any longer… Perhaps you’ve been there too?
Jonah was given a task that he did not want to do. He was called upon by God himself, so running away was futile, though he still tried to do it. But in the end, the task was his to complete and he did what was expected of him.
We only get a snippet of Jonah’s story in the reading this morning, so let me recount some parts of the story in this very, very short book housed amongst the prophets of the Old Testament. Many of you will remember the part about Jonah hearing God’s call to go to the city of Nineveh, and rather than saying yes and going to that place, Jonah rejects it, and gets on a ship heading to another city in the opposite direction. While on that boat, a storm comes up and the superstitious crew seeks to determine who has caused the wrath of such a storm to come upon them. They do this by casting lots. The lots point to Jonah, who admits that he is a Hebrew whose God is the creator of all, including the sea. The men of that crew, fearing their life prayed to Jonah’s god, seeking protection from the storm, through the promise of a sacrifice of his own servant Jonah, and so they threw him overboard and the seas calmed.
The story continues with Jonah in the sea who, as the story goes, is swallowed by a large fish, and rides in the belly of this “whale” for three days. When this time of trial is over, Jonah has been delivered to the city of Nineveh, where he is again commissioned to proclaim to the people a message of repentance – one that they desperately need to hear.
Now, if this story hasn’t been amazing enough already, something even more incredible and surprising happens next. The people of Nineveh not only heard Jonah, but they listened to what he was saying. They got the message. They were a people sorely in need of repentance, and rather than ignore this person who was sent to offer them one last chance – they stopped what they were doing, they declared a fast for all the people, and they asked for God’s great mercy. And then, and then, and then… they received it!
Their town did not come to a calamitous end! God’s wrath and vengeance, eloquently described in so many stories from the Old Testament, was not wrought down upon them! They received God’s mercy and forgiveness, and they were a changed people.
So what happened with Jonah, after all that drama? Well guess what. Jonah was still upset about his mission to go to the people of Nineveh. And he was even more upset that they received a reprieve from God’s anger when they followed through on what was being asked of them. Jonah said, “O Lord, Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning: for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.”
Jonah did not agree with God that such a city as this, such a people as these were deserving of forgiveness, of salvation. Jonah knew that he believed in a loving God, and that such a god would not ignore the imploring of people who truly repented. So if he were to go to that city, and offer an opportunity to change to those people, and they accepted the challenge and reconciled themselves to God, they would receive God’s mercy. And so, when Jonah fulfilled the task that was given to him, and the people did what was asked of them, God was loving and compassionate and forgiving, and Jonah – Jonah was royally “upset” at God.
The things I learn from this story: Change happens. God will be there. Not everyone will agree with God’s response. God will be there, still.
You hear it said a lot, “people don’t change.” And the truth in that is that I cannot change another person, and you cannot change another person. But I am a person of hope and I believe in resurrection. And what that means to me is that each person has the ability to look at themselves, to take in the landscape of good and bad that resides within the self, AND each person has the ability to seek to make right, to cleanse, to reconcile that which separates them from loving God, and loving their neighbor.
Sin comes in all forms and fashions, and we love and loathe our sins, don’t we? They are the indulgences that sooth in the immediacy of instant gratification, and they are the cause of the guilt that plagues the soul in the aftermath of over-indulgence.
Addiction, selfishness, lack of compassion, misplaced passion, coveting, lying, apathy...
When we take the time to stop acting and doing and being all the things that we assume society expects of us, and reflect on our day to day actions, reflect on the impact that our choices each day have on our local community, on our nation, and on people in distant lands who share our planet earth, we will most certainly find sin there.
Reconciliation comes as a result of recognizing those things that are wrong – those passions that are misplaced, those things that widen the gap between ourselves and a loving God who calls on us to do what is right, to follow a path of righteousness that has been set for us, to love and care for all God’s people – even those whom we wish we could forget about, ignore, pass by.
In order for resurrection to happen those old sins, those old ways of doing things, those old complacencies must wither and die and pass away; for you cannot have the new life that comes with resurrection, without the end of those things that stand in the way. Change can happen. But not without letting go of the old in order to embrace the possibility of the new.
God will be there. God is there. God is calling you by name, so that you will know and be able to live a life that shares the Good News. The good news that sins can pass away and we are forgiven. The good news that the work of reconciliation, of owing up to those painful things that keeps us from fully loving God, from fully loving our neighbor in need, can result in the promise of new life – through resurrection. The good news that God calls each one of us by name, calls us to action, calls us to respond to a need in someone’s life, in our community, in our world – and even if we enter into that work with reluctance, even if we’re not certain that God is right – the good news that we are forgiven of our sins and can ourselves change, is the good news for others as well. We can be bearers of that good news, and the world will be changed.
There are tasks that we all face with reluctance. Some of those are the tasks that we most dread because we know they will be difficult, they will not be “fun” and we’re not always sure just how it will benefit us. But the fact of the matter is: we are called to the task because it needs to be done. Jesus called his fishermen to be bearers of the good news, long before the gospels were written down to be read and shared in that way. They were called to be witnesses of the good news of God in Christ in the way they lived their lives. Jonah too was called upon to complete a task. One that he approached with reluctance because he had so little faith in the possibility that such sinners as those found in Nineveh could be changed. But God had faith in those people. And God had faith in Jonah. And the result of Jonah’s work was the resurrection of a people.
What task have you been putting off? What message have you been ignoring? What challenge have you been reluctant to stand up and take your place? Take a look at those things that may be keeping you from following an invitation by God into reconciliation, into something new… Consider the possibility that even though you’re not sure you want to go someplace new – change can happen, and God is there, faithfully, from the beginning, to the end, to the new beginning. Amen.
Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, January 25, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, South Carolina
Psalm 62: 6-14
1 Corinthians 7: 29-31
Mark 1:14-20
When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.
I speak to you in the name of the one true and living God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
I love the story of Jonah. Jonah is a name that immediately brings to mind for many people an image of a giant whale, and a man reluctantly being delivered to fulfill a task asked of him by God. I don’t know about you, but there have been times in my life when I have grudgingly approached a task that has been asked of me, and whether I wanted to do it or not, it had to be done, and it was my job to do it. Dreaded household chores, making a phone call I really don’t want to make, finishing a task that I just don’t enjoy, but that cannot be ignored, forgotten about, or put off any longer… Perhaps you’ve been there too?
Jonah was given a task that he did not want to do. He was called upon by God himself, so running away was futile, though he still tried to do it. But in the end, the task was his to complete and he did what was expected of him.
We only get a snippet of Jonah’s story in the reading this morning, so let me recount some parts of the story in this very, very short book housed amongst the prophets of the Old Testament. Many of you will remember the part about Jonah hearing God’s call to go to the city of Nineveh, and rather than saying yes and going to that place, Jonah rejects it, and gets on a ship heading to another city in the opposite direction. While on that boat, a storm comes up and the superstitious crew seeks to determine who has caused the wrath of such a storm to come upon them. They do this by casting lots. The lots point to Jonah, who admits that he is a Hebrew whose God is the creator of all, including the sea. The men of that crew, fearing their life prayed to Jonah’s god, seeking protection from the storm, through the promise of a sacrifice of his own servant Jonah, and so they threw him overboard and the seas calmed.
The story continues with Jonah in the sea who, as the story goes, is swallowed by a large fish, and rides in the belly of this “whale” for three days. When this time of trial is over, Jonah has been delivered to the city of Nineveh, where he is again commissioned to proclaim to the people a message of repentance – one that they desperately need to hear.
Now, if this story hasn’t been amazing enough already, something even more incredible and surprising happens next. The people of Nineveh not only heard Jonah, but they listened to what he was saying. They got the message. They were a people sorely in need of repentance, and rather than ignore this person who was sent to offer them one last chance – they stopped what they were doing, they declared a fast for all the people, and they asked for God’s great mercy. And then, and then, and then… they received it!
Their town did not come to a calamitous end! God’s wrath and vengeance, eloquently described in so many stories from the Old Testament, was not wrought down upon them! They received God’s mercy and forgiveness, and they were a changed people.
So what happened with Jonah, after all that drama? Well guess what. Jonah was still upset about his mission to go to the people of Nineveh. And he was even more upset that they received a reprieve from God’s anger when they followed through on what was being asked of them. Jonah said, “O Lord, Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning: for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.”
Jonah did not agree with God that such a city as this, such a people as these were deserving of forgiveness, of salvation. Jonah knew that he believed in a loving God, and that such a god would not ignore the imploring of people who truly repented. So if he were to go to that city, and offer an opportunity to change to those people, and they accepted the challenge and reconciled themselves to God, they would receive God’s mercy. And so, when Jonah fulfilled the task that was given to him, and the people did what was asked of them, God was loving and compassionate and forgiving, and Jonah – Jonah was royally “upset” at God.
The things I learn from this story: Change happens. God will be there. Not everyone will agree with God’s response. God will be there, still.
You hear it said a lot, “people don’t change.” And the truth in that is that I cannot change another person, and you cannot change another person. But I am a person of hope and I believe in resurrection. And what that means to me is that each person has the ability to look at themselves, to take in the landscape of good and bad that resides within the self, AND each person has the ability to seek to make right, to cleanse, to reconcile that which separates them from loving God, and loving their neighbor.
Sin comes in all forms and fashions, and we love and loathe our sins, don’t we? They are the indulgences that sooth in the immediacy of instant gratification, and they are the cause of the guilt that plagues the soul in the aftermath of over-indulgence.
Addiction, selfishness, lack of compassion, misplaced passion, coveting, lying, apathy...
When we take the time to stop acting and doing and being all the things that we assume society expects of us, and reflect on our day to day actions, reflect on the impact that our choices each day have on our local community, on our nation, and on people in distant lands who share our planet earth, we will most certainly find sin there.
Reconciliation comes as a result of recognizing those things that are wrong – those passions that are misplaced, those things that widen the gap between ourselves and a loving God who calls on us to do what is right, to follow a path of righteousness that has been set for us, to love and care for all God’s people – even those whom we wish we could forget about, ignore, pass by.
In order for resurrection to happen those old sins, those old ways of doing things, those old complacencies must wither and die and pass away; for you cannot have the new life that comes with resurrection, without the end of those things that stand in the way. Change can happen. But not without letting go of the old in order to embrace the possibility of the new.
God will be there. God is there. God is calling you by name, so that you will know and be able to live a life that shares the Good News. The good news that sins can pass away and we are forgiven. The good news that the work of reconciliation, of owing up to those painful things that keeps us from fully loving God, from fully loving our neighbor in need, can result in the promise of new life – through resurrection. The good news that God calls each one of us by name, calls us to action, calls us to respond to a need in someone’s life, in our community, in our world – and even if we enter into that work with reluctance, even if we’re not certain that God is right – the good news that we are forgiven of our sins and can ourselves change, is the good news for others as well. We can be bearers of that good news, and the world will be changed.
There are tasks that we all face with reluctance. Some of those are the tasks that we most dread because we know they will be difficult, they will not be “fun” and we’re not always sure just how it will benefit us. But the fact of the matter is: we are called to the task because it needs to be done. Jesus called his fishermen to be bearers of the good news, long before the gospels were written down to be read and shared in that way. They were called to be witnesses of the good news of God in Christ in the way they lived their lives. Jonah too was called upon to complete a task. One that he approached with reluctance because he had so little faith in the possibility that such sinners as those found in Nineveh could be changed. But God had faith in those people. And God had faith in Jonah. And the result of Jonah’s work was the resurrection of a people.
What task have you been putting off? What message have you been ignoring? What challenge have you been reluctant to stand up and take your place? Take a look at those things that may be keeping you from following an invitation by God into reconciliation, into something new… Consider the possibility that even though you’re not sure you want to go someplace new – change can happen, and God is there, faithfully, from the beginning, to the end, to the new beginning. Amen.
Delivered by the Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, January 25, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, South Carolina
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