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
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
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
Monday, January 5, 2009
The Epiphany 2009
Isaiah 60:1-6
Ephesians 3:1-12
Psalm 72:1-7,10-14
Matthew 2:1-12
Pilgrimage, Arrival, Epiphany
All kings shall bow down before him, *
and all the nations do him service.
For he shall deliver the poor who cries out in distress, *
and the oppressed who has no helper.
--Psalm 72: 11-12
The faith story that we Christians live by, the story of our community, and of our God is ultimately one of pilgrimage; of journeying from one place to another, and allowing something new, something amazing and unexpected to come out of the most simple, mundane, routine surroundings. In the stories that we tell on this day of the church year, the Epiphany, we mark the transition from the Christmas season that we have been wrapped up in, the celebration of the gift of Christ’s incarnation through his birth into humanity, to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and the work of bringing about the Kingdom of God here on earth. The first story of which, is the arrival of wise ones who have come unexpectedly from a foreign land, and from a different, non-Jewish religious background, to recognize the arrival of one who would be called the king of the Jews, the Messiah, Immanuel, God-with-us. Their arrival comes after a long journey – one that leads them to witness something so simple, so common, so plain as the birth of yet another child into the world, and yet, it is a birth that was foretold by prophets, one marked by a unique constellation in the sky, one that fulfills for us the cry, “Come thou long expected Jesus, born a child and yet a king.”
My own story of pilgrimage is one that caught me by surprise. It is from a time in my life when I stood on the precipice of great change – as one season of my life was coming to an end, and something new was on the horizon. The day after I graduated from high school, several very good friends, and I travelled to Washington D.C. We were members of a group history project that had won 1st place in our state competition and would now be competing at the National History Day competition. We were traveling with more than 40 high school students, parents and teachers, which, if you’ve ever traveled with a large group, you can imagine the kind of stress that might accompany such a trip. But still, it was my first chance to go to Washington D.C., and I was very proud of our team’s accomplishment and looked forward to the national contest ahead.
Now, you may be surprised to know this, but as a young teenager I was not particularly “proud to be an American.” I was concerned with dangers of extreme patriotism and the horrors that war was still considered a necessary evil in my lifetime. I was extremely concerned with the environment and was an active environmentalist at my school. And most of all, strong in my faith in a loving creator God, I struggled with the lack of compassion that my fellow Christian Americans would express toward members of our community – the fact that discrimination against women, minorities and the gay and lesbian members of our society was considered a norm, something that could not be overcome, and was simply a fact of life. I hated the feeling of hypocrisy that came with recitation of the words “One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all,” when there were so many times that it felt more truthful to recognize that there was only “liberty and justice for some.” I never expected that a visit to the nation’s capital would have an effect on me. Or that it would provide such a “significant moral insight” as a planned spiritual pilgrimage is intended to bring about.
Our group spent a few days touring the monuments and the various places of pilgrimage that our Nation’s capital provides. We met our state Senator, Paul Wellstone, toured the capital building, viewed the Constitution, visited the National Museum of American History, and finally, after days of walking, snapping pictures, riding on buses and getting a little Washington D.C.’d out… we came to the Lincoln Memorial.
It was evening, and lights were turning on as the sky quickly darkened. I was only with a small number of our larger group, and the monument, for the moment was not overwhelmed with too many people. If you haven’t been there yourself, you must also try to understand just how high the stone marble stretches above your head. The interior ceiling of the monument is 99 feet tall, and the Lincoln statue that sits on a large pedestal is 19 feet tall (so as not to be dwarfed by its majestic surroundings.) The inscription above Lincoln’s head reads: “In this temple, as in the hearts of the people for whom he saved the Union, the memory of Abraham Lincoln is enshrined forever.”
“In this temple…” this sacred place where people who believe in the words liberty and justice for all have come again and again over the years to make their voices heard, to let their presence be known, to participate in the necessity of standing up for what they believe to be right, and true, this was a place that spoke to my heart, and unearthed a deep, unrealized hope and optimism for all the possibilities this nation is capable of achieving in the world around me. It served as a reminder that as a citizen, born of this nation, I too am called to act.
I had never felt so much patriotism and such a deep connection between my heritage as an American citizen and my call to act as a faithful Christian, as I did standing at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial. I stood there imagining the number of Americans who have made a pilgrimage to that place over the years striving for civil rights, for equal opportunity and justice in the eyes of the law, and of the country we live in.
Millions of people taking a stand for what they believe in, and striving to call our nation to set a path of righteousness. People from all walks of life, making their way to bear witness to the hopes and desires that inspire a nation to act. I found myself as one among many, on a pilgrimage that I didn’t even know I was called to be a part of. Yet, there I was, in this historic place looking back with awe at our nation’s history, and looking forward with eyes wide open in hopes of seeing a world changed for the better in my future.
At that moment I had an epiphany experience, a deep insight as a result of something that had become as normal and anticipated as going to see yet another monument. My journey as a high school student had come to a close, and my anticipated entrance into adulthood as an 18 year old with the privilege of voting in that years’ election, was about to begin. And something new and fresh was awakened in me – a sense of my faith being bound to my actions as a citizen of this nation, and a deep abiding hope that in my lifetime I would see true change in the world around me by being a part of building up of God’s kingdom.
More than 10 years have passed since that day. Our nation still struggles with war, violence, environmental health, and issues related to discrimination. And yet, we have come so far once again. On January 20, 2009, Americans from all walks of life will make pilgrimage to be witnesses to the inauguration of the 44th president of the United States of America, Barack Hussein Obama in the same year as Abraham Lincoln’s 200th birthday. All politics aside, one cannot look upon these historical events in our nation’s history, without a deep hope that we as a people, as a nation, under God have entered into a new world. And my hope holds strong that God being in the midst of this shift is calling upon each of us to do our part as kingdom builders.
As a priest I am called to preach the equality of all God’s children in the name of Christ Jesus. As an Episcopalian I am called to strive for justice and freedom for all people. As an American I am called to believe that liberty and justice for all is a possibility and a value of this nation. My unexpected pilgrimage ignited in me the hope that my faith, and my citizenship could work hand in hand to strive to bring about the wonder of God’s kingdom, and the hope for God’s people in this world.
Paul’s words to the Ephesians speak to the Gentiles – those who have not yet come to know as deep a faith in Christ, and yet they speak filled with hope that they too will known through the work of the church the richness and the wisdom of God’s presence in the world by coming to know Christ.
The wise ones, too, whose pilgrimage brought them to Bethlehem to pay homage to a newborn child, one who would be a shepherd to the people to Israel, whose life’s work they would not see in their lifetime; their place in the story is one the reminds us that the Christ-child came, not for us alone, but for the whole world.
And as we enter the year 2009, our journey, and our pilgrimage of faith continues – as a people of God, as a nation striving to live into new things, as individuals seeking solace, pardon, strength and renewal through our journey to the holy table that is set for us here. May your journey to that table be one that opens you up to the possibility that God will meet you in the most unexpected, mundane, simple places. May it reveal to you the depth of Christ’s love, so that as your pilgrimage continues, you may be ignited to stand up and do your part to be about the work of building God’s kingdom. Amen.
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, January 4, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Ephesians 3:1-12
Psalm 72:1-7,10-14
Matthew 2:1-12
Pilgrimage, Arrival, Epiphany
All kings shall bow down before him, *
and all the nations do him service.
For he shall deliver the poor who cries out in distress, *
and the oppressed who has no helper.
--Psalm 72: 11-12
The faith story that we Christians live by, the story of our community, and of our God is ultimately one of pilgrimage; of journeying from one place to another, and allowing something new, something amazing and unexpected to come out of the most simple, mundane, routine surroundings. In the stories that we tell on this day of the church year, the Epiphany, we mark the transition from the Christmas season that we have been wrapped up in, the celebration of the gift of Christ’s incarnation through his birth into humanity, to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and the work of bringing about the Kingdom of God here on earth. The first story of which, is the arrival of wise ones who have come unexpectedly from a foreign land, and from a different, non-Jewish religious background, to recognize the arrival of one who would be called the king of the Jews, the Messiah, Immanuel, God-with-us. Their arrival comes after a long journey – one that leads them to witness something so simple, so common, so plain as the birth of yet another child into the world, and yet, it is a birth that was foretold by prophets, one marked by a unique constellation in the sky, one that fulfills for us the cry, “Come thou long expected Jesus, born a child and yet a king.”
My own story of pilgrimage is one that caught me by surprise. It is from a time in my life when I stood on the precipice of great change – as one season of my life was coming to an end, and something new was on the horizon. The day after I graduated from high school, several very good friends, and I travelled to Washington D.C. We were members of a group history project that had won 1st place in our state competition and would now be competing at the National History Day competition. We were traveling with more than 40 high school students, parents and teachers, which, if you’ve ever traveled with a large group, you can imagine the kind of stress that might accompany such a trip. But still, it was my first chance to go to Washington D.C., and I was very proud of our team’s accomplishment and looked forward to the national contest ahead.
Now, you may be surprised to know this, but as a young teenager I was not particularly “proud to be an American.” I was concerned with dangers of extreme patriotism and the horrors that war was still considered a necessary evil in my lifetime. I was extremely concerned with the environment and was an active environmentalist at my school. And most of all, strong in my faith in a loving creator God, I struggled with the lack of compassion that my fellow Christian Americans would express toward members of our community – the fact that discrimination against women, minorities and the gay and lesbian members of our society was considered a norm, something that could not be overcome, and was simply a fact of life. I hated the feeling of hypocrisy that came with recitation of the words “One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all,” when there were so many times that it felt more truthful to recognize that there was only “liberty and justice for some.” I never expected that a visit to the nation’s capital would have an effect on me. Or that it would provide such a “significant moral insight” as a planned spiritual pilgrimage is intended to bring about.
Our group spent a few days touring the monuments and the various places of pilgrimage that our Nation’s capital provides. We met our state Senator, Paul Wellstone, toured the capital building, viewed the Constitution, visited the National Museum of American History, and finally, after days of walking, snapping pictures, riding on buses and getting a little Washington D.C.’d out… we came to the Lincoln Memorial.
It was evening, and lights were turning on as the sky quickly darkened. I was only with a small number of our larger group, and the monument, for the moment was not overwhelmed with too many people. If you haven’t been there yourself, you must also try to understand just how high the stone marble stretches above your head. The interior ceiling of the monument is 99 feet tall, and the Lincoln statue that sits on a large pedestal is 19 feet tall (so as not to be dwarfed by its majestic surroundings.) The inscription above Lincoln’s head reads: “In this temple, as in the hearts of the people for whom he saved the Union, the memory of Abraham Lincoln is enshrined forever.”
“In this temple…” this sacred place where people who believe in the words liberty and justice for all have come again and again over the years to make their voices heard, to let their presence be known, to participate in the necessity of standing up for what they believe to be right, and true, this was a place that spoke to my heart, and unearthed a deep, unrealized hope and optimism for all the possibilities this nation is capable of achieving in the world around me. It served as a reminder that as a citizen, born of this nation, I too am called to act.
I had never felt so much patriotism and such a deep connection between my heritage as an American citizen and my call to act as a faithful Christian, as I did standing at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial. I stood there imagining the number of Americans who have made a pilgrimage to that place over the years striving for civil rights, for equal opportunity and justice in the eyes of the law, and of the country we live in.
Millions of people taking a stand for what they believe in, and striving to call our nation to set a path of righteousness. People from all walks of life, making their way to bear witness to the hopes and desires that inspire a nation to act. I found myself as one among many, on a pilgrimage that I didn’t even know I was called to be a part of. Yet, there I was, in this historic place looking back with awe at our nation’s history, and looking forward with eyes wide open in hopes of seeing a world changed for the better in my future.
At that moment I had an epiphany experience, a deep insight as a result of something that had become as normal and anticipated as going to see yet another monument. My journey as a high school student had come to a close, and my anticipated entrance into adulthood as an 18 year old with the privilege of voting in that years’ election, was about to begin. And something new and fresh was awakened in me – a sense of my faith being bound to my actions as a citizen of this nation, and a deep abiding hope that in my lifetime I would see true change in the world around me by being a part of building up of God’s kingdom.
More than 10 years have passed since that day. Our nation still struggles with war, violence, environmental health, and issues related to discrimination. And yet, we have come so far once again. On January 20, 2009, Americans from all walks of life will make pilgrimage to be witnesses to the inauguration of the 44th president of the United States of America, Barack Hussein Obama in the same year as Abraham Lincoln’s 200th birthday. All politics aside, one cannot look upon these historical events in our nation’s history, without a deep hope that we as a people, as a nation, under God have entered into a new world. And my hope holds strong that God being in the midst of this shift is calling upon each of us to do our part as kingdom builders.
As a priest I am called to preach the equality of all God’s children in the name of Christ Jesus. As an Episcopalian I am called to strive for justice and freedom for all people. As an American I am called to believe that liberty and justice for all is a possibility and a value of this nation. My unexpected pilgrimage ignited in me the hope that my faith, and my citizenship could work hand in hand to strive to bring about the wonder of God’s kingdom, and the hope for God’s people in this world.
Paul’s words to the Ephesians speak to the Gentiles – those who have not yet come to know as deep a faith in Christ, and yet they speak filled with hope that they too will known through the work of the church the richness and the wisdom of God’s presence in the world by coming to know Christ.
The wise ones, too, whose pilgrimage brought them to Bethlehem to pay homage to a newborn child, one who would be a shepherd to the people to Israel, whose life’s work they would not see in their lifetime; their place in the story is one the reminds us that the Christ-child came, not for us alone, but for the whole world.
And as we enter the year 2009, our journey, and our pilgrimage of faith continues – as a people of God, as a nation striving to live into new things, as individuals seeking solace, pardon, strength and renewal through our journey to the holy table that is set for us here. May your journey to that table be one that opens you up to the possibility that God will meet you in the most unexpected, mundane, simple places. May it reveal to you the depth of Christ’s love, so that as your pilgrimage continues, you may be ignited to stand up and do your part to be about the work of building God’s kingdom. Amen.
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Sunday, January 4, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Christmas Eve Message 2008 (Children's Sermon)
Christmas II, RCL
Isaiah 62:6-12
Titus 3:4-7
Psalm 97
Listening to stories and telling stories – these are some of my favorite parts of going to church. They are also one of the very best parts of the season of Advent and getting ready for Christmas. Telling stories is such an important part of our tradition as Christians that we do it every time we gather for worship. Tonight I’m going to share a story that many of you might recognize – and you might think it’s surprising to hear it in church, but I think it has a lot to say to us.
Once there was a little boy who did not have a lot of friends. He knew lots of kids at school, but he was kind of awkward and shy, and sometimes the kids teased him, calling him a “blockhead.” One Christmas one of the kids at school said that he should be the one to pick out the Christmas tree for the class. This little boy thought, “Me? You want me to do this? If I’m going to do this, then I better do it right!” So the little boy went to pick out a tree. And he looked at trees big and tall, shiny and sparkly, trees with all different sorts of branches, and when he found the very perfect one he brought it show all the kids.
But the tree that this little boy had picked out – well, it was a pretty sad looking tree. Just putting one ornament on it and it wilted almost to the ground. When the kids at school saw this they teased the little boy, and made the tree droop even more. The little boy decided to give up and took his little tree home with him.
Then, after he left, something unexpected happened. Someone told a story, about a little baby being born, and how this strange and unexpected birth story brought much rejoicing and singing, because that baby was born for the mere purpose of loving all people in the whole world – no matter who they were, that little tiny baby had enough love for everyone. When the other kids from the class heard that story, they began to think about the joy that such a tiny baby was able to bring into the world… and they started to think that maybe that tiny little unimpressive tree wasn’t so bad after all. So they decided to welcome it, to love it, to celebrate its arrival. And when they did this, something beautiful happened – the people were transformed and the tree revealed its true beauty.
One story takes place inside of another. In the middle of the story of this little boy – the story of a birth announcement was re-told – of a tiny baby came into the world over 2,000 years ago. A child wrapped only in rags, born in the humblest of places – a manger, a barn, a baby, born to an unmarried couple, Joseph and Mary.
And yet, others came to see this child – shepherds were called upon to witness this humble birth, angels and heavenly hosts sang songs to the glory of God, something truly amazing happened.
And today we adorn our churches, sing songs, make special foods, gather for stories and gift giving – so that we too can be a part of that story, so that we can pass it on to our children, and our friends, and those who need to be reminded, that the simplest, most unexpected story, can ignite a passion and a love in people that can change the world.
A little boy loves a tree and shares it with his friends, and those friends are changed – they feel that love and decide to give it back, and new life grows: there in their hearts and in the world around them.
This Christmas, as you gather and tell your stories – listen for the places where something new has come from something old; where something or someone has been transformed – rarely does it happen alone, or without something deep inside igniting a passion to respond to the world with a heart of love.
Think of your own stories as they relate to those of our ancestors, the people of the Bible who have all been there before, and been through the same kinds of difficulties and the same kinds of joys that we face live with in our world today.
Love one another, love God, and know that your story matters. Know that God is there, and that Christ’s love for each of his children – the children that gather at our feet, and the children that we are in our hearts, can be broken open, and live our lives as the gifts of love that we are to the world. And don’t forget to tell the story. Amen.
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Enockson
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour,
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