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
Friday, August 21, 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
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